Somewhere close to the Sun, in Mercury's orbit.

  Captain Manuel’s ship glides through the scorching brilliance, steadily heading toward the assigned coordinates. The bright sunlight cuts through the air, but for the captain, it’s just another part of the game. He reclines in his seat, squinting at the glare from the holograms on the control panel. There's a trace of anticipation in his voice.

  “Pietro, check the location,” Manuel says, not looking away from the screen. His tone is relaxed, but with a hint of impatience.

  “We're getting close, Captain,” Pietro replies with a smug grin, not hiding his pleasure at the task's successful execution. “Confirmed: we’re in position.”

  “Launch the access codes,” Manuel orders, clenching his fist, as if trying to catch his luck in the moment.

  Symbols begin flashing on the central screen, and Manuel feels his chest tighten as he watches the process. Suddenly, the holographic shimmer of the cloaking device dissipates, and against the blinding brilliance of the Sun, a dark silhouette emerges.

  “Captain, it’s an autonomous container,” Pietro reports tensely, his voice shaking slightly with surprise as the object appears on the screen.

  “Grab it. Move!” Manuel leaps from his seat, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He strides toward the control panel, his fingers nearly clenched into fists. The moment has come.

  The ship executes a sharp maneuver, weaving between the solar wind and clouds of fiery plasma. The manipulator arm reaches for the container, snapping with a crunch, but smoothly, pulling it into the airlock. The metal hull shudders from the soft impact, but the container stabilizes and locks firmly into place.

  “Cargo on board. Let’s go,” Manuel says, his eyes sparkling under the ship's lights. He looks eagerly at Pietro and Maria. “Let’s see what the universe has prepared for us.”

  Manuel, Pietro, and Maria approach the airlock, the tension in the air palpable. Silence. The hum of the ship's machinery echoes in their ears. The metal door of the airlock slowly slides aside, and their eyes meet... treasure.

  The container is packed to the brim with ergon. Its glow gently seeps through the cracks in the hull, creating the feeling that some unfathomable power is contained within.

  Manuel takes a step forward, his gaze locked on the contents. There’s something more in his look than just satisfaction from the discovery—it's the gaze of one who has just come into proximity with something far more dangerous and powerful than they could have imagined.

  “We... we’re rich,” Maria whispers, stunned by the revelation.

  “What a ride!” Pietro exclaims, rubbing his hands together. “Maria, you’re a genius. Without you, we wouldn’t be here.”

  “We should celebrate,” Manuel says excitedly, his fingers quickly searching through his pockets. He finally pulls out a strange amulet. Silver, with a pattern that seems to pulse under the light of the lamps.

  “This is for you, Maria. A reward. From me, personally,” he says warmly, handing it to her.

  Maria takes the medallion and freezes, her fingers gliding over its surface.

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  “It... it’s strange. Like... it doesn’t belong here,” she murmurs, her voice filled with wonder.

  “Exactly!” Manuel exclaims, his eyes shining. “Scanners couldn’t identify the material. I’m certain it’s something alien.”

  “Unbelievable...” Pietro shakes his head, still in disbelief.

  Maria carefully drapes the gift around her neck. It molds to her skin, almost as if it were alive, drawing close to her, sensing her biofield.

  “It’s beautiful. And... kind of warm,” she smiles softly.

  “I knew you’d like it,” Manuel says with a sly grin, winking at her.

  At that moment, the siren blares through the compartment, shattering the calm. The entire atmosphere shifts instantly.

  “Back to your stations!” Manuel shouts, his voice hoarse with tension.

  The three of them dash toward the cockpit. Full readiness.

  “Armament—switch to combat mode!” Manuel commands, his eyes narrowing as he aims at the emptiness.

  “What’s happening?”

  “They’re Inquisitors!” Maria pales. “They’ve been tracking us under cloak!”

  “They’re coming through!” Pietro yells, his fingers nervously twitching over the console.

  “Activate it!” Manuel snarls through gritted teeth.

  A hologram flickers to life, revealing a man—strong, dressed in a perfectly pressed uniform, his cold eyes devoid of any insignia. His figure sharpens against the backdrop of space.

  “Greetings, space salvagers,” his voice drips with irony and threat, as if it were a broken record. “I’m Captain Ragnar. The container you’ve found belongs to us. Return it.”

  “On what grounds?” Manuel counters harshly, his tone becoming defiant. “Prove it.”

  “It’s simple. We bought the debts of the station’s owner. Ergon is ours now.”

  “According to corporate rules, the first person to find the cargo becomes its owner. We found it—it’s our property.”

  “The station owner is a debtor. Now, all the debtor's assets belong to the Inquisitor Syndicate. Hand over the cargo peacefully.”

  Manuel squints, his eyes turning cold. Several seconds of silence. Only the faint creaking of the ship’s mechanisms fills the void.

  “You’re threatening us with retribution—strong argument. Fine. Take it. We’ll jettison the container and part ways on good terms.”

  Ragnar’s hologram flickers out. But Manuel is already moving.

  “Maria, prep the jettison. But not with the ergon—use the junk instead. Pietro, on my command—fire. Emma, take us straight into the Sun!”

  “What?!” They both stare at him, not understanding his intentions.

  “Order!” Manuel barks, his gaze unwavering.

  Maria gasps, but her hands instinctively press the button. The container, packed with junk, flies out of the airlock. The sound of vacuum mechanisms fills the air, then... silence.

  “Fire at the enemy!” Manuel commands, his voice cutting through the void.

  Pietro releases the safety cover and, with a savage grin, slams his fist on the red button. The ship shakes from the powerful blast, the sound of the departing shells echoing through the hull.

  “Full speed ahead!” The captain’s shout blends with the roar of the engines. The ship surges into the void, leaving their enemies behind, heading toward the blazing Sun.

  On the enemy ship, Ragnar almost throws his tablet in panic. His eyes burn with fury.

  “Damn it! These lunatics are diving straight into the Sun!”

  “Because we instill fear, Captain,” his aide remarks philosophically.

  “You’re an idiot,” Ragnar grits through his teeth.

  Meanwhile, the Inquisitor ship’s shields flare from the impacts, light streaks across the hull, and the ship’s structure groans under the strain. The crew feels the walls and floor tremble.

  “Push forward! After them! Get that damn container! Fire!”

  The return salvo catches Manuel’s ship, but the shields still hold. A whirlwind of attacks and counterattacks—everything happening within seconds. Two ships—Inquisitors and rescuers—are hurtling straight toward the sun, on the edge of survival, on the razor's edge of fate.