Kylie McVan stood on the deck of her flagship, surrounded by her friends and foes alike. Another celebration, another victory. Another day in the sun. She grasped the handrails of the viewdeck and tried to right the world from spinning. She felt violently ill.
"Ky," she narrowed her eyes, a tonal queue pulling her back. "Ky, wake up."
Her ship was roaring in her ear, warnings from across its systems. Same flagship. Wrong kind of party. She bared her fangs against the black and threw the barn doors open.
"Where were you?" Another logistician. "I fell asleep at the wheel." She muttered into comms. The long moment of silence across comms was more deafening to her than all the dead stars of Pochven.