NationStates Jolt Archive

The ship, an Imperial Star Destroyer, came out of hyperspace just outside some star system which location they had gotten from some pirates that had tried to take over the ship... They had mistook it to be a ghost ship, as it seemed to be just floating in space. How wrong they were...

On its bridge, there were people cloaked in black robes. One stood there, looking at the surroundings on the platform that sliced the bridge into two parts, whilst the others sat in their places below, to his left and right, working with the instruments of the ship. Also, his robe was somewhat... Different when compared to that of the rest.

He turned his head to look at one of the other people there to his right.

"Where are we?"

He then turned his head back to look at the view.

"I don't know, but... That is odd."

He turned to face the one he had spoken to, jumped down from his platform and walked towards her.

"What?"

"There seems to be a massive number of lifeforms in this star system..."

"Well, can you tell me anything about them?"

"No, Master. The systems have worked even less reliably than usual after that last ambush we experienced a while back. All I can say is that there's a lot of activity within this system."

"Oh," he said. He walked to a small elevator which brought him back to the platform. He then walked back to his place.

He shrugged.

"What do we have to lose? Take us in closer."

"Affirmative," said one of the other cloaked people on the bridge to his left.

For a while, there was utter silence in the bridge of the ship. The crew had to work hard to make the ship move to the intended direction, being more of an ancient relic than a working starship nowadays.

Then, one of the crewmen broke the silence.

"Master..."

"What?"

"Could we have found... Coruscant?"

"No, seems improbable. This place seems... Different. Its feel is too... Neutral. At least when compared to what the archives say of that place."

"Oh..."

And so the ship began to float further into an unknown star system...

The "Master" thought to himself as they progressed.

What was it that the pirates called this place? "The Sol System"? Odd people, those... But if what they said was true, we should be relatively safe. Survival can come first only to a point, and this ship is in dire need of real repairs...

The ship had slided much closer to settlements within the system, but it was almost as if no one had detected them yet. Or maybe no one there cared. Or maybe their instruments were really in bad shape now.

On the bridge, again. The man the others called "Master" walked towards a cloaked figure that was to the left of the pilot, never getting off from the platform. From the "Master"'s usual place on the said platform, this one would be on his left side, a bit further behind his back, next to the pilot.

"...No attempts to contact us?"

"None, Master."

"Curious. Wouldn't have thought that a ship of this size would go unnoticed..."

He crossed his arms and turned to look the female in charge of the sensor arrays.

"... That is, of course, IF there even really IS anyone here!"

"There should be, Master! The instruments are in bad condition, yes, but they should be working."

"Should be... Yes, of course they should be. And we should be fighting that treacherous scum that brought the Empire down. But we aren't."

He was quick to anger. Failures were not acceptable.

"Uh, there seem to be two planets that seem to have the most of the beings who live in this system around them or on them, Master."

"... You better be right. Is there a difference between the two?"

"Well... What I can tell, the other is a living planet, the other isn't. Which would indicate high technology."

The man grumbled, placed his arms to his sides and walked back to his post.

"Damn it... Take us to which ever is closer. Then we'll see what we can do."

Still nothing. Nothing had crossed their path as they continued to move closer to the presumably settled parts of the system. The "Master" only saw a red planet in the distance through the reinforced window made of something glass-like that dominated the part of the bridge in front of him.

"So we're going there? What do the readings say?"

"The details are still quite sketchy, Master, but according to the instruments, that planet is inhabited by a great amount of lifeforms. Humanoid or not, I can't say. We're too far away and the parts where there are lifeforms seem to be obstructed by all sorts of structures."

"What about those... Ships in orbit of the planet? They are ships, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes they are, Master. They seem crewed. It appears that they haven't noticed us yet. Which isn't all that odd, considering the vastness of space..."

"Yes, yes, I wasn't asking for your opinion, apprentice."

"I am sorry, Master..."

