Fandom WHEN STARS COLLIDE [Star Trek & Star Wars]

[Bone2pick]

Captain's log, Stardate: 23859.3

We have received orders to locate the USS Mnemosyne, an Oberth-class Federation starship. The science vessel lost contact with Starfleet four days ago while collecting data from a plasma storm inside the Meorle Nebula. For the sake of the Mnemosyne's crew I hope its disappearance proves to be a simple communications failure...

Like a siren's call the plasma storm, with its convulsing phosphorescent clouds, both terrified and seduced Regina. She couldn't help but imagine the tempest on her viewscreen as a cosmic organism - a behemoth of pure chaos. As she peered into its astral haze an eerie feeling trickled down her limbs that it was staring back at her.

This is no time for fantasies, Regina thought as she slid back into her captain's chair. After blinking her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose to refocus she glanced around the bridge. The crew were engaged with their respective stations - evidently the storm wasn't as mesmerizing to everyone.

A moment later Blikzel, the Breakthrough's female ferengi commander, swiveled towards Regina from her Ops console. "Captain, the ionic interference produced by the storm is obstructing our scanners," she reported in her husky alien voice.

Regina nodded; she had expected as much. "Then we'll need to get closer to detect any debris or warp core resonance. Mister Merlo, take us within a hundred meters."

The young flight controller acknowledged the order then swiftly keyed it into the Conn. Regina was busy scrolling through her chair's right-arm computer when Miss Melchior, the ship's science officer, stirred beside her.

"This storm system is famous for its sudden directional shifts," she warned.

"Understood lieutenant, but we're faster," Regina countered. "We'll fly out if it turns on us." Moving on to her next order of business she tapped the combadge over her left breast. It responded to her touch with its usual chirp.

"Janacek to Engineering: Mr. Speaks, what's the status of our communication channels?" The Captain caught herself raking her left hand through her kinky, brown hair while she waited for his answer—a habit from her childhood. She feared it made her appear girlish.

"They're less than terrific Captain," the Chief Engineer eventually replied. There was an inkling of annoyance in Lieutenant Speak's voice, which wasn't uncommon when he was on duty. Miss Melchior, seated just left of Regina, tried her best to nonchalantly cover her newly-formed grin with a hand.

"Elaborate Lieutenant," the Captain demanded.

"I managed to clean up a few the channels, but most of the frequencies are still heavily polluted with interefenerence."

Regina turned to the bridge's communications officer, a brawny, cerulean-skinned Bolian. "Bods, put out a hailing frequency on all available channels. Announce to anyone in the sector that we're attempting to re-establish contact with the Mnemosyne."

​

"Aye Sir."

"Captain," the ferengi commander interjected. "It appears the storm has changed course. It's estimated to collide with us in under a minute."

"Are you sure you're not picking up a loose band Commander?" Miss Melchior questioned. The Captain glared at her science officer. Regina was one the youngest captain's in all of Starfleet, which tempted her senior staff to challenge her authority from time to time.

"Negative Lieutenant; the entire system is advancing," Commander Blikzel answered. Regina called for her flight controller.

"Mister Merlo, get us out of here."

"Aye Captain."

While the young ensign set a new course away from the incoming storm, Regina ordered a yellow alert. Alarms blared and amber lights flashed throughout the Nebulus-class starship. A second later the Captain's combadge chirped.

"Seung to Bridge: I'm on my way way up," announced the First Officer.

No one was ready for the ship to pitch when it did. Regina was nearly tossed out of her chair. Before she could recover blinding, prismatic light flooded into the bridge from its viewscreen. Cries erupted from every control station and the Captain strained to yell over them.

"Full revers-"

Reality ended. Matter, time, and consciousness were cancelled like an appliance with its electrical cord torn from its outlet. But fortunately for the over seven-hundred Starfleet crew aboard the USS Breakthrough, their state of oblivion was temporary.

The first conclusion Regina drew when her thoughts finally returned was that she wasn't dead. She was swallowed in darkness but the sound of her labored breath affirmed that she was alive. I'm still in my chair, she deduced. Its familiar shape cradling her in the center of her pitch-black bridge. Then she noticed the chorus of groans from the officers around her. Before she could call out to her crew the ship's lights flickered back to life. A quick look around revealed that everyone had made it.

