|
The barren dust covered planet bore before them, orbited by a single moon and a vast debris field, evidence of an epic battle.
“Entering the field now sir”
“Keep point beams up, make us a path lieutenant, all ahead slow” spoke the admiral, his fingers resting below his lip.
“Aye sir, all ahead slow”
Creeping forward, beams gently moved floating charred remains from the path of the victory, placing them around its corridor. All around carnage long since extinguished betrayed the loss of millions of lives, echoes of screams permeated the twisted hulks. All aboard felt the eerie feeling they were trespassing somewhere sacred, entering a history kept from them, for good reasons.
A vast colossus tumbled over its axis in front of the bow, the gaping hole in its stern half through which a squadron could fly gave the account of how something so large could be so left.
“All stop” said the admiral, standing from his chair and taking a step forwards. He paused for several seconds, taking scope of the sight before him, something stirred in the depths of his mind, though he knew not what.
As the once proud vessel began to rotate over, the beams of light from the systems sun began to appear from behind the planet, basking the graveyard in a vast golden hue, striking their way through the multitude of broken remains, and illuminating hundreds of burnt carcasses.
The officers and crewmen stared at the viewer, the scans had shown the extent of the debris upon exiting hyper speed, but to see it with their own eyes disturbed their minds most thoroughly.
Hundreds of ships, all holed, burnt, tumbling through orbit in unnatural stances, one could only guess at how vast a force it must have taken to end them. Three hulks, stood from the wreckage, dominating the screen. Even in their current state they sat thrice the size of the victory, a crowning glory in a once exquisite empire. The ships looked as if they were once identical, brothers in war. A vast central mass with wings sweeping from its midpoint to the stern at which the remains of the engines crouched. Upon its centre line a ridge ran from the stern to a hump, around which a purple line streaked itself. At the tip a vast single mass, no plating or other markings as on the rest. No doubt served that it was a ram that would have pierced many a flank given the chance. Only one hulk showed the unmistakable scars of impact, flowing down its right belly.
The admiral turned to face the comms station “Zoom in; there are markings on the prow, see if the translator can interpret”.
A cryptic language painted across the brow appeared in the upper left corner of the screen, with the translator working through all known languages flashing beneath, searching for a meaning.
Letters and symbols flashed over and over, imposing themselves over the dead language, before the image momentarily blurred and disassembled itself, before returning, bearing the scarred title;
‘HMS VICTORY’
__________________
Office hours have changed. Please call during office hours for more information.
|