The field of wildflowers continues endlessly out of sight over the horizon. Silver-blue blooms shimmer, ethereal. This is a sacred place to the locals. Agar has heard them call it the ocean of souls. While he sat at Sigma's bedside, hoping that they will be able to save him in the wake of their crash where Agar has failed, they told him their stories, their myths. They believe that everyone who dies returns to the earth for a season of peace as a blossom, to bask in the sun and rain, forget the hardships of life, before they pass on into the cosmos.
He wonders if there are enough blossoms in this endless field for even half of his fallen brothers.
He wonders if Sigma will join them.
He wonders if, when the war comes to this world too, following in their footsteps like a rabid plauge-rat, will this field burn like so many others?