"Holmgrad fleet in range, sir. Positioned near the colony. Formation wedge."
On the bridge of the ASNS Nile, Captain Erasmus Froome shifted in his seat, looking out into the expanse that lay beyond the walls and windows of the bridge of the Argus-class escort carrier. Around him, operators maintained a constant vigil over their consoles, eyes fixed on screens.
Cradling his bearded chin with a gloved hand, he turned to the crew member who had just spoken.
"Any estimate on their numbers, Boggs?"
"Total signatures come in at around twenty-plus, sir."
Froome leaned back in silent contemplation, hands now steepled. "That puts our combined numbers on an even keel, then. This goes without saying, but we can't play around with them."
He looked to his right, the view beyond showing the sleek, oblong forms of accompanying Argus-class vessels and the ominous, domineering shapes of two of the fleet's six Viribus Unitis battleships, but there was an anomaly among them. It was this that Froome focus