For a moment, he crossed his arms, deep in thought. He mumbled something incoherent and put his arms to his sides. Then he turned to his left, jumped down and walked to the one that acted as the communication's officer of the ship.

"I want to make a transmission. Just a normal voice only one, to see if anyone's actually there. And might even care."

"Very well, Master. Just say when you're ready."

The man sighed and shaked his head a bit.

"I'm ready."

"Speak."

This is the Imperial Star Destroyer Majestic. Is anyone out there? We need assistance.

-Majestic, this is the CDOH Hippocrates, what sort of assistance do you require?

*the director switched contacts on the communicator, patching himself through to the sensor control room aboard the facility.*

-sensors, what do we know about this ship, the Majestic?
-it's a big one, sir. looks to be about... 1.5 kilometers long, maybe half that in width... definitely bigger than our docks could handle...
-any suggestions, then?
-you could call home, ask if a mobile dock can make the transit here?

*the director closed the connection and waited for a response from the Majestic. a sheen of sweat covered his bald head. understandably, he thought, after all, here I am, fulfilling my vow to assist those in need, without prejudice or malice, and I have to go and pull up a ship like the Majestic... what did he give as the full title? Imperial Star Destroyer? I have a bad feeling about this.... he looked out his office window at the slowly turning stars. he almost fancied he could see the Majestic now, one of the innumerable points of flashing light strewn across his view.*

-computer, call up a log of active mobile docks, locate the closest four and give me status and transit statistics.

*the computer chirped quietly as it ran down the latest projections and reports on all confederate activity.*

-[sorting results by probable transit distance.]
-[first resultant: CMS Ratchet. Current Location: Tau Proxima 7. Current Activity: En Route to Tychus 2 for recommended 30,000,000 LY service. estimated transit interval: 6 weeks.]
-[second resultant: CMS Anvil. Current Location: Beta Orionis. Current Activity: Construction in-place of confederate waystation. estimated transit interval: 6 weeks.]
-cancel that request computer.
-[request cancelled]

*the director sat down again, rested his chin on his hands, and waited.*

Noth...

The Master's train of thought was disrupted by a transmission that came in after a while of waiting. He was startled and he showed it quite visibly. He crossed his arms again, and began thinking.

Survival is more important than our personal feelings. If we are to continue our own existence, we cannot be hateful towards those who might help us...

The one that shall be called the communication's officer from now on at all times chose to speak.

"What should we do, Master?"

"What do you think we'll do? The ship's getting close to its breaking point. We need to get this thing serviced. Hell, this ship has needed that for many generations now. I just hope we're far enough from home that no one would recognize us."

"So, what shall we do, Master?"

"Reply! Wasn't it obvious enough for you?!"

"... I apologize, Master. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

The communication's officer just silently pushed a button, and gestured to the Master that he should speak now.

This is the Majestic. The ship requires extensive repairs and resupplying. Practically all systems are working at half or less capacity, and many are damaged beyond our ability to repair them. Will you assist us?

RDMA/SSC Crossfire waited somewhere near the commotion, the third of the RDMA's primitive carrier craft. Four retro-fitted & heavily modified Harrier-2's flew through several manuvers around the ship, firing their defensive gauss cannons at drifting plastic targets...

The flight officer's voice came in over the comm system. A large ship had emerged from hyperspace several hundred klicks from their current position.
Major Jack Daniels & Captain Haddock Miller broke from the formation to investigate...

(OOC: "Several hundred clicks"? It came out of Hyperspace just inside Sol. I jumped over a few more boring bits there since no one seemed to care about it, it being only a mile long thing in space, and no one's exactly expecting it.

Uh. And I thought you were on Earth - and I still think you are there. The most distinctive characteristic of Earth isn't it being... Red. The ship is much closer to Mars than to Earth, and that is where it sent its transmission.

