"There is no wisdom in war, only the loss of it,"

—Old Sihnon proverb.

      The recycled air was becoming toxic to his lungs. Layer after layer of dust had accumulated every surface of the cramped space. He surmised it was better than having no air at all, at least the alcohol helped him ignore his clogged nasal passages. It was always surprising the lengths one could go to to find space for liquor. Even when every inch was a luxury. Most void pilots kept track of all the space they had, carefully plotting how to utilize it to their utmost advantage. Not so for Alexander Gunn who could care less about such things. His feet rested against the guidance system as he leaned back in his old leather seat. The cockpit was constructed near the tail wing giving him full view of the nose and wings as the solid chassis of his Malbec storm fighter defied the darkness of space with its white and blue paint.

      It was an odd choice to paint the hull white, most voidships went with dark colors to hide them from anyone who might look outside. It was an old practice that Alex always found ridiculous. The light of the engines would always give you away. That was of course presuming anyone was close enough to actually look outside to see. Many had also grown to believe outside viewports were structural weak points, and should be replaced with long range scanners. Alex only half agreed with that statement. What was the point of coming out here, to the great unknown, if one couldn't look outside toward the stars.

      His Malbec floated toward a small orb in the distance. It was a grey gemstone reflecting the light of the sun. Two specks circled it, one solid black the other a iridescent white. The pair of moons seemed like a pair of eyes in the dark. A radio beacon was captured, a series of intermittent broadcasts could be distilled amid all the chatter. It was the same every time he went to a knew colony, it was the first sign of civilization. If you could call it that?

      He casually pressed a few buttons on the dash, the autopilot changed its heading. The engines cycled, the nose of the craft slowly aimed toward the gemstone. He was still thousands of miles away, it would take a few days to arrive at the orbital dockyard. Even at full speed with the artificial dampeners working correctly he shouldn't be able to see the world expand in his view. It would take at least a few hours before he noticed a significant difference. Still though he liked to think he could see the world growing.

      Alexander watched it for a few more minutes before deciding to turn in for the night. He pulled a crank in the side of the seat adjusting it to lower exposing an opening. The Malbec was no simple fighter, it chassis built using a larger frame. Inside there was room enough for a small living space. He slipped out of the seat, letting zero g drift him into his cocoon.

      He bumped his head on the wall and cursed. After rubbing his forehead he searched for a small satchel tied to the corner of the bolted chair. A thin cigar was waiting for him. Naturally any flammable substance was a quick way to die in an oxygen enriched box. Installing O2 scrubbers was the easiest and most expensive remedy. The cost of installing such devices in the cramped confines without overhauling the design was more than extravagant. To say he could have used the funds to buy an entire skyscraper on most worlds would be telling the truth.

      Smoking the cigar, he savored each puff. He began to relax. His mind drifted away, slipping into a haze. His dreams no longer echoed anything pleasant, they became a collection of violent and cruel visions. Buried under all of them a whisper clawed at the back of his mind. His subconscious ran from it, hid from it. There was no escape, the harder he ran the more it tried to crawl into his dreams. Eventually it grew too loud to ignore. The whisper became a scream that shattered his slumber, "The emperor is coming!"

      He awoke, the cigar burned in his fingers.

      "Ouch!" He cursed flinging the cigar to the ground. It's stub glowed amber against the metal floor. He stomped it out with his boot. Why couldn't he dream of the girl he met back on Tyr, or anything else for that matter. He rested his head in the palm of his hand deep in thought. He wondered if he wasn't already to late.