The vacuum of space was dark and inconversable. The vast spaces of emptiness, paired by the perilous nature of the universe was a fate that took Man to its next step as a species. From one end of space to the other, colonies were erected, whether on habitatable worlds or in the lagranges of solar systems. Fighting might not be frequent as one imagined, but for the last two years, a slow, uncompromising, interstellar war continued to rage between the far-flinging Arcturian Dominion and the Lazarus Alliance.
In Sector 25B of the Stahlven System, the reality of conflict was quite evident. Large husks of both warship and colony-stations floated in a lifeless state, ruins of an old battle, remnants of long lost lives. The dead were silent, and what human bodies were intact had been decomposed by the tough pressures of space. The stars, hundreds of light years away, glimmered in the distance.
A ship sailed through the grave. A lone Ptolemy-class destroyer, its class being capable to store four to six Armored Fighting Units, (AFUs) a.k.a ‘Defenders' - highly mobile, humanoid-shaped war machines that form the tip of the spear for the fighting sides.
Despite its current state, the ruins of Sector 25B were still riddled with valuable technology. Both sides aspired to scavenge what they could, and as it served as a buffer zone between the two sides, patrols and skirmishes were not far in between.
Commander John F. Kelly, captain of the Alliance Navy Ship Terrentius, looked keenly upon the debris through the destroyer’s CIC (Combat Information Center). The melted and broken steel, the graveyard of hundreds and thousands, now lying unattended, unburied, and quiet, in the silence of space. The bridge was not bustling, but busy. Controllers and crewmen were going about their jobs, and the helmsman, guided by the captain, navigated carefully through the rocks and debris.
"Keep it steady, Davis." The captain, his hair black and well-groomed, said as he stood next to the man-at-the-wheel. He wore his regulation navy blue coat over a white jumpsuit which could accustom to both atmospherical and non-atmospherical conditions. Two golden stripes went down his sleeves, which signified his service time of ten years. The Commander's insignia of three stripes and a loop, stood upon his shoulders, along with 'scrambled eggs' upon the visor of his peaked cap.
Sonarman First Class Merryn E. Christaller, who sat in a tight navy jumpsuit, however, looked surprised as she saw the readings on the radar. Two red dots appeared at the tip of the Taurus Particle Long-Range Detection System (L.O.R.D.S), which quickly caused her to get off her chair and alert the captain.
"Captain Kelly, sir!" The young spacer said. "I've got something on LORDS. Two unknown objects within our field at 320 degrees."
"It could be the enemy. How big are their signals?"
"They're emitting corvette-size heat. Possibly minesweepers or scavengers. Might be privateers."
"Any AFUs with them?"
"We wouldn't know, sir."
"Get Lieutenant Jensen on the line. I want his squadron up and running. Spread out through the debris, take up sniping positions. Have them equipped with anti-ship guns."
"Aye-aye, sir." Said Christaller, who quickly went on the horn.
Kelly turned to the executive officer, a Lieutenant-Commander in his thirties. His hair, visible only at the sides, had slightly grayed. "Mr. Harris, put the crew to battlestations."
"Aye-aye, sir." Harris quickly complied, and at the switch of a button a phone fell from above him, connected to a wire. He relayed the captain's command. "To all crew of the Terrentius. All hands to battlestations, I say again, all hands to battlestations. This is not a drill."
***
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