Chapter 6: Uninvited Guests

“Hyperspace comms? That means intelligent life—capable of interstellar travel!” Ventus’s eyes widened. “Mainframe! Pinpoint the source of that signal now. Alert all combat personnel—move out and lock down the area! Graham, you’re in charge on-site!”

[Affirmative.]

A transport loaded with marines roared into the sky, speeding toward the coordinates provided by the mainframe.

“Administrator, you don’t look well. You should return to the mothership,” a female colonist said, her voice laced with concern.

“I’m fine,” Ventus replied, his face grim. He turned to his companion. “Let’s go, T-850. First, we grab whoever sent that signal.” He strode toward the landing pad, where a transport had just unloaded its cargo.

Guided by the mothership’s directions, Ventus, T-850, and a handful of marines soon reached a barren cluster of hills. The earlier transport had already landed. At the mouth of a concealed cave, over a dozen marines were posted, occasionally firing bursts—rat-tat-tat—into the darkness.

Their 21st-century assault rifles, sleek but outdated, looked out of place in this interstellar age. Others are out here with blasters going pew-pew, and we’re still stuck with bang-bang? Not gonna cut it.

“What’s the situation?” Ventus asked, approaching.

“Three hostiles, holed up inside. They won’t come out, and we don’t speak their language. Hard to take ’em alive like this,” a marine reported.

“You’re up, T-850. Make sure they’re alive,” Ventus said, curious to see the unit’s capabilities.

Without a word, T-850 grabbed a massive metal crate from the transport, slammed it onto the ground with a clang, and pushed it forward at a steady clip.

Angry shouts in an alien tongue echoed from the cave, followed by several red blaster bolts {Note 1} zipping out. The crate absorbed every shot. T-850 charged in, and Ventus waved the marines forward. He followed, staying behind their cover as they entered the cave.

The cave was clearly a hidden outpost, dug deep with a well-camouflaged entrance—no wonder initial scans missed it. Crates of supplies, gear, and comms equipment were stacked inside. Three figures in rugged explorer gear crouched behind cover, firing wildly and cursing in a guttural language. Definitely outlaws.

Suddenly, T-850 stood, hoisting the massive crate overhead and hurling it with a crash!

BOOM! Shattered rock and debris flew everywhere. The impact was like a grenade going off, the crate’s ton of weight flattening everything in its path.

The three outlaws dropped to their knees, hands raised, their curses cut off in perfect unison. Ventus almost thought they were surrendering in Basic—or maybe Galactic Standard sounded French.

“Take them to the mothership for interrogation. Decode their language. Then clean out this outpost—see what’s usable,” Ventus ordered, rubbing his temple. The marines pounced, pinning the captives to the ground.

He glanced at the blaster pistols the outlaws had dropped, replaying the moment in his mind. Raising a hand, he focused—and something incredible happened. One of the blasters twitched, then floated upward as if grabbed by an invisible force. It wobbled, veered off course, and thwacked T-850 square in the forehead.

The captives’ eyes widened in terror, avoiding Ventus’s gaze entirely.

As they were escorted out, a group of curious Ewoks—drawn by the gunfire—watched from a distance. Ventus pointed at the upright bear-like creatures and asked the captives, “Ewoks?”

Even with the language barrier, proper nouns carried through. The three nodded frantically, as if slow agreement might spell doom.

He pointed to the ground. “Endor?”

More nods. One captive, catching on, pointed to himself and said, “Corellia!” Then he traced an arc in the air. “Tatooine!” Another arc, then a jab at the ground. “Endor!”

So, they’re from Corellia, passed through Tatooine, and ended up on Endor? Ventus smirked. Guess Endor’s called Dawn now.

No time to sightsee. Back to the mothership. The captives were tossed into the brig, and the mainframe was tasked with decoding their language. Ventus settled into the bridge’s command chair, mulling things over before pulling up the personnel awakening list. He needed help—real help.

Browsing the Elite-tier candidates, he found several now viable. A few Elite biologists caught his eye. Their requirements? A habitable planet with a functioning ecosystem to study, a basic lab, and slightly better living conditions than the workers.

He authorized their awakening with practiced ease, sending them to the medbay for checkups before reporting to the bridge. From there, they’d take a transport to Dawn Planet with their lab gear.

The biologists would study Dawn’s ecosystem, determining which human crops could grow and identifying local plants or animals suitable for food. They’d also test if livestock like pigs, cows, or sheep could survive here.

There was more to do. Ventus woke an Elite expert in management and colonial development to serve as his assistant.

Soon, a woman in her mid-30s entered the bridge, saluting. “Greetings, Administrator. I’m Daphne Clement, your appointed aide for colonial development. Give me some time to review the colony’s progress, and I’ll draft a detailed plan.”

According to the database, Daphne had led refugee resettlement and disaster recovery efforts. When a region was flattened by a massive tornado, she’d orchestrated everything—tent cities, aid distribution, temporary housing, and full town reconstruction—nearly single-handedly, with stellar results.

Her awakening conditions were modest: sufficient supplies and manpower. Standard-tier personnel needed next to nothing, Elites had reasonable demands, but Masters required a stage to showcase their brilliance.

“Get to work, Daphne. I’m counting on you,” Ventus said with a smile. “I’m granting you authority to awaken up to 100 Standard-tier civilians without my approval. You’re our first Chief Administrator. The five clerks already here are under your command—form an administrative department.”

“Yes, sir!” Daphne saluted, standing tall. “I’d also like to awaken my personal team to assist.”

Ventus waved a hand. “Like I said, up to 100 awakenings don’t need my sign-off.”

“Understood.”

As Daphne dove into her work, Ventus sat back, instructing the mainframe to open an editable holo-interface. He drew a vertical timeline, jotting down key points.

At the top, he wrote Galactic Republic and Sith Empire, locked in opposition. Below, a long stretch marked only Galactic Republic dominating the galaxy.

Further down, the Galactic Republic split, facing off against the Confederacy of Independent Systems. He labeled this the First Galactic Civil War.

Next, both the Republic and Confederacy were crossed out, replaced by the Galactic Empire ruling alone.

Finally, the Galactic Empire fractured, pitted against the Rebel Alliance. He marked this the Second Galactic Civil War, drawing a circle labeled Endor (now Dawn Planet) with a cross through it—one of the war’s key battlegrounds.

This was the Star Wars timeline. Beside it, Ventus drew a large question mark. No signs of war near Dawn suggested they were before the Second Galactic Civil War, but that still spanned a vast period.

He took a deep breath, staring at the timeline with a heavy gaze. Where in this galaxy are we? {Note 2}

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{Note 1: Blaster bolts are the pew-pew weapons from Star Wars films, often mocked as “slow lasers.” They’re not lasers but plasma-state energized gas. More details to come.}

{Note 2: Like Infinite Legends: Mechanic, I’ll guide you through the Star Wars universe step by step. Even if you’ve never seen the series, my story will make it clear!}