"Report!" She clamored.

Lieutenant Commander Blikzel, who was slumped over her Ops station, straightened herself up and fumbled over her computer. The rest of the officers on the bridge did likewise at their own stations.

"There's no sign of the plasma storm, Captain," Blikzel snarled.

"How can that be?" Challenged Science Officer Melchior.

"Captain," Ensign Merlo called out. He sounded more unsure and fearful than Regina had ever heard. "If these sensor readings are correct, we're no longer inside the galaxy."

Regina squeezed her eyes shut and tried to process what she had just heard. Then she slowly turned to Miss Melchior in time to watch the color drain out of her face.

"If that's true," the Science Officer muttered, "we could be hundreds of thousands of light years apart from Federation space..."

Bile raced up the Captain's gullet which she was forced to swallow. Her legs felt too weak to stand but she forced herself to her feet anyway. She cleared her throat and summoned her remaining resolve.

"I want a status report on all systems and medical evaluations for everyone we can spare. And reboot the scanners for another reading Mister Merlo, because right now, I'm really hoping they're wrong."

 

[Steel Accord]

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far, away . . .

It is a time of consolidation. The Galactic Empire makes efforts to solidify its power in the Inner Rim of the Galaxy, often with overwhelming force. In the wake of the Antar Atrocity committed by Moff Tarkin, meant to punish and humble the moon's population, unrest has sprung up on Antar 4. Multiple rebel cells, criminal cartels, and mercenary bands now run rampant in the marshlands, preying on the settlers that fled to escape Tarkin's cold culling. Amid the predation of vicious gangs and the Empire's indifference to their plight, the people have acquired a mysterious ally, the Antarian Rangers. This band of fighters emerge seemingly from nowhere to protect and rescue those in need before vanishing again into the wilderness. Rarely seen is their leader, a hooded figure that some attribute strange and wondrous power to. The Commission for the Preservation of the New Order, or COMPNOR, has disavowed these rumors and encourage citizens to report these Rangers if seen. Little does either side know though, that a far bigger threat to the Empire is about to emerge also seemingly from nowhere . . .
​

"Governor, I'm telling you. Secure holding of this moon requires greater resources. I need Stormtroopers, walkers, anything!" The man yelled at the sharply dressed Imperial officer floating above him in the holoprojector, the only source of light in the dark room.

"Minister Layton, I gave you command of that moon because I was under the impression that you could handle it after Tarkin's . . . relocation. Was I wrong to trust you?" In contrast to the governor, Minister Layton wore a brown uniform with gray rims on the collar and sleeves. Meant to mimic the garb of the local Gotal people while retaining Imperial uniform standard. Layton tried to backpedal from his previous statement.

"No governor. You weren't. It's just that keeping the peace on Antar 4 has required making certain compromises with the locals. Compromises that wouldn't have been needed if I could bring more to bear against the criminal element. Even a single ISB agent would be of great-" he was cut off by the governor raising his hand and speaking.

"As far as the Empire is concerned, Antar 4 is a settled matter with sufficient means to hold it. Unless there is a direct attack on Citadel-8B itself, there is no reason to send more men or material." Layton slammed a fist down on the holoprojector. The hologram shook with a distortion for a moment from the impact.

"There are helpless people out in the Marshlands that refuse to come here to the Citadel. I can't protect them beyond these walls with what I have!" Minister Layton went from cowed to emboldened, a change in attitude ignored by his superior.

"That is their choice to abandon the safety of the Empire. You have your answer Minister. Your request is denied." The hologram shimmered out and as the lights came on, a hooded figure was standing behind the Minister.

"Having second thoughts on our agreement Minister Layton?" The figure spoke and Layton spun with panic.

"How? How did you get in here?!" The figure pulled down his hood, revealing a Mirialan man with silvery hair and worn skin.

"I asked you first." He gave a playful smile. His species didn't crack much in the skin area with age but the ravages of time nevertheless leave their mark in the dulled hue of a Mirialan's color. Layton took a moment to compose himself, adjusting his coat.

"This can't continue forever. I've given you special dispensation but the Empire must be able to protect its own."

