Guest
It shouldn’t be here. The station looms, massive and ancient, its ringed form drifting silently near a dead star. Its metal skin is rough, pockmarked by time. Dark, muted grays and silvers, with faint red lights pulsing along its hull, as though the structure is still breathing, waiting. I approach cautiously. It feels wrong, like it wasn’t meant to be found. Segments of the ring are built in styles that don’t fit—like they belong to different eras. Some are sleek, others harsh and industrial. And yet, somehow, it feels familiar. I can’t place it, but the design echoes something I’ve seen in scattered fragments of old archives. Something long forgotten. The energy readings... they’re too high. Something is still alive in there, beneath the surface, biding its time. Watching. Could it be a relay? Tachyon relay? It would explain the sheer size. A station built to intercept faster-than-light transmissions. The ship’s sensors show no signs of life, no signals. It just hangs in the voi
