Subject: Lead Intel-Officer Knuffer

Species: Isolan

Description: Mammalian Shokanoid, no tail. 5'9" (1.75 m) avg height. 180 lbs (81.6 kg) avg weight. 95 year life expectancy.

Station: Yritona 3 {Watcher 3}

Location: Elira 2

Yritona 3 was a pretty boring assignment most of the time. Occasionally we'd see something weird, but it would always either be somebody under the influence or a rock. In theory we were a military scouting station designed to watch deep space for enemy contacts. But we were on the wrong side of the Republic to be getting any action. The Omni-Union would have to go well out of their way to get to us and it genuinely wasn't worth it.

We weren't guarding a colony or anything important. We were just here as an early warning system for the populated systems that you would have to warp through us to get to. I reckon that an enemy probably wouldn't even exit warp on their way through.

That's probably why we didn't have any assigned military vessels. Just scout ships and station defenses. Scout ships are about half the size of normal corvettes and don't have even half as much ordnance, so they're just about useless in a fight. The only real time we see military vessels is when they come for dry-dock repairs, which isn't often.

We've also got civvies. They stop off to trade with each other, fix their ships, and rest on longer journeys. The income the station makes from the civilian ventures is likely what keeps it running, if my pay were any indicator. I gazed out the view-port into the stars in quiet contemplation when the proximity alarm sounded. 'Unknown'?

"Ma'am, unknown contact just exited warp right outside the system," Bleenus, my Duhliki second in command, said as he looked up at me.

I looked at the readout. For sensors, they weren't really making any sense. They were definitely picking up warp leftovers and were definitely picking up an object, but if it weren't for the warp signature I'd swear this thing had to be a small comet. It's too large to be a ship. But unless comets have secretly been sentient this entire time, they don't warp.

"We're gonna need a better look at this thing. Do we have any scanning vessels aboard the station that we can send?" I asked.

Bleenus looked back at his console, "Uh... no ma'am. They've all been sent out by high command. Something about warp fluctuations."

"Damn," I said as a thought occurred to me. "Do we have any diplomatic vessels aboard? If this is an unknown vessel this large, it's either OU in which case we're dead or it's a first contact."

Bleenus shook his head solemnly. Looks like he already had the same thought. Many of the other species in the Republic would be losing their cool in this situation, but the Isolan and Duhliki had something in common. We would much prefer to die in conflict than die in bed. Don't get me wrong, it's not as if all of us feel this way. And it's not as if we all always go looking for fights. But culturally we are geared toward conflict in a way that's rare for other species.

"We don't have any of the diplomatic ones, but we do have a bunch of civvy ships that can do the job in a pinch," he replied. "Might have to give them a good ol' spit polish though."

"Well that's something. Go ahead and wake up the station master."

"Yes, ma'am."

As he ran off to complete his task I looked back at the console. What the hell is this thing? Why did it leave warp so far away? Normally that would immediately rule out OU, but I knew better than to think I understood those crafty bastards. Could this be a weaponized comet? Are they dumb enough to throw a big space-rock at us? Probably not, even this fringe station has enough ordnance to turn it into pebbles that our shields would make short work of.

Then the object began to move toward us. It was moving fast for an object its size. I put two of my arms on my head to help me focus as the other two got to work on our scanners to track the object and hopefully get a better read on it.

"Intel-Lead Knuffer, are you there?" the station-master's timid voice came over the comm.

Station-master Nixt is a Kinran. The Kinran are known for being one of the least aggressive but most intimidating species in the Republic. This is because most sentients have fears regarding bugs that date back to when we were barely our own species, and the Kinran are particularly terrifying to look at. They have ten limbs which have four joints each. These joints don't function like elbows, though. They function as wrists. Very limber wrists, at that. Watching one work at a station is both unnerving and impressive.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Due to their scary looks and gentle nature, they typically don't rise in rank. Nixt was an exception to this. Despite his protests he had been forced into the rank of station-master by the previous station-master. The old SM had been impressed with Nixt's work ethic and had demanded his promotion. Honestly, everyone on the station adores Nixt. From afar.

"Yes, Station-Master Nixt," I replied.

"What's the situation? Bleenus was speaking very quickly and I think I heard something about a first contact?" Nixt said with a barely controlled panic.

"Well, an object the size of a small comet just exited warp right outside the system. As you know, comets don't warp..."

"Actually they can! If they manage to enter a wormho..." Nixt began excitedly.

"A wormhole, yeah, yeah I get that. And while that is technically a type of warp it doesn't leave this kind of signature when it exits the other side of the wormhole. Also, the object was stationary for a time and is now traveling toward us," I interrupted.

