The fleet pushed into the nebula cluster under the new harmonics. Visibility dropped to almost nothing within minutes. Ghost rifts flickered at the edges of sensors, and resonance echoes bounced between ships like invisible hammers.
Captains called out adjustments every few seconds. One frigate veered too close to a rift and nearly lost its port stabilizers before the pilot yanked it back.
Sabrina stood on the command deck of the lead hybrid carrier, eyes fixed on the tactical display. The quarantine beacon had grown louder and clearer. It wasn't Seeker tech.
The signature was older, heavier, built on principles the empire's databases barely recognized. "Archivist," the preliminary scan labeled it. A massive living archive ship, trapped for millennia, its containment failing.
"Form the armada," Sabrina ordered. "Ember swarms first. Hybrids follow in staggered wedges. We stabilize, we don't strip."
