In space, everything lingers. A battle between two ships can spawn debris that circles the system for years, maybe until the star burns out. There’s not much, sure, especially compared to the other flotsam in a system. Fleets, though, are a different story.
Commander Peter Flynn looked over the remnant of the battlefield. The Alliance Fifth and Third Fleets had just driven off the Hierarchy’s Ever Glorious Fleet. One hundred and twenty Alliance ships against ninety-five of the enemy. The Third Fleet was gone. Four ships survived, two of which were beyond repair and going to be scuttled. The fifth fleet fared better with thirty ships surviving. Seventeen of the enemy made it out.
Over a hundred and fifty ships out there. The amount of wreckage humbled him. Worst of all, it still moved. It would forever be moving, unless the Alliance dispatched a clean-up. They won’t, though. Not for this system. The Hayak system was nothing. Disputed territory in name only. The colony that once existed here had long been abandoned due to constant raids. The system was a convenient locus for jumps to other systems, but it was resource poor. It had strategic value, but little else. And now it would be a graveyard. The twisted, exploded metal that once made up gleaming starships kept drifting, haunting the system with its tale of what happened here.