Thank you for the Might checks. Carry on.
With no other options, you follow the fibre-cable trail before you. You pull yourselves along a tunnel carved through the mishmash of debris. Soon, you come to a space. You appear to have begun in a free floating hunk of trash, a gargantuan assembly of no discernable function, one of many such hunks torn from something even grander.
In the space around you, you see other giant pieces, and smaller bits tumbling in between. You can feel the slightest pull toward the largest piece, dozens of miles long, and the sensation of hyper slow falling chills your nerves. Still, the cable snakes down through naked space to the core of this recursion that is part junk yard, part asteroid belt. There appears to be breathable air around you, a small mercy, though it is stagnant and bitter with chemical scent.
From the side, you hear a metallic holler. Looking over you see a quartet of cyborgs in severe disrepair. Sluggish, they ambulate toward you, clawed metal limbs reaching toward you in zombie like singlemindedness.
Initiative please, difficulty 4. They are a Short distance away.
