On the ancient battleship G.G.S. Solomon, a female diplomat and a male officer walked down the corridor toward the captain’s quarters. Crew members bustled about — engineers checking systems, repairing worn panels, and keeping the ship’s engines humming steadily despite the vessel’s age.

  “This ship’s seen better days,” Officer Kael Renn remarked, eyeing a dented bulkhead. “Why are we using your great-grandfather’s old flagship? It’s practically retired — more a relic than a vessel for active duty.”

  Lyssandra Voss tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s a theory. The Solomon survived the Hollowed War, long before our empire existed. I have a feeling its systems — and its history — could help stabilize communication with the Gate Ships outside the entrance.”

  “By the Forge… I can’t believe your brother convinced the council — and your parents — to let you take this old warhorse out.” Where do I even start?”

  Lyssandra smirked. “Think of it as running an old trial. The ship groans and rattles, but it still responds. If we handle it carefully, it will serve its purpose. If not…” She let the thought hang, amusement in her eyes.

  Kael let out a dry chuckle. “So… we’re boarding a ghost from the past, heading into the unknown. Sounds like a proper test of mettle.”

  Lyssandra laughed softly. “Exactly. Just don’t draw too much attention, or it’ll chew us up before we even reach the Gate.”

  “My brother and I were taught by grandfather: if you have a gut feeling and a working theory, you might as well test it. He trusts my instincts, and more often than not, they mostly work. Besides, the escort fleet he assigned to us… it’s reassuring,” Lyssandra said, trying to calm both herself and Kael.

  Kael didn’t look convinced as they neared the bridge. “Define mostly. This ship might have better odds of surviving a Voidstorm than these escorts have against the Gate Ships. At best, they’re a distraction; at worst… bait. You saw last month’s scouting reports — a small two-ship squadron got wiped. Five Gate Ships, no larger than our frigates, tore through even the heavy cruiser escorting them.”

  Lyssandra’s eyes narrowed. “That’s exactly the problem. The reports and the surviving crews don’t match. Official logs say the Gate Ships attacked unprovoked, even when our forces weren’t near the engagement zones. But survivor testimonies — telemetry included — place the crews dangerously close. Something doesn’t add up.”

  Kael exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “By the Forge… it’s like every account has its own version of the truth. Makes a strategist wonder if any of it is reliable.”

  Lyssandra gave a faint, wry smile. “Maybe history exaggerates… or misremembers. Or maybe we’re just seeing it from too narrow a perspective.”

  Kael shrugged. “You’re not wrong. The reports are contradictory at best.” He sighed. “Let’s just hope your theory holds, or we’re all taking a very long trip to the afterlife.”

  “I have a feeling we won’t,” Lyssandra said, adding, “Which brings me to my theory: all the reports mention that when you get close, the ships emit some kind of signal — across every channel we’ve been monitoring. But no one has been able to make sense of it.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard about that. Some say it’s a warning to stay away. Others think it’s a preparation signal… or a threat. The whole galaxy’s on edge. The Gate to the Dead Sector was sealed for almost a millennium — then one day, it just woke up and released those ships.”

  Lyssandra’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly. Those ships just… linger there, constantly sending that signal. But I don’t think it’s a warning of doom. The pattern doesn’t match anything we’ve ever recorded. It feels intentional — precise. Like they’re trying to communicate something… something we’re just not seeing yet.”

  Kael’s tone was skeptical. “Which explains why you requested the Solomon be reactivated — because you think there’s a connection?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I feel like my grandfather’s ship could be the key. It’s old enough to resonate with their systems. Plus…” she glanced at the worn console beneath her hand, “this old girl seemed… lonely after he went into stasis.”

  Kael frowned, then let out a dry chuckle. “I’ll trust your judgment… and your slightly bugged attachment to this old warhorse.”

  As they reached the captain’s quarters, the door slid open with a quiet hiss. They stepped inside together, leaving the hum of the ship’s ancient engines behind. Lyssandra’s mind lingered on the signal — precise, persistent, and utterly unreadable — a riddle waiting to be solved.

  As the two entered the captain’s quarters, the room reflected years of quiet service — simple, worn, but lived in. A few trophies lined the shelves beside framed service medals. A pair of chairs sat near a low table, and at the far end stood a sturdy desk cluttered with datapads and paper reports. A single family holo flickered faintly beside them — a reminder of days long past.

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  Standing near the desk was Commander Soren Thoss, the ship’s first mate — an older man showing the edges of age, but still carrying himself with the posture of long service. He was mid-discussion with Captain Maeric Solen, a retired admiral who had chosen to remain aboard the Solomon when she was moved to reserve duty, serving as her captain ever since.

  “Captain,” Soren reported, “some structural patches are still needed on the midsection. Engineering also requests replacement parts to stabilize auxiliary power. The chief says we’ve got a buildup in the reserve grid — we’ll either need to store more or find a safe way to bleed the excess.”

