~ Pochin ~
Pochin reclined in his chair, watching, waiting. Machines whirred around him, and his crew members ran around beneath him, happily fixing relays, updating systems. What a dull day. The Plak'han had been fairly easy to chase off. He wasn't aware of what the Voyager had done to them, but it must have been something to get the Plak'han off their lazy rears. One shot of the plasmatic torpedo, and all had been settled. Ruffling his wings, Pochin stood up and carefully placed three legs on the ground, each leg being balanced by three talons. Looking into the mirror, Pochin's two eyes noticed a feather out of place on his head. Frowning, he carefully plucked it and held the blue-green feather up to the light. At eight foot two, Pochin was considered one of the finest specimen of Grebyts alive, and he was all too willing to agree. He felt that his rare coloring was a turn on to others, but Pochin wasn't one to survive on looks. His high grades in the Academy had provided this position. Smoothing down the other feathers, Pochin walked out of his observation room and took his private turbo lift down to the main bay.
In the main bay, several Grebyts, like himself, hopped around the deck. With three legs, it makes it hard for any Grebyt to run, let alone walk, so they had evolved as hoppers.
Now the Spleys, on the other hand, were what the Grebyts used for maximum efficiency. The sister specie on their home world, Yemetes, Spleys were nearly half the height of the average Grebyt. They possessed the same feather coating as the Grebyts, but with out any on their legs. Instead, their legs were spindly and composed of a natural metal that coated a Spleys' legs at the age of 2. Nevertheless, they were quick and agile, being able to both run and fly, giving huge advantages, An incredibly dimwitted specie, the Spleys were more than happy to be governed by the intellectually superior Grebyts. Their stupidity, coupled with a short life span of 27 years, made the Spleys an excellent, easily disposable force.
The Spleys on board Pochin's ship, the Vayea, were in quarters, and would remain there until needed. Not that they cared. Their quarters were full of digi-grids, a type of portable holodeck, and plenty of food. That's all you needed to keep them happy.
Circling the main bay, Pochin went over to a science station, where the ensign hopped away. Scans indicated that the Voyager people were still unable to communicate by their own choice. He was tired of waiting for them to regain their confidence. Might as well talk to them while they are licking their wounds.
"Chela, is there anyone present in the room where the communication originated?" The beautiful and sleek Grebyt turned in her chair, accessing sensors.
"Affirmative." She smiled. A striking smile. A deadly one as well.
"Can we spark their systems from here, enough to get through to them?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do it."
Chela's six fingers danced over the controls, plugging in the necessary commands. Pochin admired her grace as she continued to adjust settings, making sure the spark hit them, and not the ship. Finally, she turned to Pochin with a nod.
"All is set, sir."
"Instantiate the jolt."
Turning to watch on the massive view screen, a single tendril of deep blue electricity came forth from the Vayea, hitting only its target, nothing else. For a second, it continued, surging from ship to shore, until it snapped off. Mission accomplished.
"Is there a channel open?"
"Affirmative."
"Good. Start the recording."
Chela pressed a button, giving Pochin the signal to start talking.
"Greetings, people of Voyager."
Nothing.
"Are they receiving this?"
"Wait," Chela said. "Now they are."
The picture sparked into view of several confused humanoids. The one in the center was young. He had pale skin and eyes that seemed to melt back into his face, although now they were wide open. In the background, several more were talking: a short woman with brown hair cropped to frame her face, a tall, dark skinned man with pointed ears, and another, younger man with metal etched onto his face. Ah, and another woman came into focus behind him, also bearing the metal ornaments. Apparently, only the young man gawking at them had even noticed anything. The rest were still busily chatting away over their equipment and scans.
"Captain…" the young one trailed off.
"What is it Harry?" The older woman stood straight up, turning around. "Did you find – " She stopped in mid sentence, eyes fixed on Pochin. Rushing forward, she started jabbing buttons with her fingers. Five on each hand. Amazing. "Harry, what did you do?"
"You will have to forgive me, Captain, but I've overloaded your systems with a bit of special electricity. It is what powered your communications up, and it will wear off in the next five minutes. I needed to talk to you." The Captain's eyes fixed on him, turning from clouds to steel. They were a nice shade of brown, not too dark to appear threatening, but not so light that they made her look sick. Nevertheless, they were fixated upon him at the moment, and they demanded answers.
Now.
Pochin graciously bowed and gave his explanation.
"The Plak'han have long been our adversary, out here picking on innocent passer-bys. We heard about your encounter and decided to bring some humanitarian supplies if you so desired."
Every person in the room looked relieved, except for the Captain.
"Why should I trust you?" Pochin ruffled his feathers in mock disbelief.
"How could you not, dear Captain? From what I can see, you will soon be encountering the yearly plasma storms." The Captain's face had become a mask of nothingness.
"Plasma storms? There aren't any for at least another 6 months."
"Ah, my dear Captain, none that you could detect with the primitive equipment that you are using. However, we have them catalogued from past years. They are coming."
She leaned into the screen a bit, trying to call his bluff. Pochin could see the scenario playing out in her mind: they hadn't detected anything, but were they really missing something? Was she really willing to risk the crew on his bluff?"
Apparently not.
"Well, in that case, we could use some supplies." The Captain's face adopted a rather forced smile.
"We would be more than happy to help. We shall be back with supplies in a few weeks. Until then…" Pochin bowed, flashing a smile at the Captain, and then had communications severed, his smile being replaced with a grim expression.
"Take us to warp. Heading: the Felch Base."