///LOCATION - NLTT-512///TIME - 04:45 LMT///DATE - 19-05-2232///

Crossroads = HQ [Colonel] Mr. Jayden Bonython (XH-0001 UENCCV-02 Atlas-Class Command Centre)

Falcon 3-1 = Squadron-Leader, flight Falcon 3 [Captain] Mr. Carl S. Combs (H2215FA Divertia)

Falcon 3-2 = Reconnaisance-Specialist, flight Falcon 3 [First Lieutenant] Mr. Sebastian Morrison (H2215EX Divertia)

Falcon 3-3 = Communications-Specialist, flight Falcon 3 [Second Lieutenant] Mrs. Emma M. Johansen (H2215EX Divertia)

Falcon 3-4 = Defence-Specialist, flight Falcon 3 [Second Lieutenants] Mr. Darcy Ciantar & Mr. Taj Willson (EU-55F Hornet)

"Falcon 3-1, Falcon 3-1, this is Crossroads, message, over."

"This is Falcon 3-1, send message, over."

"Falcon 3-1, we are picking up your transponders on trackers. Please confim succesfull warp, over."

"Affirm, warp succesfull, current position is grid 052832 in NLTT-512. Standing by, over."

"Copy Falcon 3-1, your orders are as follows: Scan the local solar system. If anything comes up, proceed to target for detailed scan. How copy, over."

"Scan system, proceed to target if discovered. Falcon 3-1, copy."

"Good copy Falcon 3-1. Crossroads out."

"Hey Combs, what exactly are we looking for again?" the Communications-Specialist asked.

"Like I told you, we are looking for that missing pilot. Eric Caller, Callhoy, something like that."

"And how exactly are we going to find him then? Finding a small and damaged ship in the depths of space isn't exactly easy!"

"That's where Lieutenant Morrison comes into play!" the Squadron-Leader said.

The Recon-Specialist interupted: "That's First Lieutenant, sir. But you lot may call me Sebastian."

"Right, First Lieutenant, sorry. Anyway, Sebastian here is our Reconnaisance-Specialist, with his upgraded vessel. The scanners on that thing are massive."

"They sure are!" said Hornet-Gunner Taj Willson. "You compensating for something Sebastian?"

"Very funny, but this thing is seriously powerfull. I'm even picking up things fro- Wait, shouldn't there only be 4 ships around here?" Sebastian asked.

Combs was confused by this question, and asked Sebastian to clarify. "Yeah, why are you asking? Are you picking up anyone else? Maybe our target?"

"I don't think so, the object that I'm picking up is way too small. It is more the size of a drone, or a probe. Nothing that a person could survive inside. Question is, how did it get here?" the Recon-Specialist explained. "Should I scan it, Combs?"

"Well, are you our recon-specialist or not?"

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Give me a second..." Sebastian focused his instruments on the small object, which was not more than half a meter in diameter. It took a while, because of the small size of the object, but after about a minute, the scan was completed. "Uhh, Combs, I have good news and bad news."

"Don't be so dramatic, this is a serious situation, not some damn novel or something. Just tell me what's up!" Combs snorted. He had a thing against drama.

"Fine, here's the deal: The object is a probe, Yota-Model. Designed for orbital surveys. The labelling shows that it is property of Genesis BioTech, but it is not activated. Maybe Eric dropped it out here?"

"Why would he just ditch a perfectly fine probe? Those things cost a fortune."

"Well, there's more. It seems the probe is sending out some sort of signal, but I can't decipher it."

Emma Johansen, the Comms-Specialist, thought that she might have a solution. "I can run it trough my computers to see if it can decipher it?"

"It's worth a shot." Morrison said. "Alright, sending the link now."

"Let's see what this little thing has to say..." The communicational computers aboard Johansen's Divertia went to town on the signal, trying every possible decription protocol in order to understand the message. After attempting atleast a few dozen different combinations and frequencies, the system finally locked down the transmission. "Got it!"

"Well, what does it say?" the rest of the squadron asked, in near flawless unison.

"Hang on, give me a second..." she said, as she listened to the recording. "It's... Eric!"

"What?! Are you sure?" Combs asked.

"Yup, clear as a pulsar. I'll forward the audio to you."

"...This is Commander Eric Callaghan, tailnumber PH-KDN, repeat, PAPA HOTEL KILO DELTA NOVEMBER. I lost most of my onboard systems, and the Warp-Drive has malfunctioned. My life-support systems are damaged, and I'm running out of oxygen. If you are hearing this, please send help! I will attempt to land at NLTT-512-3A. Please, help me! Help me..."

"Well, that doesn't sound particulary good." Combs stated.

Hornet-pilot Darcy Cianter acknowledged. "By the sound of things, he'd like for us to hurry up."

"Well, can you blame him?" retorded Johansen.

"You know what I meant Emma!"

"Like I told you a million times, you call me Johansen while on mission, got it?!"

Combs intervened. "Now is not really the time for such issues. The two of you can discuss this later, as we have more pressing concerns at the moment. We have to inform Atlas to our findings as soon as possible, and then await orders. We can't go out there on our own, something in this solar system might be causing issues with spaceships, and I don't know about you, but I sure as hell don't want to end up like Eric! Johansen, get me a link with Crossroads ASAP!"

"On it sir!"

Radio-chatter was relatively calm. There were a few teams that were reporting that they had reached their destination, all of them with negative results. One of the teams, Falcon 6, was just informing Crossroads that they were receiving some odd readings, most likely due to the neutron star that their squadron was in close proximity with, when they were abruptly cut off by an urgent message coming in from Falcon-3.

"BREAK BREAK BREAK, this is Falcon 3-1 to Crossroads, come in Crossroads, over!"

"This is Crossroads, what the HELL is so DAMN IMPORTANT Falcon 3-1, over?!"

"We have found an emergency broadcast from the target, Eric Callaghan!"

In his excitement, Combs even forgot about proper communication procedures. Luckily, the Colonel didn't seem to mind it that much.

"Falcon 3-1, you have found the target? Please confirm, over!"

"Negative Crossroads, we have not located the target, however, we are roughly aware of our target's position, over."

"Copy Falcon 3-1, please transmit the location, over."

"Target's suspected location is NLTT-512-3A, propability is high. From what we could gather so far, it is a planet with a temperate and breathable climate, consisting of one major landmass, and several smaller islands, all surrounded by a connecting ocean. The exact location of the target on this planet is unkown. Please advise, over."

"Copy your last Falcon 3-1, your task is as follows: Proceed to 3A, establish visual on the planet, and get us more info on the planet. Stay on this frequency at all times. How copy, over."

"Proceed to target, gather intel, stay on frequency. Wilco, Falcon 3-1, out."

Author's Note

A big help for this chapter was this webpage, where I learned about different military communication procedures. This chapter was decently delayed due to sickness, but I'm happy to report that I'm back behind the keyboard! Lastly, Eric's ship's tailnumber, PH-KDN, is actually the tailnumber of the aircraft that I normally fly with in real life.

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