Stars didn’t sparkle in the void; suns and galaxies were remarkably consistent with little variation in their radiation output, leaving no room for a twinkle. The stars did shine though. They shone beautifully. Their very nature would provide comfort to Rieven’s heart as he looked through the viewport. They were so consistent they looked the same now as the day he was born, as the day his nation was shattered, as the day he graduated from the Operatic Imperial Navy, as the day he joined the Void Spectres, as the day he ate his favourite meal for the first time. They always looked the same.

  Except they didn’t. For the first time in his life the stars did not look the same. He was standing in front of a viewport that ran the length of the wall and ran floor to ceiling. It was a thing of beauty and not a place ever visited during a battle. It was for times like now. He cursed in his mind and, turning to the room asked, “Does anyone care to explain to me why we are here?”. His voice cut through the quiet chatter of the gathered voices as brains shifted gears from the AAR on the battle of the Medusean Gamit to the non-sequitur being put to them.

  Eyes looked around, weighing and measuring, determining who would be offered on the brazen altar of sacrifice for command. Lieutenant Jonsey lost. This was his first AAR meeting and he was unanimously elected to offer the sacrificial obvious answer. “Sir. We are here for the After Action Report. We were in the ‘what went poorly’ act. Sir”. Jonsey was from communications and had missed the point. Ironic, thought Rieven.

  “Incorrect lieutenant Jonsey. Being from communications does not excuse a lack of understanding of the basic laws of physics.” He looked in the corner of the room until he found the source of the cigar smoke circling the air vent. “Master sergeant Ono, care to explain?”

  “Of course, Sir!” the master sergeant Ono saluted, cigar still clamped between his teeth. “We are here because Navigation screwed the pooch. With prejudice. Sir!” So saying, he sucked on his cigar again and exhaled through his nose with a happy sound when an indignant squawk went up from Navigation’s part of the room. Rieven smiled inside. That dart was well aimed.

  “Now see here!” lieutenant Anderson said, pointing his finger angrily at the sergeant. His face was getting redder the more he got worked up. He looked to Rieven “Captain, this is slander. We did nothing wrong in the Medusean Gambit. He’s still pissed about” he was then ruthlessly interrupted.

  “Potentially correct master sergeant, and only partial credit lieutenant, pending further review as Navigation does potentially own some of the answer. Therefore, no slander was made. Now let’s start again from Navigation’s perspective: Who can tell me why the stars look different?” Rieven raised his eyebrows slightly as his question hit the room of confused faces. Just as he was about to single out another person, a note sounded out of the speaker in the ceiling, signalling an incoming call.

  “CIC to captain Rieven.”

  “Report”

  “Sir, the stars are weird. We don’t know what happened. One moment they were the same as ever and the next they weren’t. We have no explanation. We don’t recognize them. These are new stars. They appear to run on nuclear fusion powered by axiom, same as our stars, but they aren’t the same stars we had when we left two minutes ago.”

  “Thank you lieutenant Dietre. That will be all.” The end note from the lieutenant signing off echoed throughout the now still room. All eyes looked nervously to the viewport where the new stars shone beautiful in their silence. It was not comforting. Not comforting at all.

  He spoke to the ceiling “Captain Rieven to engineering.”

  There was the opening note and then “Engineering present captain.”

  Rieven clasped his hands at his waist behind his back as he spoke “Werner, within the last ten minutes was there anything anomalous with the power, the engines, or the environment?”

  “Nae. There’s nae been one spark of fluctuation in the power. Engines’ve been purrin’ nice and quiet, and the environment inside the ship is a thing of beauty sir. The outside environment is the realm of the skquibblies in CIC sir!”

  Rieven frowned. “Thank you Chief Werner. That will be all.”

  “Werner out.” The comms’ ending note sounded with his signoff.

  There was no explanation to be found on his ship for why the stars had changed. How had they ended in a part of the universe they didn’t recognize? That shouldn’t be possible. The nervous shuffling in the background ceased as each considered what this meant for himself.

  The comms note rang again. “Bridge to Captain Rieven”

  “Report.”

  “Lord Admiral Henders is hailing you from the Mother’s Plea.”

  “I will take the call in my office. Thank you.” Rieven entered a small room adjunct to the command room. The moment he closed the door the command room behind him must have exploded with sound as thoughts barely withheld in the presence of their captain escaped the moment they sensed freedom. Rieven was glad his office was entirely soundproofed. He walked over to the desk. It was made of quartersawn oak and stained darkly. It was simple, serviceable, and quiet; just how he liked his things. It was bare save for a thick disk half a metre in diameter. It was made of a dark steel embellished with gold filigree and sat four centimetres thick, with a small circular button on the centre on top outlined in more gold. It was not how he liked his things, but the holcom was officially Imperial property and so he got no voice in its outward appearance.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Rieven walked up to the holcom and pressed the centre button, stepping back two paces as lights flared into existence on top of it. He bowed a precise ninety degrees just before Lord Admiral Henders’ image appeared in miniature over his desk.

