Last chapter. The Heaven's Wing

Trade Era 1235, Day 209. 08:00 UTC
The cramped confines of the boarding craft, christened Vanguard, was filled with tension as its hull bucked slightly against the turbulence of the stellar winds. The red giant star in Sector 02.07 loomed ahead, its massive, roiling surface seen through the narrow cockpit viewport.

The Vanguard was an unassuming vessel—small, rugged, and stripped down to its essentials. It was a relic of Stellar Express’s industrial fleet, designed for breaching derelict stations and ships. Its boxy frame bristled with grappling arms, docking clamps, and cutting torches, a stark contrast to the more robust and spacious vessels the crew had grown accustomed. It had been towed into the system by a Stellar Express frigate—silent and ominous as it drifted in the distance, ready to retreat at the first sign of trouble. Once released, the boarding craft had surged forward on a burn, its engines straining to intercept the separatist station.

Erin gripped the edge of her seat, her eyes fixed on the distant ring-shaped silhouette of the research station, stark against the starry backdrop. "This thing flies like a brick tied to a rocket. Even the stellar winds are rocking it. You sure this bucket can make it in and out?"

---

Douklan, you have got one shot to approach, so you could play it safe and approach slowly or you can arrive fast and furious, shuddering violently the ship as its retros fire and killing the forward velocity at the last minute. That would make the boarding safer and any enemy fire easier to avoid but it may paint yourselves across the station’s hull if you fail by a lot.

---

Corbin, the ship’s docking and boarding systems are online. Grappling arms and cutting torches are prepped. But there is a trade-off here. Shutting down some systems or messing with the energy grid may let you approach faster or more stealthily. You have shut down non-essential ones already and done any "obvious" choices.

---

Hank, you’re the ship’s eyes and ears here. Please gimme a Program roll to let us know what you detect. We will take it from there.

---

Mercer, the Heaven’s wing is probably somewhere inside this large station. There are no informed choices here, but an educated guess could be the difference between a reasonable search and a fruitless one. Do you have any idea where you want the Vanguard to board or dock? Near the station labs? Engines? Turrets? In the middle of the ring? How do you wanna approach this?

Ok, here goes the sensors roll!

The middle would make sense in one way, equal access to he whole place, but we're not sure where to go. Station labs usually have a fair amount of information, if we can get access to them. Let's start there.

Hank, here is the station layout.

There is a large central node and a rotating ring structure with 11 frigate-sized docking bays. The current rotation of the ring should provide about 1/3 of Earth's gravity, while the central area is at zero G.

At the bottom, where the 12th bay would be, there is another structure, connected through a pinnacle, which rotates with the ring and has the greatest centrifugal forces.

If you want to use them, there are docking ports on the central node. There are also the eleven bays - if they are empty, your ship would fit inside. Last but not least, you can park anywhere and use the cutters and explosives to board the station.

Artificial gravity seems to be offline. Heat exchangers are closed. From this distance, you cannot detect any energy signatures. You haven't tried to open communications, of course, but there are no broadcasts coming from them.

---

Mercer, with Hank's results, we now know that the largest laboratory is probably the structure at the bottom. The power plant, main docking port and other major utilities are likely in the central node, in a zero-gravity environment.

Since the artificial gravity appears to be off and the station is rotating, the centrifugal forces would pull you in strange directions at the main lab. It would be more difficult to get there and move around inside, but it is feasible. The ring has a more appropriate floor/ceiling orientation and the central spire would be the easiest way in.

Looking over the readouts, Corbin considers the options. "If we're voting, I say grab one of the docking bays near the spires. We'll make less noise if we don't need to cut into things. Also, I could power down the grappling systems and cutting arms. That'd cut down our energy signature and maybe help with maneuvering."

Corbin looks to Hank and Mercer for thoughts. He refrains from bothering Douklan since the turbulence is bad enough while he's paying attention.

Mercer, not one to ignore the advice of experts, would agree. "If you think we could move through that easy enough, let's do that."

