The ship was burning, flames consuming the hull, fiery explosions blenching from the ruptured bulkheads and armor with red and orange fists. There was only two of the nine engines still working, four of the others twisted wreckage, the other three actively burning. The engines were fluttering, putting out power sporadically, causing the ship to tumble in space along one axis, the explosions detonating from the hull causing it to rotate on the other three axis relative to the system equator.
The ship was actively burning.
Which was odd, seeing as the heavy battleship was in the vacuum of space.
Admiral of the Lower Decks (Copper) M'Lert stared at the holotank the heavy battleship was projected in. His staff was around him, all staring at the burning ship.
"Any ID?" Commodore Wrawkat asked, rubbing her shoulder with her off hand.
Technical Specialist Grade-Six Uk-Nulk-Tulk looked up from his scanner. "Ornislarp Heavy Battleship, their categorization, no ID off of it but it looks fairly modern."
"That's why we got a flashgate signal," Commodore Wrawkat mused. She hummed, a musical sound typical of a thinking Rigellian Female.
The ship was shaped like a pumpkin seed, point end forward, with the engines across the back. Weapons were still hidden beneath the hull, the whole ship smooth and unblemished.
Except for the fire, explosions, and huge holes in it.
"Any idea what hit them?" the Admiral asked. "Why they flashgated here? We're over twelve hundred light years from their nearest border?"
"No answers at this time, sir," Lieutenant Hregeth, NAVINT specialist, said from his station. "Whatever hit it took out its transponder and Ornislarp vessels all look the same. Its drive signatures aren't on record."
On the holotank one of the engines exploded silently and more fire spread from the detonation.
"Antimatter reaction?" someone guessed.
"Not in vacuum. The hull shouldn't be actively burning," Hregeth said. He stood up from his station and moved over to the holotank. "How is it burning in vacuum?"
Wrawkat stared at the ship for a long moment. "Do we have a visual drone at the light speed distance to visually observe the ship flashgating into the system?"
Sensor Technician BravNak'ik nodded. "Moving feed to holotank six."
The Admiral turned to watch, keeping the burning ship in the vision of his right compound eye.
There was nothing but stars for a few seconds. Then a rectangle opened up in space.
Normally a flashgate opened in space would only show space beyond and the only way of detecting it was the energy pulse or if a scanner noticed the change in star patterns.
Beyond the flashgate was a burning orb, a skull wreathed in purple and black flames with white edging. Ships were exploding, some were burning, beyond the gate. Heavy naval battlescreens were flickering, strobing, and pulsing. Beams and streaks filled space beyond.
The single unmarred ship lunged for the flashgate, engines at full power and leaving a trail of energetic particles behind it as it accelerated at maximum power. The hull suddenly exploded outward in four places. Purple cored beams, with white energy spiraling around the core, lashed out and touched the hull of the ship in two places.
The hull exploded in flame.
Soundlessly, the ship slid through the gate, one more explosion gouting out from beneath it. It started to tumble as the flashgate suddenly winked out of existence.
"Have a transponder code," Tech-6 Brav stated. "Ornislap Combined Species Dominion Heavy Battleship," the kobold tech paused for a moment, blinking his large eyes, the tip of his tail tapping the deck. "It's a Ornislap name, about a dozen words. It's the Imperial Ornislap Might and Glory Vessel of His Undying Imperial Majesty's Will and Glory Passed Through His Descendents Mailed Fist of Fate and Fury."
The Admiral gave a grinding 'chuckle', rubbing the grinding plates in his mouth together as he folded his bladearms behind his back, resting them on top of the emergency vacsuit pack on the back of his upper thorax belt.
"Tab it as the Ornislap Imperial Fate and Fury for the records," he stated.
"Aye, sir," the Tech said.
"What hit it?" Commodore Wrakat asked again, shaking her head. "I'm familiar with C+ cannons, but the Ornislap are just like everyone else and keep a short range hyperspace interdiction gravity shadow generator on their ships to prevent the C+ round from impacting inside the ship."
The Admiral nodded. "Ornislap shields should have been able to take a couple of hits from a heavy C+ cannon shell."
"Sir," one of the techs said, a slight bellows wheeze to his speech. The Admiral turned and faced the tech, a Lanaktallan by species.
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"Yes, Lieutenant?" the Admiral asked.
"There is an alarming piece of visual evidence," the Lanaktallan said. He held up two fingers. "Records are spotty, from the Confederate/Council Conflict, but I recognized it from a docudrama I've been watching from that era."
The Admiral nodded, used to the Lanaktallan mode of speech. "Go on."
The Lanaktallan, one Senz'armo'o, tapped a few keys, bringing up Holotank Two. The docudrama's title showed, then Senz'armo'o sped through much of the data.
The Admiral watched the ship continue to burn. Something imploded inside the ship and a large crater was full of fire and sprays of molten metal.
"There," Senz'armo'o said.
In the holotank was an image of a supermassive gas giant burning. From inside the gas giant a giant skull had pushed through the flames, belching fire from its jaws. Next to it was the image taken from the flashgate data. Finally, an image of a mostly hairless biped was put in the holotank, with a view of how the endoskeleton skull appeared without the flesh.
They closely matched. Colors were different, the exact design of the skull was different, but it was unmistakable.
The identifier on the biped was unmistakable. The species was extinct, but still unmistakable.
A Terran Descent Human.
