Narrator: Several days have passed since the mercenaries first made contact with the primitive hunter/gatherers. The sands above the buried mercenary ship have been home to what could best be described as a permanent beach-party. The aborigines have proven to be much more intelligent than their primitive circumstances seem to indicate. As is best evidenced by the way in which they pick up on any game being played. Volley-ball was easily grasped, and they mastered not only bumping and setting, but also spearing any local avianoids still stupid enough to attack the ball.
Narrator: Their cricket game still needs a spot of work, however.
Ennesby: Captain, our Very Dangerous Array has spotted something suspicious.
Tagon: Really? What is it?
Ennesby: Suspicious.
Tagon: Let me guess... You want to 'port a missile out closer to it and get a better look.
Ennesby: That's exactly the response I was hoping to elicit with my one-word description, sir.
Tagon: Right. Well, use more words and quit trying to manipulate me.
Ennesby: Very well, then. It seems to be about 100,000 kilometers across, and it's got the same spectral pattern as the star we're currently orbiting, except everything has been slightly blue-shifted.
Tagon: So... It's huge, It's shiny, and it's moving this way.
Ennesby: Exactly.
Tagon: That is suspicious.
Ennesby: See how much time we could have saved if you'd taken my word for it the first time around?