Prospect in the Dark

Prospect in the Dark Station lights on polished glass, the tether hums my name, Prospect on the launch rail, slim and silver, made for risky play. Not a barge but a whisper-frigate, sly enough to slip, Spent the drone money on the shiny bits and blinged the little ship. Fleet of one, because tonight my corporation’s only me, CEO, line pilot, bookkeeper, security. I kiss the switch, the filament sings, blue fire starts to spool, And empire falls behind me like a half-remembered rule. Map goes dark, the comms go thin, No gate road home—just nerve, just void, just grin. Sing low, Needlejack…