Grave News
Reconnaissance could come in many forms. Intercepted signals, DRADIS reports, photographs... One of the best forms, in the super-cooled vacuum of space, was that of Infra-Red. Glancing over the data and associated analysis passed across her desk in a folder, Admiral Sinclair exhaled slowly, clenching jaw in reaction to what this now meant.

Some observed that interesting times could be a curse. The dillemma confronting her most surely qualified as that. It could mean salvation and damnation in equal measure. It was going to be one for the history books, regardless of the outcome or decision.

She could only hope that such texts would end up being written by human hands.

A few hours later and she had convened a meeting of all available military heads. If Comanders could not make it, then they were to designate a trusted representative. Marines were posted at the door, such was the sensitivity of what was to be revealed. The planning room was one of those areas of the ship which were sealed against electronic signals leaking out, even going so far as to be coated in a special type of paint, upon its construction.

Waiting for the last to file through, Sinclair nodded and the entrance was closed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you'll have to excuse me for convening at such short notice... I trust you'll understand the need for such precautions, as soon as I reveal the latest and my intentions as for how to deal with it. Please believe me when I say this could be the most lethal engagement of the entire war... Please, also, believe me when I say this has the potential to cripple us, as much as the enemy. Whatever we decide in this room is going to affect our very survival as a species. If any of you feel unable to prosecute what will be asked of you, then I'll want you to make your voice heard, are we agreed?"

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