Panic had seized the population of Nakregde 6. A million scared and angry voices rung out through the station, all clamouring for passage on the next transport out of the war zone. The few remaining security officers too old or infirm to have been conscripted into the Navy, failed to keep order of the seething mass of bodies in the main enclosure of the station.

Azia watched the scene dispassionately for a few moments. She took a deep breath and stepped back off the balcony into her spacious apartment. It was crowded with her friends and personal security services.

She moved through the milling people towards the group of bored looking people lounging about on the sofas near the centre of the apartment. As she approached she held back the tears as she noted who hadn’t made it.

“How goes the council of war?” she asked.

The regulars of the world famous bar “The Bolthole” shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Pegasus coughed and spoke up, “We’re here now. We may as well help evacuate these people”

“So what’s the plan?”