Command of the Reconnaissance Pod

The aetheric thrusters howl as the HMS Aurelian wrenches free of Earth's orbit, brass plates groaning under the strain. Through the porthole, the sun swells like a furnace mouth, painting the bridge in molten gold. Captain Vance's mustache trembles, but his voice holds steady.

"I cannot risk the whole ship in that inferno," he says, pressing a heavy ignition key into your palm. "The reconnaissance pod is yours. Take her where the Aurelian cannot follow."

You descend to the launch bay, where the small copper pod waits, its viewports tinted obsidian-black. Two trajectories glow on the navigation slate: Morrow's suspected solar forge, hidden in the corona's shimmer, or the dark silhouette drifting beyond Mercury — older than empires, and stirring.