"Send the message again. Send it again and again until they respond." said Captain Voss nervously. He gripped the arm-rests of his command chair as he watched the massive opposing fleet approach in formation.
"They're not responding sir. We've sent the transmission on all known frequencies and communication networks, they just aren't listening." said the Communications Engineer, his voice coming through the Captain's cybernetic audio interface.
"As per War Engagement Protocol 3-456, we are authorized to deploy defensive and offensive measures to protect ourselves from hostile entities. Permission to deploy the ASIMOVs?" said the Weapons Master. ASIMOVs, also known as Anti-matter Sensitive Intelligent Mobile Ordinance Vehicles, were boxes filled with high-explosives and flown through the void between ships at seventy-five percent light-speed by an intelligent propulsion system that homed in on sources of anti-matter signatures. Simple and brutally efficient.
"Put the ASIMOVs on standby. There are no signs that they are going to attack as of yet, I don't want to provoke them." said the Captain. He had no desire of starting a war. He scratched his head, feeling the stubble of his recently-shaved synthair. He thought deeply about this situation.
A few days ago, no-one even knew about the Centaurians. They all knew the stories, but few believed them. Some searched for them, building elaborate machines in attempts to find and contact their long-lost brothers. Eventually they gave up. The Centaurians became little more than boogey-men within Solarian culture. Then they arrived. A message was received from an outpost station, relaying the first images of the Centaurian fleets. Thousands of ships, flying in perfect synchronization towards the Solarian homeworld, Earth.
The Solarian government had reacted as you'd expect from a society of techno-crats. Wire up a bunch of conscripted cyborgs, pack them into a state-of-the-art war ship, and launch them at the threat.
So here Captain Voss sat, unsure what to do next. He had sent the Centaurian capital ship a hailing signal as well as several audio messages indicating that they came in peace. This did not work. The fleet of three-thousand, five-hundred and sixty-one ships moved in a perfect V formation towards Captain Voss and by extension, his ship, his crew, and the Solarian homeworld.
"Captain Voss, scans indicate that pin-point energy emissions are now present on all 3561 ships, consistent with anti-matter weapons. I advise engaging the ASIMOVs sir, we can take them out before they strike." reported the Wisp, a type of artificial intelligence used on Solarian craft. The Wisp had the appearance of a floating globule that rippled with the wave-forms of synthesized speech. Captain Voss found the gentle glow of the Wisp to be reassuring despite the terrifying words travelling down his vestibulocochlear nerve and entering his brain.
"Ok, engage the ASIMOVs." said Captain Voss. On his view-screen, 3561 red lines appeared as the ship's auto-factories assembled and deployed the correct number of ASIMOVs. The intelligent and explosive boxes hurtled through the void, arcing and swerving towards their targets. They impacted. The high-explosive ASIMOVs detonated in unison, vaporizing the Centaurian fleet in a single moment of white-hot chaos. The results were better than anyone had expected, not a single ship survived.
Captain Voss exhaled sharply and slumped in his command chair. He viewed the scans, taking in the damage reports. All Centaurian ships were indeed lost in the blast.
"Captain Voss, I found something in the data buffer. It appears to be audio, should I play it back for you?" said the Wisp.
"Yes, thank you. Play it through my personal audio interface, please." said Captain Voss. At that moment he began hearing a voice in his head. It was a woman's voice. Her voice had a terrified quality and she spoke in a thick accent.
"This is an automated distress signal. Our fleet passed through a stellar anomaly which disabled our hyper-drives. Unable to repair them, we entered stasis and continued en route to our destination using sub-light thrusters. Our destination is Sol. Home. Earth. We will decloak upon our arrival in-system and broadcast this signal. If anyone is out there, please help. We have 1.3 billion Centaurian men, women, and children aboard our fleet. We all want to come home."
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