The forty-hours passed quicker than anticipated. The two ships had dropped out of FTL to check any and all of their systems. They were on the very edge of hostile territory. Prescott ordered his crew to full red alert as a precaution. There was a plan in place should an enemy attack them. The Sol-Terra Everlasting was to continue their jumps, make it to their endpoint, while the USS Spirit of Freedom was to obliterate everything that threatened their mission.
With confirmation of readiness from Admiral Harding, the two ships jumped to FTL, cutting a swath across hostile territory. Prescott wasn't going to chance them being picked up after an exit of FTL. He keep the two ships on course, holding FTL speeds with the two ships at 55% driver-output. However, four hours into their eight hour journey across hostile space, the Spirit of Freedom's early detection systems screamed. The pair had a tail... multiple hostile ships in pursuit of them. "Admiral! Punch it! Get to your endpoint! DO NOT STOP!" Ordered Prescott unlinking the ships controls, dropping the Spirit of Freedom in one hell of cosmic place to stand their ground.
A large blackhole was at their backs, ripped two stars, one blue, one red, into shattering strands of of stardust. This place, an unexplored region of hostile space, was effective a mass-graveyard. "Full-Black Alert! Shields up, unveil all weapons, prepare for emminent intercept." Prescott's voice rang out across the Spirit of Freedom's intercoms. With his orders followed, it took no time for a singular ship to drop out of FTL and hail them. "On screen, Ensign." Said Prescott, standing at the helm of his ship. However, as the image appeared Prescott's eyes swelled with an anger that came from depths of his soul. The rage from within him forced his eyes into a death-squint. For upon the screen... was a Tro-Dorian. "Well... this is almost poetic." Began the Tro-Dorian. "My name... is Tra-Ka'hn. The last face you pathetic murderous-genocidial fools will ever see."
However, before Prescott could speak, Jetscott enter the view of Tra-Ka'hn. His eyes glowing a corruption-like purple. "You Tro-Dorians don't seem to get it." Jetscott's already to metallic, gravelly voice, was now emotionless, frigid, and piercing fear into everyone, friend and foe alike. "You... are... nothing..." Began Jetscott. "Primative organic stench, heed the words of a being beyond your insignificant comprehension. Organic life is a genetic blight upon the universe. An accident measured in years, decades... your being withers and rots... before me, you...are nothing." No one spoke, nobody truly could. Prescott's hate for the Tro-Dori was present on display, but everything paled in comparison to Jetscott's dark, emotionless, slaughter with nothing but words that ripped the very soul to shreds.
"You exist... because we allow. Your existence will cease, because we demand it." Continued Jetscott, his voice for more metallic, raspy, and gravelly than ever heard before. "And here I thought Humanity was a species of "honor", bound by your words." Retorted Tra-Ka'hn. However, before Tra-Ka'hn could make another snarky remark, Prescott retook the spotlight. "Tra-Ka'hn," Prescott's fist shook at his side, trying to hold back a seething typhoon of rage within himself, "Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls... and ask if "honor" matters. The silence shall damn you and be your answer." Prescott's level-headedness was gone. He'd had enough of these repugnant beings surviving everything.
As several hundred ships appeared alongside Tra-Ka'hn's ship, Prescott gave his crew one...simple...order. "Turn the anniversay of my parents murder... into the anniversay of the day we annihilate every...last...one of them...permanently."