Electronic Space Music #04

The 4th volume of Electronic Space Music.

Over 90 minutes of dark, atmospheric cyberpunk ambient tracks constructed with layers of evolving synth pads, deep sub-bass, metallic textures, and distant, processed vocal samples. Harmonic drones and glitchy effects weave in and out, creating tension while maintaining a spacious, beatless flow throughout.

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Beyond the Union and Alliance borders, the stars grew colder—not in temperature, but in spirit. In Fringe Space, laws faded, and survival became the only currency.
Cali flew solo in The Wren, a weathered cargo hauler with reinforced plating and a jump drive that groaned like a dying god. Her routes stitched together forgotten outposts, derelict stations, and trade hubs orbiting dead worlds. She hauled scrap, medicine, water—whatever kept the lights on. Payment came in credits, fuel, or favours. Trust was rare. Guns were common.
She’d once flown Union routes, fresh from academy, believing in command and order. But war and bureaucracy drove her outward. That was five years ago.
Her latest run took her to Outpost Virex, orbiting a gas giant with storms that could swallow moons. The station master, half-cybernetic and all suspicion, paid her in fuel and rations. She didn’t ask questions.
Next stop: Outpost 9, near the Veil of Sorrow—a nebula that warped ships and minds. Skimming its edge, she saw a void creature: massive, slow, and alive. She drifted dark, unseen. It passed. She didn’t log it. Hunters would come.
Outpost 9 was silent. No crew. No lights. She left the cargo and moved on.
Then came pirates—three ships, weapons hot. She dumped cargo, fired a decoy, and fled into an asteroid field. One ship exploded. The rest broke off. She emerged low on fuel and oxygen.
Station Kora, built into a hollow moon, gave her shelter. Rix, the dockmaster, remembered her. “You look like hell,” he said. “I’ve seen worse,” she replied.
Loneliness was the real threat. It crept in between jumps, in static-filled comms and unanswered pings. She kept sane with music, logs, and messages from Lysa, a trader on Station Emberfall. They’d never met, but her voice was warmth.
Her next job: a long haul to a covert Union scout ship. She arrived mid-attack—voidspawn tearing into its hull. She dropped cargo, fired flares, and ran. The scout ship didn’t make it. Her distress signal did.
Union patrols found her drifting, scorched and silent. They offered her a job. She declined.
Back aboard The Wren, patched and fueled, Cali stared into the stars. The Fringe was brutal, but it was hers.
She set a course for Emberfall.
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Music created with Suno
Images created with MidJourney
Video edited with Wondershare Filmora