The moment I gave the order to my grandson to assemble everyone in the cargo bay, I found myself lingering by the station's massive observation window, unable to tear my eyes away from the scene outside.
In the distance, the shattered debris of the pirate battleship drifted silently through space. This was the ship that merchants had feared for decades, the predator that left countless vessels in ruins, now reduced to nothing more than a lifeless scrap.
It felt unreal, like watching a myth dissolve into smoke. If I told anyone about this moment, they'd think I had finally lost my mind or that senility had taken its toll. But there it was, plain as day. The terror of the trade routes, destroyed so effortlessly, might as well have never existed at all.
