“One of the big factories made it through the shattering, and as a stroke of luck, several of their board members were touring the factory at the time. After, well… everything, they eventually resumed production and have narrowed their focus on aerospace for obvious reasons.”

Hammer nodded along with most of this.

“They killed Drake then? And hired the pirates?”

“No,” the broker said and went back to his projection.

The rings of shards spun around on his display again, and the viewscreen made its way to a much larger shard.

Trishula, read the shard.

Hammer clenched his fists tightly enough he could feel a bit of blood in his palms.

“You’ve heard of the Trishula Corporation as well then?” The broker asked, knowing the answer.

“Trishula fared even better than Milspec; nearly all of their private facilities survived along with their workforce and leadership. They have been buying shards from survivors, and their plan is to corner the market with a monopoly, and they just might be able to do it. The new economy is fractured and wild. Unpredictable in the largest sense.”

“What does Trishula have to do with Drake and the Shard Runner?” Hammer growled, real anger in his voice.

The broker shook his finger as if to say let me arrive there.

“Drake was delivering a shipment of processors to Milspec. A shipment was found out there in the rings, and they bought them up. Just what they need for their budding aerospace program.”

The Broker nodded along and rolled his hands to say and?

“Trishula paid for them to never make it.”

The broker snapped his fingers.

“Yes.”

“So by taking on the pirates I might really be taking on Trishula,” Hammer finished the thought.

“Should be my friend. We all should. Otherwise, this new world may just belong to them.”

The mortar strikes missed wide and only shook dust from the walls where Hammer and Stick had taken cover.

“Check in,” Hammer said and coughed out a cloud of plaster.

“No answer,” Stick said.

—

Hammer could hear that sentence ring in his head even now, so many years and a much different world away. The strike had killed his team, and the intense fighting over the next few weeks killed many others just like it.

Eventually the troops pulled out, and the politicians that made those kinds of decisions determined that the archipelago was lost to the extremists and that it was not worth going back in.

Six months later, the islands declared themselves as a protectorate of Trishula.

The last image Hammer had seen of that place was on a report. A flag with that same red trident with a snake, hanging above the city center.

“What do you need me to do?” Hammer asked the Broker, half in and half out of his remembrance.

“First. Take out those pirates.” He paused. “But be warned, they are better armed than anyone else out there. Most will be in a small orbital station. I can send you their coordinates.”

“And then?” Hammer asked, already knowing the answer.

“After you kill them. I will have more for you to do. If you want to stop Trishula.”

Hammer left without answering. They both knew what he would do.