..And there was much confusement.)

that's what we're here for, Majestic. are your drives functional enough to bring you to the third planet? if not, we can dispatch a ship to tow you. either way, we'll get your ship and your crew patched up as best we can.

*the directror hoped that the repair crews would be up to the task of repairing a capital-class ship of unknown design. thus far they'd only worked on the rare confederate ship that came to the sol system, and those had been small enough to fit into the recently-attached Dock. he also still had misgivings about the ship's crew. something in the captain's voice seemed off, but he couldn't place it. he shook his head and reminded himself that it was his duty, and the duty of every confederate, to assist anyone in need of aid.*

Almost immediately upon the Majestic's entrance back into normal space in Sol, one of the many cloaked Rhinaran probes watching the system spotted the Imperial Star Destroyer. The automated probe quickly relayed an encrypted, tightbeam message back to Central Command, where the information was speedily passed up the chain of command.

Not long thereafter, a cloaked vessel was dispatched to investigate this alien craft, and the Toralesk silently glided up to the giant craft. Passive sensor scans gathered as much information as it could of this ship, which too was sent back to Rhinara for reviewing.

"This looks like an opportunity too good to be true," Jorian Tovius stated, one eyebrow perked up and the edge of his lips drawing up in amusement. "A formerly unknown vessel, in our backyard, asking for help? There has to be a catch somewhere."

Ever stoic, Admiral Varel said, "Sensor scans of the ISD Majestic indicates that they are in dire need of repairs. They are desperate."

"What can they offer us in return?" Jorian asked.

Without hesitation, General Korell said, "Information. They have little else to offer, except for their computer banks. This would open up a whole new area of unexplored space for us, not to mention the fact that repairing their ship would also grant us unlimited access to what makes that behemoth tick."

Varel said, "The CDOH Hippocrates has already made contact with them."

"It seems we need to get a move on it, then," said Jorian. "Have the Toralesk contact them with an offer. We repair their ship, and in return, they have a one-way information exchange with us."

***

The Toralesk maneuvered itself a distance in front of the Imperial Star Destroyer and decloaked, dwarfed by the alien craft. Once done, the following message was sent to the Majestic: "This is Captain Prathal of the RSN Toralesk. The Dominion of Rhinara wishes to welcome you to Sol and to offer you any assistance you may require. Our naval facilities are better equipped to handle ships of your magnitude than...others...are."

The Master was about to reply to the transmission sent by CDOH Hippocrates, but then some unidentifiable ship decloaked right next to the Majestic and sent a transmission.

The Master grinned twistedly, although no one would see it as his mouth was covered by black cloth.

"So now there's competition over who gets to repair our ship? Neither one has stated what they require of us in return, though. Odd... No one gives anything for free. And it's quite obvious that no one would just repair something as large as this ship without wanting something from us out of sheer benevolence. That is how the Universe works."

"What shall we do, Master?"

"Send a transmission again, of course. To both... Sides. I want to know what they think they could get from us."

"Alright. Whenever you're..."

"Just patch me through already!"

And so the communications' officer pressed the button once again.

This is the Majestic. There seem to be now two different peoples who wish to repair this ship. We shall not move anywhere until you both answer this one simple question:

What do you want of us?

Captain Prathal smirked, "How long would you say that took, Tarson?"

"Oh, thirty-three seconds," replied the commander, smiling as well.

Prathal snapped his fingers, "Off by eight seconds. Didn't think they'd take that long to respond. Anyway, comms, return hailing frequency." A pause. "This is Captain Prathal. I'm glad you asked that question, actually. Servicing a vessel of the Magestic's size would be quite expensive, but I have a feeling that your resources are low as is, or am I incorrect in that judgement?"

He was not expecting an answer, but he paused for one second anyway. "Well, in lieu of that, I think I would like to get to know you better. It's never a bad thing to have too many friends, I say. What do you say to an information exchange? This could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

The captain could not help but grin, as he found something humorous in what he said. Good thing this was audio-only and not visual.