"A priority clearly held at every level of command," the hooded figure nodded to the deactivated projector. Layton had no response. The visitor paced as he spoke. "We all have our weaknesses Minister. There's no shame in it, but we shouldn't embrace them."

"Are you suggesting loyalty to my Empire is a weakness?" Layton pointed to himself. The man had his hands folded behind his back as he spoke.

"Loyalty of any kind is a virtue, when exercised honestly. Not one you posses unfortunately. No, your weakness is fear. Fear that our collaboration will be discovered. Fear of what will happen to you if it is." Now Layton's finger pointed accusingly at his visitor.

"I didn't ask for your help so I could be lectured." The man turned his head to the Minister.

"You didn't ask for my help at all. I offered it." He started to walk toward Layton. "Did I ever tell you why?" Layton backed up against the projector and shook his head. "It's because I sensed something in you. Guilt, regret, shame. In some ways, you're very selfish Layton. Everything is your fault, your doing. When the Empire committed the Antar Atrocity, and you were systems away at a seperate command, you saw it as your doing and not Tarkin's. On the other hand, when you were given this command, suddenly it was your duty, your responsibility, your obligation to make up for what happened." The man stood aside and leaned against the projector just as Layton was. "You understood that these people have suffered enough. So to see them tormented beyond your walls when you throw open the gates and none will enter your refuge out of fear. It tears you up inside. That's why I reached out to you. It's why I appreciate what you do for the Rangers and myself." Layton shot an incredulous look and stood up.

"What I do?" He pointed to the desk behind the projector and stormed over to it. "I've been sitting at this desk doing nothing, helping no one, saving no one." The man stood up and turned to Layton.

"The governor refused your request. Your lack of ability is on him, not you. He'll never recognize your efforts, even some of my men don't, but I do and so does something bigger than any of us." Layton placed his hands on his desk and slumped his head. He turned and looked at his visitor.

"Does it really matter? Does what I do count?"

"You're one man telling an Empire that it's not doing enough. That definitely counts for something." Layton stood up and took a deep breath.

"You might just make a believer out of me one day, Senotho."

"A proud day more for you than me. In the meantime-" Senotho went wide eyed and lost his balance. He leaned on the projector for balance.

"Hey! Are you okay?" To his own surprise, Layton rushed over to steady the Mirialan.

"I'm . . . I'm fine. Just, tired I suppose. Thank you." He composed himself and walked a few paces to get his footing back. "In the meantime. Do what you can inside the Citadel. Protect those still here that the Empire won't. Leave the safety of the Marsh dwellers to me and the Rangers."

"Okay. Wait! You never answered me how you got in here." Senotho smiled.

"The same way I'm leaving it." Pulling his hood over his eyes, the lights suddenly blacked out. A moment later they came back on and the visitor was gone.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > wipe > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

In a large cave complex, nicknamed by its inhabitants as the Catacombs or just the Combs, many men and women of different species carried out their business. Many usual military drills such as blaster rifle practice, obstacle courses, team tactical formations. Others though were unique to the Antarian Rangers. Daily mediation, lightsaber defense drills, and Jedi history (spotty or demagogic it could be at times.) Not all had proper uniforms due to lack of them to go around but the ones that did wore brown coats with white furred trim, and blue buckled boots, combat slacks, and covers (hats) on their heads. One notable exception to this was a bald man wearing proper armor, gray from age and spotted by blaster burns. His lower half partially mechanized with bracers along his legs.

"Get that crate to logistics. Gotta be somethin' in there we can use. Even if it's just to throw it at the Empire."

"By that logic, I'm the greatest weapon we have." Senotho said, announcing his presence to the old clone. Grid promptly turned on his heel and saluted.

"General." Senotho returned the salute.

"At ease old friend. There's something I need to speak to you about. Privately." Grid nodded and followed the General. They walked away from the mass of the Rangers and along a slim pathway hanging over the rocks below.

"I take it my intel was correct?"

"The Minister tried to reach out to the Governor to expand the Empire's presence here on Antar 4. The governor turned him down and I was able to refocus his efforts on the home front."

"It still don't sit right. Fraternizing with the enemy."

