The Stellar Consortium research vessel Abingdon followed a course along the rim of the violet-blue Tomin Nebula on the night of (according to the ship's calendar) 28 June 2650.
Doyle St. Clair, a xenoarchaeologist from the University of Enaj on the colony world of Sivad, sat in his lab aboard the Abingdon. He had several datapads scattered around the worktable where he pondered one of his most recent finds.
The black stone cylinder, discovered by his team in the waters off the Korean coast on Earth, was known as the Jusangjeolli Artifact - borrowing the name given to the natural stones that formed thanks to the eruptions of nearby Mount Hallasan. But there was nothing native about this cylinder. Made from a substance that appeared nowhere else on Earth and inscribed with runes that came from no human language, it was almost certainly of alien origin.
"Glyphs share some similarity with images found on monuments and columns on Val Shohob and Antimone," the professor noted to the orb-shaped holovid recorder that bobbed next to him while he worked. "If there is any relation, it raises many questions about perceptions of first contact situations. It has long been believed that we encountered the Mystics of Val Shohob and the Timonae during the course of our own explorations among the stars. But what if they came to Earth first? Why would they have done so? What would they have gained? And what became of those advance scouts, if they existed?"
Doyle hoped to make the jump to Val Shohob within the next few hours, once the captain of the Abingdon had received final clearances from that planet's leader, Eye Balthazar. The Mystics were a secretive lot, opting to keep to themselves much of the time. They rarely tolerated visits from outsiders.
Tired of staring at the rock cylinder, weary from perusing small print displays on the datapads, and just feeling the first twinges of the inevitable cabin fever that afflicted passengers during extended space voyages, Doyle decided to take a break. He tucked the Jusangjeolli Artifact back in the gray plastic box that served as its home when it wasn't being poked, prodded, or observed. He switched off the datapads. He deactivated the holocam orb. Then Doyle walked through the whooshing cabin door into the central corridor. He turned right, making his way to the observation chamber - a large cabin with beige carpet, maroon stripes, and a wide floor-to-ceiling window that allowed for breathtaking views of the stellar starscape. He plopped into a thickly cushioned couch, one of the rare luxuries that the government had seen fit to include aboard the vessel.
His assistant, an earnest young Martian native named Neal Avocet, joined him a few minutes later. "I'm surprised to see you out and about, Dr. St. Clair." He chuckled. "You're not letting me do my job if you're willingly taking time away from the lab to refresh yourself."
"Ah, Neal," the xenoarchaeologist replied. "Any word from Captain Hess?"
"Yes, sir," Neal said. "He's prepping the drive. Eye Balthazar has approved your visit. We should be making the jump to Val Shohob within the hour."
"Good," Doyle said. He scratched the back of his head, gazing out at the nebula. "Have you ever been to Val Shohob before?"
"No, sir," Neal answered. His father, General Charles Avocet, had moved the family around a lot during his service to the Vanguard. However, none of those assignments ever landed them on the homeworld of the Mystics. He had seen the glittering crystalline reaches of Centauri, though, and the broad prairies of Quaquan, and the brutal Sand Mother Desert of Demaria.
"Then I have no doubt that this journey will prove most educational for you," Doyle said. He smiled broadly. "Say, you know what would really settle my nerves for the jump?"
"Bourbon, sir?"
"Bourbon, my good lad!" Doyle beamed at the young man. "Please see if Captain Hess will allow us a drop or two before we make the jump."
Neal nodded. "As you wish, sir." He turned to leave, but stopped as something caught the corner of his eye. He looked back at the window, with the nebula beyond, and saw - not exactly nothing, but something that *seemed* like nothing. He took a step toward the window as if closer proximity might yield better resolution. "Sir, do you see that?"
Doyle turned to follow his assistant's gaze. He saw what appeared to be a sort of heathaze shimmering in the near distance, between the Abingdon and the Tomin Nebula. "What the devil...?"
The shimmering began to resolve into a form - something huge and tentacled, like a vast space squid. Black and menacing, the tentacles appeared to be organic with bumps and curves, but also rigid. They seemed more chitinous, more insectoid, than cephalapodic. It easily dwarfed the small Consortium research ship.
"Nall warship?" Doyle wondered aloud.
"If it is, that's a really new model," Neal said, frowning. "It doesn't look like any Nall ship I've ever seen. In my house growing up, we got grilled pretty intensely on the silhouettes."
The overhead speakers crackled: "Attention, all personnel, a spacecraft of unknown origin has materialized to starboard. Stand by for emergency jump." Captain Hess, Doyle thought. The ship hadn't had adequate time to give full spin-up to the OtherSpace Drive, so they were going to have to make what Hess called a "warm compress" jump. The drive should function, but it would only have sufficient power to take them about two-thirds of the way to Val Shohob. Enough to get away from whatever this monstrosity was. They would need to recharge the drive again, wherever they dropped back into normalspace. That would be just fine. Eye Balthazar's wisdom could wait just a little longer.
The tips of the tentacles on the alien ship began to glow a brilliant blue. "Main weapon powering up?" Doyled asked.
"I sure as hell hope not," Neal replied.
"Jump!" Doyle hissed at the speaker. "Get us out of here!"
The speaker crackled again: "Attention, all personnel, we have suffered some kind of malfunction in the OtherSpace Drive. We are incapable of jumping at this time. Our engineering personnel are working on the problem."
Beams of eye-searing cobalt shot forth from the tentacles of the alien starship, encompassing the Abingdon in a sheathe of energy. Doyle and Neal both threw their hands up in a futile attempt to fend off whatever came next. A high-pitched whine began to grow louder in their ears. No, not their ears. Inside their minds. It was maddening, like swarms of mosquitoes trapped inside their craniums.
The noise then coalesced into three distinctive words, rasped in a hissing multivoice: ~You will serve.~