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He approached the edge of the debris field.
A reckless being might have increased his speed.
Strike wasn’t that individual. He moved his modified freighter forward slowly.
Its engines strained ever-so-slightly. The vessel was facing resistance from a space current or an unprocessable source.
That explained why the debris was arranged in a row. It had been pushed in that direction.
His monitoring systems detected blips of energy situated beyond the debris.
He peered up at the main viewscreen. The sources of those blips weren’t visible.
Strike zoomed in on one small area, enlarging the image.
Fraggin’ hole. He stiffened with alarm. Tiny space mines dotted the space before his ship. There were too many to avoid. He couldn’t maneuver around them.
The most skilled pilot in the universe couldn’t accomplish that feat.
The debris field was a trap designed to provide the being responsible for fabricating it with a never-ending supply of salvage material.
He truly was traveling in a sector with no rules, with no illusion of safety.
There were no warriors, no cyborgs protecting the territory. Every being operating within it was responsible for their own safety.
Utilizing all his guns, Strike locked onto multiple space mines and fired. The explosions lit up the darkness of space. The tiny devices were obliterated.
Satisfaction flowed through him as he continued to fire. The space mines wouldn’t be damaging any additional ships in the future.
He was making the sector and the universe a safer place.
That pleased him.
His modified freighter passed through the danger zone without additional incident. Strike slowed and then stopped the missile assault.
A small survey ship appeared on the far edges of his monitoring range behind him. Blowing up the space mines must have triggered a response from its owners.
Strike increased his speed. Unless the other ship had also extended their monitoring range, they shouldn’t detect his vessel.
But he was taking no chances. He prepared for a possible battle.
His fingers remained positioned over the controls.
Moments passed.
He flew farther and farther away from the wreckage site.
The survey ship was no longer detectable by his monitoring systems. There was no other movement around his vessel.
No one had followed him.
Strike lowered his shields. They sucked energy from the engines, and there was now only open space in front of his modified freighter.
He didn’t relax. Not fully.
A sector sporting debris-field ambushes and unrecorded stars wasn’t a place for anyone to decrease caution. He leaned back in his chair.
Fortunately, cyborgs didn’t require sleep. He inserted a cable into one of his wrist sockets.
