The vast sea of tranquility rippled, sending relatively large waves across the immediate area, before they dissipated into the nearly endless ocean that covered the planet. The catalyst of the ripples continued to sink, being tossed and turned in a strong underwater current belied by the serene surface. Finally, whirling fury of the current subsided, slowly casting the oblong shape to rest peacefully among the coral beds. As it lay motionless, it whispered throughout the water in a variety of frequencies, drawing and repelling any of the planet’s many species to and from it. But those animals that did approach did so warily, and upon seeing the nature of it, some crept closer while many abruptly turned around and darted off into the deep.

And few dared touch it; except for a single blackfish, which came and pecked it; finding it inedible, it too turned around, only to be eaten by a raging Firaxan Shark, which thrashed its prey with a tail whip and a vicious bite to the Blackfish’s gills. As the small fish plummeted to the floor in a cloud of blood, the Firaxan shark twitched uncontrollably before ramming the newly lodged object on the seafloor. After two attempts, it too sank with a spiral of blood, to join its prey on the ocean floor. And the object continued to wail.
------------------------------
S9 Deathsaber Flight, New Oceanus

Like black hawks, the Kashan starfighters soared through the sky, occasionally waggling their wings to adjust with the occasional turbulent airflow or make another pass of the ocean waters. And one by one, the flight dispersed, each starfighter veering off from the main group like a Hawk chasing its quarry until there was only one Deathsaber on the original flight plan: Lieutenant Athalon. While her Deathsaber roared over the ocean below, the others would be doing the same. The comm. crackled with static before the somewhat garbled voices of the pilots took hold of the waves.

“Three, this is Four; I’ve just pulled up the data from Probe Eight-Two-Niner; got some very nasty footage of some sort of predatory fish attacking another and the probe.”

Lieutenant Athalon toggled her communications frequency.

“Four, what’s the status of the probe?” queried the female officer.

“The self-diagnostic report on the probe says that its fine,” stated the male voice, “But I’m not sure; the pH readings of the nearby water are considerably more basic than typical from what we’ve surveyed.”

The Deathsaber continued to roar over the water, leaving a vast wake in its trail, which the waves slowly reclaimed.

“Four, send me your footage from the probe.”

“Roger that, sending it to you…now.”

Lieutenant Athalon tapped a few buttons, letting the footage of the probe overlay the cockpit from the HUD holo-projectors. It was a time-compressed version; otherwise, the Lieutenant would have been watching it for hours at end. So what, we seem some frakking fish; maybe they’d be good for a fish fry. That actually sounds pretty good right now; haven’t eaten for hours now with this frakking flight. Her stomach churned in repulse upon seeing the Blackfish succumbing to the shark in the crimson tide and seeing the plumes of both fish’s blood spray the immediate area around it. She winced and toggled the projector to its normal HUD function.

“Four, Three here. I think some of those fishes’ blood has splattered your probe.”

“Ah. Blood is basic?”

“Yeah, for most of the species in the galaxy it is; including us you know.”

“Yes ma’am scientist.”

“Shut up Four,” demanded Athalon, “let’s get out of here. First flight, we’re getting the heck out of here.”

A series of acknowledgements crackled over the comm. as the Deathsabers veered off into space to rendezvous in orbit of the sapphire blue world, named New Oceanus, of the Fyre Sola system.
---------------------------
Pegasus, Contegorian Flagship

The metallic doors slid open, allowing a slightly grinning Commodore to confidently stride into the CIC of the Contegorian flagship. Both Shock Troopers stationed at the foyer saluted, which Corise returned a more casual, perhaps even sloppy one. Pegasus’ CIC, located in the middle of the ship, was notoriously dark, with the various monitors and holo-projections providing most of the light for the dim room. It did have normal lighting, which would have the circular room as bright as any other, but the younger Lucerne preferred to keep things somewhat dark, and while he would not admit it, he enjoyed the darkness; it was so much like space himself.

“Commodore,” smiled Commander Fyre, “wipe that smile off your face.”

Corise smiled broadly. “Why thank you.”

Fyre frowned. “That vacation on Audacia really did something to you. Did the Pro-consul think that you were too cold of a man to be seen with in a nightclub so she injected some happiness-inducing drug in your body to make you look and act more sociable?”

“That’s the Commander Fyre I know,” chuckled the Contegorian officer, “always coming up with ridiculous ideas on how and why things happen.”

Fyre snorted. “While you were off galvinating around Audacia with your love-”

“My love?” questioned Corise skeptically, leaning against the plotting table.

