With the nearest star to its rear, the Gunmetal Gyre began its silent approach, like a sea creature rushing in for a kill.
Aboard the Looking Glass, an alarm yelped. Panicking, Stroth leapt across the cramped living space, reaching to dial up the shield regulator as she fell awkwardly into the pilot’s seat. The ship shuddered and creaked as missiles detonated against its magnetised particle field.
Wresting control from the autopilot, Stroth turned the ship tightly, struggling to spy her attacker in the blinding light of the local sun. As the windows took precious seconds to polarise, she checked her radar and saw the silhouette of an unknown gunship approaching. The other vessel’s speed alone told her the Looking Glass was hopelessly outclassed in this fight, even if she could bring its bargain-bin blasters to bear.
Another barrage of torpedoes rocked the ship, and the ex-Curator saw screens and controls flicker and dim. Some kind of digital attack? As she desperately set about stabilising the power flow, Stroth heard a gruff voice crackling over her comm: “Tap out, Curator. I gotta bring you in alive.”
For the first time, Stroth grimly contemplated surrender, but was startled to see the sunlight outside vanish. The once-bright expanse of space was darkening, eclipsed by the vast, elegant shape of a third starship overhead. Stroth had to crane her neck to take it all in.
A new voice, smooth and gentle, emanated from the comm: “Welcome to the Ele Dominion, beings. Please come aboard.”
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