  Maeric grunted, flipping through a datapad. “This old girl’s always had her quirks,” he said, signing off a form. “Like she’s got more life in her than the rest of us combined.” He handed the datapad back to Soren. “Send this out — requisition approved.”

  At that moment, Maeric looked up, noticing the newcomers. He stood, Soren following suit, and both men saluted sharply.

  “Princess Lyssandra, Lieutenant Kael," the captain greeted warmly. “Good of you to come. We’ve got much to discuss before this mission begins.”

  Lyssandra raised a hand to wave off the formality. “Maeric, Soren — please, just Lyssandra. The title’s mostly for show. I’m a diplomat, not a royal figurehead.”

  Soren inclined his head respectfully. “With all due respect, ma’am — now that the Emperor rests in stasis, you and his kin are the only ones who can guide the Protectorate. It’s only natural people—”

  Maeric cut him off with a small laugh. “At ease, Soren. You know she’s not fond of all that ceremony. Not long ago, she was still running through these halls, exploring every maintenance shaft like she owned the place.”

  Soren smiled faintly. “Apologies, Lyssandra. Old habits.”

  Lyssandra nodded in acceptance. Maeric’s gaze then turned to kael, a familiar glint in his eye. “And my grandson — I trust you’ve been keeping our diplomat out of trouble?”

  Kael smirked. “Doing my best, sir. Harder than you’d think.”

  Lyssandra jabbed him lightly with her elbow, and the room filled with quiet laughter — a brief moment of warmth before the weight of their mission settled back over them.

  As the laughter settled, Captain Maeric gestured for everyone to sit. “Alright, let’s talk business before a dozen reports pile up. Lyssandra, your request to bring the Solomon out of reserve was… unconventional, to say the least. Those old cogs of the Council have been pinging me nonstop about it. So I want to hear it from you directly — why risk this mission?”

  Lyssandra nodded, hands folded neatly before her. “Maeric, Soren — I’ve been investigating the signal the Gate ships have been emitting. In old records of Forgemaster history and from stories my grandfather told me, it seems they emit something akin to code — the kind only a Forgemaster would use during the war with the Hollowed. After cross-referencing data from several pre-war Empire ships, I found fragmented pieces that match this signal. The Solomon contains the most complete dataset that could potentially interpret it.”

  Commander Soren leaned forward, intrigued. “So you’re saying these Gate ships have a connection to the Forgemasters themselves, and this ship is the closest thing we have with the data banks capable of deciphering their signal?”

  “Yes,” Lyssandra confirmed. “The Solomon hasn’t been fully updated — just patched enough to keep her running. Her systems are mostly untouched, exactly as my grandfather left them.”

  Captain Maeric leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He never liked anyone meddling with his ship. Even our science teams are restricted from probing her core architecture. The old girl keeps her secrets.”

  kael added, “It’s one of the reasons the Emperor’s fleet mostly sits in reserve. By age standards, these ships should have been decommissioned — stripped for parts or turned into museum pieces. But Forgemaster ships and technology are leagues beyond anything anyone else has. Our current tech barely scratches their capabilities, and their firepower… it’s still unmatched.”

  Lyssandra’s eyes glimmered with determination. “That’s why I believe this will work. My grandfather designed her like this, so if the day came — like now — communication could still be established. If any surviving members of the Great Expedition return, these signals might be their attempt to ping us.”

  Soren’s brow furrowed. “Or maybe they’re echoes… trying to reach the galaxy after all this time.”

  kael’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Echoes of the Dead Sector?”

  The captain sighed. “Whatever it is, we currently know them as hostile. Many have perished just for being near them. Lyssandra, are you sure this will work?”

  Lyssandra met his gaze with quiet resolve. “Great-grandfather always said: if you have a gut feeling and a working theory, you might as well test it.”

  The captain chuckled, recalling the words. “The Emperor did love telling me that, even when I was a young lad. Helped me and Commander Soren more than once.”

  The intercom chimed, sharp and urgent. “Captain, we are about to exit warp.”

  The captain rose from his chair. “Lyssandra, I’ll trust your gut and theory and proceed as planned. But remember this—the Forge remembers everything. Make sure you’re ready when it remembers you.”

  Lyssandra inclined her head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He turned to his commander. “Soren, ready the crew and escorts. I want shields up and engines primed to full. If things go south, I don’t want surprises.”

  Then he looked at Kael. “Lieutenant, your duty is clear. Protect the princess at all costs—even if it means leaving me and the crew behind.”

  Both Soren and Kael answered in unison: “Yes, Captain.”

  Lyssandra felt the urge to retort at his words, but she held her tongue, knowing her importance to the Empire demanded caution.

  The captain strode toward the bridge. “Let’s go and see this mission through.”

  Please give a comment, review if you want.I would love to see how you guys view the story. Even like to hear your critique, if willing.

  If worried about the AI assist, I use it for polish and grammar checks, but am learning to write without the polish.

  Note: Character and ship designs are open to interpretation. Imagine them in whatever style fits your vision.