Local Spacial Grid Coordinates [12-1 by 768-A by AA4-C]
30 hours after the raid on New Caledonia
Integer checked the coordinates a second time. They were getting close to the distress signal’s origin but no response to any of his hails.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Lotus spoke on the open comms.
A strange green light filled the fog amongst the gloomy debris. It made for a treacherous path to navigate.
A shadow for a moment looked almost like a ship. But Integer looked back and could only see some debris. He was too on edge.
At last they found the source. A small beacon at the heart of something truly horrifying. Vast clumps and piles of drifting inactive runner ships. Integer looked around, aghast. What was this place?
His sensors lit up. Missiles were locking on! It was a trap! They had been lured to this graveyard by a false distress signal to join the dead!
Integer kicked his afterburners on and whipped around a rusting strut just as a missile impacted it.
The others had scattered, trying to get out. Caught out like this though, their meagre numbers were falling fast.
Lotus waited, her Valkyrie flyer as close to motionless as possible. She quietly apologized to the collection of lost ships she was using as camouflage when something glowing caught her attention.
A small swirling collection of energetic motes… It was what some had called an orb. A piece of the scattered power of a gate. There must be one close. They had a way out.
