The citadel was dark and foreboding. It floated out in space, towers, hundreds of them, built atop a large asteroid that tumbled slowly, sending the towers end over end every five or so minutes.

“Dark,” Bo said from the pilot's chair. He had just called the others forward. Gar had lowered himself next to him, and Char and Yelia, the two lovebirds, were standing in the doorway.

“See anything?” Gar asked, leaning forward and looking through the viewport. Bo glanced to his screen.

“Nothing.”

“No lights. I thought there would be something,” Char said from the doorway. He reached out and found Yelia’s hand. They could all feel it. The answer to their problems, or at least the first problem on a long list, lay before them. The citadel. That was where they needed to be.

“Let’s go,” Yelia said. She was as eager as anybody to locate her sister. Only Gar felt anything near as anxious as she did.

“All right, here we go,” Bo said, and he took the flight stick in hand and pushed it away from his body, sending the Patchwork Lady forward and down, towards the surface of the asteroid.

He had been worried about where he was going to land, but as he turned the ship over to match the asteroid, and neared the thickest of the towers at its base, he saw a flat surface that had been clearly constructed for ships. In fact, there were two already there, derelict and falling apart, surely having not been flown for years.

“I was hoping for that,” Bo said as he felt his ship kick. There was artificial gravity around the asteroid, like what he used on his ship to keep everyone from floating about, but on a much larger scale. It also meant that tumbling through space wouldn’t make them sick, at least if they didn’t stare out at space too much, to see the stars spiraling around their heads.

“Okay, we’re down,” Bo said and grinned at Gar as the ship set down.

“Guns,” Gar said quietly, and Char nodded, moving back to the small locker they had loaded with weapons and ammo. Gar chose his tryst slug thrower, taking a bandolier and filling it with ammo. Bo took a large one-handed gun, which was as beefy as he was. It fired plasma bolts. They were small bottles that glowed slightly purple. Bo slid extra ammunition into large pouches on his belt.

Char and Yelia both had automatic firing rifles, which shot red lasers. They loaded up on batteries, each one allowing them two hundred and fifty shots. Char found himself hoping they wouldn’t need even one.

“Breathable?” Gar asked by the door, and Bo looked at a panel.

“Nope, take these,” he said, handing out masks. “Shouldn’t need full suits by the look of it, but it’s going to be cold.

Everyone strapped their masks on.

“Why keep the gravity on, but not the oxygen?” Char asked. Most creatures in the galaxy breathed oxygen and needed water to survive. It was the one common trait they almost all shared.

“They don’t need air,” Gar said with a grimace. He was referring to the Destune; their bodies dead and brought back by machinery. They did not breathe.

“I’ve never even seen one of these things, and I hate them already,” Char said quietly, and despite everything, Bo laughed. He slapped Char on the back.

“Who better to lead the way?” he said. Char grumbled and slapped the button next to the door, it slid open.

Outside, the citadel was massive, stretching up hundreds of feet above their heads. It was built out of stone, large bricks stacked upon one another, gray and crumbling. It was a short walk to the nearest tower, and Char hurried, leaving the others to trot behind him.

Massive doors made of some red wood lay before them. Char glanced back and got a nod from Gar, who shouldered his rifle. Bo stood off to the side, and Yelia took a position beside Gar, raising her own weapon.

Char moved to the other side of the doors, placing his hand on one. Bo placed his hand on the other.

“Go,” Gar said, and Char and Bo both pushed, the doors swinging open with loud creaks. There was nothing but inky darkness inside, so Gar reached up quickly to the side of his oxygen mask and pressed a button there. A tiny lamp set into the mask next to his right eye flared to life, its beam piercing the darkness. The others turned their lights on as well, and then Gar and Yelia stepped inside.

“Clear,” Yelia said. They all had earpieces in, which let them communicate even if they got separated, so she whispered and they all heard her fine.

The room they had stepped into was massive, with a sky-high ceiling. It was void of furniture, but artwork hung on the walls. The paintings were dark, mostly reds and grays and blacks, and seemed to depict some alien being in various stages of its life. It was being born, a splash of telltale purple across its forehead. It was older, a child eating a fruit handed over by its mother. It was even older in another one, being whipped.

Yelia gasped at the final painting. The creature with the purple forehead was being killed, tied to a table and dissected by three other beings, each holding a long knife. The alien was still alive in the painting, its mouth twisted open in a scream.

“Charming,” Bo said, glancing at the painting and moving on.”

“Any idea where this machine is?” Gar asked out loud, his question not directed at anyone in particular.

“No, we’re going to have to search the old fashioned way. It’s a big place…” Bo said.

“Should we split up?” Char asked.

Gar thought for a moment. “No sense in that. Yelia is the only one who can use it, if someone else finds it she’ll have to get there anyway.”

He didn’t bother adding there was a good chance the Destune were inside the citadel, hiding in the shadows and waiting to ambush them.

Everyone seemed fine with sticking together, and they moved on, choosing one of the many doors off the large empty room at random. The search had begun.