“This is the free trader, Beowulf, calling anyone… Mayday, mayday, we are under attack…”
The raiders didn’t bother stopping to loot the free trader. They had bigger prey in mind.
Three ships shot past the crippled Beowulf, flipping over as they did so. Their grav-plates bloomed with energy, slowing their headlong flight towards the looming planet ahead. As the ghostly tendrils of the outer atmosphere began to heat their hulls, two of the ships turned again to dive into the planet’s gravity well. The third ship aerobraked and moved itself to an overwatch orbit, its turret-mounted weapons ready to defend its cronies they landed to loot the planet below.
“mayday… losing cabin pressure…calling anyone… please help.”
There was no answer. The radio bands were empty except for the coded screeches of the pirates, and the endless hiss of the void.
And soon, there was only the void.