Perseus Jonah, native of Caprica and Raptor pilot of the Colonial Fleet, tried to make his mind drift as the small craft approached the dusty planet filling his field of vision. He tried to ignore the sobbing and the bubbling of the ones behind him. He tried to focus on the controls, rather than the sobering realization that potentially he and the five other people with him were the only humans left in the universe. Of course, now it was obvious that there were other sentient life forms out there—gods, would things have gone so much better had it not been so—but for all he knew it could be as far away from humans as humans are from bacteria.
"Godsdammit!" It was Thescera, a security officer from the Galactica, sobbing like a baby behind him. "Pass me the frakking gun! Now!"
"Hell no!" That would be Samuel, the dark-skinned maintenance guy, trying to make her get a grip. "Get your damn head straight, woman! Long as we're still alive, the Colonies live on!"
"You know you don't believe the crap you're spouting." Growled Kidas, the computer tech from Virgon. "Only reason we haven't blown our brains out is 'cause we're too damn cowardly. We're frakked. If that frakkin' death-ship totalled the entire fleet by itself and fired at us for no reason, what chance do you think we have?"
Anya and Gero, the two auxiliary Viper pilots who were sitting in the back, remained silent, looking as if they were about to vomit. As the Raptor skimmed the outer fringes of this planet's atmosphere, Perseus thought about the events of the last few hours. Not that long ago, they had been cruising through space as normal when lights had begun to fail on the Galactica, and people had begun reporting headaches and fevers. Baltar had been on the bridge, talking to Adama in technobabble, about dark matter concentrations and tachyon fluctuations, or something to that effect. Not that long after, reports had been coming in that the colonial fleet was being pulled towards an immensely strong gravitational well in a nearby dust cloud—from what Baltar had been able to extrapolate and from what Perseus had been able to overhear, it was some sort of dark-matter based indentation in the fabric of space-time—or something like that, physics was not exactly his thing. A wormhole, it had almost sounded like.
He had panicked, along with the others, and they had managed to get out in a Raptor as the fleet was pulled into a strange purple swirly thing, them with it, and straight into the lap of that death-ship. Now, he was going to forget that the last humans in the universe were sharing the same small space as him. He would forget that their chances of survival were slim. All he was going to focus on was retaining the small scraps of hope he had left. Without hope, he was frakked, for hope was all he had left beyond his clothes and the holstered automatic machine pistol on his belt.
A light beeped on the dashboard before him as they began to enter the atmosphere. According to the readouts, the craft was being bombarded with particles of various kinds, including radio. He activated his headset, and waited for the garbled static to transit into something comprehensible.
"...current course. I repeat, unidentified craft, you will be locked on by a tractor beam in sixty seconds and be transferred to a customs post for search and inspection. You will not deviate from your current course." A voice. In Colonial, no less. Sounded a bit like Baltar's accent. His heart leapt as suddenly hope, real tangible hope, returned to him.
"Guys!" he cried out, grinning. "Listen to this!"
He flicked a switch and a recording of the message was played out of the speakers in the Raptor. For a moment, there was silence.
"Whoah." Gasped Samuel. "So...we've made first contact, and they just happen to speak Colonial? That's kinda too good to be true."
"Well, maybe..." The Raptor juddered as it began to descend at a sharper angle. Perseus pulled the throttle up, but it didn't respond.
"What the frak's happening?" cried Anya. "Perseus! Pull this damn tub up!"
"I'm trying, but she ain't listening!" The hull of the Raptor glowed orange as it descended rapidly through the atmosphere, juddering worryingly. Perseus mentally uttered a prayer, hoping that the techs at the Galactica had been paying attention the last time this thing had a maintenance check. A deep, muffled clang came from somewhere, and he closed his eyes, just waiting for the whole thing to be over. Damned if he was going to go down burning up in an atmosphere because of some loose screws.
The roaring of wind, engines and frantic beeping of alarms drowned the whimpering and crying of the people in the interior as it finally began to pass clouds, with the altimeter spinning wildly. Gritting his teeth, he felt his stomach churn, hoping that the breakfast he had eaten in the mess that morning wouldn't leave him. Moments later, the adrenaline flowing through his body began to cease as the Raptor decelerated and levelled out. Peering through the viewport, he could see a vast desert sprawled out below—what the hell kinda lifeforms could evolve here? Lifeforms that could speak perfect Colonial, no doubt.