“What did I say? Anyways, we’ve been scouring and scouting out New Oceanus.”

Corise nodded. New Oceanus was the fifth planet in the Fyre Sola system, located just after Kashan in relation to the sun. It was a larger planet too, having a planetary radius nearly 135% larger than Kashan's. But since nearly all of the planet’s surface was drenched and covered with water, it had not been inhabitated by any of people, mainly because there was always room on Kashan for people and resources needed for the said planet could be found in other places that were more accessible, such as asteroids. Thus, the only time the planet was visited was by the Contegorian military, nearly always the starfighter branch, to test out combat skills in bad atmospheric conditions or for large-scale mock dogfights that would have been impossible to run everywhere else due to civilian traffic.

Corise raised an eyebrow. “Can I ask why?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

The younger Lucerne produced a predatory, tight-lipped grin. Commander Fyre looked down and faltered.

“Well, it started as a training test…”

“And?”

“Then our biology Branch at the Academy requested aquatic specimens from New Oceanus…”

“And?”

“So we set down several probes and fish traps via some S9s…”

“And?”

“That’s it,” replied the Commander.

Corise tapped a few buttons on a nearby flatscreen monitor.

“We have twenty scheduled flights being routed through the Pegasus to New Oceanus. Does the Biology Department really need twenty shuttles full of aquatic species to study?”

“Well,” replied the younger officer, “I thought it might be nice to have a better survey done of the planet just in case we needed, so twelve of those shuttles are doing that. I know, it’s a waste of materials and men but-”

“No buts. It’s probably a good idea actually,” mused the Commodore, “ and not only to keep our scouting crews in good practice…”

Solace, Kashan

She through her hands up in exasperation, in defeat. With a sweep of her hand, the datachips flew off the desk onto the white marble floor, briefly ricocheting as they scattered across it. Her left hand covered her face and slowly receded to her hip. She sighed.

“This is ridiculous; absolutely ridiculous. You would think they would realize that after being stuck on a bureautical factory world that sometimes it takes time to get things processed. Or that there isn’t enough room all the time or that the environment is not always what you want it to be. We could give them air conditioning, but then it would be too cold; they would want heating then, but then it would be too hot. And if you give them, it’s still enough; the equipment is crappy; the equipment continually breaks down; oh, and the maker forbid that it’s not in the right colour to match your decorating plan. For all I care, they can go to-” she stopped mid-sentence and collapsed into her seat.

Corise raised an eyebrow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so worked up. If there was a way to harness her rage, we could power a star destroyer; no, even a Death Star. Too much; She has taken too much into her hands. And it has driven her insane. She does not even look like herself. Pro-Consul Thorn slumped onto her desk, her dark brown hair settling across her back and the recently cleared mahogany desktop. Corise spared a quick glance across her office, which in itself was an expressive, if not expensive, work of art. In many ways it mirrors her; Elegant, sophisticated, beautiful. He glanced at the scattered datacards. And in complete disarray, like something tore right through it. Standing up, he swept up the datacards and lightly set them on the desk. Gazing at her still form, he quietly turned around to make his way to the door.

“Wait.”

Corise stopped in mid-step.

“You came to talk about something?” questioned the lady, looking up.

“It can wait.”

“Corise…”

“You have a lot on your hands to deal with. It’s not that pressing or urgent; it really can wait,” commented the officer, turning back to face her in the dimly lit office, “I’ll have an aide get you some fresh caf.”

“Thanks.”

The younger Lucerne turned back and strode through the mahogany doors. He grasped the handles of the old-fashioned doors and slowly eased them until they quietly close; leaving the woman alone to her thoughts in a mental sanctuary that was as delicate as glass.
--------------------------
Pegasus CIC

Murmurs whirled about the command center with their respective creators busily typing back replies or changing frequencies to communicate. Unlike most days, nearly every crewmember present was wearing a headset comlink usually used by flight controller. In the heart of the Pegasus, the industriousness of the Confederation’s people manifested itself yet again. And through all of it, the two men talked.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing.”

Commander Fyre raised an eyebrow.

“She didn’t even shut your idea down?”

The Commodore slowly shook her head. “I did not even bother to propose it. She looked like a mess. If I handed that too her, she would implode under the pressure. Genon is a mess and a real problem for her right now."

“The corporations?”

“No, not really, though Brandt Industries is not moving quite as fast as we would like them. It’s actually the colonists from Metalorn. They’re having a lot of problems keeping them simply satisfied. And it all deals with materials and supplies apparently, but Christina thinks all of them are pretty petty and will never be satisfied no matter what we do. ”

Fyre snorted.