Inside the burning gas giant was a screaming Terran skull.
The Admiral stared, feeling his ichor go prickly. He carefully removed a pack of cigarettes from his uniform top pocket, putting the self-lighting smoke in his mandibles and puffing on it to start the reaction to light the cigarette.
There were a few vocalizations of shock, dismay, or disbelief.
"And this," Senz'armo'o stated. He opened another pair of windows. One of the burning Ornislap ship, the other of the docodrama again. Again the Lanaktallan officer sped through several hours of footage before rewinding and slowing down.
Ships were exploding, the debris on fire as it tumbled through the vacuum of space.
"Weapons from the Confederacy/Council Conflict and the Second Precursor War," Senz'armo'o stated.
"Obsolete weaponry," a WelNwik analyst said. "That was tens of thousands of years ago."
Senz'armo'o inflated and deflated the crests on his neck as well as the ones on his upper and lower torsos in an approximation of a shrug. "Perhaps. But it fits the appearance."
The Admiral watched as the spaceship suddenly exploded, leaving burning pieces tumbling through the vacuum. He turned away. "Put Task Force Singing Greenie on Threat Level Two. Rotate shifts now," he stated, puffing out smoke rings from around his feet. "Any lifeboats or escape pods?"
He got nothing back but negatives.
"Senior Staff, my conference room," Admiral M'Lert stated, heading for the exit of the flag bridge.
The room stank of stress, stale cigarettes, and pheromones from five different species.
"How long till we are in range of a working ansible?" Admiral M'Lert asked. He was sitting in a comfortable rotating back chair, staring at a simple copper coin that he was tapping with the tip of one bladearm. The big Treana'ad was at a table with his senior staff and planning sections.
"Eight days," Commodore Shrenstill, another Rigellian Female, said softly. She looked at the hologram still sitting in the holofield in the middle of the table, then looked down. "The Task Force is moving at max speed."
The Admiral just nodded, still tapping the copper coin.
"We dropped message torpedoes in the last two systems we dropped into," Commodore Vrenthally stated. "Heading for either Fleet Command or Confederate Military Command, as well as the nearest ansible equipped systems."
M'Lert looked at the hologram in the middle of the table.
The burning gas giant hung silently in the high definition holofield.
"Could they really be back?" he asked the question that he knew was on everyone's minds and that would be racing through the lower decks and the enlisted's rumor mill.
"It's been nearly forty-thousand years," Commodore Frentrik stated. He tapped his clawed fingers on the table. "There's been the odd sighting here and there, but they are all either unconfirmed or have not been able to repeated or verified."
There was the distinct feeling of the ship dropping from the mid-level hyperspace bands in a crash translation. He could hear the compensators howl even though they were hundreds of meters awar and M'Lert frowned.
"We aren't scheduled to leave hyperspace for at least sixteen more hours," he stated. "Anyone?"
All he got back were the equivalent of shrugs and negatives.
His comlink buzzed and he picked it up off the table. "Admiral M'Lert here."
"Sir, we need to patch you in to see this," the XO stated, his normally calm voice tight.
"Why did we leave hyperspace?" M'Lert asked.
"We hit a grav shadow that just materialized. The size of a supermassive gas giant," the XO stated.
"Patch it through. What is it?" M'Lert asked.
"We're not sure," the XO stated.
The holoemitter buzzed and changed.
A massive spaceship hung in the holofield. It was intact, its hull bore silent witness to a fierce battle in the past. Armor was cratered, gouged, slagged and warped. There were visible holes hammered into the superstructure in more than one place. There were the mountings for forty engines, but over half were nothing more than twisted wreckage. Flight bays on the sides were open to space and more than a few were nothing more than craters or outcroppings of twisted metal wrenched away from the hull by an outgoing explosion. The ships was dead, dark, no lights or signals. The engines were dark and cold as it drifted.
The data streamed up. Warsteel Mark One hull. 123 terratonnes. Confederate naval markings.
"It's broadcasting. Old Confederate standard," the XO said. We're patching it through now.
The speakers popped and hissed.
Admiral M'Lert opened his mouth to speak.
Task Force Singing Greenie had dropped sixteen message torpedoes with four different destinations.
None of them managed to reach the destinations.
In its final moments, the entire Task Force launched fifteen message torpedoes.
One of them reached the destinations.
"It's from Task Force Singing Greenie," Commodore Telk-nak-Awk stated.
Admiral of the Upper Decks (Iron) Rhon Vastun nodded.
"They are nearly two years overdue, considered lost with all hands. Back tracking their last known locations gave no clue as to what happened to them," the Commodore stated.
Again, Admiral Vastun just nodded.
"This arrived in-system fifty-three hours ago, broadcasting Singing Greenie's header," the Commodore pointed at the holotank where the image of a scorched and damaged message torpedo hung in the glimmering holofield. "It's a 'catastrophic failure' torpedo, that launches if the vessel is severely damaged or otherwise crippled. It contains the logs of the vessel, and if possible, the entire task force."
"What did it contain?" the Admiral asked.
"The memory contents were severely degraded. Most of it was scrambled. But we managed to get a fragment of a transmission recording taken by the flagship and loaded into the message torpedo," the Commoder continued. He reached out and touched an icon.
There was a hissing and a popping noise, then the recording played.
...Yorktown, we read life signs. Do you read? We have you on visual and are in shuttle range. Do you read?...