"The Empire is merely a machine. Ruthless but passionless. You know more than most who our true enemy is, Grid." The two men came to a stop and looked at each other, Senotho's hands folded in his sleeves in front of him.

"What happened?"

"I felt something. It was a great tremor in the Force. Unlike anything I've ever felt before. Something's here. Something's coming."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. It's new. Not just to us but to itself. It doesn't feel like the Dark side though, quite the opposite. It's like . . . something clean and bright. Unmarred by hardship."

"You're afraid though."

"Yes. I am. Because with a disturbance in the Force this massive, and something so pure being its result. There is no way I was the only one who felt it." A moment of understanding passed between to the two veterans.

"Your orders General?"

"Put our scouts on alert. Put our deployed Rangers on guard and ready our main force here for deployment. I'll be meditating when you need me." He turned and walked further along the path. "Whatever is coming, the Sith won't be far behind."

 

[Bone2pick]

The vista of the twinkling cosmos through the observation lounge's windows went unappreciated by the Breakthrough's senior officers; the gravity of their present circumstances curbing any desires of stargazing. Seven hours had passed since their starship was displaced from the Meorle Nebula. Regina stood at the head of the conference table and looked over her briefing notes. Seated in front of her were Commander Seung, Lieutenant Commander Blikzel, and Lieutenant Sath.

The silence inside the lounge was relieved when its aft-facing doors swished open. Science Officer Melchior and Chief Engineer Speaks, both appearing even more wearied than the rest of the crew, marched up the room until they flanked their waiting Captain. With everyone present Regina placed her PADD on the table and gestured towards the newly arrived officers.

"Mister Speaks, Miss Melchior, we anxiously await your report," she announced.

The Chief Engineer, a spindly-framed fellow, mimed a balancing scale with his open hands. "Would you prefer us to start with the bad news or the worse news?" he teased.

The Captain's solemn expression twisted into a scowl. "Just lay it out for them Lieutenant," she ordered.

Melchior, with her arms crossed apprehensively over her chest, stepped forward instead. "It's as we've feared: we're outside the Milky Way galaxy." As if on cue the seated officers seemed to exhale out any remaining optimism they had clung onto. She continued. "The evidence suggests the Breakthrough was transported here via an invisible wormhole."

Blikzel's brow furrowed over her densely-wrinkled ferengi nose. "An invisible wormhole?" she inquired.

Regina nodded. "While rare, Starfleet records have chronicled such anomalies. We suspect the ionic interference emitted by the plasma storm played a role in obscuring it."

First Officer Seung, a man renown for his self-composure, gazed wistfully into the ocean of outer space beyond the lounge's windows. "Do we at least know where we are?" he asked.

Melchior shook her head then brushed strands of her auburn hair away from her face before speaking. "Negative Commander. High energy scans have determined we crossed into another galaxy, but so far we haven't been able to identify it."

"Can we not return the way we came?" Blikzel questioned.

Speaks cleared his throat and swiped uncomfortably at the tabletop in front of him. "That's the worse news: the wormhole collapsed behind us."

The bombshell delivered by the Chief Engineer went down smoother than he anticipated. Apparently the out of the loop officers suspected their dilemma wouldn't be so easily solved. Lieutenant Melchior further elaborated. "Our best guess is that it was unstable and near the end of its lifespan. And it essentially imploded after spitting us out."

"But it's not completely sealed." The Captain reassured.

"That's true," Melchior acquiesced. "Our sensors detected trace amounts of ion radiation leaking from where we believe the wormhole was. The only reasonable explanation for this is that the anomaly diminished to what's known as a micro-wormhole - a wormhole so small only subatomic particles can pass through it."

Commander Seung considered the information and then turned towards Regina. "The radiation must be coming from the plasma storm on the other side," he submitted.

"That's correct," his Captain concurred.

The power-blue fleshed Lieutenant Sath finally broke his silence. His voice as grim as his homeworld, the icy moon of Andoria. "Forgive me Captain, but I fail to see how such an infinitesimal portal can benefit us?"

