The bridge of the Damedant's Fury was quiet, double helices of data streaming in an artful arc from the ceiling plates to receiving stations on the ground. Some moved lazily, while others shuffled at a rapid pace, innumerable lines of geological data, navigational lines, gravitic forces exerted by far-reaching, high-density worlds passing by... but none of it interested him. Faint blue light illuminated the mostly-empty bridge where the Baron sat, eyes unfocused as he took in the depth of space from his reflex foam-and-steel command throne. He was a gaunt man, with dark circles under his eyes and perpetual stubble that lent him a grizzled appearance. A high-collared Ignoble's navy jacket coupled with his jack boots and natural appearance made him certainly look the part of the Destraali nobility, but today he wasn't so certain of his place in the world.
The Countess had been harsh in his appointing. A Baron was a front-line commander, not some lowly scout. Yet here he was, scanning planet after anomaly after asteroid field, and not a single point of glory was won for him and his house. Some of the readings they had stored in the digiVault would prove useful to industrial and colonial efforts, yes, but they were certainly not what he would be remembered for. No, he would be remembered as the outcast Baron who had displeased his Countess within days of arrival on a new frontier. Hopefully, he wouldn't simply be erased from history by a violent hand and a subtle shift of records.
A set of heavy steel blast doors slid open with a hydraulic hiss of decompression and the sound of clacking of Navy boots on polished steel floors behind the Baron could be heard,though he did not shift from his bitter contemplation. The newcomer stood before the dejected Ignoble and saluted by placing a fist to his heart, heels clicking together smartly. Before the noble stood a knight, dressed sharply in the naval blacks of House Amanthe, handsome young face ridden with concern. "Ignoble, new orders from the Ferocia Alyxis. We are to change our course to the following coordinates."
His white-gloved hand produced a secure digiVault chip, which the knight placed on the arm of the command throne. The Baron's organic eye flicked down to regard the data chip, then turned to the knight. "Appreciated, Sir Krast. What of the xenofleet?" He asks tiredly, rising from his throne stiffly. Standing all day was an arduous thing for a man his age.
"LR scans reveal vessels of varying sizes holding position at negative nine thousand and sixty eight, fifteen thousand and thirty seven, twenty three thousand, four hundred and eleven. We have yet to issue a communiqué." The knight replies, bowing as his master rose. Baron Helbrecht nods, making a hand gesture to draw the bridge systems' attention to himself. "General alert: Gamenon Six. Bridge crew, on stations. We will begin our approach shortly." Two blips from a double data helix confirmed the order, and soon his voice played over the intercommunication system. Within minutes, bridge personnel began streaming in, sleepily rubbing eyes or murmuring quietly among themselves as they descended into the sunken command pit beneath the throne.
"Officer Vyann, engines to half along this route." Helbrecht said, tossing the data chip to the sleepy man. He nearly dropped it in his fumbling, but ultimately slapped it into a console. "Yes, Ignoble." The man replied hastily, hands splayed out as he manipulated reams of holographic coordinate and positioning data with mere extensions of hand and will.
"Sir Harkrier, prepare to send the following message on all frequencies." The Baron straightened his collar and extended his hand to the side, in which a cane was placed by a nearby servant, who bowed humbly. He placed both hands on the ornate cane's top, guarded gaze regarding a camera which had unfolded itself from a ceiling panel. A red light blinked for a moment before turning green, indicating that the camera was recording.
"Hail, strangers. I am Baron Helbrecht Vraal Amanthe, patriarch of House Amanthe, right hand of Countess Meryl, who has entrusted to me the responsibility of representing the Destraali Empire. We greet you with an open hand, and wish only to discern your motives while shedding some light on our own. Undoubtedly, we share some of the same goals all civilizations do; resources, expansion, and above all, perpetuity. Let us join together and endeavor, in the name of progress." When they received the communiqué, the flag of the Destraali Empire would flash before and after the video.
The camera retracted, and so Sir Harkrier lowered his hand, ceasing to manipulate the film in real-time. "Wonderful work, Ignoble. Do you believe they'll understand altum lingua?" The knight asked, brows knit together in thought. He was another young knight, Helbrecht's first-born son. This one was less comely than the other, short nose broken multiple times and graced with a long scar. "I'm not certain. If we cannot establish contact due to language barriers, we simply scan their hulls, categorize them, and move on. I've no time to tarry here." The Baron replied guardedly, leaning heavily on his cane, as if straightening himself had drained him somehow. Perhaps they'd do him the favor of simply being too ignorant to understand, so the scout squadron could depart. The role of the diplomat did not suit him in the slightest.
In the cold void, a squadron of vessels moved to take up position before a fleet. Sleek black frames were invisible in the great expanse, save for where they blotted out the stars. A single frigate held the center, flanked by six drone gunboats in a vertical hexagon formation. Clearly not armed for war, this was a scouting force capable of holding its own against single targets, or a small team of vessels... no match for this alien fleet they had encountered, if it came to blows.
