Castlegate, King's Galquek

From the viewports of the Themis, Adrian had decided that King's Galquek looked like the most hospitable planet he had thus far seen in the Chorios system. Cerulean oceans occupied nearly half the planet, their expansion only detered by heavily forested lands covered primarily by massive, silver Hiakk trees; a brilliant, majestic landscape that had inspired hundreds of artists over the years, and one which the Grissmath Dynasty had enjoyed enough to establish their primary royal retreat well over a hundred years before the rise of the Empire. Since then, times had changed; the retreat had become the flourishing capitol city that was Castlegate, located on the shores of the Bayern Ocean and at the base of the great Schwarzwald forest. The Dynasty had fallen, but King's Galquek had continued to thrive under the guidance of a set of democratically elected governors. Sitting in an eloquent chair once used by the nobles of the Grissmath Dynasty, Adrian felt ill at ease in the opulent settings of the governor’s audience chamber; once the audience chamber of the Grissmath rulers when on their retreat. The Jensaarai forced himself to concentrate on the concerns of the man sitting in front of him: Governor Mordem Bomte.

“…if they are not defeated soon, this could bring about a civil war on King's Galquek. It’s hard to think that this could have ever happened; Colonel Moxpine Todall used to be the best we had, and since he’s the most decorated soldier that we’ve had, the rest of the military has suffered a morale blow because of his defection.”

“Do we know why he defected to the Neo-Grissmaths?” questioned Ravenna.

“No, actually,” replied Governor Bomte, “his defection is rather odd; one day we’re going over plans to eliminate a Neo-Grissmath base, the next day he’s left to join the Neo-Grissmaths along with some of his most trusted soldiers. It’s so abrupt, that I find myself wondering if he was really that good at deception, playing me the entire time, or if he was somehow brainwashed or drugged.”

“If Phrog is capable of brainwashing people,” mused Adrian, “then the Neo-Grissmaths are significantly more dangerous to everyone around here. I think that I am, or CSIS, is likely going to have exactly what happened to Todall. Do you have any idea where he is now?”

“Probably at the Neo-Grissmath base my intelligence chief has found. Or he’s with the convoys that have been leaving it.”

“What?”

Bomte sighed. “Intelligence found the base before Todall defected. Moxpine and myself were discussing plans how to eliminate it without raising fears of our people, and with a minimal loss to our own military. Once we discovered that he had defected to them, our spy satellites have shown their vehicles leaving the base laden with equipment. They know that we know where they’ve been, so they’re relocating to avoid a strike. The thing is, we don’t know exactly where they’re going, because the Hiakk Tree forests are so dense in the area that orbital observation is impossible. We could have people trying to follow the vehicles out of the base, but really, the only people that could have done it was the 12th under Moxpine, and now they’re on the other side.”

The Jensaarai nodded. “With your permission, I can have a Confederate team take care of this situation, as part of the emergency membership provisions which your government has just signed.”

“What will you do?”

The dark-haired agent tilted his head to the side. “We’ll take a few drop pods off of the Themis most likely, land nearby the base, and try to ambush one of their convoys. From captured prisoners and such, we can find out where exactly their other base is without alerting the other Neo-Grissmaths about their fates.”

“Well,” sighed the politician, “do what you must.”

Schwarzwald Forest, King’s Garlquek

The scents of spring flowers wafted through the corridors of Schwarzwald Forest. Songs from birds and the noises of other wildlife pervaded through the air. A buzzing grew louder, and the Jensaarai slapped his arm, crushing an insect into his camouflaged poncho. Quickly wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, Adrian leaned forward onto the ground, grasping the pistol grip of his CCA-9 sniper rifle in the process. Ravenna deftly maneuvered the barrel of the weapon to track the dirt path which lay a hundred meters from the soldier. Around him, other elements of the Confederate team sequestered themselves to blend in seamlessly with the terrain. Several other snipers had positioned themselves in highmost in the branches of the silver hiakk trees; providing them with excellent fire coverage while still guaranteeing the soldiers with adequate protection. Other Confederates laid low on the ground or behind trees. But no matter what their position, there was one thing they shared in common: their eyes were glued to the trail which sat in front of them. Adrian fidgeted with the sighting macroscope fitted to his rifle, slowly zooming in and out. The silver forest fused with the clear cerulean skies before resolving itself to the picturesque woods which plastered so many local holo-cards from the planet. He lifted his emerald scope from the sight and sighed.