"I agree. If we can get into a bay, it might take longer to get noticed."

There is no chance that we're going to not be noticed, so the goal is to remain outside as a target for as little as time as possible. To that end, Douklan is punching the rockets in a protracted burn to reach the station before the defenders can aim and launch missiles. The vehicle is bucking and vibrating like mad; the noise is incredible, forcing everyone to yell to be heard. He nods at the suggestion of finding a bay to enter. "ANYTHING TO GET OUT OF LINE OF SIGHT! YOU POINT OUT THE BAY, AND I'LL GET US THERE."

The Vanguard screamed through space, its engines roaring in a furious protracted burn that shook the entire craft like it was about to come apart at the seams. Douklan’s hands were locked on the controls, his knuckles white as he fought the violent vibrations threatening to tear the stick from his grasp.

"WE’RE COMING IN HOT!" he bellowed over the deafening roar. His hands gripped the controls with determination. "YOU POINT OUT THE BAY, AND I’LL GET US THERE!""Station turrets are lighting up!" Hank shouted from the sensor display, his voice strained. "We’ve got incoming!"

The automated defenses roared to life, sending streaks of plasma fire lancing through the void. The first salvo missed wide, burning bright trails against the backdrop of the red giant’s glow. Douklan jerked the controls, and the Vanguard tilted sharply, dodging another volley.

Erin squinted at the station ahead. Meanwhile, somebody said a bay number and Douklan didn’t wait for confirmation. He yanked the controls, sending the Vanguard into a sharp dive. Another burst of turret fire erupted behind them, missing narrowly as the craft hurtled into the shadow of the station.

---

The station loomed large in the viewport now, its angular structure dwarfing the Vanguard. Plasma fire raked the void behind them but faltered as the ship’s angle brought them into the station’s blind spot.

"Bay doors are still closed!" Douklan growled, his eyes locked on the approaching structure. "Get ready to improvise!"

The docking bay grew closer and closer, the closed doors an ominous wall blocking their entry.

Start at the beginning, 1.

---

The rest of that is out of his experience.

Corbin stands ready to work the breaching system should the hack not be effective.

Hank attempts to remotely hack the doors. He doesn't know the difficulty, but he hopes to get through anyway!

... Sorry guys. Bad roll!

"We’re sitting ducks if those doors don’t open..." Erin said, turning to Hank, who was already bent over the control console, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

The station’s security protocols were robust, layers of encryption and failsafes designed to prevent exactly this kind of intrusion. "This thing’s built like a fortress. Give me a second." - he answered.

Hank grit his teeth, diving deeper into the station’s network. His console flashed red as another layer of security blocked him. His eyes darted across the schematics displayed on his console. He toggled through subsystems one after the other until something caught his attention—a small, overlooked emergency feature buried in the station’s protocols. "Wait! There’s an EVA safety override for personnel retrieval. If I can trick the system into thinking someone’s out in space, it might open the emergency hatches!"

"Then do it!" someone shouted from behind them.

Hank’s fingers flew across the keyboard, his mind racing. He accessed the station’s emergency systems and faked a distress signal. The interface buzzed with error codes, forcing him to reroute through auxiliary circuits. He patched into the station’s external sensors, feeding it false data: the profile of a lone human figure drifting in the vacuum, oxygen rapidly depleting. The station’s AI hesitated for a moment, processing the input, before finally triggering the emergency protocols.

Ahead of the Vanguard, a small section of the hull near the docking bay doors split open, revealing a narrow personnel airlock. It was just big enough for a single spacewalker—definitely not meant for a spacecraft.

Corbin heads for the shuttles hatch, "I'll go, once inside I should be able to manually open the doors. If someone actually get's 'rescued' maybe it'll confuse the AI for a bit."

Erin turned sharply in her seat, her brow furrowed with concern. "That’s a hell of a risk, Corbin. What if the station's gunners figures it out, or worse, what if someone’s waiting for you on the other side?"

Maya, on the other hand, just stepped forward, placing a hand on Corbin’s arm. "Be careful," she said softly with a smile.

