ARIA
The coordinates led to an abandoned textile factory twenty miles outside the eastern territory's main settlement and I knew before we entered that something was wrong because the entire building was dark except for a single light on the third floor that pulsed in a pattern too deliberate to be coincidence.
Three short pulses. Three long. Three short.
SOS in morse code.
"She's signaling," Kael said. He'd stopped the transport a hundred yards out and we were both assessing approach vectors while trying to determine if the signal was genuine distress or sophisticated bait. "Either she knows we're coming and she's showing us where she is, or someone knows we're coming and they're using her to draw us in."