The Master still had his arms crossed. He murmured. These... Aliens, or whatever they might be, seemed to be making fun of them, although the captain did not seem to be lying. They cannot be picky when it comes to... "Friends". At the moment, anyway. Until the ship would be repaired, they would be far too dependent on the help of others...

He hated these situations. Even if he hadn't been in a situation identical to this one, he had had his part of bad things. He knew he could only make a bad decision here. They haven't seen any remnant forces... Well, apparently no one has seen any remnant forces for many generations, ever since the ship left the Galaxy so long ago. Being one of the rather few Force users on the ship did not make things easier for him. Their numbers had stayed oddly high, as there were about as many Force users onboard as there had been originally. At least according to the ship's databanks.

The officer was getting restless, so he spoke and interrupted the Master whilst in thought.

"Do you wish to reply, Master?"

He was right... The situation required swift decisions and quick actions...

"... Yes. Send a transmission to that ship only."

What kind of information are you talking about?

"Nothing too fancy, to begin with," said Prathal. "You can put together an information package about yourself. Who you are, where you came from, how you came to be here, the likes. I'll do the same here and transmit you some information about where you are. How does that sound?"

"So that is what they want... Well... As long as we do not go into the details, everything should be fine."

"Right, Master."

"Start compiling the brief history they ask for! Just filter the... More incriminating details from it!", he shouted to the other side of the bridge.

"So, let's continue," he said to the officer, who simply nodded and pressed the button again.

Sounds reasonable enough, but answer this first. How far would we have to go for the repairs?

Prathal pursed his lips. "That question could be taken two ways," he commented. With a shrug, he said, "Open frequencies... We have a facility within this system. If you so wish, we can tow your vessel there, or we can even send the repair crews right here if you do not wish to move."

A misunderstanding? Apparently... Must be more precise, then.

He simply nodded to the officer, who then pressed the button. Again.

What I meant was how far would the place for repairs be. For example, the other one offering us their aid said that we would need to go one planet further towards the star of this system to reach their facilities. Is it further away than their facilities?

(OOC: "Several hundred clicks"? It came out of Hyperspace just inside Sol. I jumped over a few more boring bits there since no one seemed to care about it, it being only a mile long thing in space, and no one's exactly expecting it.

Uh. And I thought you were on Earth - and I still think you are there. The most distinctive characteristic of Earth isn't it being... Red. The ship is much closer to Mars than to Earth, and that is where it sent its transmission.

..And there was much confusement.)

OOC: The Crossfire is a cargo vessel modified to carry fighters for use in a zero G environment. The Harrier-2's have had the same upgrades. The primitive accelerator drives (think early hyperdrive) used by RDMA spacecraft are horribly unpredictable, and the craft using them often overshoot their targets. The ship just happens to be in the area. The RDMA, the private military organization that is MS, is based on earth, but with the recent acquistion of sublight engines & the development of the accelerator drive the RDMA has expanded its operations to space, but due to lack of a design department, they have had to retro-fit most of the equipment in their inventory for use by the carriers.

There are currently three carriers:

The Hornet's Nest, somewhere near Pluto dealing with a new alien race
The Cannondale, somewhere in Saturn's rings in the middle of a firefight
The Crossfire, encountering a vessel of unknown type & origin

Most carriers are the size of a small naval battleship, perhaps a destroyer. They carry skeleton crews of fifteen due to the space needed for the engines & accelerator drive, as well as the prototype nature of the carrier itself.

They don't present much of a threat. The guass cannons (magnetically-powered Vulcan cannons), mounted on the Harriers, fire simple steel projectiles. Any halfway decent shield system will deflect them, and the Harrier's themselves don't carry any shields.

As you didn't specify a location, I improvised.

As you didn't specify a location, I improvised.

