It didn't take long for things to go wrong.
"Commander…" Arin's voice again, tight. "You need to see this."
Elara braced herself.
"What now?"
He gestured to the forward display.
At first, it looked like debris—metal fragments drifting aimlessly in the void.
Then the image sharpened.
Ships.
Hundreds of them.
Broken. Hollow. Silent.
A graveyard.
"Identification?" Elara asked.
Arin's fingers flew across the console. "Multiple origins. Human. Non-human. Some… I don't even recognize the design."
Rhea stepped closer, her usual confidence replaced with unease. "That's not debris. That's a massacre."
Elara's jaw tightened.
"No signs of battle damage," Arin added. "No weapons fire. No explosion signatures."
"Then what destroyed them?" Rhea asked.
Silence answered her.
Then—
The signal returned.
Louder this time.
Stronger.
It filled the ship, vibrating through the walls, through the air, through their bones.
Elara felt it more than heard it.
"Trace it," she ordered.
Arin's eyes widened.
"It's not coming from one source," he said. "It's everywhere."
The graveyard shifted.
No—it moved.
The ships, once drifting aimlessly, began to rotate.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Until every broken hull faced the Astraeus.
Rhea whispered, "That's… not possible."
Elara didn't respond.
Because deep down, she knew the truth.
They weren't alone.