"Corbin, I'll go with you and keep any hostiles busy."

The airlock doors sealed behind Corbin with a heavy clang, cutting off the noise of the Vanguard’s interior. The chamber hissed as it depressurized, the atmosphere venting into the void. Outside, the red giant’s light bathed the scene, casting long shadows over the station’s angular hull.Douklan steadied the ship as close to the emergency hatch as he dared, the Vanguard’s thrusters firing in short bursts to maintain position. "You’re clear," he called over the comms.

Corbin and Mercer activated their suit’s maneuvering jets, propelling them out of the airlock and toward the station’s hatch. The vacuum of space was silent as they floated closer to the small glowing portal.

There was a small, but distinct change as the airlock sucked the air and suddenly Mercer was in a vacuum. Even with his suit the difference in pressure was notable, especially with the lack of air resistance. Something so small and ordinary but strange when missing.
Then Corbin jumped and Mercer followed, and when they hit weightlessness it was like constantly being in that moment at the top of the jump, between up and down.

Corbin stepped out of the ships airlock and as the trace of artificial gravity fell away he felt the tension in his shoulders relax, ever so slightly. He was home, open space, where he grew up. Despite being on a ship, he hadn't been out in a while. His visor darkened in response to the giant sun. If they weren't on a timer, he might have done a 360 to take in the rest of the solar system.

Behind them, the Vanguard hovered precariously, its engines flaring intermittently to keep it aligned with the station. The turret fire from earlier had stopped, but the threat of retaliation hung over them.

As Corbin reached the hatch, his gloved hands gripped the edges, and he oriented himself toward the manual controls. Inside, the faint glow of the emergency lights flickered, an unsettling sign that the station’s systems were watching.

A couple of minutes later, the emergency airlock hissed and clanked as Corbin cycled it, the pressure equalizing with a dull thud. He stepped inside the station, his boots clanging against the deck plates. The interior lighting flickered and danced as the airlock’s control panel blinked erratically.

Above him, a red claxon spun lazily, its silent warning light bathing the narrow corridor in a pulsing crimson glow. The eerie calm was unexpected. Corbin scanned the space with his sidearm drawn, his visor display feeding him data on oxygen levels and atmospheric pressure. All levels were normal.

But the faint hum of the station’s life-support systems was the only indication that it wasn’t entirely dead. The place had a lifelessness that set his nerves on edge, like walking through the hollow ribcage of a long-dead beast. Was it abandoned?

---

A moment later, the airlock behind him cycled again, the inner doors hissing open to admit Mercer.

Mercer takes a look around, he is mostly here to make sure Corbin is OK.

Corbin heads to the manual landing bay controls. He's going to cycle the outer doors so the ship can enter and land.

Corbin moves towards the docking bay, his steps cautious as he enters the cavernous space. The room was steeped in darkness, the only illumination coming from his suit’s headlamp and the faint, eerie glow of emergency strips running along the floor. The beam of his light danced across the scene, revealing smashed lighting fixtures hanging limply from the ceiling, their wires frayed and sparking faintly in the gloom.

Mercer followed close behind, his own light scanning the bay. The space was vast and empty, devoid of the ships that should have been docked there. His gaze settled on the enormous retractable floor panels that dominated the center of the bay, their edges marked with heavy-duty hinges and hydraulic pistons. These were the entry points—the massive doors that could slide open to let ships in or out.

"Well, there’s our way in," Corbin said, gesturing toward the panels. He moved toward a nearby console embedded in the wall. He activated it, but the screen flickered weakly before shutting off completely.

In the meantime, Mercer stepped forward, his boots crunching on shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. He looked into the darkness, his headlamp illuminating more signs of neglect: twisted conduits, scorch marks, and an overturned cargo loader lying in a heap near the far wall. For him, it felt like someone trashed the place on purpose.

