NationStates Jolt Archive

Retcom

A Pinnacle-class Cruiser, the Prosperous Truth, cruised through space, beside its two companion ships, twin Otari-class corvettes, lithe and fast ships. "Business" was slow these days, and it seemed the galaxy at large was slowing down and consolidating internal affairs. Perhaps one of these days something would start up that didn't simply involve the Galactic Empire or one of the other alliances.
The Dominion wasn't too fond of alliances. It had had its share of bad memories with companion nations, and was now a somewhat solitary faction, sticking to its own within the massive gas cloud dubbed the "Shroud". It was a perfect defense mechanism, its one entrance guarded by a massive amount of firepower. Perfect for people to leave the Dominion to its own devices.
But ships were always outside of the Shroud, picking up the latest tidbits, scouting, blowing up pirates-normal, boring stuff (blowing up pirates was simply routine).
The Truth was one of these "bored" groups, three ships sent out to patrol outside of the home sectors and sniffing around to see what what was up. The probe had been picked up without much difficulty, as it was just that-a probe. Nothing special. Factions sent them out all the time, and the Dominion had stables of them onboard every major cruiser or up.
The cruiser's commander, Captain Tephin, was little more than an average guy with leadership skills. He had been in his share of battles, but was nothing spectacular-he would likely never rise above his current post. The probe caught his attention enough to head down to the port hanger to see what was going on with it.

"What's up?" Tephin said as he walked down to the bay.
"Eh, it's all the same," his chief engineer, Ylani Uribe, said. "Nation sends probe, wants to 'talk'. It didn't take me three minutes to figure the thing it, pretty basic-hell, primitive tech."
"What did it want?"
"Y'know, some guy saying, 'hey, come talk to us.'"
"Better than what we're doing now."
"C'mon, Cap'n...two pirate bands down already."
"That's getting boring. We didn't even get scratched last time."
"I s'pose. Do what you want with it."

Tephin walked to the probe, looking at it blankly.

"How do you...use...it?" he asked the burly engineer.
Uribe sighed. "Jeez, cap'n you're as bad as some of the green boys."

The Chief Engineer flicked several controls on the probe, taking about ten seconds to get the message up.
Tephin listened to the message play before responding.

"What Galactic Republic?"
"I dunnow. Nothin' 'round here, lest they mean the Federal Union or somethin'."
"Doesn't seem TFU's class to just randomly send out probes announcing their presence to the galaxy," Tephin said sarcastically.
"Uh, you're funny," the Chief Engineer smiled, "I think you maybe should get someone more qualified for this."
"I guess. Patch me to local."

Several hours later, questions had led to Tephin speaking to a hooded figure via holonet channels.
The hooded figure was well-known, ubiquitous, through the Dominion, the faction's best diplomat-who, subsequently, had nothing to do as well.

"You mentioned Galactic Republic?" he said, the dark hood hiding any semblance of upper face-only the mouth showed, just outside shadow.
"Yes milord," Tephin said, standing straight up.
"Hmm," the figure stirred a little bit, seemingly communicating with someone outside the holoimage. After a minute, he continued on.
"Lord Sadow has some knowledge on such matter. He reccomends he and I come out to personally intervene."
"C-come out here-we would be honored," Tephin stammered.

The mouth twisted into a sickened smile. "We shall expect of so."

The hologram flicked off, and Tephin let out a suppressed exhale.

"Just what I needed."

Three hours later

The force the hooded figure-Lord Marka Ragnos-had used to come out was small by design-the Tarsonians, nor those of Zaft, had to know anything was amiss. Simply a Legacy-class battlegroup, seven ships varying from three corvettes to the main battleship, the Dark Rising. It was the personal retreat ship of Sadow's-which meant it was bristling with armament. By "personal retreat", it was inferred that it was meant to bombard worlds into submission-Sadow's favorite passtime. However, there was little to bombard right now.
The two figures, both clad in black robes extending from dark hoods down to their feet, walked through the atmospheric passage connecting the Rising to the Truth. Tephin, and an armored guard group, was there to meet the two Dark Lords and their guard of several Acklay droids.

"Take us to the probe," Ragnos uttered from under the robes.
"At once," Tephin said, briskly leading the way.

The group came down to the hanger, where most of the crew was in parade formation. Ragnos and Sadow stood somewhat quiet as Uribe silently activated the controls. The two dark lords listened for a minute, before Ragnos chimed in.

"I will answer. Activate it for me."

