“This is Captain Gaius Quinn of the ISD Shadow Hawk. You are in Imperial territory with your transponder offline, which, under Imperial Edict 2144, paragraph 15, is an actionable offense. Shut down your shields, engines, and weapons. Do not make any sudden moves. Any attempt to escape, or fight back, will be treated as a hostile move. If you make wise choices, you will be left unharmed.”
He signaled silently to cut the transmission.
After the message was sent, he walked over to the sensor station.
“I want a full readout on that ship as soon as possible. I don’t want to be caught off-guard by a new type of enemy. Fighter Control! Ready all pilots, and launch patrol squadrons, with two more, just to give them pause. I want a boarding force of 200 troopers ready and down in the hanger bay for inspection.”
Captain Gaius turned to a display mounted beneath the large viewports at the front of the bridge, hitting a few buttons before clearing his throat.
“All hands to battle stations, All hands to battle stations.”
After terminating the PA link, he walks over to the comms station.
“Anything?”
“We are receiving a transmission on a… radio signal?”
“I thought those were phased out decades ago!”
“They were, sir. We still have them for distress call for older ships.”
“Put it on a chip.”
The ensign hits a few buttons on her display before handing the captain a small chip containing the recording from the unidentified ship. Before plugging it in, the captain summons his second-in-command, and seals the doors to the holotable.
Both men have grimaces plated on their faces, ready to see some new threat, an alien, perhaps, or worse, a separatist?
Both men's thoughts are interrupted, as the holotable finishes decoding the chip and displays the message.
A human woman in a militarily-like uniform sits in front of the camera. The background does not resemble any standard bridge conjugation. Other humans, potentially crew, are hard at work in the background. They all wear a bulky spacesuit, with a helmet equipped, instead of a cap, like the woman. The captain’s analyzation is interrupted of the man speaking.
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“Attention ISD Shadow Hawk.”
The woman’s voice is clear, clearer than the type of equipment used to transmit. He pauses.
“This is the FDF Reliant. We are a peaceful exploration craft. We did not know of your empire’s existence, or your laws. We are shutting down our engines, shields, and weapons.”
The second-in-command remarks on this.
“Ah, so they are armed.”
They both refocus on the message.
“We mean you no harm. We come in peace.”
That is the last line in the transmission. The holotable, finished with its current duties, shuts down.
There is a moment of silence before the captain speaks.
“I have heard that phrase too many times, repeated throughout the entirety of history.”
He turns to his second in command, the heels of his boots clicking on the cold, hard metal, with knuckles clenched weight with anger, his face looking like he could fight a whole planet, he speaks.
“The Tionese, the Alsakan, even the Separatists! All greeted with the same message of peace and prosperity. Power up the starboard turbolasers! I will end this threat before it has even begun!”
He angrily walks towards the viewports, unaware of how he has doomed thousands to die, in a conflict that could have been avoided with a few simple words.
“Power to Turbolasers! I want a warning shot off their bow!”
Everyone in the bridge is astonished by the sudden change in the demeanor of the captain. What could the message had said that could have provoked his anger like this?
Down in the gunnery stations, crew prepare to fire a single small volley off the side of the FDF Reliant. Some crew question what is happening, but quickly are clamped down by the weight of duty. In the reactor control center, an engineer notices the slight power draw, and remarks on it to the head engineer.
“Ah, we are firing already? Those newcomers must have annoyed the captain.”
Back on the bridge, the gunnery officers are hard at work creating firing solutions and analyzing data from the sensor stations, in order to prep for combat. Outside, in the eternal blackness of space, squadrons of TIE fighters zip to and fro, following a standard patrol route in the area around the Shadow Hawk. Suddenly, over the comms channel, the flight commander issues an order:
“All craft, move away from the unidentified craft! The captain is firing a warning shot!“
Every pilot immediately swerves away, attempting to avoid the green line of death that will come screaming out of one of Shadow Hawk’s many cannons and turbolasers. One pilot quietly talks over the inter-squadron comms channel.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”