The two exchanged a tense glance before Corbin moved toward the center of the bay, his light scanning for any intact terminals that could control the doors. Soon he found it. Unlike the first terminal he had tried, this one had a faint glow to its screen, indicating that it was still functional, albeit barely. He quickly brushed aside some shattered glass and debris covering the interface and tapped at the controls.

"Come on, work for me," he muttered under his breath, fingers dancing over the screen. Behind him, Mercer stood guard, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the bay.

Finally, a low hum vibrated through the bay as the terminal responded, a series of options appearing on the flickering screen. Corbin smirked, muttering, "Gotcha."

"What’s the status?" Mercer asked, his voice tense.

"Looks like the doors and environmental controls are still active," Corbin replied. "I can depressurize the bay and open the doors from here. But we’ll want to be quick once they’re open—no telling who or what’s watching this system."

Checking his comms, Corbin transmits to the ship, "Ok, Douklan, starting the depressurizing sequence now, the doors will open as soon as the pressure is low enough. As soon as your in, I'll reverse the process."

Going to look around and see if I can find any hints to the cause of this mess.

Douklan acknowledges, grateful for the contact. The fact that the firing had stopped had his nerves jangling almost as much as if they had continued being shot. What was going on?

Corbin monitored the console as the depressurization sequence progressed, the pressure gauge steadily dropping toward zero. The bay doors groaned and rumbled as they began to slide apart, revealing the vast emptiness of space beyond. The crimson light of the red giant star outside spilled into the bay, casting long, shifting shadows across the floor.

Nearby, Mercer moved cautiously through the bay, his headlamp cutting through the dim, debris-strewn space. He scanned for any signs of what had caused the damage, his sharp eyes picking through overturned crates, smashed light fixtures, and scattered tools. Nothing seems to make sense. Why would somebody do this on purpose?

As Mercer approached the far side of the bay, his beam landed on a sealed iris valve embedded in the wall. Its edges were dented but otherwise intact, and a faded label above it read CARGO AREA BETA-12. He examined the control panel next to the valve, but the system appeared unresponsive to his attempts to activate it. It buzzed, complaining. Without atmosphere, there was no way to open the door.

Meanwhile, the massive bay doors fully retracted as the depressurization completed. The Vanguard appeared in the gap, its thrusters firing in short, controlled bursts as it maneuvered into the docking bay. The vessel’s profile was bathed in the red glow of the star, its landing struts unfolding in preparation to set down.

Corbin stepped back from the console and watched, readying himself to reverse the depressurization once the Vanguard was safely inside.

Mercer will keep an eye out while the docking and disembarking finishes. It all seems suspicious; he would like to find out more, but not at the cost of being off-guard.

Corbin stepped back from the console and watched, readying himself to reverse the depressurization once the Vanguard was safely inside. Once the pressurization begins he'll turn to locate Mercer and scan around the rest of the bay.

"I didn't find any movement in the area. Seems clear. But there is some vandalism that tells me something unusual may be going on. "

Douklan, eager to get up and move around even if it means entering the hostile station on foot but simultaneously reluctant to cede control of their only escape to a bot, is torn enough that he looks to Hank for his reaction.

Hank crouches down to directly speak with RB and says, "I would feel more comfortable if you were with us. While having you guard this ship while we are gone does provide us a safe place to retreat to, if we succeed in our goals, we aren't coming back here. I am not going to leave you behind, and I don't want us to have to risk everything to extract you. Plus, I think you will be a tremendous help in our efforts to get the Heaven's Wing."

Can we set it up to jump somewhere we can retrieve later?Would be a shame to lose a good ship.

"You've convinced me." Douklan agrees, though it's unclear whether he's talking to Hank or the robot. He leaps out of the pilot's chair and picks up his kit. "If we're going to get the Heaven's Wing, we've got to be all in. Let's go."

Hank replies, "That is a very good idea! I would hate to lose a good ship, but if we aren't going to be able to retrieve it, it will be a good idea to make sure we will be harder to trace. Please set that up."To everyone else he says, "Let's make sure we have all of our equipment. We aren't coming back to this ship."

