The hangar is always dark these days, a myriad of vessels powered down, in hibernation, the deck crew has long gone, their employer seemingly nowhere to be found.
It's cold in here, the life of this once vibrant hangar, lost in the void.
A light flickers, a frigate in the far corner, powers up for a second, but in this darkness it feels like a stroke of lightning. The darkness returns, the brief flash making it feel heavier... Darker.
The frigate, a favourite of this particular hangars owner, pulses once more, brighter, making the returning darkness feel... ominous.
a low hum breaks the silence, systems powering up in the darkness, the afterburners fire, the frigate in its cradle held fast, and just as suddenly the darkness returns, a little brighter, warmed by the glow of the cooling back wall.
The Rifter feels a memory, its systems for so long melded with the mind of its pilot.
It misses its pilot...