(OOC: I did, in the sense that I said that they were getting closer to a red planet in the Sol system, which meant, in my head, that they were getting closer to Mars. You're Earth-side, aren't you? It's not like it matters much or that any damage was done, but... :-) )

"Closer," Prathal said. "By a little bit. Our closest facility is not in orbit of any planet, but rather an isolated spot between the the orbits of the third and the fourth planet. I'll transmit you a map." He nodded at the comms officer. "At the current orbital position of the planets, Earth would be farther away than is our facility."

The Master was still standing beside the communications' officer, who, on the other hand, was seated. In fact, there are no seats for the one who acts as the captain on the bridge. The crew would have seen from his face that he did not like the situation all that much if it wasn't for the black piece of cloth that covered his mouth and nose..

"That sounds acceptable, I guess," he grumbled. "Has the other one replied?"

"No, Master."

"So we have no idea what they want in return... Typical... We don't really have a choice, then. Contact the Toralesk..."

The officer sighed, and pressed the button.

... We accept your terms. What you asked for shall be sent you after you have confirmed that we have a deal now. As far as I can tell, it should answer many of the questions you brought up.

Now, as per to this map you sent us, we shall set a course towards your facilities, and should be there... Shortly.

"And send this message to the Hippocrates."

He gave a datapad to the officer. It was a simple text message, rather formally apologizing that they chose to go elsewhere. The officer looked at the Master for a second. He knew he shouldn't speak... So he remained silent. And typed the message in and sent it.

The Master walked a bit within the bridge. Just a few meters, really, to the one in charge of actually making the ship move.

"Plot a course to that place as shown by the map they sent us and... Take us there."

"Yes, Master. Although..."

"What, apprentice?", he said with a rather irritated voice.

"...Nothing."

"Good."

At least some of them know their place... The Master thought, as he climbed back to his platform, to oversee the situation.

What would they have to lose, anyway? The ship would soon break if they don't do this.

The ship shook a bit as it began moving, forcing the Master to take support from the railing that was bolted into the metallic part that divided the window into many smaller ones.

Captain Prathal smiled. "I knew they'd see it our way. Alright, send a message back to Central Command telling them that the offer was accepted and is about to be confirmed on our end. Then open a channel to the Majestic."

"Channel open."

"Confirmed, Majestic. I'd glad we can work together like this. Oh, and incidentally, we may have more questions upon reviewing the information packet. We're a very curious people, you know. I'm sure it won't be anything big, probably something that has to do with your culinary dishes that our chefs would like to try their hands at. If you've any more questions yourself, we'll do our best to answer those too."

The Master stood on the platform, thinking whether this will guarantee their survival or not. The ship was in terrible condition and it was obvious that it could not continue much longer. But maybe they should have tried to find a planet to build a colony on and use whatever equipment they have to continue living? But then again... Is it better to remain stationary and be even more vulnerable to an attack than they are already? At least with the ship they can go where ever they want, and planetary catastrophes can't touch them. He knew that that was the rationale his predecessors had used.

That and moving forwards without looking back is always better than waiting for your death.

"The Toralesk sent us a transmission, Master."

"Send it to my console," the Master said rather halfheartedly.

Which he did. He listened to the voice-only message.

But one thing was certain. If these people who claim to be able to repair the ship actually can do it, it would be worth their while to stay in this galaxy. Maybe they could buy some land somewhere and create a base of operations there or something. It had been done before, according to the records, but only for relatively short periods of time. Maybe they would be able to... Kindle something in their image here.

Being unknown would be their greatest strength in this place... They should not throw it all away because of a bunch of people who are simply curious of them. Or at least claim to be just that. Who knows, maybe they are just after what they know and have, and will execute them later on. But... The risk must be taken, if they wish to continue on the Majestic.

He just idly threw a datapad at the communications' officer, without even looking at him.

"Send that to the Toralesk."

"Acknowledged, Master."

