The ship began to loom large in porthole across from the little table where they would drink their coffee in the morning and stare out into eternity. There was also a small candle. A real one. A real real one. The kind that is expressly forbidden on any extra-orbital ship. Out here, without easy and quick access to supplemental oxygen, one fire could quickly grow and come to consume the entire ship’s supply in the blink of an eye. And then you’re dead.

That’s why they liked having this forbidden object out where they could see it everyday. They were in control. They controlled the means of their own description. They could point a static charge at that virgin wick at any point. Well, that and it smelled kind of nice. It was one of the unfortunately many artifacts they’d appropriated over the years that never actually made it to the fence or the dealer or the client. It felt like on some trips they lost money, considering the time and effort expended just to get out into the nothing to find some tiny storage locker on some tiny asteroid somewhere to pick up a bunch of antiques that they couldn’t sell.

They were not the best businessperson.

But dealers often aren’t. The best ones are there for the feeling of connecting to the past. The excitement of rooting out the holy grail artifact on your long term wishlist. The joy of sharing a discovery with a friend that loves it just as much as you do.

Then there are scrappers. Like the lot that were slowly bearing down on them. Scrappers are built not to enjoy what they do. They do what they do to make money and then it’s time to get to the next job. It’s the money.

No emotions. Hard folks.

But in a way they were great synergies. Dealers smell out the find and if they could they’d take it and never sell it, starved to death surrounded by priceless artifacts. Scrappers don’t have the passion to find the holy grail. That’s why they’re ready to pay a hefty percentage on anything that a good dealer brings them.

Flux had worked with Abneil and his crew four or five times. Abneil was a tall, lanky dude that thought he was far more charismatic and handsome than he was. He looked sort of like a praying mantis. He spoke largely as if he were quoting lines from movies. Things that were profound.

Flux, as I live and breathe. It’s been a long time! How the hell are you? Abneil clapped Flux on the bank, squeezed their arm. Flux did not like gratuitous human contact. Yet another reason they roved the infinite.

Abneil. Safe travels?

Yep, it was a hell of a long trip so this better be worth it. I quickly got a glimpse of that fucking bag of bolts you called us about when we snuck up on you. Gotta say, not sure that some ancient ass relic like that is going to even pay my guys for coming out here and spending two weeks wandering through empty space. Speaking of my guys, let me introduce you to my right hand second hand. Ghent Roads, this is Flux Junction. Flux, Ghent.

Oh, wait – that’s really your name? I thought that was a nickname. So Flux Junction… you’re named after –

Yep. That’s right.

That’s got to be a story!

Nope.

Okay, sorry.

Abneil pushed (playfully shouldered) Flux out of the way and walked into the ship heading presumably for the kitchenette.

I suppose you and your guys would like some char, Ab?

That would be awesome. I’ll start the water boiler.

Abneil walked past the kitchenette and towards storage. They caught some flashes of light coming from under the door to what he remembered to be the diagnostics bay. That’s interesting. Abneil touched the pad on the door and it slid open..

In front of him was a huge mess of… wires? Millions of those metallic threads tie up to the harness sitting under a display monitor of some sort. Something old. Covered in the splashes of paint and oil and dirt and dents that are the uniform decoration of an engineering bay.

Clearly this was something important. What does it do?T

There monitor was covered with an endless steaming show of random letters and numbers, Is this in some sort of ancient language? Is it some kind of code?

Intriguing. And intriguing means money.