"I'll Come Back"

[Toaster]

Omicron Minor
March 28, 828 A.S.

The canopy automatically depolarized as the tunnel of blinding light receded around the Sutinga, spitting the ship out into the next system. Olivia glanced around, quickly finding the rest of the convoy scattered vaguely around the jump hole. They had all made it through intact.

They were deep within the Edge now, surrounded on all sides by a vast expanse of green mist and the system’s iconic asteroid field. The strangely flat rocks tumbled through space around them like enormous frisbees, some with edges sharp enough to cut cleanly through the hulls of capital ships.

Visibility was minimal, hardly two clicks in any direction. Olivia glanced at her sensors, relieved to find only her companions on the list of contacts.

“Alright, listen up,” Captain Rosary’s voice came through the speakers again, even cracklier now than before. “The cloud and rocks should provide enough interference for us to communicate freely on close-range channels.”

Olivia heard the sighs of relief from her wingmen as they reenabled their comms. She could feel for them - no one liked flying through space like this in silence.

The convoy’s ships engaged their engines and edged forward through the cloudy expanse, tendrils of gas and mist swirling around them, grasping at them. Olivia’s head was on a swivel, checking every rock they passed for signs of potential hostiles.

“Coming up on the graveyard,” Rosary announced in a solemn tone. The nebula thinned and finally parted before them, revealing the still burning corpse of a planet, surrounded by an expansive disk of planetary fragments and thousands of shipwrecks. Olivia’s eyes darted from lifeless husk to lifeless husk, worried that any one of them might suddenly spring to life and ambush the small flotilla. They all, however, remained inert.

“Jesus,” one of the escorts muttered as they cautiously passed the remains of a once proud battleship, what remained of its hull scored by hundreds of energy impacts, gaping holes revealing its devastated internals. It served as a reminder to all who came upon it that this region of space harbored a threat far greater than any expanding house, conquering mercenary force, or zealous terrorist cell.

“Junkers must be making a fortune,” another pilot remarked as they left the gutted warship in their wake.

Leaving the ruined planet behind, the convoy passed once more into the clouds.

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Olivia Sable