The Grand Fleet of the Empire, the largest fleet in the Imperial Navy with 118 ships and 180,000 sailors, soldiers and knights along with 1,200 manned and unmanned small body craft, orbits Angar-Rylla as part of its home fleet duties. 

So when a scout-picket near the third moon of the sixth planet in the system picked up a fast moving body it made a cursor check and found it to be most likely space debris. However when the body slowed then stopped, the scout-picket transmitted a rapid alert to the Vangur Fleet Base orbiting the moon of Angar-Rylla, which in turn initiated a fleet-wide alert. 

On board all 118 ships warning claxons bleated, followed by a hollow metallic voice, “General Quarters, General Quarters, this is not a drill, all hands battle stations, repeat all hands battle stations!” On 118 ships men and women paused a second as it sank in, then a mad scramble erupted to get to duty stations on the bounce.

Aboard the Wraith, the dreadnaught that served as the flagship of the fleet, Senechal Dou’far Klaast paused as the announcement blared, his jaw clenched as he inhaled deep and slow. 

Before he could speak, a communication officer scrambled up to his dias, “Senechal…we have a burst transmission…shall I…”

“Play it!” Bellowed the Senechal as his fist hammered the desk before him, causing it to shift a little and cracks appeared around the base.

A static sound erupted over the speakers; it spoke in a language that seemed guttural, lowly. “What is that? Can the translators discover what it is saying?”

“I do not know, the sample is so small. I can make an educated guess that it a friendly hail, as it seems to be coming from a smallish ship.”

“Grant a hailing channel to the ship, perhaps we can make sense of this.”

“Aye aye.” The communications officer then tabbed several buttons on his sleeve before speaking slowly on a return frequency, “This is the Imperial flagship Wraith. You are in Angar-Ryllan space. Identify yourself.”