A few minutes later, the group disembarked from the Vanguard, their boots clanging against the docking bay's scarred metal floor. Moving in a tight formation, Hank, Douklan, Erin, Maya and RB spread out slightly, each scanning the dim, debris-strewn space and joining Mercer and Corbin.

The room was massive and cavernous, the walls lined with shattered control panels and flickering, broken displays. High above, rows of ruined light fixtures dangled uselessly. The faint spin of a red claxon in the corner added to the unease.

Scattered across the floor were remnants of hurried abandonment or vandalism: overturned crates, scorched tools, and shards of broken glass that crunched faintly underfoot.

To one side, a sealed iris valve stood embedded in the wall with a faded label above it that read CARGO AREA BETA-12.

On the other side, the corridor led to the airlock, bay 2 and further away from the pinnacle. It was probably the main corridor of the station, curving for hundreds, if not thousands of meters, until it looped back here.

Mercer will move to the corridor door and prepare to move in.

Once the outer doors are closed, Corbin will move to join the others by the corridor door.

I think we start heading in, being careful and alert. Mercer is willing to take point.
What do we think?

"So I may be stating the obvious here," Douklan mentions as he moves with Mercer and the others to the broken iris port, "But this looks an awful lot like someone beat us here and broke the place apart already. Were they also trying to get the Heaven's Wing? Were they successful? Who were they?" He chuckles. "It'll be pretty anticlimactic if we find that the ship is gone already."

"Fair point. However, we're pretty committed at this point, so we don't have much choice but to continue on. We'll have to try and steal a different ship if someone beat us to it. Worst case we have ten other bays to search of a different ship.

"Also, this is either a commandeered or abandoned station to start with, so this could have happened because of the takeover, not a subsequent invasion."

The group approached the iris valve, its surface scarred and dented from past impacts. With a grinding hiss, the mechanism reluctantly obeyed their command to open. It was pitch black inside.

Helmet flashlights flicked on, slicing through the oppressive gloom as they stepped cautiously into the storage area. The room was vast, the walls lined with rows of towering shelves, most of which were toppled or empty. As they scanned the space, the beams of their lights caught something moving in the shadows—a flicker of motion.

Hank froze, his brow furrowing as an inexplicable sense of dread tightened in his chest. A flicker of an image—jaws snapping, a blur of motion—flashed in his mind. Without breaking stride or raising alarm, he gestured for the others to hold their positions.

Before anyone else could react, a rabid dog lunged into their light. Its matted fur was patchy and streaked with dried blood, exposing raw, infected skin that oozed pus. Its eyes glowed unnaturally in the light, bloodshot and wild with madness, while its emaciated frame revealed ribs jutting beneath the patchwork of fur and open sores. Foam dripped from its bared, yellowed fangs as it charged with reckless abandon.

Its movements were erratic, jerking and unsteady, as if pain and rage were the only forces driving it. The dog recoiled briefly as a flashlight beam hit its face, letting out a pained, high-pitched whine and giving you time to act.

Hank commits the Effort without a thought.

May I assume we have weapons ready? If so, he shoots hoping the others follow suit. (I'll roll assuming I can.)

Douklan sizzles the rabid animal with his laser rifle.

Mercer will keep himself between it and the party use his Vibroblade to ward it off if it isn't taken out. (Full defense)

Corbin also immediately brings up his Laser rifle and fires.

You notice that there are two seemingly identical doors (in red) and a small control panel for the lights near the iris valve (in blue).

Are you going through the north or the south one?

"South looks like a bottleneck. Let's check out the north door first." Douklan glances at the control panel as they pass it: does it look intact, or damaged or tampered with?

Mercer will open it when they group up at the north door.

Intact, even though the lights are off. Maybe it can be turned on?

Corbin will see if there's an easy way to restore power to the door panel.

Hank is going to go with the tactical experts on which door to choose unless he gains information to indicate otherwise.

Hank is up for trying to hack the panel, if it powers up and it is possible to.

"Why do you think they turned the lights off for the dog?" Douklan wonders. "It can't have been that long ago; mammals with rabies don't live that long."

