Salad Shooter

"...you are here in a rather precarious situation, Captain Lecter. Please, have a seat," Captain Peng said gesturing to a nearby chair.

A quick, passive scan of the room showed that everything was precisely placed and organized with efficiency rather than aesthetics in mind. That was the type of captain he was dealing with.

"How do you mean," Hannibal asked the obvious question.

Things had all happened so fast that he hadn't even stopped to contemplate what a lone Mandate cruiser might be up to in such a backwater.

"Tea?" Peng offered.

"I usually prefer something a little stronger," Hannibal said, but accepted the tiny cup nonetheless. "Thank you."

"Are you aware that this colony sent out a general distress approximately one week ago?" Peng asked.

Hannibal exchanged a few sarcastic, mental words with Eva before responding, "My AI tells me that a transmission was picked up about a week ago. But it was so degraded by deep-space radiation that no meaningful data could be retrieved. Why? What's the situation down there?"

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