The Plague Armada
an excerpt

The gleaming station hung in the perfect night of space, a beacon of hope for travellers. It stretched out across the sky like a vast oak tree, its tiny leaves of ships, many of which would have appeared huge anywhere else, through connecting passages of branches down to the slowly rotating trunk. Thousands of ships arrived and departed every day, making it one of the galaxy's great centres of transport, commerce and diplomacy. For many it was one of the wonders of the universe, one of the great symbols of the peace that had lasted a thousand years.
There was a brief flash as a ship winked out of hyperspace, a perfectly normal event by itself, but it was followed by a hundred more, and then a thousand that could only mean an invading fleet.
The station's malitia scrambled, but after the long reign of peace they were understaffed, and after many cutbacks and deferrments, their ships were badly out of date.
The sleek black ships of the invaders, covered in vicious looking spines that left no doubt as to their intent, easily overwhelmed the malitia ships, barely slowing down as their gravity rays crushed the defending ships' hulls.
Those ships that could undock from the station tried to make their escape, many abandoning half their crews and gargo in the process. Few got far before they too were crushed. Those that couldn't get to their ships tried to escape in the stations hundred thousand life rafts, but these were even easier targets for the attackers.
One of the few ships that managed to escape to the safety of hyperspace without being crushed picked up a short radio message from the attackers. It consisted f just three words.
"We are back."