“Well, they were certainly won’t all be satisfied ever, especially if you let trivial things get in the way.”

Corise nodded, leaning on the central plotting table. “I agree. We shouldn’t have nearly as many problems with our own operation simply because we are warning them a head of time of what’s going on.”

“Not that that in itself makes sure everything goes right.”

“Agreed, but it should cut down on some of it.”

“Probably,” agreed Fyre, scanning the tiered room, “Thrasher, any word from our Raptor crews?”

“Yes sir,” replied a black-shirted officer, “they have just completed their landing at Providence Island. Initial reports say all is a-okay…”
--------------------------
Providence Island, New Oceanus

“Six here, everything looks clean from this angle,” reported the trooper.

How can it not? Paradise lost this is. Paradise indeed. Lieutenant Fuller, promoted since his action at Genon, scanned over Providence Island. While the golden sun beat down on the watery world, the surf lapped up to the white-sanded beach before receding back to the deep blue waters. Not far from the beach was a chain of long-extinct volcanic mountains which were covered in rain forests. Occasionally, birds could be heard, chirping in the background. And as life in nature went on as usual, so did work for the Confederation personnel. Over a dozen shuttles and Raptor transports rested haphazardly on the beach. Some of the Raptor doors were open, allowing speeder bikes and Sentinel Tanks to land for a faster exploration of the area. As most of the soldiers grouped up in squads, those which had just initially secured the base camp perimeter with automated sensor beacons casually strolled back, enjoying the tropical breeze and heat, even if they couldn’t feel it with their temperature-controlled suits. Like they say, It’s all in the mind. Heck, we have air-conditioned suits. That’s got to be better than drenching everything with sweat, albeit I suppose some of the recruits won’t a tan; I might miss out on some action too. Oh well, can’t get everything...

“Lieutenant? Do you read me?”

“Yes, I read you like a frakking datapad,” replied the Coalition marine, turning to the speaker.

“Ah, yes sir,” stated the sergeant, “Can I have your orders?”

Fuller snorted. “Do want my orders as given to me by the Commodore, or do you want the orders I intend to give you as laid out in the plan?”

“Ah, the plan, I think.”

Fuller shook his helmeted head.

“You will be accompanying Lieutenant Garos’ armored convoy throughout the jungle, he’s over there. Ask him about any of the specifics.”

“Yes sir, right away,” saluted the other man, already moving towards the line of Sentinel-class Medium Tanks being formed.

Fuller shook his head. How do men like that end up in our armed forces? At least this is like going on picnic, and the tanks by themselves should be more than capable of dealing with any beasts on the island. At least I hope they will. No, they had better deal with them, because I don’t want to be roasting marshmellows at the bonfire tonight knowing that somewhere, there are something like Rancors or Gundarks running around. Stupid insentient species...

“Sentinel Eight here, I’m getting some significant animal life form readings in Sector-Blue-Eight.”

“Six here, confirming readings in Sector-Blue-Eight.”

“All right,” noted Garos, “let’s start heading over here.”

A series of acknowledgements flooded the comm., for which Garos temporarily muted it. So annoying. Lieutenant Garos tapped a few buttons on his tank’s targeting monitor. A green and black wire topographic appeared overlaid by the targeting computer’s sector grid. He high-lighted and clicked on the one designated Blue Eight. It zoomed in, showing the area with several thermal images of various sizes. Several of those look large enough to be houses, and the smaller ones could be the residents. He snorted. If there are residents here beside us at all. Garos mechanized convoy had pushed through the interior of the island for hours. New Providence, the largest island of the planet, was over a hundred-thirty kilometers square. It will take us days to get an accurate survey of it. The Sentinels, laden with troops and supplies, formed the center of the Confederation vanguard, with speeder bikes making occasional spurts around the convoy to look for possible ambushes or stalkers. Garos looked through the tank’s cupola viewports. Plants and birds; more plants and birds; oh, and more of us. Professor Gawer would have loved this if didn’t refuse to ever go on space flights. You know, it looks pretty and stuff like that, but there’s nothing useful here; at all. I suppose we could chop down the trees, not that we need more wood. Wait, the only use this place has is as a vacation resort or hunting ground, which means we can’t chop down the wood. It actually would make a good troop training area; I mean, the terrain is foreign, and the area is isolated enough from any population area that we wouldn’t have to worry about the civies getting in the way.

