Atid-60202-47-44 | Min

It was Jae’s emergency beacon. The casing was cracked, space-welded to a strut of twisted metal. Min pried it loose with a trembling hand. The data core was still intact, a tiny obsidian chip humming with residual power.

Min had nodded, her face blank. But she didn’t go to the server room. She went to the airlock. ATID-60202-47-44 Min

The designation was . It wasn’t a name. It was a log entry, a line in a spreadsheet, a ghost in the machine. It was Jae’s emergency beacon

She pulled the heavy insulated gloves over her hands, the worn fabric smelling of recycled air and old coffee. The Rake ’s captain, a woman named Sloane with a face like cracked leather, had given the order two hours ago: "Purge the old logs. We need storage for the new navigation maps." The data core was still intact, a tiny

Min closed her eyes. For three years, she had needed to know if Jae had suffered. Now she knew. She had been afraid. She had been brave. And she had been murdered by the very corporation that signed her paychecks.