Upper Atmosphere of Theta Eight

Wind lashes a thin, frozen veil high above Theta Eight where Klingon‑reported debris drifts and sensors lock on. The air here registers as a lethal cocktail — nitrogen, methane, and liquid neon boiling at near‑absolute temperatures — while hurricane‑force currents shear any approach. Scans return harsh, clinical readouts and frustrating ambiguity: no clear artificial signatures, only ghostly returns and particulate scatter. The space functions as an investigative limbo, a hostile environmental threshold that turns scientific curiosity into tactical urgency as the crew hunts for answers on the planet’s night side.