Twisted lengths of metal floated silently. Through blurry eyes, I could see the sunlight glinting off of the metallic dust that flitted through the sky, shimmering against the stars that shimmered back. I could hear the static in my ears; soft hissing, beckoning me out of my sleep. My breath was labored, and my body ached and felt oppressively weighed down, as if the vastness I was falling into was trying to push me away. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to close my eyes and shut my ears. I wanted to become like one of the corpses that drifted around me.
Slowly, as time wore on, my mind awoke. I struggled at first to think clearly – my body actively fought back, trying to suppress me into another deep sleep, but my thoughts wouldn’t allow it. There were things I didn’t know; how long I had been drifting, whether or not I was within contact of other survivors, whether help was on the way or had already come and gone. Panic began to set in. Had I been left behind? Had I somehow been missed? I asked these questions aloud to the darkness that was surrounding me; it offered me no answers or comforts.
For the first time in an eternity, I forced a movement. Turning my head as I slowly tumbled through space, I saw the station. Torn and cratered, it hung quietly in space, a grim visage of sadness and death. Scrap and bodies floated around it. Fire erupted in some parts, spraying violently into the night. The colossal structure seemed to sigh and twist away from me, its Minmatar bones shrinking into the shadow of the planet it orbited. The fires burned ever brighter as it cowarded away, tongues of flame licking its wounds. They wrapped around and slithered into the blackness, dissipating in the expansive cold.
My eyes began to water at the intensity of the light lashing out from the fires; I squeezed them shut, trying to force it out of my mind.
But some images cannot be forgotten.