Chapter 43: The Selunirs
The wreckage drifted in deep space, a monument to a battle no human had ever witnessed. The ship was colossal—five kilometers long, its hull ruptured by wounds that looked too precise to be natural.
Just a dead warship swallowed by the abyss.
Dr. Alistair Lucien stared at it through the observation deck of the Sullivan Voyager. His fingers tapped against the console, his mind already racing through the possibilities. This was technology beyond anything humanity had encountered.
"Status?" he asked, voice calm.
Reimar, his lead systems analyst, adjusted his earpiece. "Scans show no movement. Gravity is weak but stable. Oxygen levels are barely detectable. There is an alien organism but it's most likely dead, sir."
Lucien exhaled. 'Then it belongs to us now.'
A discovery like this could shift the balance of power overnight. If the ship held weapons, intact data cores—anything salvageable—it would push humanity's technology decades ahead. Maybe more.
He straightened. "Prepare the boarding team. Full hazard gear."
Reimar hesitated. "Sir, this thing... it didn't just break apart. Look at the damage pattern. Some of these hull breaches are too clean for asteroids—something did this."
Lucien didn't even blink. "Then let's find out what."
The Sullivan Voyager adjusted course, maneuvering alongside the dead vessel. Docking clamps extended. Magnetic locks engaged. The connection sealed with a heavy clunk.