Inside the long corridors of Persei Primus, silence reigned. 
The Fleet-operated science and engineering station hung above its parent planet like a displaced wagon wheel, the command center at the heart of the structure, with docking stations lining the exterior. 
The flight in had given Aurora ample time to survey the devastation. Most of the docks were little more than ugly scars now, defined by scorch marks and ragged edges. Debris from the explosions floated like confetti around the broken bodies of a Fleet patrol yacht and a Setarip destroyer. 
The shattered yacht was in more than a dozen pieces. One mangled section still clung to the shredded airlock ripped from the station’s exterior, indicating it had been docked when the Setarips attacked. 
The Setarip destroyer’s front end had been sheared off, exposing the interior to the vacuum of space. The rest of the formerly sleek vessel now resembled a smashed pumpkin, minus the bright orange coloring. 
Sensor sweeps hadn’t picked up any signs of other ships leaving or entering the system. Since Setarips never attacked with a single ship, either they’d already snatched what they’d come for, or they’d realized reinforcements were on the way and fled. 
Repeated attempts to contact the station had been met with silence. The communications array had been destroyed, leaving the command center deaf to the Argo’s hails. The communication blackout combined with the damage to the station’s exterior made docking the Argo impossible. 
Aurora’s team had been forced to take a personnel shuttle instead, weaving through the debris to reach one of the small craft airlocks near Dock Four. When they’d opened the airlock door, she’d expected to find Fleet officers waiting for them, but they hadn’t encountered a soul. She’d discovered the station’s internal comm system wasn’t operational, either. She still had contact with the Argo via her comband, although the signal was weak and filled with static. 
Aurora surveyed the curved corridor that stretched out to either side of the airlock. Nothing about this felt right. The station was home to more than five hundred residents, but it had the deserted atmosphere of a ghost town. According to sensor readings, the environmental systems were still operational in seventy percent of the station. Dock Two and the outer corridor between One and Three had breached, triggering the vacuum seals that cut the damaged sections off from the rest of the station. Aurora didn’t dwell on how many people had been lost when that occurred. 
Right now, her job was securing the station and locating the survivors. “Beta team, check Dock Three and the adjoining corridor. Gamma, do the same for Dock One. Delta, investigate the RC freighter, then join Gamma in corridor one.” 
She’d identified one vessel still attached to the station, an older model Rescue Corps freighter that had seen better days, especially after the beating it had taken from stray blasts and flying shrapnel. 
“My team will secure corridor four and the command center. Team leaders report to Lieutenant Cardiff. She’ll report to me. Let’s move.”