Station Mu

The year is 2XXX. Humanity has found it's new home amongst the stars. Perhaps its last home as well...

The aftermath of the apocalyptic Krixon War has left the once great spacefaring species on the brink of annihilation. Over 50 years of conflict with the rogue AI has rendered humanity's birthplace of Earth a scarred and barren wasteland. Her colony's lie scattered across the Quadrant, barely held together by a ram-shackle coalition of planetary governments and diplomatic aid from her alien neighbors. And as birthrates fall and mutations rise with the dissemination of Krixon's last ditch attempt at victory, the dreaded Raxan Blight, dreams of recovery dwindles ever further.

In the farthest reaches of humanity's old sphere of influence lies Science Station Mu. Isolated and alone, this once brilliant gem has decayed after contact with Earth was lost. Station Mu is falling apart. It's power grid, fueled by the once state of the art Tetryon Reactor has been pushed to the brink. Relays across the station blow almost daily, as decade old parts in dire need of replacement are subjected to ever greater burdens.

And yet humanity fights on.

You, Michael Zambac, are a soldier on the frontline of this new type of battle. The battle for survival. A skillful engineer, untouched by the ravages of the Blight, you are what Station Mu needs in its darkest hours. Your days are consumed by the triage of Mu's aging equipment. Flitting from problem to problem, it's all you can do to keep Mu alive and humming. But your efforts do not go unrewarded.

Mu has few luxuries to grant, but those that it does possess are all within your grasp. Overseer Avery Tindal has seen fit to grant you a larger room, free reign of Mu's recreational facilities (in your limited free time), and unlimited access to the Station's nutrient processors. In such dark times, these boons might normally engender envy or jealousy amongst your fellow spacers, but everyone on Mu knows just how important you are to their continued survival. If anything, they seem more than happy to allow you access to the fruits of your Sisyphean labors.

Then one day, deep in the galaxy's dark embrace, a small *ping* appears in the data from Mu's deep space radar telemetry. A ship! The first in months! Hardly able to believe your eyes, your scan the log again to make sure you're not dreaming. But as the minutes tick by your readings solidify, bringing the craft further into focus. It is indeed a ship, broadcasting an open hail on a standard frequency. Through the garbled static echoing from Mu's aging communication array, you can make out the following transmission:

"Repeat...This is the Starship-*zzzzzzztttttt*-esting permiss-*zzzzzzzzzzztttttt*- dock at Upper Pylon 9. We are-*zzzzzzzzzzttttttt*-cargo off load. Please ready-"

*BOOOOOOOM*

With a surge of electricity, Mu's exterior communication console erupts in a shower of sparks. Charred electrical components scatter around the room as equipment finally breaks down in a small explosion.

"God damn it!" You swear in frustration, angrily throwing a spanner at the now inert lump of metal. "Useless damn thing! I just fixed you last week! Why did you die on me NOW of all times?"

With your external communication equipment fried, there was no way to further contact the ship or check its transponder. Who were they? What were they doing here? Cargo?

You shake your head. Questions to be answered later. For now, you had to get in touch with Avery and get a crew to Pylon 9 immediately. How far away was that again?