“There is only one way to negotiate properly: from an elevated position.”

-Martin

***Outer Rim***

***G.S. Fleet Commander Ölens***

“Ships are leaving warp now. Bringing up engines at full thrust and starting evasive manoeuvres.”

“Sensor platform is at full power.”

I nod and lean back in my chair, listening to my crew's status updates. They know perfectly well what to do upon entering an unknown system. They take care of the ship while my job is to provide the strategy and to make decisions if the situation changes to an unexpected scenario.

While they tend to the ship's functions, I study the display in front of me. All status signals are positive, rating my cruiser's readiness status at one hundred percent. Eighteen other ships on my display are greyed out, indicating that they are still in transition and not travelling through real space.

For several long seconds, all I can do is wait.

FTL communication is complicated enough as it is and unless there is a source of tachyons, it's almost impossible to detect starships over a distance of lighthours, not to mention lightyears. Most modern warships have ways to shield their warp emitters from releasing this dangerous indicator of warp-technology. Though shielding an uncalibrated warp-field while it's in the process of being built up or released is almost impossible.

With that in mind, it's clear that entering or leaving warp is like ringing a big, loud bell, announcing to everyone within a few lightminutes that someone entered the system. Providing that they have the capacity, they would be able to attack us before we even know what's going on.

Slowly, the symbols for the other ships in my fleet turn blue, showing that they also made the transition and took their position in our formation.

When it's clear that there won't be an unexpected problem, I turn my attention to the strategic display, where a green bubble indicates the growing area of scanned space which is deemed as safe. If anyone had the intention to attack us, even if the attack moves at the speed of light, the attack would have to come from outside the bubble.

Even though my ships keep reporting in successfully, I stay tense until the safe zone has reached a lightminute of clear space around us. It's not a foolproof rule, but it's generally thought of as impossible to attack another ship from further away than a lightminute. Unless the attackers decide to use their warp-drive to close the distance, which would put them in a state of disorientation in turn, as it is impossible to use a warp drive precisely enough to tell the emergence point exactly.

Potential attackers would have to run their own scans to orient their weapons and get a firing solution, which would give us plenty of time to deal with them.

After deeming the fleet to be safe, I lower my guard a little and turn my attention to other sensor data, like the lone tachyon pulse from deeper inside the system.

The rest of the fleet can keep scanning our immediate vicinity, but I direct my cruiser's sensor array to focus on the area ahead of us while the fleet keeps moving forward. With the threat of immediate danger gone, my ships cease their evasive manoeuvres which makes it easier on our sensors.

A cone of green extends from the green bubble which is moving with us, allowing areas behind us to grey out as old data gets marked as outdated.

We go on like that for half an hour until I get a bad feeling about the situation. Our sensors aren't showing anything, though there is an unusually large amount of echoes and interferences at the edge of our range.

“Where are the interferences coming from?” I ask, turning to the crewman who is manning the sensor-station. I don't know his species. Since we left the core, I gave up on learning the name and mannerisms of every new species I encountered.

“Just the usual blips and background noise from the nearby star. No reason to call out an alarm, Sir,” he replies quickly.

I narrow my eyes. It's not like I suspect him to be incompetent, but maybe he feels a little too safe and is taking shortcuts. “Is there something unusual about the star? Shouldn't the number of interferences be lower for a red giant like this one? They are normally pretty stable.”

The crewman, a bald fellow with long, flexible arms, grumbles and calls up a chart with various red giants of similar size, listing the background noise they normally produce. “The background noise which we are experiencing is a bit on the high side, but nothing unknown.”

Frowning, I study the chart for several long moments until I return my attention to the tactical display. At this rate, we will get a full resolution on the strange tachyon source in a few minutes. “I still have a bad feeling about this. Launch a few probes to give us additional coverage.”

“The added range won't be much. Their suites don't allow them to carry a lot of instruments and they will be useless once we change course.”

I shrug upon receiving the reply. “I understand, but I want to be sure that we are safe. Since we are ahead of the timetable, we can spend the effort of retrieving the probes. If it turns out that those shadows are really just sensor echoes we haven't lost anything.”

The man nods and gives instructions to launch several drones. It will take some time for them to reach their positions and gather additional data, which they will send to us.

