The ocean around him was a sea of stars, was a graveyard. The hulls of Starka vessels, imperial violet, shredded by deepspace fire. The blood hung suspended, perfect spatters of oil, between maimed bodies.

In one instant, a broken and fleeing DASS ship had done it.

His knowledge of tactics began to break down.

It wasn't possible.

" Calm yourself, Nova," Mordau said, settling his hands on Nova's shoulders. " It is just a flashy trick, nothing more. They have surely depleted their ammunition stores with this. And the ship is nearly destroyed. We've confirmed their long distance communications were taken down."

He was hovering over him like a stone statue.

" They won't be receiving reinforcements, and their fleet is scattered," Mordau said. " What are your orders, Lyena?"

This ship, he remembered, had the DASS numerals for '13' across its hull.

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