[date/YC113/8/27.return_log]

“Where do eggers come from, dad?” asked the little boy into the camera, static interfering with the audio and video.

“They come from the Empires, son.” replied the worn voice of his father. The video skipped, and I adjusted the playback settings. It continued.

“Mom says they’re bad, that they just ruin everything.”

“She’s right, son. Capsuleers don’t have any allegiance to the Empires, only to themselves. They don’t even trust each other, really.”

The video stopped again. I looked up as a corpse drifted in front of me, across the exposed and gaping hole in the structure. Asteroids spun and glinted in the distance as the sun rose over the nearby gas giant.

“Why don’t the empires just get rid of them, dad?”

“Capsuleers are powerful, son. You can’t just – ” sirens could be heard going off in the background of the video. The boys face went from curiosity to worry. A warning code came over the intercom system. “I’m sorry, kiddo, I have to go. There’s ‘rats inbound. Send my love to your mother.” The video stuck again.

I looked down at the screen. The boy’s face was frozen in distress. I looked back toward the sun.

“What do you think, sir?” asked Lieutenant Merromeau.

I tossed the data pad out into space, and watched it float of toward the asteroids. “I think we’d better leave before Nation comes back; there’s still plenty of corpses left, and you know how fickle he is with left overs, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, sir. Bringing the shuttle around, then.”

I scoured the deepness, trying to see something that wasn’t there. I knew Kuvakei was looking back, though – he was always watching us.

[date/YC113/8/27.end_log]