Captain Wren Walton blinked her eyes several times, hoping to clear the mystery from her vision.  It didn’t work.  “The Emperor of The Mason System,” she repeated, wanting it to make sense.  It didn’t.  “Open the channel.”

The screen blinked over to a large throne room filled with a phalanx of guards surrounding a tall man dressed in bright, regal colors.  He towered over the armed men, his eyes a steely blue.  At his side was a long energy sword.  When he spoke, a deep bass voice reverberated in the speakers.  “I am The Emperor of The Mason System, the most high ruler of this place. You are ordered to leave this place and abandon any attempts at inspection or invasion.  We are prepared to repel you, Starfleet, as we have repelled countless others.”

“I’m Captain Wren Walton of the Federation Starship Perseverance.  This system is not just home to you but also one of our colonies.  There are approximately 1000 souls on Mason II.  They’ve called it home for the better part of two years.  This is the first we are hearing about you and your…position.”

The Emperor spat back, “Then they must leave.  We have tolerated their existence long enough – and have attempted to make them leave by reminding them of our power.  Our grace and patience have reached an impasse.  They must leave.  And so must you.”

The man’s nature had not just crawled under her skin.  It had dug into her nerves, biting into each one of them as he thrashed about making his demands.  Her usual approach to first or second contact would now have to deviate into territory where their people on Mason II had been threatened.  She clarified, “To clear up my confusion – you took…action against the colonists on Mason II?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Multiple times!  They simply would not leave when prompted by my various methods.  My last straw came when they did not heed my final warning with calamitous weather to show them my true power.”  The Emperor huffed, “You and they must leave.  If you do not, I will exercise my power upon you first, and then I shall wipe them from the face of Mason II.  This is my system, and I rule over it all.”

“Would you give me a moment to confer with my crew, Emperor…?”

“Maxiumus Bernard Pruft.  Emperor Maximus Bernard Pruft.”

Wren turned to Phillips at operations, “Mute him audio and visual.”  She sighed, “Search records for a Bernard Pruft while you’re at it.”  She slid her chair around to Wallaker, “Our probe still active?”

Lieutenant Wallaker nodded to the feed displayed at her station, “His defense weapons have stopped firing at it for the moment.”

Walton asked, “Life signs?”

Hazel didn’t immediately answer.  Not because she wasn’t sure of the reading – she had checked three times.  It was because…she replied, “The only biological life sign I detect is him.  There’s plenty of plant life and animal life to be found, even on the short-range sensors on the probe…but when it comes to life that we can talk to?  He’s the only party in town.”

“The Mason II colony has been in operation for about two years?  That’s about when the Grissom class ship finished up. They confirmed the existence of the nebula.”  Wren turned back to face the Emperor, who, lacking an audience he could see, was strutting about his throne room, speaking to the guards.  “What if he was here before?  They read Mason III correctly…but then it changed.”

Lieutenant Griffin Maddy turned in his chair at the helm, “What if he changed it?  If I saw the Federation coming around to look at places where they could settle colonists, I’d do what I could to keep them out of my nice little corner of the system.”  He shrugged at everyone’s mild shock, “He doesn’t play well with others.  Maybe he got tired of seeing Mason II’s success and growth.”

Walton had frowned as he started his thought process, but now her eyebrows went wide, “He got jealous.  Envy is a powerful emotion.”  She watched the Emperor prat around on screen for a few more minutes, “The Nebula is some kind of observational system…and defense platform.  It’s old but still does the job.  If we dug into the trading route records and reports over the last two years…and even before…a pattern might develop.”

Griffin asked, “So…what do we do with him?  We can’t let him keep harassing Mason II.  He’s lucky he didn’t kill anyone with his weather modifications.”  The young helm officer recognized some of his own weaknesses in the man.

Wren turned her full attention back to the viewscreen, “No, we can’t do that.  He’s good at making it all work, and the technology has kept the ruse alive.”  She thought a little longer, “I think we try to stroke his ego a little.  Phillips, let’s bring him back.”  A beep, and the channel was back open.  “Emperor Maximus Bernard Pruft, we would like to send a small delegation to greet and discuss our…removal from the sector.  No more than three of us, unarmed.  We would like to present you with gifts in apology for our intrusion on your lands.”  She watched his face carefully.  His eyes searched her own for traces of trickery, but she knew he wouldn’t find any. Her poker face was her secret weapon.

He sighed in acceptance, “No weapons.  Three of you.  You must attend, Captain Wren Walton.  I will send you the coordinates for your shuttle to land.”  The channel blinked out.

Wren turned to the bridge, “Lieutenants Reid and Wallaker are with me.  Phillips, you have the CONN.  Send an updated report to Montana Station.  Keep an open channel with Commander Park and monitor the probe for changes.”  She stood and headed for the turbolift – maintain yellow alert – he starts throwing things again; I’d rather you be prepared.”

Doctor Jordan Reid stepped into the shuttle bay, medical kit in hand.  “Emperor Maximus Bernard Pruft, eh?”

Wallaker handed her a PADD. “We did find someone named Bernard Pruft in the extended database. He left Earth fifty years ago and hasn’t been seen since. He had no family, so the local constabulary reported him missing when they investigated a smell in his apartment—his dog.  If it’s him, he’s got one hell of a story.”

Jordan skimmed through the report, “Says here he lost his son at an early age… wife divorced him and moved on.  He graduated high school, went to college, and worked a desk job at a local operations office most of his life.  Not much here indicates a villain origin story.”

Walton stepped out of the shuttle, “You never can tell.  Truth is, it could be him, could be anyone.  Maybe he killed the original one and took his name.  We won’t know until we talk to him.”

Jordan loaded her equipment, “We’re really going in unarmed?”’’

“We are. Nova’s launching a backup team to stay in case things get hot. They will be armed.”  She gestured to the shuttle. “Checklist is complete—Wallaker, you’re on pilot duty. Reid, OPS.”

Hazel smiled as she stepped into the shuttle, “And you, captain?”

Walton smiled back with a wry twist, “Someone’s got to captain this boat.  Let’s get on our way.”