The cold expanse of the Outer Rim was a graveyard of ships—hulks from wars fought long before Ashoka was even born. They floated in silence, skeletal remains silhouetted against a dim blue nebula. To most, it was just space junk. To Ashoka, it was an opportunity.
His scout cruiser, Indraprastha, drifted silently between the wrecks. The crew moved with hushed urgency. The legends spoke of the "Ghost Fleet"—a hidden armada from the forgotten Orion Wars, left to drift until their masters returned. Ashoka had no intention of waiting for any master.
"Life signs?" he asked.
"None," replied Aira, scanning the debris. "But… Captain, there's residual reactor activity in some of these ships. Minimal power, but not dead."
Ashoka's lips curved into a dangerous smile. If even one of those ancient warships could be restored, it could turn the tide in his upcoming battles. But this was no salvage run—he knew someone else would be watching.
The silence shattered. A faint transmission crackled through the comms—an ancient, looping distress call in a dead language. The signal wasn't just a cry for help; it was a lure.
"Shields up," Ashoka ordered immediately.
From the shadows of the derelicts, dark shapes emerged—sleek, jagged ships without any visible markings. Their hulls shimmered with cloaking tech that made them nearly invisible against the stars.
"Pirates?" Aira asked.
Ashoka shook his head. "Worse. Gravekeepers."
The Gravekeepers were an outlaw faction who claimed ownership over all war wreckage. They didn't negotiate. They didn't leave survivors. And now, they were locking weapons on Indraprastha.
Ashoka's mind raced. They couldn't win a direct fight in this graveyard, but he had one advantage—the wrecks themselves.
"Divert auxiliary power to the tractor beams," he commanded. "Grab that old Orion destroyer and swing it into their path."
The crew hesitated for only a moment before obeying. With a low hum, the massive carcass of an ancient warship shifted, drifting directly into the lead Gravekeeper vessel's trajectory. The collision tore through its hull like paper, igniting a brief, silent bloom of fire.
The other Gravekeeper ships broke formation, trying to flank Indraprastha. Ashoka seized the chance. "Full thrust! Into the nebula!"
The ship plunged into the blue haze, sensors flickering under the interference. The Gravekeepers followed—but the nebula wasn't empty. Something vast stirred within, a dormant warship still holding onto the last shreds of its ancient AI consciousness.
And as Ashoka's ship drifted past, the machine woke up.