Afteroids

The alarm sounds at the lambda-3 level of the control room. At this moment we crossed the Cygnus constellation and found ourselves under the menacing influence of the Cyg XR-1 X-ray source. The wait has been tense and nerves grips my thoughts about risk and responsibility, but I must go out there to face the most extensive and violent intergalactic asteroid storm that has surprised us to date. The Admiral of the fleet of 32 supercruisers with whom we traveled four years ago in our search for new habitable worlds, has decided that I should be the pilot who faces the asteroids with the only hunting ship that it has been possible to shield against the deadly X-rays from Cyg XR-1, in the short space of time available since the alarm was given. I curse the moment I became famous as the best fighter pilot in the fleet for my reflexes and expertise. I curse almost everything that now surrounds my cold solitude. But, what does that matter now? I adjust my combat suit, helmet and gloves, and I only have time to think about the unpredictability of destiny, almost as much as the vertiginous trajectories of those devilish asteroids.