CIC of the JSBF Silent Sentinel
In a brief ripple of time and space, a single Overwatcher-class Corvette, set on an exploration mission out past the Fringe Line- the edge of Joran settled space- warped into the system. It took a moment for the entire ship to recalibrate to its new environment, and activate its active and passive sensor equipment. At the same time, it launched two surveillance drones, high-stealth, quantum-linked drones that glided through space as if they were debris from a faraway comet or moon, very passively gathering information with the best sensors known to Jura.
A dark reddish, unstriped Jura stood in the pit of the CIC. His central position was where the ship was; all around him, space debris and objects began appearing on the holographic display. Because they warped into the very edge of the system- standard procedure- the only objects appearing were generally directly in front of him.
Shipmaster Su'Talra of the Sentinel Clan purred to himself, the graveling rumblings of it making a deep, throaty hum of contentment.
<Another successful jump. Communications, send word to Central Command that we have reached our destination, and are scouting it now,> Su'Talra said, voice heavy and deep, in their native language. <Thirty-second system to be scouted in as many solar days. Not even Su'Vakra can keep up with me.>
Seven other Jura manned their consoles in a semicircle around him, an officer at their station: Communications, Helm, Navigation, Weapons, Utility, Executive, and Analyst. Each had their role, and having served with all of them for years- he knew they'd do it well.
His contented purring and inner musings caught in his throat, however, when the first two moons appeared on the display. The farthest planet in the system was at its orbit closest to their position, and it took a full twenty minutes for them to get the data from it. The worst thing about warping in at the edge of the system was that you were ten light-minutes or more from the nearest planetary body, and this one was occupied.
<Inform Central Command that we have made contact with a foreign entity in the system. Pass on all data with it.> The Communications officer obediently relayed the message, transmitting it through the ship's instantaneous internal quantum communicator.
Shipmaster Su'Talra stared at the slowly-updating, slowly-expanding field. The unknown contact had covered the moons and planet in something- the computer couldn't identify whatever it was, based on preliminary analysis. Which was odd, because there should be a hell of a lot more natural items in the way- more random atmospheres and gases, and the like. Here, it was all... weird.
The Jura growled, while his underlings remained silent. They knew they could offer up suggestions or ideas, but if they didn't work out or offered something to the problem... Su'Talra would then be Su'Angry.
Finally, the Navigation Jura barked at his Shipmaster, who turned his contemplative, mildly aggravated eyes on the officer.
<It could be that they grew on the planet and moon. The active sensors are reading very notable heat sources from what must be space-worthy power plants, but the readings are showing organically designed ships. Why not have ships that were grown? Rich Jura can grow gold on a plant, why not something like steel or titanium?>
Su'Talra stared for a long moment, before muttering, <A meal in your name, Ni'Jioran.> The officer perked up, pleased that his contribution earned him a meal dining like a king, and everyone shouting a toast to his name. It was an excellent time to preen and enjoy oneself.
The Shipmaster had already turned his gaze back to the slightly shimmering figures spread in front of him. Reaching out, he stretched three clawed digits to surround the planet and its two moons, all occupied, and extended the fingers, quite quickly. The computer obediently zoomed in on the area, slowly providing higher and higher resolution and greater model accuracy as the active sensors swept them over and over.
Growing all over a planet... he had a terrible gut feeling.
<Cu'Ylleri, send word that a Fleet might be required. This Shipmaster thinks our new contacts may not be interested in peace.>
Unbeknownst to the Jura, the Zerg that he had just stumbled across were already beginning to react to his presence, and how obvious he was, scanning them with radar.
It took several long minutes before he began seeing movement, and he snapped his digits at Utility.
<Order the ship to run silent. Cut the exhaust, the turrets, everything. We will be nothing more than another rock floating through space. We will wait for the fleet, or for orders.>