In a dark room, she blinked a few times. Smashed controllers and consoles, many souvenirs and trophies broken beyond repair and recognition. Her eyes were heavy and tired.
Her TV barely worked through the static. The plan she calculated and made, the plan she wove together now began to unravel beyond her control.
It made the insides of her throat itch and the back of her eyes hurt. "I have not planned that."
With a loud whine, she throws her back against a puff cushion, her dark eyes resting on the TV's static. "This is not how things should have gone."
The wardens appearing uninvited was okay. She could keep them at bay, but Magnamonte was too much.
She thought she windered his entire fleet, enough time for those two to reach a pod or spaceship and exit the crumbling space station, but life had a way of surprising.
