>>6085910In an insignificant star system, two gas giants orbiting a red sun, scanners find an anomaly that sends you on high-alert. Several beacons are in the outermost gas giant's gravity well, loudly broadcasting information in a recognizably human dialect, the Vrakak tongue, and a third, stilted language the scholars don't recognize. The message is of coordinates covering a modest square of space, a few months of Hypershunt travel in either direction, postfaced by a terse statement that raiders will be purged with extreme prejudice. It is signed by the 'Plurinational Accord of Notrabos.'
By the wear-and-tear, these beacons seem to be of recent manufacture, fashioned in the last century at the earliest. The technology itself is nothing exceptional but seems to be of human make, with no alien influences and at least rudimentary standardization. The given coordinates are directly ahead of your path. If you don't want to go straight through, you'll need to make a detour and reorient yourselves, which will cost valuable time. Possibly a year. Possibly less, possibly a little longer.
Consulting your fellow admirals yields a wide range of perspectives. Tierney argues the expedition should proceed, as the ships demonstrably aren't of Reaver manufacture and have nothing to fear. Ulrich, after much fidgeting, suggests a merchant fleet should be sent ahead to relay the expedition's positive intentions, as any lone ship won't have the supplies to manage the journey. Leland, in contrast, is convinced there's no need to risk trading blows with a possible breakaway state when the expedition can just as easily go around.
You aren't certain what to make of it. If there is a spacefaring civilization here, it's most likely a petty one that's suffered from its relative proximity to the Reaver Clans. A 'Plurinational Accord' could encompass any number of ethical paradigms, but does not bode well for the possibility of a unified, coherent state. In the worst case scenario, you could be dealing with some sort of trick or, the cosmos forbid it, the festering rot of the democratic process. An exhaustive search of the system reveals nothing else of interest.
As High Admiral, the duty falls on you to decide your collective next course of action.
What should the expedition do?
>Proceed forward, as planned. Your armada has nothing to fear, the best of intentions, and if pressed, the best of munitions.>Send a civilian fleet ahead and wait. The armada can afford to lose a few months of travel while they hash things out. (Which one?)>Go around the coordinates. The armada has no need to risk conflict so early into its voyage, even if it is more than capable.>Do something else. You were selected as High Admiral for good reason, and see a solution none of your subordinates suggested. (What?) 
