On the command deck of the Hapan cruiser, Commodore Belargic paused for thought. It was no surprise to hear that the ship was seeking a treaty or pact of sorts with the Consortium. Free from the interference of the Galactic Empire, the cluster had prospered and flourished unlike any other. It was a place of great beauty and the source of many myths, as people speculated just how fantastic life might be beyond the Transitory Mists.
The standard procedure in situations such as these was to turn away any trespassers, with a warning that if they should return they would face the same penalty as the Mist pirates. Belargic was about to deliver his usual speech confirming this when one of his ensigns spoke up.
“Sir, Star Home is attempting to contact us.”
Belargic stood to attention instinctively. Star Home was the flagship of the Hapan Navy, an exact replica of the Fountain Palace which the Queen Mother made her home in. The Nova's which patrolled the Mists were required to make regular check-ins with Star Home, to confirm the safety of the Consortium's borders. The Commodore could only assume that this was the case now.
“Open channel. Quickly. Put the other ship on hold.” The line to the Dagri went silent, whilst on board the Nova-cruiser the holographic projection unit whirred, casting a life-size image of a woman in regal attire onto the bridge.
"Commodore Belargic..."
The Commodore saluted the image of her Royal Highness Chume Ishara, as the rest of the crew stood to attention, their heads bowed in respect. “Ereneda,” he said – she who has no equal.
"Good afternoon, Commodore. I trust your daily patrols are passing without trouble."
“Yes, Chuma Ishara. Another patrol of Manta-class fighters has been destroyed.”
"Marvellous. Your commitment to the eradiction of those swine shall not go unnoticed.”
“There is another thing, Chuma Ishara, something which I am sure will not interest you.”
“Do not presume to know what interests me, Commodore.”
Belargic felt his jaw tightening. “Of course, Chuma Ishara. My most humble apologies, ereneda. Only... we've been contacted by a dignitary of the Onderonian Queen. They were being ambushed by the Manta's when we arrived. It seems they want to establish trade-lines with the Consortium and, according to the envoy, seek your council on a personal matter.”
“The Queen of Onderon... how quaint.”
“Should I turn them away, Chume?”
“Turn them away, Commodore? Whatever for. We are not so cold-hearted as to deny those in need.” The Queen smiled, the icy smile of a predator.
“No... bring them to me.”
With that, the image vanished. There was a collective exhalation from the crew, who although enamored with the Queen were almost somewhat fearful of her. The Commodore felt their eyes on him, as if expecting some reaction. He would give none. It was his duty – his life – to serve the Queen. He knew nothing else, and hoped that he never would.
“You heard Chuma Ishara. Lock onto the Dagri. Bring the ship aboard.”
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