Uribe nodded, too stunned for words-he had never meeted, let alone seen in person, two figures of such stature in the Dominion.

Ragnos stood in front of the recording device, removing the hood to reveal his face-well-tanned, unlike any dark users from outside the Dominion, the Amazonian Dark Lords were prone to actually caring for their physical bodies, as well as taming the Force.

"I am Lord Marka Ragnos of the Amazonian Dominion," the Dark Side user began cryptically, "your nation wishes for contact-yet there are those in this galaxy and beyond who would like nothing less than unfriendly contact. I warn you of their presence-yet I bring my own greetings. I and my companion would like to initiate contact with your civilization. We shall await your return probe."

The recording shut off, and Ragnos lifted his hood again.

"Send it off."

Minutes later, the probe was shot forth from the launch bay, as the ships formed a defensive ring to await the return message.

Once the probe was clear of the unknown ships, its programming kicked in once again and it automatically disappeared into hyperspace. The probe had travelled far in its search for contact, and it took some degree of time to return to its home even in hyperspace.

The onboard navicomputer had correctly accounted for stellar drift and the like, and it eventually emerged not far from the Hammerhead-class cruiser it had originally come from, which was holding position in its solar system in case any probes returned. The cruiser immediately locked its tractor beams onto the tiny craft, and promptly dragged it aboard.

Captain Thorpe had the honour of commanding the Hammer's Strike, the flagship of Tropicopa's rather meagre fleet (consisting of two ships and their small fighter compliments, which were rarely deployed these days) as well as one of the ships which had originally brought the ancestors to this place. She had quickly made her way down to see what the techs could find out about the device.

"What do we have?" she asked as she approached the semi-dismantled probe. The clumping of her black uniform boots against the deck had apparently been unheard by the memorised techs, who jumped to attention as they heard her voice.

"Ma'am!" the chief, Blake Faarn, snapped. "The probe's automatic return programming was activated properly, which means the message was activated by somebody and the probe was deposited back into space. We are just about to discover if any message has been delivered along with it."

"Very good, continue," Thorpe nodded. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a tight, straight, cropped ponytail, and barely a hint of expression could be seen on her ageing face. Her voice was quite authoritarian, and she obviously had little time for informal pleasantries.

The techs responded to her disinterest in fraternisation, and immediately got back to work pulling off the remaining panels. They pulled out the second holo recorder, and sure enough, a light on the side was flashing.

"A message has been recorded ma'am!" Faarn announced proudly.

"Excellent," she nodded, holding out her hand. "Give it to me, Chief."

The tech had not expected any praise, but he took what he could get. He enthusiastically placed the round device in her hand, and she turned around and left without another word.

***

It was dark in Tropicopa City now, the middle of the night in fact. Nevertheless, President Markin, Secretary Adarn, Secretary Theru and Jedi Master Durmas had eagerly risen from their respective beds to hold a late-night meeting upon hearing news that the first recording had been received.

"Well, there you have it," Markin said after the message had been played. He rubbed the stubble that he had not had chance to remove yet, and sat back in his chair. "We should prepare a response immediately. Mila, would you care to do the honours?"

"I would urge caution at this juncture," Durmas said, his gruff voice heavy with disapproval.

"I don't have any magical powers, but I would concur strongly," Adarn said. "That man is quite obviously not the friendliest chap in the galaxy. At the moment we have the advantage of being unknown. Worst case scenario for us, somebody somehow stumbles on us by chance in a galaxy tens of thousands of lightyears across. The chances of that are astronomical at best. If we start telling people our address, on the other hand..."

"We will get to meet them like we intended?"

"I know nothing of these Amazonian people," Durmas chimed in. "But I do not feel at ease when I view this image. His use of the 'Lord' title has obvious negative connotations that anybody could see."

"The official recommendation of your Secretary of Defence is to maintain our isolation, Mr. President," Adarn said with a note of finality. "No other compromise is acceptable - or wise - in my professional opinion."

"The Jedi Council echoes this recommendation," Durmas said with a calmer tone, bowing his head slightly.

"Well I for one think this is a marvellous opportunity," Theru shrugged. "Our first contact with the outside universe in millennia. And another thing, why waste money on probes that we have no intention of following through with? We don't serve the people by lacking a backbone."

"Well, I can see we aren't going to get any agreement here," Markin said finally. "I would suggest that we put this to the vote. Marsh, Mila, you can both put your cases forward to the Senate, and Master Durmas I shall grant the Jedi Council special dispensation in this instance to voice their opinion to the Senate also. We shall then go with the results of their vote. It will be a short but productive session I'm sure. Would you both be satisfied with that, Mila, Marsh?"