"Oh," the stationmaster said bleakly. "And you're certain this isn't the Omni-Union?"

"Nope. Not certain of anything at this point. But the OU aren't dumb enough to waste resources throwing rocks at us. Which means that, like it or not, this big boy is a ship. And if it's an OU ship, we're dead. Simple as that. So, we might as well assume it's an unknown species and prepare first contact protocols, right?" I said, beaming at how calmly intelligent I was being.

The comm was silent for a time as the station master digested this logic. Poor Nixt, this was supposed to be an easy assignment. I guess there's no such thing.

Finally Nixt said, "I can get behind that logic. While I don't cherish the idea of going down without a fight, or going down at all for that matter, I must admit there isn't anything our station can do against a ship the size of a comet."

"A small comet. But you're right," I said as the proximity alarm sounded again. This time, it pinged a... friendly?

I looked back to the console and saw a smaller object leaving the larger one. The scanners identified it as the RSV Lowelana. Not a ship that I'd heard of, so I pulled up its service record. A bunch of it was classified, go figure, but it wasn't due to report for another week. So they went on whatever mission they went on and found THAT. But why were they... Attached? Docked? Can you even dock two ships in warp? Before my head began swimming I forwarded the data to the station-master.

"Oh? Well this is good news, right?" Nixt said.

"Maybe? It's definitely one of ours, but I don't know what mission it was on or why it's with that ship. Could be that the big one caught ours and took it over," I replied. "Or it could be that they were guiding it here in accordance with first contact protocol, but that doesn't explain why the sensors only showed the one contact at first. Either way, if they're alive they've got one hell of a story to tell."

"Right..." I could tell that I hadn't comforted Nixt at all. "Okay. Okay. Well we're still hoping for the best, right?"

"Right. Cuz otherwise we're dead," I responded.

"Right. Yeah, so we need to follow FCP. We'll need a diplomatic vessel... Alright, I'm sure we can commandeer a civilian shuttle for the task," Nixt said. "I'm sending Bleenus down to the hanger to get started on that."

"Understood," I said as I glanced at the readout again. The alien vessel was trailing behind the Lowelana, and they were about to enter comms range.

"What do you want me to do when they enter comms range?" I asked.

"If they hail us, patch it through to me. If they don't, then hail them. Either way I want to talk to the ship-head," Nixt said with a mask of authority hiding his obvious nervousness.

I was immediately glad I asked because the RSV Lowelana hailed us before I could respond to the station-master.

"This is Ship-Head Uleena of the RSV Lowelana hailing the Yritona 3 station. Please come in, Yritona 3."

I thumbed the key to answer, "RSV Lowelana please halt your course and tell your accompaniment to do the same. We weren't expecting visitors. I'm putting you through to Station-Master Nixt, acknowledge."

"Acknowledged."

As I transferred the hail to the station-master I watched the Lowelana slow to a stop. It took about as long as it normally did, and the reason I noticed that was that the massive hulk of a ship stopped almost immediately. Great, not only do they build bigger than we do but they build better than we do. I secretly hoped that their braking thrusters were the only tech they had that was more advanced than ours.

Even if they joined the Republic, if they were advanced enough it would cause a shift in the power dynamic that would be very frustrating for the other member species. A lot of people have this belief that seniority should matter, but it doesn't. When the Oyan had joined the Republic their massive population and territory had caused them to have a lot of senators and thereby a lot of influence. More than most of the member species, and there had been a lot of unrest.

But for a species to be represented properly, seniority couldn't matter. A species with a handful of systems and a population of 2 trillion shouldn't be allowed to tell a species with dozens of systems and dozens of trillions of citizens how to live their lives.

The station-master interrupted my thoughts on democratic representation, "Knuffer, the RSV Lowelana is going to need clearance to dock at the repair bay. Their FTLD isn't working. They'll also need access to the station. Ten special guests, eighteen standard guests. Six shipments."

"Understood, on it," I said.

Special guests are wounded, shipments are dead. I don't know why we used code to talk about it. Maybe it was because it felt disrespectful, or because calling them wounded or dead made it too real. Whatever the case, I found myself wondering how it happened. Was it the aliens?

"Also, the alien ship is called the USSS Thanatos. Ship-head Uleena will be briefing me once they dock. I've given the go ahead for the Thanatos to maintain distance. Not that they COULD dock, even if they wanted to," Nixt continued.

"Yeah, they're way too big for that. Alright, I'll keep an eye on them. Let me know what Uleena says," I replied. "I'm certain it's going to be interesting."

"Yes," Nixt said. "Let's hope it's interesting in a good way, though."