[center][h3]Earth-F67X: Xenophobic Interplay[/h3][/center]
[i][b]—— Earth-F67X: Alien Contact[/b][/i]

Out past Neptune, a surveillance satellite detected an FTL manifestation and scanned a vessel that did not correspond to any pre-approved signature. Entangled with Earth’s defense control network, the long range satellite immediately triggered an alert in New Roswell and the Mainline Defensive Array. In response, an artificial intelligence integrated with a half-human half-cybernetic operative in an undisclosed black site dispatched a series of automation protocols. Moments later, Earth’s defense posture transitioned from passive monitoring to a [code]CODE GESTALT[/code] active response. Generals were roused from their slumber, ops teams put on rapid standby, and massive weapon configurations pre-positioned throughout the Sol system targeted the potential threat.

At least ten-thousand people held their breath as the vessel was hailed along a bombardment of electromagnetic, psionic, thaumic, and telepathic communication channels—and more:

[i]“UNREGISTERED ALIEN VESSEL, STATE YOUR PURPOSE.”[/i]

There was a pause. 

It was always possible that communication, in that moment, was impossible. 

Everyone breathed a sigh of partial relief when came the reply in radio short-band, [i]“We request aid and supplies to help us resist tyranny on our home planet.”[/i]

Earth did not immediately answer. Agonizing seconds passed while heuristics were reduced to single-line outputs. Had the vessel so much as twitched, it would have been purged from the night sky. A team of xeno-technologists furiously scanned data as it poured in. Conclusions were drawn. The vessel was in a state of distress, with severe structural damage and multiple hull leaks of atmospheric gasses incongruous with Earth’s atmosphere and non-solid phase fuels. However, the spacecraft’s plasma shield was operational and active. An understandable caution, given its state of war-weary disrepair. Political leadership demanded more time to make a decision. Military command was compelled to send another transmission to the alien craft:

[i]“Maintain position, await response.”[/i]

Analysts concluded the alien craft should maintain a safe distance from any significant gravitational field in the event its superstructure buckled and the whole thing crashed and burned. The military, of course, wanted to send out a team to dismantle the whole thing. Several hours passed as petabytes of data collated, analyzed, and memoized for the consumption of military and political leadership. Finally, a simulacrum of Apollo Amon, Earth’s president and final say in all matters important, appeared in New Roswell and demanded a SITREP.

He—or what appeared as him, for nobody had seen him in the flesh in a year, ordered that the vessel be relocated to Customs Control Hygiea, a minor asteroid-based facility. The smallest disclosed facility in the Sol system with teleportation technology synchronized to Earth. The vessel would take a path along a route that avoided Sol’s planetary bodies. While en-route, the alien vessel would declare its manifest of souls and supplies, identify its diplomatic contacts, power down its FTL, and turn off its plasma shields—and that it should be made abundantly clear that non-compliance would be lethal. From there, a shuttle would convey one of its diplomats from the alien craft to Customs Control where they would be screened and, if deemed safe, transported down to Earth.

In accordance, the third message was relayed to the alien vessel.