"Fine," Theru nodded.

"I suppose so," Adarn shrugged. "Better that we commit suicide democratically." He rose to his feet and left shortly afterwards.

"I thank you for your foresight on this matter on behalf of the Council, Mr. President," Durmas said. He bowed slightly and followed Adarn out of the office.

"That's that then," Markin said quietly, looking over at Theru. "We'll know one way or the other, tomorrow."

The Senate had made their decision. A day later the Hammer's Strike moved back to its position at the edge of the solar system and fired off a second probe, this one containing coordinates to the Outer Rim world and standard greetings appropriate to the subject.

Sadow paced the bridge of the Dark Rising, getting slightly ansy. There had been no return word yet, and he was not a patient one like his contemporary. Ragnos sat kneeling on the bridge, meditating, his saber hanging limply by his side, retracted.

"It is not very nice to keep guests waiting," mouthed off Sadow.

Ragnos rolled his eyes. The man would learn the art of patience that had made Ragnos the most powerful Sith under Emperor Droma in the Dominion's expanse-Sadow was young and impetuous.

"Patience is key in this situation," he said, a dark undertone sliding into Ragnos's voice. "We will wait."
"It was two days ago we sent out the device!" responded Sadow, turning on the Sith Master, "how hard is it? Our probes would have crossed two galaxies in such time!"
Letting his feelings get the better of him-he can not use his passions for strength, he makes them his weakness, thought Ragnos to himself. "Our technology undoubtedly is greater. Comparing our race and others is illogical."
"Inferiors are meatn to be slaughtered."
"Some are useable too."

Ragnos was tiring somewhat of the man-no wonder he and Ludo Kressh had such a rivalry. And to think, Ragnos had at one time only preferred Sion over Sadow-he preferred many more now. But Sion had said he was coming-the Galactic Republic wording was intriguing the force users from across the Dominion like hotcakes. Two of the frigates of the battlegroup had returned for other duties in the Dominion, and Sion said he was coming "modestly"...which the smart man overemphasized. Sion was a sneaky sort, rather than Sadow's brashness-he would likely use a stealthship alone to join the party.
At least Ragnos would have someone sane to talk to.
Sadow roared around the bridge, knocking back an officer with a blast of force energy, nearly blowing out his own vocal cords with decibles of noise, much to everyone else's discontent.

"Two contacts in-system," the bridge sensor officer reported from the recessed report stations.
"Does that MATTER?" bellowed Sadow.

Ragnos gave him a look, then went back to the officer; "what are the contacts?"
"One unknown, one a Defiant-class Patrol Craft."

Ragnos smiled with the second one. Backup from the crazy fool to his left!

"Hail the Defiant."

A standard hail went through, before the dark, crackling voice that Ragnos was accustomated to came through, verifying the identity of Sion. The third Dark Lord to join the party was a quagmire of organic misconception-his skin was cracked in thousands of divets, making him look like a giant, broken stone block. His skin reflected the color, a dull grey, while he wore only lower garments, allowing his devestated upper body to stand out.
In no time, the vessel had linked up to the Rising, and Sion had been briefed. The second object was now the focus of attention.

"What is the second contact?" Ragnos inquired.
"Probe of some sorts. Likely return probe from the original source."
"Take it to the hanger. We will head down there."

Eight Minutes Later

The three Sith had assembled in the hanger-Sadow slightly bored, Ragnos calm, and Sion being his cracked self. The probe was on the ground, silent.

"Well, open it up," Sion moved.

The techs got to the probe, reactivating it in a similar way. The message played-a standard greeting, along with coordinates to an outer world planet, far beyond Dominion influences, though not across the galaxy directly.

"We will set a course," Ragnos motioned, "Let us return to the bridge."
"...couldn't come to us," Sadow bemoaned on the way back to the bridge.

Back at the command center, the Rising plugged in the coordinates, slave-rigging the other eight ships that remained to its navicomputer. Moving to a hyperjunction, the motly fleet accelerated into hyperspace.

Six Hours Later

The fleet, led by the Rising, flashed out of hyperspace, the battleship's green surface reflecting the light of the system's sun bright across the warship's bridge. Sadow was back in his quarters on some task, leaving the bridge relatively quiet.
They had arrived at the coordinates the probe had dispatched.