It may be a waste of resources, but I want the additional warning time if there is an enemy out there. Once we close with the tachyon source, we have to slow down and no starship captain wants his ship to be sitting still while an enemy takes a shot at it.

We slow down when we near the target and our optical sensors finally give us a good image.

“It's them!” one of my men calls out, recognizing the ship's form from the short briefing which everyone had to take for this mission.

Leaning forward, I study the round platform which is filled with instruments. At first glance it seems to be in a good state, but I don't trust the peace and zoom further in. Why should a lone ship be just lying around in this forsaken system? Why aren't they fleeing? After seeing the tachyon flash of us entering the system, they should be running for the hills.

Either that or...

Just as the greasy resolution gets good enough to see that the ship's hull is peppered with craters and impact holes, the proximity alert goes off and I snap my attention back to the tactical display.

One of our probes encountered an enemy warship and its claw-design is easily recognizable as the other party who was fighting the disc-shaped ships. Leaning back, I return my attention to the wreck. “Communications, tell the whole fleet to come to a full stop. I don't want us anywhere near that wreck. Bring us onto a vector away from it.”

“Sir?” the communications officer asks, but does as he was told.

“They left it as bait.” I fold my fingers in front of my belly. “Shot just enough holes into it to ensure that it doesn't go anywhere. Now they are lying in wait until the ship's friends are stupid enough to enter the trap.”

Studying the display, I harrumph when red dot after red dot appears with the added range of the probes, now identifying some of the former shadows of background noise as ships. More and more appear all around us until it's clear that my nineteen ships are outnumbered two to one. Many of their ships seem to be smaller, but at least twelve can boast the same size as one of my two kilometre long cruisers.

My ships are largely just engines and weapons, designed to hunt down prey and to outgun the enemy. The design is sacrificing armour for the sake of speed and firepower. Being in a situation where we are forced into a direct shoot-out wherever we turn to isn't preferable.

“Seems like we are already in the trap.”

I glare at the navigator who allowed his lips to slip. Sarcastic and demoralising comments are not what's needed in a situation like this. “Don't judge the situation without understanding it. It looks bad, but it's less of a problem than it seems. They outnumber us, but not badly enough to make it seem hopeless. If we accelerate, we can easily break out of their formation while challenging just a few ships. They intended to sneak up on whoever was inspecting the damaged vessel.”

The communications officer turns in his seat to face me. “We are being hailed by the claw-ships.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Which ship?”

“All of them. They have some kind of networking going on, probably to hide their command vessel.”

Clever. Raising a finger, I indicate that I'll take this call. “Activate the translation routines and let's hope that the computers don't mess up too badly.”

The main-screen switches to a humanoid in an acceleration chair. At first, I think we have found the human enemy, but this being is as similar as it is dissimilar to a human. First, it has horns, slit pupils, and a long tail with bony spikes is wagging behind it.

It taps its fingernails with a 'clicke-di-click' onto the armrests of its chair and, surprisingly, addresses me in Galactic Standard.

“You are not Cyber. Who are you and what do you want? This is a war-zone.”

“I am Fleet Commander Ölens from the G.S., and we are on a crusade to bring down the human threat,” I declare, still wary of the situation. We were briefed on the human's ability to mutate and to upgrade their bodies with technology, but would they really undergo such extreme body modification in such a short amount of time? “What are Cyber and how do you know Galactic Standard?”

The alien, seemingly unaware of etiquette or manners, uses its middle finger to poke into its own nose. “I am General Martin, High Commander of the Core Colony. We are in a state of war with the Cyber, a species which recently showed up in our territory. They are actively competing for resources and that's not tolerable. As to why we know Galactic Standard, or why I won't ask you what the G.S. is, that's because we bought the first information, and stole the second from the Cyber.”

Martin finds what he was digging for and flicks his prize absentmindedly from his finger.

I raise my eyebrows. “You bought the information?”

“Yeah, some strange fellow called Hob. First, we thought that eating him would be best, but then he offered us a treasure trove of information. Of course, only for the right price, and we had to promise not to eat him.”

My expression falls at the mention of Hob. The Hob is a scourge on the galaxy, giving infantile races technologies they shouldn't have and selling information for the right price. Now it's not surprising that these people have knowledge about us.

What's strange though, is how these backwater creatures had something that's interesting enough for Hob to send out one of its facets for trade.