We drift amongst pure wreckage now. Watching as the figure of the unearthly mobile suit embellishes itself against the sun, and tears through the battleship and the remaining forces I was meant to be a part of. Power's down now, turns out my fuel line had been cut and I was simply leaking black liquid bubbles out into emptiness of space. I feel my heart jump as I remember the air-line, "Runs parallel to the fuel lines..." I throw my wrist into view revealing the simple oxygen gauge on the back of the forearm, "Sixty-seven percent of my oxygen left..." that was roughly six hours of breathing. I exhaled heavily and lay back in the command chair of my Leo, wincing as the wounded beast squealed with disapproval,
"Sorry..." I whispered looking past the explosions and into the deep reaches of the sun. It wasn't so bright in space, somehow it lost its majesty and ceased to be a celestial wonder and began to be a simple mass of gases, I liked to think Earth's sun and the Galaxy's sun were two different things, it helped me to appreciate it on the Earth far more than I ever could in space, and if I ever let myself believe the two were one and the same I don't think I'd ever see beauty in our celestial being ever again.
Right on time: The sound of rusted, decade-old engines and an eerily enchanting music-box melody slithered into earshot. We'd had to deal with this scum a few times before. it was the scavengers come to claim whatever leftovers the mobile suit saw fit to leave them.
I instinctively reached for the fire control on my mobile suit, to find the arm controls no longer worked, and even if they did I'd dropped my beam rifle around an hour ago, and could pose no more of a threat than a fly on a windshield.
The music-box was getting closer, it's eerie chime rung out into the endless night-time of space and I felt the fabric of my gloves become warm with perspiration. I found myself humming the music-boxes melody as if it had trapped me within it's web, however that was quickly rectified, although before long I came to find I was doing it again, and like a scolded child and scolding parent I was both disgusted and sulky with myself.