An hour and a half later, the Sun Bin closed in on Bellerophon Station--a sprawl of black domes on a tiny, airless moon orbiting a bigger moon in orbit around a gas giant. It was a low-profile outpost in a remote corner of Commonwealth space, the perfect location for a secret black ops facility turned conspiracy headquarters.
"They haven't hailed us yet." Donna's fingers danced over the dashboard. "There's no radio traffic at all. No outgoing signals of any kind."
"Oh, well. Nobody home," said Cairn, who was still draped over the command chair. "Guess we'd better turn around."
Scott ignored him and leaned over Donna's shoulder for a closer look at the viewport. "I don't see any activity down there. What about heat signatures?"
"Power's on under the domes," said Donna. "Beyond
