Immediately, the script branched. Three possible routes appeared, overlaid on the sector map like nerve endings. Route A: fast, exposed, through the Magellan debris field. Route B: slow, hidden, through the old comms tunnels—but those tunnels had collapsed last monsoon. Route C: a straight burn through the Torus gate, which required bribing a gatekeeper who had already blacklisted him.
Sixty-seven percent. That wasn’t a gamble. That was a firing squad with a coin flip.
He didn’t dump the container. He didn’t run. Komaru Hub Risky Haul Script
Jax stared at the screen for a long moment. Then he smiled.
“Script,” he muttered. “Re-roll risk calculation. Exclude Route B.” Immediately, the script branched
Three seconds later, the crimson prompt vanished.
“CARGO: Unverified. Source: Black Ice Container.” “RISK LEVEL: AMBER — Intercept Probability 67%.” Route B: slow, hidden, through the old comms
The script would register a loss. The debt would double. But the cargo—whatever was inside that black ice container—would turn the Hub’s administrative sector into a crater.
He sat back in the pilot’s cradle. The hub’s ambient noise—the clatter of other runners, the distant thrum of ships cycling locks—faded into a dull roar. He pulled up the raw code of the Risky Haul script. Most runners never looked past the interface. But Jax had once patched security protocols for a living.
Jax knew the rule by heart: At Komaru Hub, you never run a Risky Haul script without a backup.
Some scripts aren’t about survival. Some are about proving you read between the lines.