Very well. But to be frank, Captain, I would want the reason behind your offer. The real reason. I know you are not simply interested in some vague historical data about our ancestors jumping on the meadows of some obscure planet that is most likely dead by now reciting inane poetry. No... What you want is something more... Precise...

But I shall now send you a short compilation of the history of this ship, as you asked.

(Click here! (http://sensori.soldats.net/text.txt))

I hope it shall answer most of your questions adequately.

The captain sat in his seat in the center of the bridge, reading the text message through his armchair mini-console. Once done, he tilted his head over to the second officer and cocked an eyebrow, "It looks like they want the real reason behind why we're helping them."

"What?" said the commander. "They don't believe us? I'm shocked and appalled!"

Prathal gave a devilish grin, then thought about what he was going to say. After a moment, he had the audio frequencies opened yet again. "You are correct. While we are interested in getting to know you better, and in so doing form a friendship between our people, we are also concerned that our benevolence may turn against us. In short, we would like to make certain that you are not hostile to us."

The officer had thrown the datapad back to the Master, which now also contained the response of the Rhinaran captain.

The Master looked at the response. They were still avoiding to answer truthfully. How frustratingly typical. It was becoming quite obvious that they would know what their... Gracious hosts would really want when the time is right... For them. And now they claim that they do not trust the crew of the Majestic, and need proof of their good will and such things. But they'll play along. What else could they do?

How the hell would they prove anything of that sort? It's impossible to prove it until it has really happened! The Master growled. For a moment, he looked outside through one of the smaller windows, and he knew that they were getting quite close to the facilities where their ship was supposed to be repaired in.

"Send that to the ship again," he said as he threw the datapad back to the communications' officer, who complied as quickly as he could.

How do you think we could prove that we won't turn hostile on you once you have repaired the ship? I am afraid the only thing you can do here is trust us. This is much more dangerous to us than it is to you, anyway. How are we to know that you are not just trying to board the ship when we have entered those facilities of yours and attempt to subjugate us?

We have already showed much trust towards you, much more than is... Customary. All you have to do is return the favor.

"Very true, Majestic," said Prathal, leaving out the fact that the imperial star destroyer had few alternatives other than to trust them. "And in that regard, I must say that your level of trust is quite admirable. I have an idea. Why don't we further our trust by turning on our visual communications? One little step at a time, right?"

Meanwhile, as the two vessels neared the Rhinaran drydock (clicky clicky!) (http://www.geocities.com/ttomaktt/rhinaradrydock.html), a small station hailed the foreigner with the following audio message, "Imperial Star Destroyer Majestic, welcome to the Dominion Drydock Station. Please follow the flight path we are transmitting you. If possible, we request that you send us the schematics on your ship systems, especially the sections in most need of repairs, so that we may begin as soon as possible, as efficiently as possible. Thank you for your cooperation. Drydock Station Out."

The upper and lower sections of the three drydocks began to seperate, slowly maneuvering themselves into a single, massive drydock in order to accomodate their giant guest. Worker drones moved about busily in preparation for the Majestic, and the station's shielding, which enveloped the entire drydock area, dropped in only the one section where the star destroyer was told to go through, so that it may enter without the entire area's shielding needing to be dropped. Various cloaked Rhinaran vessels, both without and within the shield, watched the newcomer with wary eyes.

A wry grin came upon the Master's face, although no one could see it. They seemed to have a habit of leaving things out. They were not telling everything, hadn't been telling from the very beginning. White lies, perhaps, but those told him much about the people they were working with.

So they want audio-visual communications? Too bad it was impossible at the moment.

He turned around and looked at the people below him.

"Put together a list of different parts of the ship we can show to them, just make sure that they can't use anything in it against us," he said with a raised voice, and one of the crewmen on the bridge acknowledged his command. After that was out of the way, he jumped down from the platform and walked to the communications' officer.

"Put me through again. First to the ship, then to the drydock."

He said "Alright, Master," as he typed something on his console. With his hand raised, he looked questioningly at the Master.