"This whole thing isn't fitting together well. Where do they even get a rabid dog, and why would they even have one? Why is this whole bay trashed? Why would someone take one of the most advanced ships possible to a trashed station? We're missing something, but I can't put my finger on it."

Corbin's gaze caught sight of the control panel embedded in the wall, its switches and indicators still intact. He stepped forward and flipped one of the switches with a decisive motion.

A series of discreet clicks and hums echoed through the chamber as overhead fixtures sputtered to life. One by one, the lights blinked on, bathing the storage area in a stark, sterile glow.

The once-hidden corners of the room were now exposed, revealing orderly rows of crates and shelving units, many of which had been untouched despite the chaos elsewhere in the station. The floor was clean and smooth, unmarred by the debris or damage they had seen in the docking bay.

It was a striking contrast to the ruined state of bay number 1. The room felt eerily pristine and it was clear now that the destruction elsewhere hadn’t reached this section—or had been purposefully kept at bay. Whatever had happened here, it seemed this room had been spared—but whether by chance or design was a question they couldn’t yet answer.

---

Maya knelt cautiously near the remains of the rabid dog, her expression thoughtful as she studied the scorched, emaciated form. She hesitated, glancing back at the others before speaking.

"This might not have been rabies," she said, her voice tinged with curiosity. She gestured toward the open sores and unnatural contortions of the creature’s body. "I’ve seen rabies before, and while some of this fits, there’s something... off about it. The symptoms seem exaggerated, like it was exposed to something far worse."

She looked up at the group, her gaze steady. "I’d like to scan it for pathogens or anomalies, but it may take a few minutes and I need your permission. If there’s any chance this is something engineered—or something we could encounter again—I want to be prepared. What do you think?"

That information may make all the difference. We'll keep an eye out while you work.

"Yes, please do. Also, everyone needs to make sure we remain sealed at all times."

So we need to switch to internal tanks in any new room, until we get a scan?

"Not just the lights, either." During the minutes that Maya is scanning the corpse, Douklan is looking around for anything that would indicate that either the dog had its home here - a pet bed, a food dish, etc - or that it had been trapped in here for any length of time - dung, scratches on the doors. "Why did they lock it in here, specifically?"

"Accident supposedly, Doesn't look like anyone was paying much attention around here."

"Hmm..." Douklan replies, still looking for evidence that this was the pet's home, not just a storeroom, or that it was trapped, "accidentally" or not.

While Maya focused on her scanner, Douklan took it upon himself to survey the room. Near one of the opened crates, he found a scattering of rations, torn from their vacuum-sealed packaging. Teeth marks and shredded wrappers suggested the dog had been feeding on the supplies, likely pilfered in a desperate attempt to survive.

Moving further into the lit cargo bay, Douklan's attention was drawn to an evidence of the dog’s prolonged presence: dried dung in small piles. It was a clear sign the creature had been trapped here for some time, left to fend for itself among the storage crates.

Douklan points out what he found, and then rejoins Mercer at the door. "That's just further confirmation that the dog was infected a few days ago. Who knows how long a creature can survive with...whatever this is. But rabies? Dogs without water? Can't survive more than a few days at most." He looks at Mercer through their visors, not because it's particularly directed at him when they're talking over suit radios, but because he's closest and so he can see a reaction. "So either the dog got infected and they trapped it in here as a kind of quarantine, or the dog was in here, got infected, and no one ever came to let it out. How much you want to bet it's the latter, and the station is all ripped up because the dog wasn't the only one to get infected a few days ago?"

The silent acknowledgment from the group said enough. Maya finished her scans and confirmed the air was clean, so the group turned their attention to the north door, its heavy frame waiting for them. Mercer stepped forward, ready to open it, while Erin stood behind him, rifle raised and ready for whatever was on the other side.

The door hissed as it slid open, revealing the engineering room beyond. Flashlights cut through the darkness, illuminating a cluttered, industrial workspace. The air was stale but clear, carrying the faint metallic tang of long-idled machinery.