“Hey sir?” shouted the driver.

“Yes Frank?”

“Fuller might not be too happy. Directly ahead.”

Fuller zoomed the scope forward. Oh frak…
-------------------
In the very distant Past…

“It must last-”

“It cannot last Dervsa. There has been no contact for twenty years now; the slaves have noticed, and their insurgency is growing bolder…”

“Was growing bolder,” adamantly stated Keeper Dervas, “with the execution of a tenth of their people, I doubt they will strike back; they are not their headstrong forefathers; these are a people bred in captivity, they know it is futile. They know their place here…”

“If they knew it was futile,” retorted the other’s wife, “why would they even strike? We’ve slaughtered millions of people, devastated whole worlds before. They knew it was futile then, for we were strong. It is growing futile; there is no hope for keeping them in servitude. We either have to kill them or free them; one or the other, lest they kill us in rebellion.”

The amphibian creature scoffed. “Free them? Have you lost your mind as well as the power of the Force? Even if we free them, what is stop them from trying to kill us? The consequence for that action is the same: death for us. And there is no hope for the vanquished.”

The Ratakan turned around in the metallic chamber and walked up to rack; a rack that bore more weapons than there Ratakans on the isolated planet. At one time, every weapon on the rack had had an owner; at one time, there were more Ratakans than weapons on the rack. At one time, the Ratakans were feared across the galaxy. But those were no longer the times Dervas lived in. These were the times of plague, isolation, civil war, and slave rebellion for the Infinite Empire. Dervas gripped his force glaive and pressed the central stud on the staff; the blades vibrated to life, making the distinct hum of any vibro-weapon. He gave it a quick twirl.

“Dervas no!”

“There is no other the choice; the slaves must be killed.”

“You will not kill the slaves; the slaves will kill you. You are but one and they many.”

“I am Ratakan; and they are filth.”

“Come to the ship with me! Please.”

Dervas snarled and unlocked the door to the rest of the subterranean city. The metallic door slid open quickly, efficiently; just like the Ratakans. Dervas looked over the vast city, built inside the warrens of the extinct volcano. The centre of was a pillar of open space which ascended below the sea floor to the summit of the mountain. Every space between those two landmarks was a level of the city of New Infinity; a Jewel of the Ratakan Empire. But few Ratakans lived within after the fall, the disease, the civil war. Slaves now outnumbered the conquerors at a previously unmatched record: 50 to one. Dervas looked to his left to see one of the most common species of slaves present.

“You, human. Come here,” ordered the Ratakan.

The old man eyed the vibrating weapon and froze.

“I said come here. Don’t make me punish you.”

The human still hesitated. Dervas menacingly stalked towards the frightened man. A rock arced from behind the alien and hit him in the back of the head. More rocks flew from all manner of directions, pelting him hard than the harsh rains outside the mountain. Dropping his staff, he toppled forward in unconsciousness, his body making a hard thump as it hit the gray floor. Minutes later, his eyelids opened, only to see the old man plunging the alien’s own force glaive through his throat. And he knew nothing more.

Confederation Armored Convoy, Providence, New Oceanus

A brilliant pair of fire-linked emerald bolts lanced forth from Sentinel Three to stab into the beast. They hit, splattering blood on the already enraged Rancor besides making twin craters on the beasts’ arm. A torrent of bolts from the shock troopers continually pricked the massive beasts. So I guess those weren’t houses on the thermal screen; too bad. Garos gripped the trigger let a flurry of bolts from the dual laser cannon randomly hit the Rancors, who were slowly succumbing to the sheer volume of laser bolts. A missile surged forth from another tank and exploded within the pack of rancors, spreading the cryo-chemical everywhere, and consequently freezing everything within its blast radius. The Confederation men stopped firing and warily approached Sentinel One, a tank which one of the Rancors had managed to flip over, albeit not without grievous injuries to itself. Energy shielding has a tendency to burn things that it touches. Stupid insentinent beasts. That’s sort of a misnomer, isn’t it? Oh wait; it’s not or is it?

“Sir, Sentinel One’s crew is fine,” reported the communication’s officer, interrupting the Lieutenant's revelrie.

Garos nodded. “Good thing Sergeant Parker actually thought and used a missile. Made things go a lot faster. Any idea of why and how they were here?” questioned the tank commander.

“Beats me,” snorted the driver, “but they sure made for some fine target practice. It was a pretty light show if you ask me.”

“A noisy one too,” piped in the missile operator.

