"Possibly." Kael did not deny the speculation. "Or he believes my experience provides a unique perspective for response." But he felt more like a test subject thrown back into the field, used to gauge the danger of that unknown entity.
The long hyperspace voyage passed slowly amidst the oppressive discussion and their own thoughts. Seven hours later, the engine's pitch began to change. The streaking lights of the hyperspace lane ahead grew unstable, gradually converging into an exit point.
"Exiting hyperspace in one minute," Lia reported.
All personnel returned to their stations, securing themselves.
Another wave of intense distortion washed over them, but this time it was the pull back to reality. The chaotic kaleidoscope of colors vanished abruptly, replaced by the deep, cold, star-dusted blackness of space.
"Jump complete. Arrived at the periphery of the G-173 system." Lia quickly scanned the surroundings. "Recalibrating position... Confirmed."
On the main screen, a dim, small red dwarf star occupied the center, its faint, reddish light casting the entire system in a gloomy, oppressive hue. Three planets orbited slowly, lifelessly.
"Scan the system interior," Kael commanded, his eyes sharply scanning the sensor data.
"No anomalous energy fluctuations detected. No other vessel signals detected," Lia reported. "The third planet, designation G-173c, is showing faint artificial energy signatures matching the outpost's identifier. The signal is... extremely weak and unstable."
She magnified the image of the third planet. It was a gray, pockmarked rocky world with no signs of an atmosphere. The surface was utterly still.
"Attempt to hail the outpost," Kael said.
"Attempting... No response on all standard comms channels. No response on encrypted channels. Quantum pulse signal... no response." Lia's voice remained calm, but the content was disheartening.
A deathly silence.
It wasn't just the silence of communications. As the *Nightingale* ventured deeper into this remote system, an indescribable, unsettling sense of quiet began to permeate everything, rising like a tide. It wasn't the absence of sound—the engines still thrummed, systems still hummed. This silence was perceptual, a kind of... void. It was as if the system itself was a corner of the universe forgotten by creation, where even the starlight felt cold and detached.
"What the hell..." Rex muttered under his breath, his scanning eye constantly sweeping the dark space. "Feels damn uncomfortable."
The Doctor's sensor arrays were fully active, the subtle sounds of their adjustments unusually clear in the quiet bridge. "Ambient energy readings... extremely low. Background radiation below expected levels. It is as if... something... is absorbing energy, even the very 'noise' of spacetime itself."
Kael frowned. This absolute "silence" was, in itself, the greatest anomaly.
"Lia, scan G-173c's orbit, especially above the outpost. Any wreckage or debris clouds?" He suspected the patrol team might have been directly attacked.
"Scanning... No vessel wreckage or anomalous debris detected," Lia replied. "The orbit is... unusually clean."
"Lower our orbit, approach the outpost coordinates. Activate all active and passive sensors, maximum sensitivity. Maintain alert status." Kael gave the orders, a sense of foreboding spreading within him.
The *Nightingale* adjusted its attitude, moving slowly towards the gray, dead planet. Like a lone skiff sailing towards an unknown and dangerous shore shrouded in crimson mist.
The planet waited for them in silence, like a vast, lifeless tomb.
The *Nightingale* slid into a synchronous orbit around G-173c like a ghost. Below, the gray planet rotated slowly outside the viewports, its craters and fissures casting long, distorted shadows under the dim red star, like the pockmarked, wrinkled face of a corpse.
On the bridge, the atmosphere was taut as a bowstring. The all-absorbing "sense of silence" permeating the system grew more pronounced, an intangible pressure seeping into the ship, weighing on everyone—even Lia, who theoretically lacked emotions, was processing data 0.3% faster than usual, a low-level logical response to potential threat.
"Initiate high-resolution surface scan. Focus on the outpost coordinates," Kael's voice cut through the stagnant air, his optical eyes fixed on the constantly updating data streams on the main screen.
"Scanning in progress," Lia responded. An invisible, precise scanning beam targeted the planet's surface.
A corner of the main screen displayed a 3D image constructed from the scan. The main structure of Outpost "Lonely Endpoint" was embedded into the rock face at the edge of a large crater, with only a few reinforced entrances and the tops of signal towers visible—a standard subterranean construction to protect against meteor impacts and radiation. Superficially, the structure appeared intact, with no signs of explosion, impact, or other obvious external damage.
"Structural integrity is at 97.8%, above safety threshold," Lia reported. "No visible external damage."
"Energy scan?" Kael pressed.
"Anomalous..." Lia's tone held a barely perceptible fluctuation. "Detecting multiple faint energy signatures dispersed inside the outpost. Signal characteristics are... chaotic. Not standard equipment operational frequencies, nor life support system fluctuations. More akin to... intermittent, disordered energy leakage." She projected the frequency patterns of several signatures onto a secondary screen; they looked like chaotic, spiking neural signals, utterly patternless.
"Life signs?"
"No life-form signals detected matching human or known interstellar species parameters," Lia answered promptly, but added after a slight pause, "However, sensors detect a significant accumulation of... low-entropy organic matter within the outpost. The distribution pattern... is inconsistent with natural decay."
*Low-entropy organic matter accumulation.* A cold, technical term hiding what was likely the remains of the outpost's crew.
"Any power reactions? Weapon systems? Any signs of defensive activity?"
"No detection of any weapons-grade energy build-up or power core overload signatures. The outpost is in a minimal power maintenance state, only basic environmental systems (non-functional) and some backup power show faint readings. No scanning or targeting behavior directed at us."
This was profoundly abnormal. A lost outpost, structurally intact, no signs of combat, no defensive reaction, only chaotic internal energy leakage and silent organic signals. It was more chilling than finding a pile of rubble.
"It's like it... just fell asleep, and then something changed inside its dream," Rex rumbled, his metaphor unexpectedly apt and disquietingly vivid.
"Or, after being 'infected', it entered some kind of... static 'incubation' state," the Doctor's sensors were focused on the outpost's image, several tentacles twitching slightly. "That unique energy signature... faint, but pervasive. It has saturated the entire structure, like a form of... background radiation."