"Unidentified vessel, stand by for landing. Lower your landing gear. Refuse to comply, and you will be destroyed." Perseus quickly activated the landing gear control. No sense pissing these frakkers off if they were the same ones responsible for that monster that wiped out the fleet. He could finally see a city of some kind sitting in the middle of the desert, and as the Raptor descended further a landing pad and control tower of some kind soon became discernable among the sea of yellow, about half a klick away from the city.
More worrying metallic noise were forced from the Raptor as it glided down towards the pad and settled onto it, juddering in a way that Perseus wanted to throw up again as it did so. A dust cloud rose as the landing gear made contact with the pad, obscuring his view. The others sat up as voices and footsteps came from outside. His mind filling with all kinds of thoughts as to how the first species the Colonies had made contact with would be like, Perseus opened the back doors and watched.
A few moments later, the doors were open and the dust was settling. A figure stood in the doorway, holding some sort of gun. Perseus tensed, remembering the adventure shows he had watched in his youth about explorers fighting monstrous alien races. He expected something slimy. Bug-eyed. Tentacled. A ridged forehead, at least.
What he got was a human. Wearing a dirty suit of white armor, holding a weird-looking sidearm, unshaved and long-haired, with a pad of some sort in his other hand. Standing behind him was a stony-looking guy in a neater but still grimy uniform, wearing heel-high jackboots and generally looking worryingly like one of those far-right militants he had been hearing about before the Cylon attack. So, not only did these beings speak Colonial, but in defiance of all the astronomical odds they were at least superficially humans. Frak me sideways, he thought.
"Greetings. I am Colonel Radec of Imperial Customs outpost 42. You have committed an illegal violation of restricted space. Your vessel is not registered with the sector consulate. You are probably smugglers, refugees, or maybe even rebel terrorists, judging by your...uniforms. State your names and homeworlds." Snapped the officer in a high-class Caprica accent.
"Whoah, whoah, whoah...first things first. Who are you? Where are we? What's with the rightie uniform? Why..." began Samuel.
"What the hell kinda rock have you been hiding under?" snapped the guy in the armor, in a strange roughneck accent. "You some hippies from one of those rumoured lost colonies? Some death stick-smoking commune that decided to abandon technology, like they talk about on the Holonet? Every damn kid in the Outer Rim should recognize a stormtrooper and an officer of the Galactic Empire when they see one, and give them the appropriate respect!"
"Calm yourself, private Krogan, but nevertheless I support your point." Dozens of thoughts rushed through Perseus' head. Lost colonies? Galactic Empire? Just where had that wormhole, if it was what he thought it was, had taken him?
"Uh...yeah, we really haven't had much know-how on what's happening out there for some time. Could you fill us in?" stuttered Gero, adjusting his glasses.
The officer glanced at his pad "Lie detector indicates you're telling the truth. And, judging by the fact that quite frankly your ship of such a primitive type that Corellian freighters would laugh at it, I suppose you really are from some outer rim commune. Very well, I'll humor you. Over a decade ago, the Republic made the transition into the Galactic Empire, the government that rules this galaxy. Our great Emperor, Palpatine, swept aside the corruption and the disorder that plagued the senatorial administration. We rule this galaxy with iron and order. Millions upon millions of worlds and species answer to us. We possess the most powerful military machine in the galaxy. Do you have any other questions?"
For a moment, the occupants of the Raptor sat in shock.
"What he means is, assholes, is that you ain't in your colony no more. Welcome to the Empire." Said tjhe guy called Krogan, with an evil grin. "Now, if you really are what you say you are, you're going to have to get registered as full Imperial citizens. Oh, and until that time, your craft here will be impounded."
"Wait, wait wait..." It was Kidas. "Millions of worlds and species? You mean...there's more sentient life beyond species out there?"
Both of them gave him a funny look. "You really have been isolated for a while, haven't you?" said Radec pithily. "In any case, you will now accompany me to the customs office for briefing on your situation. You will surrender those weapons I see by your belts. Come now. Co-operate and nothing will happen to you."
Nervously, the Colonials filed out of the Raptor, handing their weapons to Krogan. They were too confused and bewildered to ask more questions, to try and stand against the two guys on this landing pad in the middle of some desert. Not a moment too soon ago they had been the last of their kind in the universe, and now they were faced with this new revelation that they were almost a drop in the ocean. Millions of worlds? A Galactic Empire? With these new thoughts racing through their minds, they shuffled into the small building beside the pad, with a sign beside the door simply reading 'customs and interrogation'.
