The vast emptiness ahead began to shift — a silhouette against the star-speckled darkness. Rotham's breath caught as the ghostly outline of Adra-9 slowly emerged from the void.
The station was colossal, but ravaged by time. Its hull was scarred with deep grooves and patches of missing plating. Lights flickered like dying fireflies, struggling to hold the shadows at bay. The silence it radiated was deafening.
Rotham's fingers tightened on the controls. He could almost hear the whispered warnings from scavenger pilots in nearby sectors.
"Adra-9 is cursed.""No one who boards ever returns sane.""The station's AI plays tricks on your mind."
But none of that mattered now. Curiosity — or perhaps something deeper — pushed him forward.
As The Nomad's Reprieve edged closer, sensors picked up faint electromagnetic pulses, echoing the signal that brought him here. The station's docking bay doors remained shut, like a challenge daring him to prove himself worthy.
Rotham initiated the docking sequence, the ship's thrusters hissing as they adjusted course precisely. The ancient station groaned and shuddered as if waking from a long slumber.
With a soft clang, the airlock clamps engaged. The cold vacuum beyond waited.
No turning back now.