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I can still remember, quite clearly, the night Kurita station fell to the K'tithians. Nobody saw it coming. Nobody could have seen it coming. One moment, Luskanya is the most peaceful solar system in known space. The next... Hell was knocking on the Queen's door.
Kurita was logically the first target. The station was floating way out on the fringes of the system, defended only by a Light Cruiser which was really nothing more than a picket ship. The HMS Vigilant, if I recall correctly. I... Don't think a whole lot of that ship was recovered after the attack. The station itself wasn't much, run by the Kiranskie Stardrive Corporation, to refine ore from Luskanya Seven and use it to produce starship shield generators. It was unfortunate that this particular ore was only found on L7, or the station probably wouldn't be there at all. But, as fate would have it...

Bright scarlet beams criss-crossed through the dark vacuum, cutting the station apart, piece by piece. The glaring, deadly streaks emanated from a nightmare, so massive that it blotted out the stars when looking through station view ports.

The few logs that were salvaged from the molten slag that had been Kurita showed, rather vividly, what was going on inside the station as well. Most of the crew were civilians, employed by KSC to work there. All of them were single. They pretty much had to be, living so far from the populated worlds of the system, on such a small station. One of them, though, a kangaroo rat by the name of Janette Valentine, had her daughter, Rachell, with her.

The deck rumbled violently underfoot, the station shaken by yet another hit. The power went out...
"Mamma?"
A child, swept up in the confusion. Separated from her mother by the mob of Luskanyans and Terrans that were trying to get to the outer docking ring. They might find a way to escape, there.
"Mamma, where are you?"
A moment later, the emergency power snapped into life, painting deck and bulkhead in ghastly blood red light. The throng moved on down the corridor, nobody noticing the child. She stood, looking the other way. Shivering with fright, she clutched her favorite stuffed toy tight enough to squeeze the filling out of it. She didn't know what else to do... She was only four, the night the K'tithians came. A final, desperate plea, squeaked to the cold steel bulkheads.
"Mamma..."
Wait, there she was! She was running up the corridor with someone else... And old ferret. Rachell knew him. He was Davot Kiranskie, the owner of the station. He had been visiting when the attack started.
"Rachell! Go, now! Run as fast as you can!"
"But.. Mamma.." Kiranskie scooped the small kangaroo rat off of her feet without pausing in his run, panting slightly.
"Don't y'worry marm, Oi've got'er!"
And they ran.
By the Goddess they ran!
The shuttles at the docking ring wouldn't wait for stragglers. Couldn't wait.
Then, something happened.
For Rachell, time seemed to slow down to a crawl.
Her mother tripped on a deck plate, twisting her ankle as she fell. Kiranskie kept running for a moment, having not heard the sound. It wasn't until the child in his arms began screaming that he turned to look back. Janette tried to get back to her feet, but it was no use. The ferret dashed back to her, intent on getting her out of there.
But then, something else happened.
A weapon, obviously far more powerful than the previously employed beam lasers, slammed into the stations hull. The corridor filled with the horrible, gut-wrenching sound of steel being twisted and torn, the harsh squeal echoing off of the bulkheads. The lights flickered, but held, and as the terrifying sound died away, another took it's place.
Oxygen leaking out into the vacuum of space.
In an instant, Janette Valentine's life was shortened immeasurably, a heavy emergency seal slamming down in front of her, separating her from Kiranskie and her daughter.
An instant later, the end came. Another impact against the hull, and the side she was on ceased to exist.
It's said that explosive decompression into hard vacuum is one of the worst ways to go.
Kiranskie knew there was nothing he could do. Clutching the child tighter, he spun and ran, assaulted by the little girl's futile screaming. She was only four... She didn't understand that they couldn't just go let her mother back in.
The docking ring was right around the bend.
So close.

Kurita station finally gave in to the assault, shattering into a trillion pieces, along with the lives and dreams of those who survived.
And those who didn't.

Kiranskie had managed to get himself and Rachell onto one of the transports that serviced the station. The tiny vessel raced away from the destroyed station, and the immense Dreadnought that was even now cutting down the steel remnants, seeking to pulverize everything.
Davot Kiranskie shuffled about in the over-crowded cargo hold of the transport, Rachell safely held in his arms, the child sobbing fitfully. A tear rolled down the old ferret's cheek.
"Oi promise ye, marm... Oi'll take care o'yer dau'er fer ye..."

This terrible act on behalf of the K'tithian Empire led to a long, bloody war. One that still echoes across a devastated Luskanya Five.
Yes, I remember, quite clearly...
The night Kurita fell.

-Davot Kiranskie. Edited by Rachell Kiranskie.