The search for the prize takes two days of false auspex returns and scraps of fragmented vox traffic that have been bouncing around for decades. Tension on the bridge grows steadily higher, as the feel of so many ghosts so near prey on the minds of almost everyone.<br/><br/>Through the vista panels of your vessel, you begin to make out a massive glittering cloud scattered across the void. As you get closer, you can faintly discern the blasted shells of vessels, desiccated and corroded by centuries of unprotected exposure to hard vacuum and solar radiation. It looks like long ago a great engagement took place here that left behind the twisted remains of assault vessels, ordnance, and other detritus of war. Servitors inform you that the debris field is some 300,000 km across, with fragments ranging in size from flecks of paint to almost intact vessels.<br/><br/>Even as you watch, the cloud moves like a sluggish whirlpool of junk, fragments smashing into each other and breaking into showers of debris and dust. You can just make out the weak flicker of a plasma drive as it leaks a feeble glow out into space near the centre of the chaotic mass of broken vessels and blackened hulks.<br/><br/>On the third day, success!<br/><br/>The brass lectern in front of you whirs, and amidst a cloud of incense, a flickering holomap resolves itself, the green icon of your prize pulsing clear amidst a horde of scarlet danger contacts. One of the junior bridge crew indicates each in turn, unexploded munitions, leaking plasma drives, radioactive debris and a host of other dangers.<br/><br/>There is just too much clutter to take your own ship in close. A small lander, on the other hand ...