Last chapter. The Heaven's Wing

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.

Hank will attempt to access the computers in the office ...

Hank sat down at the office, the terminal’s faint glow reflecting off his helmet visor. With nimble fingers, he brought up the interface, navigating through layers of encrypted files. He bypassed the system’s basic security quickly, but the deeper he delved, the more resistance he encountered. His brows furrowed as he typed commands to override security measures and access locked directories. Finally, the terminal pinged softly, granting him full access to the central server.

The first files he opened painted a picture of the station’s true purpose. This was no ordinary facility—it was a research and development station, chartered for experimental psychochemical research. The primary goal was to develop advanced combat drugs, the kind of performance-enhancing substances that could turn soldiers into unstoppable machines on the battlefield. While the work was technically legal, the secrecy surrounding it was driven not only by the immense potential for profit but also by darker motives.

Hank scrolled further, his unease growing. The logs revealed that the station was under separatist control—as suspected. The files suggested that secrecy was paramount, not just because of the combat drugs and their patrons but also due to the questionable ethics of the research. Three scientists onboard had taken it upon themselves to use human subjects for their experiments, accelerating their results at the cost of untold suffering.

As Hank continued to sift through the data, he found a separate chain of communications linked to the station’s navigator. The man had been secretly transmitting research findings to a rival corporation stationed on Verdura. The navigator had been paid handsomely for his treachery, but greed had led him further astray. He had received additional instructions to sabotage the station’s progress, and in his misguided attempt, he had resorted to explosive measures.

By a stroke of luck, Hank’s opened the correct files and put together the timeline. The navigator had rigged a bomb in the auxiliary laboratory, setting its timer and retreating to his quarters. The explosion had thrown the station into chaos, crippling its operations. But there was more. The files hinted that the Heaven’s Wing had arrived and docked at Bay 11 during this period. The ship also had some of its components stripped and repurposed to be used in the main lab before the disaster struck.

The fallout was catastrophic. The bomb triggered an outbreak—possibly tied to one of the experimental compounds—that swept through the station. The Heaven’s Wing, caught in the disaster, had either been abandoned or commandeered during the chaos. The logs ended abruptly.

Sitting back in the chair, Hank exhaled. He had uncovered the web of greed, ambition, and recklessness that had led to this station’s downfall. But this knowledge was a double-edged sword. It explained the rabid dog and the eerie desolation they’d encountered—but it also hinted at the dangers they were yet to face.

Last but not least, the central server contained no maps of the station—at least none that were accessible. It didn’t make sense; every station needed operational schematics. The erasure wasn’t accidental. Someone or some automated protocol had deliberately wiped all internal navigation data, leaving no traces behind.

"Ok, so we need to get those parts back out of the lab and to the Heaven's Wing. After that it is making a safe path through deug-crazed experiment subjects...."

Just a reminder that when Hank has finished explaining what he's found (and that it doesn't include a map), Douklan (and Mercer?) is going through door C to continue the search.

Hank will check the computer on what parts were removed from the Heaven's Wing. We need to know if those parts affect its ability to operate, and if so, how its operation is affected. If we can still fly it and jump with it, it might not be worth trying to get the parts back and putting them into it. If it's the power plant or something like that, then obviously we need those (or replacement) parts. And, since he doesn't have Fix, he will check with Corbin to see how critical those parts are.

He also, of course, relates the information to everyone.

"Yes, it looks like the nature of this operation has changed. This is no longer an infiltration mission. It is a dungeon crawl."

EDIT: And Hank would like to press to Heaven's Wing as directly as they can.

Hank remained at the terminal, his fingers moving rapidly over the interface as he dug into the station’s logs. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. The entries were buried under dry, technical readouts, but the truth was unavoidable—both the advanced power plant and experimental FTL systems had been removed.

That meant the Heaven’s Wing wasn’t going anywhere. Without a power plant, it was nothing more than a drifting hull, and without a hyperdrive, it was locked to this system. They weren’t taking the ship unless they could recover those components or find suitable replacements.

Hank exhaled sharply and relayed the information to the rest of the group. There was no map, and their search for answers would have to continue on foot.

With that, Douklan led the team through the door, weapons raised and senses sharp.

Beyond it, a small corridor, brightly lit and lined with life support exhaust vents that steadily exchanged fresh air through the station. A smaller door sat off to one side, while a large reinforced door loomed at the end of the hall. The air circulation meant that, whatever had happened elsewhere, life support was still functioning.

The question was—who, or what, was still breathing the same air as you?

We need to get that core out so we can get it to the Heaven's Wing. We don't want to backtrack. In the meanwhile I will keep exploring and securing the perimeter.
Will head to C3.

Mercer moved ahead, weapon at the ready, stepping through the reinforced door. Beyond it, another corridor stretched forward, stark and utilitarian in design. The overhead lights of this one flickered slightly, casting long, shifting shadows along the walls.

In the middle of the corridor, a large iris hatch yawned open, its segmented metal petals retracted into the surrounding bulkhead. The passage beyond had broken lights.

Flanking the hallway, three doors stood closed—two to the north, one to the south. Their access panels remained powered, but whether they would open easily or require a fight with the station’s systems remained to be seen.

At the far end of the corridor, another large reinforced door loomed, identical to the one Mercer had just passed through.