"Just press the damn thing!"

The man nodded, and did as he was told.

Cannot comply on the visual communications, at least on our side. That is one of the systems that have been compromised. Audible transmissions are the only ones possible.

"That was it."

A shout came from the other side of the bridge.

"Master, the list is ready!"

"Good! Send it here!"

The communications' officer had waited for a moment, and saw that he had received the schematics. The Master was looking at him, and he just nodded.

Again he typed something, and for a moment, he glanced at the Master... And chose to begin the transmission to the drydock without bothering the Master, who seemed rather pleased.

Confirmed, Drydock Station. The required schematics shall be sent with this transmission.

During the time when the Majestic had entered the system a small wing* of scout fighters had been dispatched to determin if the Majestic was a threat or if it was nothing more than a badly damaged ship. "This is Pulsar one begening scaning. Everyone else hold back," the lead fighter said quickly over his com as his fighter acelerated the scaner extension moving further out of the nose. The rest of the fighters had shifted to the hybrid mode to slow them down to a total stop as the lead fight still in the fighter mode scanned the hull of the Majestic.

*A small wing is about 4 fighter and usualy a scout wing is made up of 3 VF-11 Pulsars and a single VBR-2 "SHADOW HAWK"

On the bridge of the Toralesk, the incoming bogeys registered on the sensors and the tactical officer spoke up, "Captain, four fighters inbound on an intercept course. Three have detached and stayed behind, while the fourth has continued on course and is scanning the Majestic."

"Identify," Captain Prathal ordered.

He doublechecked his readings. "The three are of Phalanix design, classification VF-11 Pulsars. The fourth is also of Phalanix origin, a VBR-2 Shadow Hawk."

"Are their scanners capable of penetrating our hull?" asked Prathal.

The tactical officer shook his head, "I am uncertain, but their scanners ought not be able to."

"We'll let them scan the alien ship, then. But tell me the moment they start scanning us as well, or get too close to us and the drydock."

"Yes, Captain."

Now it was the ops officer's turn to look over at the captain. "Sir, the Majestic is entering the Drydock Station's defensive perimeter."

"Acknowledged," replied Prathal. "Sublieutenant, stay close by outside of the station's shields. Lieutenant, have sensors on full; make sure no one else is able to get through those shields."

"Aye aye, Captain."

"Yes, sir."

"Contact the Majestic," the captain then said to the communications personnel. "Tell them that I regret missing the opportunity to see them face-to-face...so to speak. And tell them that we'll be right out here if they want to contact us."

***

"We will be reclosing our shields once you have entered into its radius," the station told the Majestic. "We have also reviewed the preliminary schematics you have sent us, and it appears to be rudimentary. We do not believe we can efficiently repair your vessel without more details, as your technology is completely alien to us. If you cannot supply us with that information, then we request permission to scan your vessel."

Quickly the scaning fighter circled the Majestic once and returned to the three remaining fighters. At that point the three Pulsars turned and the ones in hybrid form shifted back to there fighter form and began flying back towards the direction they came. The Shadow Hawk returned to it's fighter form. At one point it suddenly dissappered off the radar and sensors instantly.

((It's entered stealth mode. It's can only scan in the mode but no one would know))

Rudimentary? We gave them almost all the schematics of this ship that there are in existence. If we gave them the rest, they could build their own ships like the Majestic...

The Master nodded to the officer, who once again did what he was supposed to, opening a channel to the drydock station.

You must be mistaken. There is very little that is not in those schematics we sent you. All the parts that are actually damaged should have been in them. The rest is information you would not need as we can repair them ourselves, or things that are not necessary for our survival and can be repaired on a later date, things that are more a matter of convenience than Surely you do understand the reason behind us being a bit reluctant on giving out data on this ship you do not need?

"And just send to the Toralesk a message saying 'Acknowledged'," the Master said and raised his head, looking at his platform-sort.

