The age had changed. Relic sat behind his desk toying with his graying beard. The atmosphere of his shop filled only with the sounds of the station. The air vents blew recycled air readily, but Relic longed for the skies of Earth. His mission was the only thing keeping him from returning to the jewel of the Solar System until the Septain Civil War. Refugees from stations fled on any ships they could. Cargo ships, miners, fighters, all sending out distress signals to anyone that would listen. They arrived to stations across the sector and some even to Relic's shop.
