Destiny

[jammi]

I wiped away the blood that was drying on my face, peering warily out at the cloud of orange dust that surrounded us. Smith had been scanning the debris fields that had previously been our escorts, searching for life signs, but grim-faced reported nothing had been found. We were at risk, sitting still at a disrupted trade lane. We could be attacked from any direction by Hessian or Corsair.

Smith confirmed as much when he declared that he was going to make a run for Omega 3 as soon as the lane had recalibrated, rather than wait for military reinforcements. The detective was still squatting near me. Sir, are you alright? What happened? I rubbed my temples, trying to put off a dull headache that was starting to throb.

I have no idea... A cryptogenic stroke perhaps? Nothing feels wrong now though. Im fine. He still looked concerned, but backed off to a respectable distance. Still, of course I knew what had happened - those Wilde had shared mind with me. But what would happen if I openly admitted that? A witch-hunt more than likely.

Several of the crew were glaring at me, as if there was something profoundly wrong with me, or a black mark visible to all except me had been laid on me. First the Corsair attack on the Dauntless, then Wilde on the Eastbourne... They must believe I was cursed, an omen of impending doom. I pushed the thought from my mind.

Suddenly the radio squawked into life, heavy Rhienlandic accents grating on the ears. The bridge fell silent once more as all present concentrated on the sounds, praying the lane would reengage before the voices' sources arrived. One gunner who was fluent in Rhienlandic confirmed the chatter to be from a Hessian wing.

Suddenly the voices were cut off, replaced by screams and explosions, horrific sounds of battle, of death and debilitating injury. From our location we could not see the battle itself, but the lighting flashes of weapon fire and exploding ships glinted maliciously through the shifting clouds. The battle seemed horrificly one sided, with the raiders being torn asunder by an unidentified enemy that was as silent as the grave and deadly to match. Then the acceleration fields on the lane then realigned themselves, allowing the unnerved captain to dart into the lanes welcoming maw and escape.

Codes bounced back and forth between us and the gate before it swung open and engaged. The crew, muttering prayers of thanks and deliverance gave a collective sigh as we jumped, thankful to have made it home to Bretonia once more.

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