Prelude
Drums hammered like Hell as the men of the 57th Overlanders paraded through the streets of Bashkai. It had been an easy conquest as the Baskaari were still primitives; greeting the Frankish Expeditionary Force with sticks and stones as it advanced rapidly towards to the sole urban center on the planet. Mud streets and foul smells were what the Franks had conquered; most of the natives looked like they were in dire want of foodstuffs and medical care.
Lord Javuski smiled, knowing that within a month's time things would be quite different. Baskaari could easily support a flotilla if the system were exploited to the fullest; colonization, building, and resettlement of the natives would have to begin right away. It was something which he had done many times before as one of the great dragon lords who could stand eye to eye even to the loftiest Zendgraaf. Incorporation was as much a fact in his line of work as battle, though a bloodless incorporation never seemed to fit right in the pit of his gut.
The Zendgraaf stood close by, seemingly disinterested in the flapping of colours, the beating of drums, the rumble of tracks, and the soldiers trudging through the ankle deep mud.
"I shan't say I'll much miss these bleeding rains once we terraform this place."
"Aye, this mud is absolutely atrocious. Some Franks have been complaining about their losing good boots to this shite."
The Zendgraaf chuckled.
"I bet they have, though I can't imagine the possible S.T.Ds they'll pick up on garrison duty out here."
Javuski took a look at the natives; they were greenish bipeds with a dozen hands and twice as many eyes.
"I'd like to think even the Franks had standards, but then again..."
As he was about to finish a hologram appeared on his wrist. It was Krovski, some half Frankish-half Russki who could neither speak one or the other language without a horrible accent.
"Milord, it would seem that ve've done and found someting you should see."
"What is it?"
"I don't 'nom, some kind of 'ting."
"Alright, I'll be there shortly."
Waving him off, the Zendgraaf greeted him with a glance of uncertainty. Zendgraafs did not take slips from routine quite well, no matter how boring assignments such as these usually were.
Later
"A starship?"
"Aye, that's ze word."
Before Javuski stood a small craft in almost mint condition; yet far different than any he had encountered before. Looking it over with sincere interest, he turned to Krovski with an inquisitive air.
"And how long has this been here?"
"Readings say 30 million years."
"30 million years, are you sure?
"Aye, that's what this tinga-mah-jiggy says."
Krovski pointed to the carbon dating app on his watch, hoping the Lord did not chance to see his apps which were a tad more obscene. If Javuski saw them he paid no mind, more interested on the number before him."
"We, um, also found a body milord."
"A body?"
"Well, sort of."
Much Later
"Director, can you render that into plain Fraconian."
Director Charles Flaviere of the University of Neustrasia saw that he would have to choose his words carefully.
"Will you see, Secretary, it is this. Some 30 million years ago this ship of unknown make crash landed on CX-332, um, Bashkai as it is more commonly known. This crash triggered a massive extinction event which wiped out most life on the planet at that point in time; creating nightmarish conditions in which only the hardiest lifeforms could survive.
Now why this craft crashed we are not sure; perhaps the pilot lost control or there was a mechanical glitch. This technology is beyond us, is why I suggest our turning over the craft and the specimen to be studied by our Laptev brethern. Who knows, it might lead to a breakthrough in technology which will benefit the 'Verse as a whole."
"Specimen?"
"Yes, we detected faint life readings emanating from the remains of the pilot. [i]It is most extraordinary, I can safely say.."
The professor began rambling on then, going into further detail. It seemed like 15 minutes before the Secretary pulled out a standard form by which a project of this sort could be got underway.
"Ah, very well."
Without much further adieu, the bureaucrat stamped the Research Permission Form before him and passed it to the Frankish professor. Waiting for the person that had drawn 42,54,321 to appear before him.