Against the north wall stood two large maneuver thrusters, their reinforced housings covered in maintenance tags and scuffed paint. Nearby were a pair of fuel tanks, still connected to the thrusters by haphazardly coiled hoses. These thrusters were clearly integral to the station’s design—used for either spinning, halting its rotation or for orbital station-keeping.

Computer consoles lined in the middle of the room, their monitors dark but not shattered like others they had encountered. Two inner rooms stood closed off by heavy sliding doors, their labels worn and illegible in the dim lighting.

"Looks intact," Erin noted, her flashlight sweeping over the equipment.

Beyond the engineering room, three more doors led deeper into the station, each marked with faded identifiers that were difficult to make out in the low light.

Douklan looks at Mercer. "You want to check these interior doors (Room 1 and Room 2 on the map) with me while the others check the consoles, trying to see if they can find where the Heaven's Wing is?" He grins inside his helmet and shrugs. "I don't like leaving closed doors behind me." He thinks for a moment. "That's assuming they didn't have a lot of dogs on this station."

"I was thinking the same, I don't want any closed doors ... Not the way things have been going here." Mercer will nod, but heep his eyes moving around the area, as he moves towards the closer side room.

Corbin will move to the consoles between the maneuver drives and see if they provide any status or historical information.

Mercer and Douklan approached the first inner room, its door sliding open with a soft mechanical hiss. He stepped inside cautiously, his helmet light cutting across the darkness. The room was pristine—immaculate, even—an office untouched by the chaos gripping bay 01. A desk sat neatly in the oposite wall, its surface bare except for a few terminals. There were also some standard-issue storage containers stacked under one of the consoles.

They also noticed a simple light control on the wall. A quick press, and the room lit up with a soft, white glow, confirming its emptiness. He scanned the space briefly but found nothing out of place or unusual. Satisfied, he turned and exited to check the second room.

The second door opened with a faint grind, revealing a maintenance shop. This room was a stark contrast to the pristine office—disordered and industrial, its walls lined with tools, welding rigs, and diagnostic equipment. Spare parts were scattered across workbenches, some neatly organized while others looked abandoned mid-task. The overhead lights were shattered, leaving the room cloaked in deep shadow, but their flashlights illuminated the details as they moved further in.

The space felt chaotic. Tools, wiring kits, and spools of raw materials lay in piles, and diagnostic rigs stood ready for use. A few machines showed signs of recent activity—open panels, half-disassembled parts, and abandoned tools suggesting someone had been working in a hurry.

Mercer’s light swept across an open maintenance panel on the far wall, wires spilling out in tangled disarray. He paused, briefly examining the setup.

---

Corbin moved to the row of consoles situated between the two massive maneuver thrusters. He tapped a few keys, bringing the systems online. Data scrolled rapidly across the screens, and he began sifting through it with practiced ease.

The first thing he noted was the status of the maneuver drives: fully operational. A quick diagnostic confirmed that the thrusters were in excellent condition and ready for use at a moment's notice. The interface offered him control over the station’s rotation, and with just a few inputs, he could stop the station’s spin entirely if necessary. Another option caught his eye—a toggle for the grav plates. With a couple of keystrokes, Corbin verified that he could restore artificial gravity to a standard 1G level throughout the station.

The functionality was reassuring, but the data logs left him wanting more. The system only retained operational logs for the past 48 hours, with all prior records forwarded to central servers located elsewhere in the station. What little he found was uneventful: the drives had not been activated or adjusted during the recorded timeframe. It was as though the station had been left to drift in its routine.

He frowned, leaning closer to the console as if it might yield more information if he dug a little deeper, but there was nothing else to uncover. Whatever had happened here, the answers weren’t in this system.

---

"Is there a map of the station on there?" Douklan asks Corbin as soon as he finishes searching the rooms with Mercer. "Or do we just choose a door at random and keep going?"

Unless we get some more info from those computers, let's check the Easter (C) door. Keep the search tight.