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Costa_D_Sol · (This post was last modified: 09-05-2025, 11:03 PM by Costa_D_Sol.)

Sender ID

Costa Del Sol

Location

Planet Crete, Omicron Gamma

Recipient

Deterrence Communication Network

Brothers and Sisters of Crete,

Listen well, for I bring word of what befell me on my last exploration.

It began on the 30th day of August, 835 AS. I was sent on a search mission for a missing Correo research vessel, gone silent for more than seventy-two hours. No word, no signal. The ship had been operating in the Chugoku–Tohoku region, noting anything of value to the Imperio.

I took another Correo and charted my course through Omicron Mu. While passing Delta, I crossed paths with an Order pilot. I hailed him and asked permission to use the Mu jumphole, to cut my time. Every minute lost could mean death for the missing crew. He granted me passage but warned me—trouble lurked there, and it was not safe.

I entered the jump toward Tohoku, and as the light swallowed me, I felt the breath leave my lungs. My head spun, and blackness claimed me.

When I woke, I lay in a cargo bay—not of a Correo, nor of any Corsair vessel. Around me was a strange stone, carved with runes I half-recognized. Curious drafts in the ship’s hull led me to the cockpit… and there my jaw dropped.

Before me, a black hole. Not like the neutron star of Omega-41, no—this was a hungry giant, a beast in the void. I soon felt its pull dragging me closer. I tried to start the engines, but the circuits were fried. The vessel was a Dromedary—how I came aboard it, or what became of my Correo and crew, I still cannot say. That tale must wait. For now, I had to fight for my own survival.

I searched the cargo and found a toolbox with a handful of spare circuits. I patched what I could, and after what felt like an eternity, the engines coughed back to life. But the ship was broken—comms dead, weapons ruined, only a mining laser still working. I fed every scrap of power into the engines and clawed my way free of the beast’s pull.

The nav systems came online, weak but functional. I saw shattered planets, distant rocks, and—near the black hole’s core—something floating. I approached, and again my jaw dropped. A structure, of the same material as the stone in my hold. At its peak spun a shining cube, bright as a jewel. But the black hole’s pull grew stronger, and I dared not linger.

Instead, I turned toward a comet’s tail nearby, slowly being dragged to its doom. Beneath it shimmered a jumphole. With no better choice, I leapt.

On the other side—silence. A gas pocket, smooth and clean, its walls unbroken. In the distance drifted wrecks, circling an anomaly. I dared approach, but the pull toward the anomaly was strong, and I retreated, back through the jumphole—better the jaws of the black hole than that cursed trap.

I scanned again, finding more planets and wrecks. One hulk, the Argent, yielded another jumphole. My half-dead scanners spat odds of survival—28%, or maybe 82%. Bah. I jumped.

I found myself in another nebula, this one marked with buoys leading into an asteroid maze. My scans were worthless; I had only my eyes and my guts. I followed the trail, dodging smaller anomalies, slipping past shattered explorer ships that showed me what failure meant. At last, I reached another jumphole and jumped again.

The new system was thick with dense asteroid fields. In one lava-filled cluster, life signs stirred. As I entered, Rheinland and Hessian fighters swarmed me, eager to rip apart what little hull I had left. Fortune smiled—Corsair brothers appeared, distracting them long enough for me to slip deeper into the rocks. There I found yet another jumphole and leapt through, rather risk anomaly than die to Hessian guns.

On the other side lay more asteroids, less dense. My power reserves were nearly empty, but I limped onward. Finally, another jumphole—this one leading to Omega-55. From there, battered and scarred, I made for Omega-49 and the safety of Gran Canaria.

The flight there was mercifully quiet, giving me time to breathe, though not enough to understand what I had seen. Black holes, ancient stones, shining cubes… whole systems forgotten, filled with wrecks and death.

Now I rest. When I have gathered my strength, I will ask High Command to assemble a research fleet. We must chart these cursed systems. Perhaps we may even find my lost ship… and the crew I fear are gone.

Until then, hermanos, fly safe. Mind where you jump—for it may well be your last.

PS: i will attach some visuals as soon as i retrieved them from the fried blackbox

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Costa Del Sol

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