Speaks requested to answer the Chief Security Officer's question and Regina complied. "Well, here's the thing," the Chief Engineer began. "Wormholes are composed of tachyons - subatomic particles that exist in a perpetual faster-than-light state. And they lose their tachyon density with age and with matter transport, but if a micro-wormhole was bombarded with enough tachyons..."

"It could be restored," the Captain concluded.

Melchior's expression betrayed her skepticism. "Theoretically," she added. "It's never been attempted."

Speaks yawned and wiped his sleep-starved eyes with the base of his palms. "The wrench in the gears is," he murmured, "we don't have the means to attempt it. See, in order to generate a sufficient amount of tachyons we're going to need a temporal transponder - or whatever this galaxy's equivalent of it is called - and that's assuming they even have that technology here."

Sath's antennae jiggled. "Then our first objective should be to try and make contact with nearby technologically advanced societies," the Andorian suggested.

Melchior slipped into the chair in front of her and glanced nervously at the officers around her. "There's one more complication," she admitted. "The rate of radiation leaking through the wormhole suggests it's quickly decaying."

For the following ten seconds the only sound heard inside the observation lounge was the continual purr of the Breakthrough. Commander Seung, proving he was a worthy first officer, eventually asked the dreaded but necessary question. "How much time do we have?"

"Eleven days." The answer tasted rancid in Regina's mouth. And from the look of the sullen faces of her officers, it had poisoned their spirits. She may have been a fledgling Starfleet captain, but she understood the cost of murdering a crew's morale.

"I know it sounds like an insurmountable challenge," she offered. "But Starfleet's database is replete with crews overcoming equally hopeless odds." Regina planted both hands on the conference table and leaned over it. "Despite what obstacles lie ahead of us I believe we're going to find a way home. I believe that, because I have the utmost faith in the abilities of everyone serving onboard this ship."

"As do I," Commander Seung concurred. The Captain's words, along with the First Officer's support, relieved enough of the crew's despair. Regina even allowed herself to smile; it was her first expression of joy since the beginning of their crisis.

"Alright, the clock is ticking," she reminded them. "Let's get to work and put one more unforgettable success story in Starfleet's record logs."

Spoiler: Observation Lounge

 

[Steel Accord]

Out in the Marshlands, a caravan of gotal and gossams migrants were making their way to a settlement just over the ridge, to their left was a small mountain with a river running along its base and to their right was dense swamp forest. They pulled their Blurrgs pulling their hovering repulsorlift equipped carts to a stop for a rest and to drink from the lake. Their sullen faces turned to ones of worry when they heard a faint buzzing. It kept getting louder and louder. When they looked in the direction of the swamp forest out came a large group of men on swoop bikes, some firing blasters in the air and shouting "yeeeeee-HAW!" The migrants panicked and tried to get back on their carts but the Blurrgs were now spooked and confused. Too late, as the swoop gang encircled them, the clawed, oozing, algae dripping hand painted on their rides grasping at the trapped people.

Two of the riders dismounted. One a scrawny human and the other a thuggish weequay.

"Well, well, what do we 'ave here Groy?" The human asked his partner, thumbs in his belt.

"Looks like some folk who wouldn't mind partin' with a few of their belongins' Roy." The larger man creaked his neck, adjusting the blaster rifle relaxed along his shoulders.

"Please. Take what you need, just don't hurt us." One of the older gotal spoke up, his family and friends holding their children and spouses close behind him.

"See Groy? People can be reasonable." Roy spat along the ground. Groy lifted the rifle from his shoulder and took aim at one of the blurrgs.

"Where's the fun in that?" One of the gossams children broke from her mother's arms to stand in front of the animal, trying to shield the beast with her tiny body. "Hope I don't miss." There was a scream from the child's mother.

BZRAO!

Groy dropped dead, a fist sized burn right in center of mass.

"What in the Hell? Snahper!" Roy said as he pointed up at the mountain before them. His comrades started up their bikes but more and more of them started to drop, some keeping others boxed in with the riders in front of them dead and other swoops running into each other, their riders dead at the controls. More localized blaster fire rang out as a sullustan man with a blue cap and furred coat armed with a blaster carbine emerged from a bush, strafing to the people.

