Outreach is a small, cold planetoid drifting far beyond the settled routes of the Fractured Reach. Too distant for trade, too mineral-poor for corporate interest, and too isolated for Cartel ambitions, it has slipped into myth as the place where the frontier finally gives up on itself.
Its surface is a patchwork of cracked stone plains, frozen dust dunes, and jagged canyons carved by ancient glacial movement. The sky is always dark here, lit only by the distant glow of the Reach’s central star and whatever broken auroras flicker in the thin upper atmosphere.
The only mark of civilization is Eidolon Station, an abandoned research outpost built by an unknown pre-Fracture coalition. The station sits half-buried against a cliffside, its alloy walls pitted with micrometeor scars, its antennae frozen in perpetual silence. Android labs, stellar anomaly rooms, and sealed data vaults remain intact—powered by a reactor that somehow refuses to die.
No one knows why the scientists left.
No distress call was recorded.
No logs were recovered.
Shuttles still sit in their bays, untouched.
Freecrews whisper that Eidolon Station studied something in the dark—something that watched back. Marshals avoid it. Cartels pretend it doesn’t exist. The Corporate Constellations have quietly classified all records of the station under “Operational Irradiant,” a designation used for projects they would rather erase.
Now Outreach drifts alone, a quiet watcher in the black, holding secrets no one claims and answers no one has dared to retrieve.
A perfect place for wanderers to disappear.
A perfect place for trouble to begin.