People just assume Freeport 7 disintegrated, that the defenders were overwhelmed, and everyone died instantly, vented, when the atmosphere lost pressure. Not at all. What happened was so much worse. I sat outside. That day, I was on long patrol, 20k out from the station, with a light wing in hawks. We got word when everyone else did, when there were unknown contacts...Those were the worst words of my life. "Unknown contacts on deep scanner. Dispatching wing to investigate" I have nightmares, now. Every night, that I'll hear that. That whatever station I'm sleeping on will call everyone to stations, that the world will shake, doors will slam closed as the air screams by my face. All across the station, klaxons wail. And out the window, something pink drifts by, disappears in a flash. I wake up sweating, panting, gasping. Every night. Every single night, for the last seventeen years. If they ever come for me, no one will sit outside, linked into my comms, telling me they love me. No one will touch me, no one will cry.
There were survivors for hours. Days, in some cases. When the station was hit, life support failed, and the spine splintered. That didn't cause much of an explosion, and what there was of an explosion was contained when all the sections sealed. So, when the station fractured...People were in whatever section they were in, with however much air and heat. Some suffocated, some froze..a few died of dehydration. Some died in the intial bang, of course. Mine weren't so lucky. My parents were on promenade four, enjoying a packed show. That crowd suffocated first. My sister, and my daughter...They lasted a few hours. I talked to them. Told them I loved them, that I was proud.