"Get to the river bank and keep your heads down!" He ordered as he returned fire from the swoop gang shooting at the people in retaliation. Two of them tried to take another swing at the poor blurrgs when something exploded from the water. A kaadu amphibious riding mount burst from a swimming start beneath the water, bringing its foot down on the first of the ramshackle vehicles, destroying it. Meanwhile its rider leaped from its back mid-air.

"Bun-GAAAAAAAAAR!" Screamed the gungan warrior as he came down on the second rider with his spear. Killing and dismounting him in one blow. Landing and rolling, he pulled a bola with two glowing blue spheres on each end and spun it. "Tasta me booma! Ya slangas!" He let fly the weapon and on impact, both sides wrapped around the front end of a speeder bike and once they completely encircled-

BOOM!

The remaining swoopers tried to flee into the swamp from whence they came, safe from the sniper under the tree cover but cable traps tied to the trees sprung up in front of them as they approached, dismounting and severely injuring them. A magenta hued toydarian pumped her fist in triumph as she sat in the branches high above. The last swooper evaded her trap! She took aim with her rifle but rather than firing a blaster bolt, it launched a kind of spike at the end of a cable which struck the fleeing vehicle. Pulling her off her perch with her wings spread, she reeled herself closer and closer like a reverse fishing line until she stood on the back of the bike. The rider turned to shoot her but the Ranger raised both her hands in front of her and covered her front with her wings and this activated a personal shield. The blaster bolts bounced off uselessly and the Ranger rolled like a ball within her shield to knock the rider off his bike. She then dropped her shield and dismounted before it ran into a tree and exploded.

"That's the last of them Jeeg," she said into a handheld comm.

"Not quite," the sulustan responded. He was looking at the human on his ass standing right beneath him. "You can come down now Phi." Moments later, a pantoran woman, really a young girl, with a sniper rifle came half stepping half sliding down the mountain and crossing the river. She carried a high-powered blaster rifle almost as big as she was. The gungan and toydarian encircled the lone swooper as well.

"Wesa kill im?" The gungan asked. Jeeg shook his head.

"He needs to be alive to carry a message." He got down on one knee close to the raider. "You can tell your boss, that if he's not happy with the arrangement our master gave you-"

"More than you deserve!" The pantoran interjected.

"Than the next time the Swamp Devils step out of line, the entire Antarian Rangers are going to be coming for you. Got it?" Roy nodded, his eyes wide. "Go." He scrambled away into the swamp in terror. He'd have a hard going trying to get through that mess without his swoop. Jeeg shouldered his carbine. "Hey! You can come out now. It's safe." The erstwhile victims slowly climbed to their feet, the fear not quite abated yet but their sense of relief growing. They embraced their rescuers. The mother from earlier tearfully thanking Phi for saving her daughter. The older gotal from earlier spoke up again.

"We can't ever thank you enough. Please, take some of our supplies." The toydarian this time flapped in front of him and shook her head.

"We have our own supply lines, this is all you have. Keep it." The pilgrims thanked their heroes one last time before proceeding onward to the settlement.

"May the Force be with you all." Jeeg wished them well as they left.

"Do you have to say that to everyone Jeeg?" The toydarian shook her head as they all turned to march in the other direction.

"What? Suddenly you don't believe Rita?" Phi asked her friend.

"I believe, I'm just not preachy."

"Mesa think you just cranky Jeeg won bombad on pazzak night," the gungan said as he guided his kaadu by the reigns next to them.

"How dare you Creel! I'm far more high minded and not nearly as petty as that." A moment passed. "Besides, he looses every game we play and suddenly wins on the biggest bet I made? I don't buy it." The four friends chuckle when Jeeg's comm alerts him. Phi, Creel, and Rita go on ahead as Jeeg pulls out a holopad. The disc lit up to show a bulky, humanoid, three eyed droid.

Spoiler: Droid

"Greetings Ranger Captain Jeeg."

"Torah. What news from the Combs?" As Torah spoke, Jeeg's smile faded. The three rangers were talking when their Captain called to them.

"Guys!" They all turned sharply, surprised by his change in tone. "Orders from Master Senotho himself. Sunset Protocol." They all looked at each other. Creel jumped up on to his mount and Rita started to fly higher. They both looked at their ground bound partners. "Just go, we'll meet you there." Jeeg ordered. Creel gave his kaadu the signal and she dove back into the river while Rita took off to their hidden base. Jeeg and Phi started to double time in the same general direction.

