The blue-white swirling haze behind the viewport was utterly mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. Lieutenant Toren Vahl heard many stories of "hyperspace madness", people falling insane from staring too long into the void. But he took a strange liking to the swirling coils of another dimension and unlike other crewmen of the Persistent gazed into the abyss for hours.

The door hissed behind him - he did not turn.
"We are thirty minutes away from Bilbringi," Captain Lira Kade noted. "Sensor scans nominal. Pursuit signatures gone."
Vahl nodded once. "The Commandant is on his way?"
"Yes, he left his quarters."
A pause. Kade quietly walked up to the viewport. "This hull we're collecting... It's not listed on any rosters, not even with our clearance."
Vahl remained expressionless - "It was never meant to be listed."
Kade hesitated - "And if Bilbringi control asks questions?"
"They will not. They will not dare challenge orders of the Grand Admiral. This is a completely legal operation."
The captain exhaled. "Good."
Footsteps sounded across the corridor - measured, resolute.

Commandant Varn Kellis stepped onto the bridge.
He moved to the viewport, Kade and Vahl shuffling aside.
"Status?"
"All systems nominal, sir, 20 minutes to Bilbringi."
"Good. We have not covered half the path. We have barely begun it."
He paused before suddenly turning to the pair and counting in a temperate, hasteless tone- "Overconfidence is the luxury of men, who believe the galaxy owes them their victories - a luxury we cannot afford. I will remind you that, while our fleet may appear substantial, it is nothing but a speck of dust compared to anything we will encounter. We are not in a position to dictate engagements. We are not even in a position to enter said engagements. Flight remains our only viable path."
The bridge fell silent. No one spoke again for the remaining twenty minutes.

Then the scene behind the viewport changed, revealing the sprawling Bilbringi Shipyards - a large network of hollowed out interconnected asteroids with hundreds of freighters and tugs scurrying about.
"Position matches Bilbringi outer marker", the navigations officer said, - "No hostile signatures detected."
Captain Kade nodded briskly from her command chair - "Secure from hyperspace. All ships report status."
A chorus of clipped affirmatives chimed in from the handful of cruisers and frigates escorting the convoy. Several dozen freighters checked in by groups. Finally, the two Altors reported. Routine. Almost too routine.

Vahl remained at the starboard viewport, admiring the sheer scale of the yards. The smallest berth could swallow their convoy whole and still have enough space for an ISD - now he understood Kellis's warning in full volume. A distinctly large hull shape caught his eye - and probably many others'. It was too far to discern the details but the hull was already larger than anything he has seen before - several times bulkier than an ISD. "Is that what we came for?" he inquired cautiously. "Yes, this is it. The Bellator-class.", Kellis answered drily, with the tiniest hint of lingering Imperial pride.

"Bilbringi Control hailing, Captain. Standard clearance request.", the comms officer reported.
Kade glanced towards the rear of the bridge. Varn Kellis stood beside a secondary holotank, the one displaying the strategic map that was used for routing between systems. He gave the slightest nod.

"Put them through," Kade said.

The comms officer tapped a key and a neutral voice filled the bridge - Coruscanti accent, bored, professional: "Unidentified convoy, this is Bilbringi Approach Control. You have entered the Bilbringi Exclusion Zone. Transmit identification, manifest, and purpose of visit. Stand by for vector assignment."
"Bilbringi Control, this is Imperial cruiser Persistent, task force two-oh-three. Transmitting clearance codes and manifest now.", Kade answered steadily.
A soft chime as the codes were transmitted.
"...Persistent, codes received. Clearance confirmed. State purpose."
Kellis stepped towards the comm pickup
"Bilbringi Control, Commandant Varn Kellis speaking. We are here to requisition hull frame KDF-8814-Bellator per materiel transfer order 0028-alpha. The hull is to be released to our tugs for immediate departure. Shuttle with code cylinder is enroute."
A few minutes passed as the shuttle approached one of the checkpoints - a faint dot among the many voluminous asteroids and structures. A few moments later the coordinator's voice returned, a bit anxious "Commandant Kellis... codes authenticate. Hull BDF-8814-Bellator released to your authority. Your tugs are cleared to approach Berth 7-A. Coordinate with local traffic control and tugs, the rest of your convoy is to maintain a distance of three klicks minimum from the berth. You have ninety minutes on station."
"Understood. Persistent out."

The bridge fell silent and Vahl felt the deck rumble through his boots as Persistent began to accelerate towards the berth. At first the Bellator was only a distant silhouette among the asteroids - a long, angular shape that seemed to stretch on forever. Then, as the Persistent drew closer, the scale began to assert itself.

The hull was not merely large. It was monstrous.

Even unfinished, the Bellator dwarfed everything in their convoy and even in its surroundings. Their own command ship looked like a starfighter next to it. The two Dreadnought-class class cruisers they were towing might as well have been shuttles.

The Bellator now filled the viewport completely, its bare durasteel skeleton stretching seven kilometers bow to stern. Gantries and ribs jutted from its flanks like exposed bones. No engines yet. No armour plating. No weaponry. Just the raw, naked frame of the battleship-to-be.

The sheer mass of it pressed against Vahl's mind. The unfinished hull loomed so close now that the viewport could no longer contain it - only sections, endless stretches of exposed superstructure sliding past like the remains of some ancient leviathan.

Like aiwha calfs approaching their mother, the Altors moved towards the rear ventral side of the hull, and nested comfortably in the niche where the engine nacelles would normally be. They began to extend numerous docking arms and umbilicals towards the Bellator and gradually make themselves one with the hull.
Vahl relaxed a little when he heard Kellis utter "Convoys, form a defensive wedge on our exit vector. All ships on yellow alert."
That was surprising since Bilbringi, like all Imperial shipyards, was heavily guarded: Golans were dotted all over the asteroid field and several ISDs were stationed in the system at all times. If Kellis thought of these as insufficient than what difference could his own puny cruisers make?

This is when the sensors chimed.
“Contact!” the sensor officer called out, voice tight. “Multiple signatures dropping out of hyperspace — bearing two-seven mark four. Imperial transponders, but… they’re not ours.”
Kellis’s voice cut through the sudden tension like a blade.
“Battle stations.”