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This one's armed with a plasma shotgun. Don't let him catch you in a narrow space!
No one likes to talk about what happens to spacers unlucky enough to die on Nastrond, the seventh planet in the Niflhel System. No one likes to talk about the necro-ships that tear themselves from the icy seas of that world to haunt and hunt the spacelanes of that sector, but fly a cargo route through their space and you're sure to see enough sensor ghosts to put your hairs on end. "Electro-Liches," they're called, the dead spacers, corrupted by some kind of mechanical virus that turns them into mind-linked horror soldiers bent on achieving some unknowable, alien goal. In my years, I've seen men cut down by these wire-ridden skeletons, and I've seen others dragged into the shadows by them, dragged away to be cut apart and made into more horrors for the undead swarm.
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