03/06/836: Report 1
With the rumors of jump holes shifting, and new opportunities opening up, HQ asked for exploration work: locate a viable site for a new station in the Omegas.
We linked up with Rhamnousia and her escort group today. Preliminary scouting ruled Omega-41 out, leaving Omega-47 and Omega-55 as the remaining candidates.
Yes, Omega-55 is a war zone. No, that didn’t matter once the hearsay started circulating about three new jump holes and “vast riches.” HQ decided we try Omega-55 first, for the following reasons:
Positioning: in the middle of the suspected jump-hole cluster, meaning at most one system to cross to reach Deep Omega.
Logistics: Bornholm may be a smuggler’s hub, but it can still receive ordered goods if our trade fleet is tied up elsewhere.
Security balance: the presence of Red Hessians and the Core keeps Corsairs and other wild elements from having free rein. Our workable terms with both could matter if we need help.
Market advantage: less competition. IMG is rooted in Omega-47 and has been quiet about Deep Omega. If this is real, Omega-55 is our best shot at arriving first and setting the terms.
As for survey space: the northern region is off-limits, and anything near Core/Hessian installations stays untouched unless HQ wants a diplomatic incident. That leaves the south for mapping and resource assessment.
I’m setting course for the Kattegat Lava Field.
Heavy radiation confirmed on approach. We conducted a perimeter sweep without entry and kept the ship outside the worst of it.
Visuals: a dense debris belt and a planetoid at the center of the field. Entry will require either a safer vector or heavier shielding. Current tolerance is not sufficient for prolonged work inside.
Preliminary measurements: the field spans roughly 30k across, centered around the planetoid. Its ovoid distribution suggests a second gravitational influence. My best guess is a jump hole or similar anomaly, but I’m not calling it until we get clean scans.
Radiation on the border sits around 1,000–2,000 roentgens/hour. Expected intensity near the planetoid: 8,000–10,000 roentgens/hour.
Whether the planetoid and surrounding lava-rock bodies are intrinsically radioactive or merely contaminated is still unconfirmed.
09/06/836: Report 2
(\^/)Rhamnousia fitted us with an additional shielding layer, part of the package deployed to support the fleet and local operations. We also received fresh hazmat suits.
I used the downtime to speak with a local Junker. The planetoid is called Aarhus. He said there was fighting there—something involving the Core—and then shut down hard. Touchy subject. I didn’t push. I’m patient with rocks and radiation; people are a different hazard.
Second run: we pushed in close to Aarhus. Radiation matched our projections and the new shielding kept us operational within limits. We launched one probe; radiation corruption degraded part of the telemetry. We’ll make another pass once we’re clear of today’s safe dose.
25/06/836: Report 3
With Livadia running at full capacity, we managed to get our hands on some of the latest armor Donagan cooked up. That let us push deeper into the field and stay there longer without cooking the crew.
We’ve finalized the preliminary survey of the asteroid field, and we already hit “gold.” Uranium, to be precise. High-grade, plentiful, and sitting in the rock like it wants to be mined. Easy extraction, straightforward processing. If Deep Omega turns out to be a death trap, this field alone can still pay for the expedition.
We moved on the gravitational anomaly. At first glance it looked like a collapsed jump hole, then the readings started disagreeing with what my eyes were seeing. Massive irregularities. Not as severe as the Blackout incident, but the pattern is wrong. Fluctuations that don’t match normal drift, and not consistent enough to be simple turbulence.
A few hours in, the instruments spiked again. Then the thing lit up.
An intense burst of unknown radiation, sharp, violent, and brief, and the rift reactivated. Later, Freeport 5 Zoners reported a similar burst detected in Omega-41. Our scouts also confirmed that Omega-41 did, in fact, have a collapsed jump hole on record.
So here’s my working conclusion: the Deep Omega access point isn’t stable. It’s gated—likely by some combination of Fisher rotation effects and intermittent radiation events that shove the rift open or snap it shut. Whether that “random burst” is natural or someone else’s problem wearing a lab coat, I don’t have enough data to pretend certainty.
But we got what we came for. The entrance is real. Deep Omega access is confirmed. First step of the expedition: successful.
Back aboard the Nephilim, I overheard HQ already mobilizing crews to start construction on a new base near Bornholm. They’re aiming for maximum secrecy, quiet build, minimal broadcasts, under the locals’ radar.
I don’t know how they expect to pull that off in a system where everyone listens to everyone, but they clearly don’t want Corsairs sticking their hands in our business again.
In the meantime, they’ve tasked us with the next part: push into Deep Omega, chart a viable course toward the deepest reachable sectors, and map anything worth keeping quiet. New rumors came in with returning explorers—half of it is probably bar talk, but it’s enough for HQ to want hard data instead of stories.
Cartography and scans
Due to radiation interference, figures below remain approximate:
Position: C7/8 (centered) Field size: ~42k length / ~32k width Contents: planetoid; lava-rock bodies; gateway to Deep Omega when aligned Planetoid: ~200 km diameter; composition shows ~10% uranium (prelim.) Field composition: lava/molten rock with elevated uranium content, ~40–50% in the Aarhus-adjacent belt — exploitation is a go.