First Contact
The robe itched. It had never been an issue before, yet she now found herself incessantly ensnared in the confounding garment. How in the heck had she endured its scratchy clutches day in and day out? Summoned to the Bridge, a call that swiftly followed her message, as if the Imperial forces were poised for her words. Alathea pondered the peculiar role she might unwittingly play in the grand tapestry of the new emperor’s existence. She reached the Bridge just in time for Harry to spill the space beans. “We received a message on the radio, and our translator cannot translate it.” “Can we hear it?” Alathea interjected. “Sejbkajh tok!” thundered a resonant male voice through the bridge. Sounded a tad like a duke deep into the Terra project business. Perhaps because the gentleman was employing the Atreides battle lingo. She gave a nod to Chakotay, “Open up the channel on that same radio frequency, please.” Once a signal blinked from an ensign, she responded in the peculiar tongue, “Sejbkah