In the dead vaults of space, something bleeps. A cold blockade runner spins slowly in the aether. Red lights emanate from the bridge like predatory eyes. The butterfly folds of the ship are haloed by the distant light of a white star. All else is in absolute dark. The beep cascades in frequencies beyond the realm of the senses. It is the cry of a wounded animal. A call for help. Nothing answers.
Paddy Dobson
25th November 2021