  “My Lord Admiral. How may I serve?” he asked in a formal tone. Etiquette dictated that he be required to speak first, a consequence of the Lord Admiral’s rank, both in nobility and in the navy.

  The refined tones of forty-five generations of nobility responded, allowing Rieven to rise, “Captain, we have just left the battle of the Medusean Gambit some thirty minutes ago and are hardly in fighting shape, yet the Mother’s Plea shows unknown contacts headed towards us at speed. We are outnumbered four to one. You may serve by readying the Void Spectres for aggressively prejudicial action on the enemy leadership. As always, how you accomplish this is up to you and I expect it to be completed before my fleet is torn apart, but after our relationship to them is determined. In one hour I will broadcast any attempt at communication with them to the fleet live, along with the usual CIC commentary. Any questions?”

  Rieven looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment, his mind running through possibilities and the state of his ship and crew. They weren’t in good shape. The Void Spectres were used as a special quick reaction force to areas that were difficult touch, against enemies that were difficult to end. They were maestros of axiom in close quarters. However, they had been sorely used in the last battle and weren’t prepared to engage in another one of similar scale at a moment’s notice. Maybe the enemy’s flagship was out towards the front and more readily accessible? Could be. What if it was smack dab in the middle of the whole thing?

  Well they could always try to pull a ‘please talk, we’re scared’, that had worked more times than seemed reasonable. Plus there were lots of useful minds just one room over, anxiously waiting for orders. Time to make them useful. Ono would be ecstatic. You never knew which tactics a person would use until you fought them and this unknown contact surely did not know who they were and did not know their capabilities either. He smiled inside. There was space for fun in the unknowns that were piling up in his head. He looked back at the projection and asked “My Lord Admiral, has the flagship been identified?”

  “Yes. Surprisingly it is not the one in the middle surrounded on all sides by the rest. It is at the fore, shining bright as a new-formed star.”

  This was starting to sound interesting. “Very well my Lord Admiral. It shall be done.” He bowed again and the holcom powered down automatically after the Lord Admiral closed his end. What a coincidence, he thought, that we appeared here and they are nearby to find us. Or not coincidence. Hmm. That was interesting too. The malignant shifting of time and relative dimensions in space? Possible. Also possible was that someone in the Operatic Imperial Navy did something stupid which interacted with some natural or axiomatic phenomena to actuate their translocation. He thought he needed more time to think, or at least more brains to think with. He could feel his pulse quickening with the puzzle.

  He paused for a moment at the door and closed his eyes to centre his thoughts and still his emotions. When he opened the door all noise cut off immediately, they must have been on the lookout for it because it opened silently. When he emerged his face reflected only his usual poise and desire for absolute efficiency.

  “Sir, what did the Lord Admiral want?” asked lieutenant Jonsey. He must have been offered on the altar again thought Rieven. He really should learn to stand up for himself more. Being technically competent was only part of the qualifications to join the Void Spectres.

  “Gentlemen, we have received our marching orders.” Rieven spoke over gasps, excited looks, and confusion, “There is a fleet, belonging to an unknown organisation, manned by unknown beings on its way to us as we speak. We are commanded to eliminate their leadership with, and I quote here: ‘aggressive prejudice’.” Master sergeant Ono barked excited laughter at those words. Trust a marine to get excited at the prospect of inflicting bodily harm. “In one hour the Mother’s Plea will attempt to make contact with the flagship to determine the nature of our unknown callers. Good news is that it will be mandatorily broadcast live, so you won’t have the option of missing it lieutenant Holfrom.”

  The lieutenant groaned at the thought of being forced to watch a broadcast, “Wouldn’t miss it for all the new stars in the void, sir!” Laughter spread around the table, but it quickly dissolved as the weight of their situation settled into the room.

  “Ok gentlemen, we need an assessment of our current resources, names of everyone not in casualty with the good doctor, and a reasonably actionable plan of intent we can deliver to the Lord Admiral should he request it, and we have thirty minutes in which to do it, and half that time to prepare.” He clapped his hands and the meeting began in earnest.

  -x-

  Rieven sat in the command chair on the bridge with two minutes to spare. He looked at the viewscreen, which was set to show the view from the front of the ship by default. The Operatic Imperial Navy had long ago abandoned actual viewports in the bridge, instead burying it so deep in the body of the ship that only engineering was slightly more central. Protection had its price.

  “Captain, broadcast coming through, now.” The viewscreen changed to show Lord Admiral Henders facing them on the left, and the right-half of the screen was currently black with the words ‘Hailing Unknown’ in white in its centre. Everyone across the ship stopped what they were doing as the broadcast showed up on every screen, personal and public. Well, almost everyone, thought Rieven, looking at the bridge crew. They had responsibilities, but their ears were tuned for sure.

  Then the screen changed and Rieven’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. This didn’t exist. What was going on? Why would they show an AI rendering like this instead of something else? But then the CIC sent him a message at the bottom of his data pad. It read: Not AI generated. Image is actual footage from the flagship.

  Rieven was shaken. He wielded axiom, sure, but this? Not possible.

  In front of him on the viewscreen was an impossibility.

  A Dragon.