Somewhere in deep space, three systems away from Earth and closing, the Eclipse transport cut through FTL with a low hum that vibrated through the deck plating. The ship was small by warship standards—barely sixty meters bow to stern—but fast, equipped with Grey family engine modifications that pushed it harder than civilian regulations allowed. The interior was cramped, functional, designed for short-term operations rather than comfort.
Noah sat in the main cabin, one hand resting on his knee, the other draped across the armrest of a chair that had seen better days. The viewport beside him showed the impossible colors of faster-than-light travel, reality stretched and distorted in ways that made his eyes hurt if he looked too long. So he didn't look. Just stared at the deck plating instead, running through scenarios, trying to anticipate what they'd find at Hollowstar.
