[SYS-ECHO: Colonial Traffic Relay / Outbound-Intercept Transmission, Encrypted Burst, Origin: Vesta Belt Pilot Callsign ID: “Rotjacket”]
Recipient: Any Free Orbital Port willing to listen
Priority: Immediate
Content: Combat Encounter, Civilian Sector
They said the Himmelskrieger were just another settler faction—came crawling back to Sol with heavy hearts and heavier hulls, looking for absolution, or a place to bleed out in peace.
That was before Aethon.
I watched them burn that mining rig out of orbit like they were swatting a damn fly. No warning shot. No comms ping. One second the rig was drifting, and the next, it was shrapnel lighting up the dark like a thousand dying stars.
We thought it was pirates or a misfire.
Then came the “inspection patrol.” No insignia. No IFF. Just matte-black hulls and those annular-wing escort coffins. Not run by no pilots, no. Artificial Super Intelligence they call it.. They don’t chase. They predict.
Once they see you, it's already over.
Their swarm doctrine is something else. Twenty drones broke formation and synced up around the mining rig's velocity vector, ate the heat signature like carrion. I dumped core and killed thrust, went cold. Watched my crew hold their breath like that would extend the oxygen supply the life support left us with.
They passed us by. We must not be on the list, yet.
They said they’re here to stabilize the belt. Said we’d be safer with them patrolling the lanes. But we all know what “protection” looks like when the offer comes with orbital superiority and an AI that doesn't blink.
Some colonies are playing nice. Fuel, scrap, medstock—whatever it takes to avoid getting “restructured.”
If this is mercy, I’d rather take my chances with war.
Kōan Vesta will never bow to tyrants.
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