There were no flames, for all combustible materials had long since burned out in the vacuum.
Only the cold light of distant stars occasionally swept across the surfaces of the wreckage, reflecting a deathly metallic sheen.
The entire battlefield presented a heart-stopping, utterly clean sensation.
Not a single ship remained intact, not a trace of resistance persisted.
The Demon Claw Fleet, along with the tens of thousands of lives aboard, had been completely erased in the physical sense.
Admiral Scott's face, illuminated by the cold light of the screen, was so dark it seemed water could drip from it.
His fist on the table was clenched so tightly it creaked, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
"Ambushed on the return journey... not even a single scout ship escaped?"
His voice squeezed through gritted teeth, carrying a fury suppressed to its limit.
"That fool Hamilton!
What was his reconnaissance doing!
And the Federation... those treacherous bastards!"
He turned sharply, growling at the communications officer.
"Connect me to the Abaddon Joint Fleet flagship immediately!"
Moments later, the communication was established.
Admiral Armstrong's somewhat stern face appeared on another screen.
"Admiral Scott!"
Armstrong's voice came through.
"I've seen the summary data transmitted by the Blood Claw Fleet. The situation is dire."
"Dire is an understatement, Admiral Armstrong!"
Scott took a deep breath, forcing himself to speak in a relatively calm tone, but the chill in his words was even more pronounced.
"We've been played hard.
The Demon Claw Fleet was ambushed with devastating force on what should have been a relatively safe return route.
The enemy's firepower was ferocious, their coordination precise—it was a complete and utter rout."
He pointed at the frozen, horrific image behind him, enunciating each word.
"I believe the force that ambushed Hamilton could not possibly have been just a standard Federation mother-class fleet.
Based on analysis of the battle debris energy signatures and calculations of firepower density...
This was most likely a Federation Duke-class Fleet!"
"A Duke-class Fleet?"
On the other end of the screen, Admiral Armstrong's pupils contracted sharply, and he drew in a sharp breath.
A Federation Duke-class main fleet, slipping silently through the front-line region theoretically under tight control by their Imperial Fleet, deep into their rear?
The very thought sent a chill down his spine.
If it wasn't just one fleet that had infiltrated, but more... or even a complete Federation joint strike group?
Their supply lines, their rear star domains...
Countless terrible possibilities flashed through his mind, making even this seasoned veteran feel a pang of retrospective fear.
But quickly, Armstrong forced himself to calm down.
His brow furrowed, and he slowly shook his head, his tone returning to its usual caution.
"Scott, I understand your anger and concern.
But, a Duke-class Fleet... that conclusion requires more solid evidence."
He paused, unconsciously tapping his finger on the table.
"A Federation Duke-class Fleet has a standard complement of over three thousand starships, with a high proportion of capital ships.
For a fleet of such massive scale to conduct long-distance covert maneuvers, the required energy fluctuations, gravitational disturbances, and the inevitable traces of accompanying logistical convoys...
To completely conceal all that is nearly impossible."
His gaze sharpened.
"Even if the front line patrol teams and the Early Warning Department were derelict in their duties, even if they were utterly incompetent, it's impossible for such a massive steel tide to slip past their watch without triggering any high-level alarms."
Scott also fell silent for a moment. Armstrong's analysis was not without reason. But the total annihilation of the Demon Claw Fleet was a bloody fact.
"Then, Admiral Armstrong, what level of force do you believe could annihilate Hamilton's entire fleet in such a short time, with near-zero casualties?" Scott countered, his tone grave.
"Could an enhanced mother-class fleet do it? Perhaps, but it could never be done so... cleanly and efficiently. Moreover, according to the last intelligence transmitted by the Demon Claw Fleet, the opposing force possessed at least 24 T5-class Battleships. A standard mother-class fleet, even an enhanced one, does not have such a luxurious configuration!"
The two admirals stared at each other across the screen, the air thick with heavy doubt and unease. An unknown powerful enemy had bared its fangs, and they didn't even fully grasp its exact scale and location yet.
He turned to Armstrong on the communication screen and proposed a plan.
"I propose we immediately withdraw four complete Duke-class Fleets from the Star Gate Garrison to form a Special Composite Task Force. Using the attack site as the center, conduct a large-scale, high-density search of the surrounding area!"
He spoke faster and faster.
"Simultaneously, order the Public Security Directorate of the Bushman Star System to deploy every patrol team they can mobilize! Screen the area light-minute by light-minute! I refuse to believe an enemy force capable of annihilating the Demon Claw Fleet can truly vanish completely from this star system!"
Four Duke-class Fleets—this was almost mobilizing nearly thirty percent of the Empire's current mobile strategic forces in this sector for a high-stakes, wide-ranging purge.
On the other end of the screen, Admiral Armstrong listened in silence, his brow slightly furrowed. He understood Scott's anger and his eagerness to salvage their reputation, but as the supreme commander of the Joint Fleet, he had to consider more.
"Admiral Scott!" Armstrong said slowly. "I understand your feelings. But four Duke-class Fleets... that scale is too large."
He called up another strategic situation map, pointing to the massive stargate structure at its center, shimmering with a deep blue light.
"Our primary core mission has never changed. Defend this stargate, ensure its stability, and prepare for the next opening of the hyperspace channel. This is the Theater Command's absolute order. The security of the stargate takes priority over everything else."
His gaze sharpened as he looked at Scott.
"Withdrawing four Duke-class Fleets from the main defensive zone would severely weaken the stargate's direct protective ring. If this is the enemy's 'Lure the Tiger Away from the Mountain' stratagem, or if there are other lurking threats, the consequences would be unthinkable."
Scott's expression shifted, wanting to argue, but Armstrong raised a hand and continued.
"The search must proceed, but its scale needs to be controlled. Two Duke-class Fleets, cooperating with all the patrol forces of the Public Security Directorate, are already sufficient to form an effective search net. If the enemy truly is a fleet of considerable size, they need supplies, they need hiding places. Two Duke-class Fleets are enough to detect their track and contain them."
He continued.
"If the enemy's scale far exceeds our estimates, then sending four fleets may not gain us any advantage, and could instead trap them.
If it's a small elite force, two fleets combined with patrol units should be enough to handle it.
What we need are eyes and fists, not to dismantle the entire fortress walls just to find a needle."