"You don't think it could be?" Phi couldn't finish her own question.

"All we know is something's coming and to be on alert. Once we're back at the Citadel, we'll make contact with the Combs for more information." Jeeg said. Satisfied, the young explorer kept pace with her Captain back to their hidden bunker just outside the walls of the Imperial Citadel.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

In the Catacombs, the training had ceased. All of the Antarian Rangers were on rotating shifts. Either at the ready to be deployed, or resting and waiting for their rotation time. Meanwhile, in a series of small chambers, Master Immanuel Senotho paced. He had his own quarters to serve his needs.

Right now he stood in what he referred to informally as his Reliquary. Artifacts lined the walls, lightsabers and kyber crystals but many more from traditions outside of the Jedi. An eye pendent symbolizing the Greater Mark of Illumination for the Chalactan Adepts, a blessed bracket used as a Jagganath point counter for the Trandoshan Scorekeeper, and a statue of Doellin, the deity of a pacifist and teetotaler sect. Some of these were liberated from Imperial confiscation but others were gifts. Despite his dogged attempts to remain as anonymous as possible, it did seem that some had come to know of someone affiliated with the Antarian Rangers as a preserver of religious items. Specifically in this case though, Immanuel held his hand to his chin while using his other hand to support his elbow as he stared at a tapestry of stars. Woven by the long extinct prophets of Voss-Ka.

The same droid from the holo earlier entered the cave.

"You wished to see me Master Senotho?" He asked.

"Yes, Torah." Immanuel turned to greet the droid. "I was wondering if you could help me with something. I need information. Anything."

"I do not have the Jedi Archives in my memory bank, Master," Torah said pointing to his head.

"No, but you did spend quite some time there during your years of service to the order and you retain every conversation you've had or overheard."

"In perfect detail, Master."

"Good. Then maybe you can help." He took a moment to collect himself. "I received a vision during my meditation. It was clear but I can't decipher its meaning. I'm going to describe it to you. Tell me if any of it sounds familiar from what you've learned." Torah nodded. "There's this archer, he's wearing a robe of some kind, very ornate. He nocks an arrow and lets it fly across the stars. Then that same archer nocks another arrow, now he's wearing intimidating armor. Somehow the two arrows meet each other head on, and now one of them has a . . . jewel or gem of some kind in its head. Then the arrows cross and there's a blinding flash." Immanuel stops. "The vision ends." Torah puts his own hand to where his chin would be and supports his arm with his other hand as Immanuel was doing earlier.

"I'm afraid I can't recall any talks of similar symbols, Master." Immanuel sighed.

"Oh well. Long shot anyway." The Jedi turned to go back to his pacing when Torah raised his hand.

"If I may, Master." Immanuel turned back to the droid. "Perhaps you should review the holocrons?"

"I've been over them Torah, I've learned all I can from them."

"Perhaps. But the only mistake in retreading ancient wisdom . . . is to not." Immanuel thought for a moment and conceded.

"Good point Torah."

"Citation: Jedi Master Gnost Durall." Immanuel chuckled. Torah had to have timed that.

"Very well. Let's see what we have," Immanuel said. Torah's chassis opened up to reveal a spinning tray with many empty holders, only three of which were occupied by glowing, gilded cubes.

"Absolute Power: created by Jedi Master AND Supreme Chancellor of the Republic Biel Ductavis. Lightsaber combat with Tarre Vizsla, first Mandalorian Jedi. Or perhaps our greatest find, the Noetikon of Light." Torah explained with each holocron he pointed to.

"Let's go with the Noetikon. Perhaps it will help me decipher this vision."

"Of course." Torah nodded and a locking mechanism on his tray released. The holocron rose out of its holder and into the Jedi's hands. Torah closed his holding chamber.

"I'll return this as soon as I'm done with it to your secure holding, my friend."

"You honor me, Master." Torah bowed.

"The honor's all mine." He returned the gesture.

"May the Force be with you, Master Senotho." Torah turned to leave.

"With us all." Immanuel said to himself as he placed the holocron on the floor in front of him and knelt down to open it.