"Very well, Master."

Then the Master walked back to the side of his platform, and leaped back onto it.

I wonder how we will continue to fare...

The small probe came to life as its sensors activated.
"Incomming data from STP3421" said the Shadow Tech Communications advisor to the psychic council.
"Patch us through" they all said as one.
The psychics began to converse with each other using only their minds.
"Interesting"
"Yes"
"The same signatures as from before"
"No, they are different"
"More information we need"
"Yes, we must find the basis of these readings"
"There is no time to waste"

"Send 3 more probes." a psychic said to the advisor.
"3 probes sire?" the advisor responded. "We do not have many left, maybe 7"
"This matter is of great importance." the psychic said. "Please send them immediately."
"Yes sire"

(OOC: I guess it's safe to assume that the ship is going to be repaired, so I took the liberty of continuing on the "story" by making a thread that's right here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=349913). I can't react to much in this right now, Rhinara would have to do it for me most likely... I finally made a name for the Master that's shown in the next thread, too.)

"Understood, Majestic. Please proceed on course," came the response from the station.

As the massive ship entered the reassembled drydock, the shields went back up to prevent anything else from passing through, whether it be probes or sensor scans. Psionics and the blocking of such, however, was not something the Dominion was all too adept at. Meanwhile, the workerbees began checking the exterior of the alien vessel to repair the weakened structural integrity of the ancient ship and engineering crews boarded to doublecheck over the internal systems to ensure compatability.

***

Back aboard the Toralesk...

"Captain Prathal here again," the CO said in another message to the imperial star destroyer. "I've relooked over the information you've provided, and I'm still a little curious about all the places you've been to. I was wondering - well, so are my superiors, to be honest with you - if you can provide any more information about that? If all you have is just a starmap, that'll do too. I've an insatiable hunger for learning new things, you know."

He nodded to the comms personnel to indicate the message was over.

"Reading multiple probes approaching," the ops officer reported.

Prathal sighed. "More people are trying to crash our party?"

"It looks like our guest of honor is really popular," said the XO.

The captain gave a sly look to his commander, "We'll just have to make sure the bouncers do their job, right? Oh, wait, we're the bouncers, huh? Oh, woe as me." He placed the back of his hand against his forehead in mock distress, then waved it dismissively as an indication that it was time to get back to business. "Scan those probes and prep some fighters to be ready to intercept them."

The Master listened to the transmissions from his own place on "his" platform. Instead of getting off it this time, he just walked towards the other end of the bridge, further away from the windows through which usually the expanse of space can be seen, but right now they could mostly see just parts of the drydock through it.

He walked up to the one that had created the very brief compilation of their history, and crouched.

"So they're asking for more information, huh? Let's give them what they want - with a few adjustments, of course. Remove the first few galaxies this ship has ever been in from the starmap we will give them, and 'shade' a few ones afterwards, as to make it look like the map is damaged. Plus, randomly remove data from some of the older parts of the starmap."

"Will do, Master."

"Good," he said, as he rose to stand again, and walked towards the communications' officer, who happened to be on the other side of the bridge, basically. The Master jumped off the platform, and walked to the side of the officer.

"Prepare to send a transmission to the Toralesk again."

"Alright."

The officer typed something incoherent again.

"Whenever you're ready, Master..."

"I'm ready."

The officer nodded, and pressed the button.

We will do as you ask. Please note that the starmap is not in its... Best condition anymore. Data has been lost due to numerous system failures, but we will give you what we have. It is not like you could use that map against us, so it is of little tactical value to us.

The Master sighed, and quickly returned to his place on the platform, to observe the things that were repairing the ship's exterior.

(OOC: Just think you have access to a map that has a lot of knowledge of different galaxies and star systems, with some of them being a bit blurry. You can claim whatever you want on 'em, really, except that you can't find the ship's point of origin from the map even if you tried.)