As the damaged Sentinel Tank and its crew were being recovered by the Confederation forces, Garos turned his attention to the now-frozen beasts. They won’t stay frozen like that for long, although the frashfleezing of the exposed wounds and internal organs is likely to kill them; by the maker that will be a mess to clean up. Ugly things, with such rubbery skin, and what’s that? A human dressed in tattered clothes mixed with some animal pelts appeared among the dead rancors. He quickly turned his head to look upon the once fearsome foes. The now frosty floor of the jungle seemed to both scare and fascinate him, basing on how he edgily transversed it, looking at the white substance as if it was a murderer out of a dream. Painfully, he moved around to take a look at the massive animals, and from the zoom on feature of the Lieutenant’s screen, Garo’s could tell he took each step with a grimace. He’s not wearing any shoes; that’s going to give him frostbite pretty soon. Garos opened the hatch. Abruptly, Garos opened the commander’s hatch and popped out like a children's jack in the box toy.

“Get off the Cryon! You’re going to get frostbite!” shouted the commander at the distant person.

Startled, the native looked directly at the Coalition officer, and their eyes locked. For the first time, he noticed the white-armored troops and the metallic tanks. His eyes widened, and he turned to flee, only to be brought down by a stun blast from one of the Kashan troopers.
--------------------------
Pegasus CIC

“They found what?”

Commander Fyre stared at the ground, and calmly restated the news.

“A colony of humans. A colony of humans on a system that was otherwise thought tobe uninhabitated until our forefathers set foot on Kashan. Since when did they arrive? If they found a way past our sensor net…” questioned the Commodore.

The Commander looked up, and then back down.

“I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that. They’ve been there for several thousand years now.”

Corise raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes carefully observing the Commander’s slightest move.

“Ah, well, we’ve got a couple of protocol droids down there now. Apparently they speak a very old form of basic; it’s not too hard to understand, but it just seems strange. They seem pretty friendly so far, except for the first one we met; that’s probably because one of our greener men hit him with a stun bolt.”

The Commodore rolled his eyes. Fyre opened his hands in a palm-up gesture.

“Hey, don’t worry, it was under my watch. You won’t get in trouble.”

“Except for the fact that I’m supposed to be keeping track of all of the planetary military heads, which includes you.”

Fyre shrugged. “They know its unreasonable for you to keep track of every movement by every single soldier. I don’t think it will go off too badly; in fact, I think the man was a little more mad that we killed their city’s guardian Rancors.”

Corise shook his head. “Wonderful. Offer to replace them with some Paladin IIs or we can probably buy them some replacement rancors if that’s what they really like.”

Fyre frowned. “Paladin IIs are going to be a more effective deterrent than Rancors.”

“To our perspective? Yes, they are. But to their eyes?” motioned the other officer, “maybe they hate droids, like the Bakurans. They don’t seem to have any high amount of technology.”

Commander Fyre snorted. “Well, they do, except they don’t know how to use and most of it is broken down.”

“Explain.”

“It turns out that what we call Providence Island they call New Infinity City; their city is completely underground, but a couple times a year they come out to enjoy the tropics. Apparently it was founded millennia ago by the Infinite Empire, the Ratakans that is. Anyways, they were brought there as slaves, and when the Empire began to crumble, they revolted and killed all of the Ratakans in a full-scale revolution. They haven’t seen any outsiders since us.”

Corise pursed his lips. “Is there a reason they don’t come outside so often?”

Fyre puckered his face. “It’s kind of messy, but from what the 3POs gather, it’s part of their religion slash tradition. Yeah, I don’t get either; it looks pretty nice out their. Something about their rain god will send down torrents of rain and kill or wash away anything; it’s a very old myth predating the fall of the Rakatan Empire. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if it evolved from the Ratakans making the myth up to keep the humans from escaping the city.”

The senior officer nodded. “That would make sense. How is New Infinity City itself?”

“Well, the major part of the city is located in a hollowed out volcano, but it stretches to the outskirts of the island through lava tubes and other cave systems. Most of it was built by the Ratakans, so it’s fairly nice, except that its new human citizens didn’t know how to repair the technology; we can of course, it looks like pretty basic stuff by our standards. Yeah, they actually subsist mostly on fish and aquaculture from the lakes. There are a lot of subterranean lakes in the island from the footage I’ve seen from the trooper’s helmets. This might interest you more, but some of them have the skeletal frames of what appear to be Ratakan ships. There is only one ship that still is partially built; the Oceanans scavenged the rest of them throughout the years. The only reason why it still exists is as a sacred monument to their ancestors’ revolution.”