 

[Bone2pick]

Captain's log, Stardate: 23859.5

Trapped in an unknown galaxy, our first objective is to discover and establish contact with a hospitable spacefaring civilization—if such a society even exists in this frontier. We need help to return home, that much is clear. Where that help will come from, or if it will come in time, remains to be seen.

The shimmer of the starship's warp field dissipated after the Breakthrough blinked into the solar system. For a moment the vessel was suspended and silent. Its array of windows and lights twinkling like diamond facets along its thirty decks. Then its impulse engines blazed to life and propelled the starship around the gas giant planet it had dropped out of warp next to.

Inside the Breakthrough's bridge officers interfaced with their respective stations. Lieutenant Commander Blikzel's rumpled nose flared as the ferengi studied her Ops display. "Captain, the Class M moon is within 500,000 kilometers," she said.

Perched in her captain's chair Regina turned to her flight controller. "Get us close enough for a planetary scan, Mister Merlo."

"Aye Captain."

A trio of garnet icons flashed within one of Blikzel's console displays. "Long-range scanners are picking up three power signatures orbiting the moon," she announced.

Commander Seung, seated beside Regina, hurried out of his first officer's chair to stand over Blikzel's shoulder. "What's the magnitude of the signatures?" He asked.

"Very small—a tenth of the output of a shuttlecraft."

The Commander's eyes softened, and studying the signatures for a few seconds he smiled with relief. "Artificial satellites," he explained as he faced his captain. "The odds of us discovering a technologically advanced society this early into our search...were not in our favor."

Regina allowed herself to match her First Officer's grin. "Considering what we've been through, I'd say we were due for a lucky break."

Seung chuckled and nodded. But the lively expression on his face died as fast as it had come on. "Now we have to hope that they're the type of society to help a lost starship full of strangers."

Regina took a deep breath and considered his concern for a moment. Then she stood up slowly and moved beside her First Officer. "The Federation was founded on a similar hope," she said softly. The smile reappeared on Commander Seung.

"Captain," Blikzel called out, "lifeform scans reveal the moon is teeming with life, including over three billion humanoids."

"Are we in standard orbit range yet?" Regina asked. The ferengi confirmed that they were and Regina marched towards the center of the bridge.

"Open all hailing frequencies," she ordered. "This is Captain Regina Janacek of the USS Breakthrough. We mean you no harm. We have travelled hundreds of thousands of light years across space and wish to speak with a representive of this moon. This is an urgent request, please respond."

 

[Steel Accord]

"I don't care what he said about the Empire, sergeant, he's a fruit vendor not a rebel. Cut him loose or I'll have you thrown in that cell with him!" Minister Layton shouted over the comm before bringing his fist down to end the transmission. He rubbed the bridge of his nose while reaching under his desk with with his free hand and pulled out a small bottle of likstro. He cracked open the bottle and took a swig right before a RA-7 protocol droid sauntered in through the door of his office. He swallowed too hard too fast out of reflex and had a coughing fit.

"Minister Layton. An unknown ship has entered our orbit," he reported in complete monotone seemingly unaware of Layton's reaction and drinking.

"Thank you, ZK-6," he chocked out as he tried to clear his throat. Layton clicked a few buttons to bring up his holo-projector and see what and who this ship was. He was about to take a more easy sip when the display at last came up and he nearly dropped his bottle the same way he dropped his jaw. This was unlike any vessel he had seen before, and it matched none of the Imperial schematics on present and past vessels he learned from the Imperial Academy. Putting the bottle down and rising, he approached the display, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. That's when the alert beeped, requesting a transmission. Layton quickly put himself together, adjusting his uniform and touching up his hair before accepting the call and letting them through.

"This is Captain Regina Janacek of the USS Breakthrough. We mean you no harm. We have traveled hundreds of thousands of light years across space and wish to speak with a representative of this moon. This is an urgent request, please respond."

The Minister cleared his throat, saying a silent thank you that it was audio only and not seeing his barely managed appearance.

"This is Minister Pendrew Layton of the Galactic Empire speaking. Holder of the moon Antar 4. Where is your point of origin and what type of ship is your vessel?"