The cold void beyond the Graveglass Rift stretched into endless black, speckled only by distant stars flickering like distant watchfires. To most, it was a silent and forgotten corner of the galaxy — but to Alor, Mand'alor of the newly forged Mandalorian clan, it was the frontier of something far darker and far more dangerous than mere dust and debris.
The mysterious signal had vanished after their harrowing encounter with the ancient Sith carrier. Yet new signatures— faint, fractured, and utterly alien — now blinked erratically on the holomap.
Alor's gaze was sharp, calculating. Every detail mattered.
An Unseen Presence
"Commander Rook," Alor called, voice calm but resolute. The ship's bridge was alive with activity — holo-projections flickering, sensor readouts updating in real-time, hands moving swiftly over controls.
"Have we made any progress identifying these new transmissions?" Alor asked, stepping closer to the tactical station.
Rook's dark eyes didn't waver from the screen. "We've isolated them, Mand'alor. But they're unlike anything in any database—neither Sith, Mandalorian, Republic, nor Imperial origin. The encryption is unlike anything we've encountered. The signal uses multiple overlapping frequencies, layered in patterns that suggest deliberate obfuscation."
Sira, standing nearby, nodded grimly. "It's as if they're hiding in plain sight."
Alor's jaw tightened. "Prepare an envoy. I want a scout ship prepped for immediate launch. We cannot afford to wait for them to come to us."
Preparing the Envoy
Back in the bustling hangar bay of Outpost Thorn, the usual clang of forging and armor repairs faded under the tense atmosphere.
A squad of elite Mandalorian warriors, selected by Alor himself, moved with practiced efficiency. They were the best: sharpshooters, stealth operatives, linguists fluent in multiple galactic dialects, and specialists in rapid extractions.
Sira oversaw the outfitting of the Stingray-class scout vessel — a sleek, agile ship renowned for its advanced stealth capabilities. The hull had been refitted with experimental cloaking fields and augmented sensor arrays designed specifically for deep reconnaissance within the Rift's interference.
Alor stepped onto the bay floor, his armor reflecting the dim blue lights. He approached the envoy team, nodding in approval.
"You carry not just our weapons, but our honor. You are Mandalore's first face to the unknown. Be vigilant. Be swift. And return."
The envoy nodded, armor clinking softly as they boarded.
Into the Abyss
The Stingray slipped silently through the outer sensor nets and disappeared into the chaotic nebulae swirling around the Rift.
Hours passed in tense radio silence aboard the Iron Promise.
Then — a faint crackle, static at first, then a voice.
It was unlike any dialect Alor had heard: a complex weave of tonal clicks, hums, and electronic pulses. It carried no warmth. No humanity.
First Contact
Sira and Rook worked feverishly, attempting to translate the strange frequency. The voice was neither speech nor pure code—it was a hybrid of both, a language seemingly engineered for signal warfare.
The envoy replied cautiously with the universal diplomatic greetings in Basic and Huttese. The alien presence responded with an intricate sequence of clicks and frequencies that twisted the sensors.
Rook frowned, "It's a language — or a code — designed to evade detection, possibly to confuse or probe."
Alor's voice was firm. "Establish a secure channel. Attempt to maintain contact but prepare for hostile actions."
Unexpected Arrival
Suddenly, the sensors flared: a massive vessel appeared on the edge of the Rift, sliding forward with unnatural grace. Unlike any Mandalorian ship or Imperial dreadnought, its surface glowed faintly with bioluminescent patterns, almost as if the ship were alive.
The vessel was streamlined, organic in shape — its hull pulsing softly like the heartbeat of some vast cosmic predator.
Rook's voice was sharp, "It's coming in fast. No communication. No warnings."
Battle Stations
Alor's command rang out like a war horn.
"All fighters to launch bays! Arm plasma repeaters, ion cannons, and prepare countermeasures!"
The Iron Promise shuddered as the massive hangar bays groaned open. Pilots lined up, helmets gleaming, weapons locked and loaded.
"Sensor drones deploy," Alor ordered. "Track, analyze, and report on any weaknesses."
The alien ship opened fire first — sending cascading waves of energy that tore through sensor grids and disabled external shields.
Clash Among the Stars
The space above the Rift erupted in fury. Plasma bolts and ion blasts tore through the void. The alien ship twisted and adapted, shifting its energy fields in unpredictable patterns that overwhelmed Mandalorian targeting software.
Alor coordinated every movement, voice calm but urgent.
"Red squadron, focus on port side flanks! Blue, cover the starboard! Keep formation tight, conserve energy!"
Despite their training, the Mandalorians struggled against the alien vessel's strange technology.
Turning the Tide
Amid the chaos, Sira shouted from her station, "I've cracked a fragment of their code — their core power source! Target it, and we might disrupt their adaptive systems!"
Alor's mind raced. "Strike team ready. This is our chance. Focus fire on their core — precision only!"
A squadron of gunships dove in with pinpoint accuracy, plasma and ion blasts lashing the core.
The alien ship faltered, systems glitching, energy pulses weakening.
End of Engagement
The enemy vessel emitted a guttural pulse before retreating into the Rift's shadowy depths — its iridescent glow dimming as it vanished.
The bridge erupted in cheers, but Alor remained somber.
He stared out into the black, voice low but resolute.
"Today we faced the unknown... and survived. But the war has only begun."