Corise nodded and leaned up against the plotting table.

“This is going to be ugly,” stated the younger Lucerne.

Fyre nodded. “Just so you, I’ve informed the Pro-Consuls of the situation.”

“You what?” demanded the officer, the other voices in the CIC dropped at the outburst.

“Heard the news I take it?” smiled the woman, coming up from behind him, “Don’t worry, it’s something of a welcome relief; I given the work up to Metalorn’s government now that we have this so-called crisis on her hands. I figure that both their government and their people will be use to working on such matters with themselves.”

The Commodore shrugged. “I would hope so.”

Christina eyed him. “They’d better, because I’m not going through any of that again. I’m leaving for New Infinity City in a half-hour. Care to join me?”

Corise shrugged. “Well, I should really-”

“Come with the Pro-Consul to New Oceanus because it is Commander Fyre’s messes, and as the pompous Commodore of the Fleet, that is my personal mission in life,” finished Commander Fyre.

Corise mock-glared at his subordinate. “I guess I should leave so you can screw up something else so that I will always have some of your messes to deal with.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

T4a Shuttle Contegorian Courage, New Providence

The shuttle buffeted against the heavy winds that dominated New Oceanus’ upper atmosphere. It soared through the clouds, slowly descending in an arc that take it to down Providence Island. Despite the poor weather, the crew and passengers calmly went about their last-minute discussion about the natives.

“The 3POs have established at least a truce for now,” announced the Pro-Consul, “but it would be better if we can establish something better, like a permanent treaty of friendship, or better yet, their own induction into the Confederation.”

Corise nodded. “I admit that I do not like the idea of a non-allied planet right at our back door. Still, we need to consider what’s best for them; I mean, they have a culture that is at probably a thousand times older than our own. That has to earn some respect.”

Christina cocked her head.

“True, but what we have to offer in terms of technological support and standard of living.”

Closing his eyes, the Commodore shook his head. “Technology is not always better for its users, no matter how advanced. And it will influence their culture in unforeseeable ways; and that could be bad.”

“But,” smiled the Pro-Consul, “that is not our choice; it is their’s.”

Corise frowned. “But by offering a choice at all, we are making a choice then.”

She nodded. “But by not making a decision, we are still making a choice.”

The officer nodded. “This is one for the philosophers.”

“Giving up?”

“I’m undecided on that,” commented the younger Lucerne, “but we certainly have other things to think about besides philosophy, such as how we are going to get the logistics going in case you do manage to convince them to join.”

“Me? You’re coming with too.”

The other man snorted. “I am certainly not going to try and convince them.”

Thorn smiled. “But you won’t hesitate to provide them with some facts?”

“Depends on the topic,” mused the man, “and I probably will answer ‘no comment’ on some of them or redirect them to you.”

“That’s the overly cautious Corise I know.”
----------------------------------
Prologue:
KDI Engineer Journal entry.

We have been investigating the frames of the Ratakan starships found within the partially sunken spaceport of the city. Most of them appear to be in very good condition considering their aging process. Whatever metal the Ratakans used, it was exceptionally resistant to corrosion; we’ve already sent off a sample of that metal to the labs. Anyways, the frames appear to be structurally sound for the most part. Corrosion from salt water appears to be the most damaging aspect to the frames, despite whatever corrosion-resistant metal they’re made of. So far, out of the twenty frames surveyed, twelve of them are in good enough condition that it may be possible to convert them to starships for the planned New Oceanus fleet.

With the induction of the planet into the Confederation by a fully democratic vote by the people of New Infinity City, their chieftains have not only wanted their city restored to its previous greatest, but have asked for the technology, as they say it “to sail among the stars”. I think this stems from the Pro-Consul taking the chieftains to Kashan aboard a shuttle and also giving them a tour (along with the Commodore) of the Pegasus. They’re a curious people, always wondering how to make things work again and sometimes are a little too enthusiastic for my like. The Pro-Consul demanded that we teach some of them and give them some fieldwork experience in our profession. They certainly don’t lack enthusiasm, though their discipline and patience as a whole needs much more improvement for them to aspire to come up to our levels. The Commodore has already arranged for some of their brightest, and politically powerful, younger adults to be sent to the Kashan Defence Academy; I’m not sure how they’re going to be received, aside from the fact that some of them appear to be total barbarians at first. I think that with a little time and little help, the people of New Oceanus will soon catch back up to the Galactic standards. Well, it’s growing late now, and I should get some sleep…