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The Ishkur tears through space, bleeding fuel, drones slide back into its bay as the ship aligns for warp-

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Milo working on a tabletop, he carefully pulls apart a small metal object, bringing one part up into the light with a pair of forceps-

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The cloaked silhouette of an Arazu slides through space, light diffusing around it’s curved hull. Camera drones swerve 180 degrees and zoom in on a Viator anchoring a Gallente-made control tower-

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Market figures, hundreds of them, scrolling by at a rate too fast to pick out any individual items-

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A Brutor woman, pushing Milo against a wall-

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Milo, hunched over a console in an office, strange blueprints scatter the floor and desks-

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A young man, proudly walking through a crowd with a group of others, the FNA insignia clear on his jacket-

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The camera drone pans back, revealing Milo curled and shaking violently in a doorway across from the workbench-

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