Once more the galactic communications bandwidth is interrupted by a special report from the Galactic-Enquirer, bold white letters upon a black background stating ominously 'AND NOW A SPECIAL REPORT.' Fading away, the foreground comes into view as a pleasant looking terran male behind a broad gray desk, his clothing characteristic of civilian personnel and yet he is indeed lavishly dressed. Clearing his throat then, a datapad held firmly in his right hand, he begins to speak, universal translators offering their assistance for those unable to understand his native tongue.
"Greetings ladies and gentleman of the galaxy. I am afraid that the Galactic-Enquirer has once more found it necessary to interrupt your daily broadcasts, but we have important news and have intercepted another Tholian psionic message off of the port of Hellesport station." he says, his voice professional if not impersonal. Shifting slightly in his chair, he continues with "And now we shall play that message for you." only to nod to what could only be his crew off screen.
"We are the Tholians. We will inform you, the people of Hellesport, that we will arrive tomorrow during your terran equivalent evening, by our calculations. This message is nothing more than to request you prepare yourselves. We will be prompt." a metallic sounding voice says, presumably the computer which almost seems as if it's having difficulty translating the oddly formatted message.
"Well, there you have it folks." the announce comments, setting his pad down with a *click*. "Remember, you heard it first here on the Galactic-Enquirer. We will continue too keep you posted as further developments transpire." Nodding once more, again to what only could be his off camera crew, the terran lets the screen fade back to black before returning the viewers of this broadcast back to their previously screen-using activities.