Three hours…and the closest thing we’ve seen to a convoy is a herd of wildlife. Have we been compromised somehow? The drop pods should have been hard to spot; they’re not that noticeable…maybe we still have to give it more time to get results, but we can’t simply stay like this for days at end…

The Jensaarai shut his eyes, banishing the sylvan landscape from his vision. His breathing deepened; almost imperceptibly raising and lowering his torso in rhythm with songs of the forest. He pushed all thoughts to the furtherest recesses of his mind; leaving only his voice counting backwards to echo through his mind.

Out of this emptiness, the serenity and focus of the light side flooded him.

No chaos plagued his mind. No straying thoughts distracted lured him away from his purpose.

He became in sync with his surrounding, and the forest life flowed through him. Energy coalesced throughout his blood, forming an intricate web of life force which bound him as much as the sinew and muscles of his body. It coursed through his veins to his ears, amplifying sounds from kilometers away. He picked through the sounds, discarding the songs of the avians, the clatter of hoofs on hard ground, and reached out for one thing. Ravenna heard the distant murmur, and focused even more on it. Repulsorlifts…and from the sound of it, several vehicles…sounds like our convoy…they’re coming…and given my limitations, they have to be at least within five kilometers…means its time to get ready…

Adrian raised his right arm in a fist, and slightly pushed out his pointer figure and raised his thumb; the silent hand signal for Confederate troops that the enemy was approaching. Troopers and agents quickly rechecked their weapons with a renewed energy. The rumblings of treads and the characteristic zoom of high-speed repulsorlifts verified the Jensaarai’s signal. A pair of speeder bikes flew through the path in front of the soldiers; scouts before the main procession of vehicles. None of the Confederates fired. The first vehicle of the main body of the convoy entered into the field of fire from the Confederates, and Adrian heard one of the men quietly swear.

Adrian swept his rifle back and forth along the road, eying the Neo-Grissmath vehicles through his macroscope. Most of the vehicles were civilian nature: cargo flatbeds or repulsor trucks. All of which were soft targets; all of which the team could easily neutralize. The lead vehicle, however, was not. Standing nearly four meters tall, and trudging through the gravel path like an irate rancor, the treaded assault tank presented something of a problem to the Confederation team, which lacked heavy weapons to effectively damage it. The Jensaarai bit his lip. Well frak. We can’t take that thing out...nor can we fight that thing in a head to head engagement…but we can still win…if we do it right, and that will be ignoring the tank for now, and instead going after what it’s guarding…

Ravenna raised his hand, and swept it across the slow-moving line of cargo carriers. Gingerly, the Susevfian’s fist opened up into an open palm facing the higher silver branches of the forest. His index finger, pointing at the enemy column, alone protruded from his palm. Weapons fire almost immediately erupted from the Confederate positions. Some of the foremost Confederate infantry fired streams of emerald bolts which criss-crossed the convoy line, wreaking havoc and fear more than actual damage. High in the Hiakk trees, the snipers quickly picked off drivers within the vehicles or exposed components of the Neo-Grissmath vehicles, causing several vehicles to stutter to a halt. The lead repulsor truck haplessly ran into the back of the tank as its driver fell toe the ground dehabilitated. The insurgents returned sporadic crimson fire, persuading most of the Confederates to seek better cover behind the massive trunks and roots of the Haikk Trees, particularly as the tank’s turret rotated about to engage the Confederates.

Ravenna peered through his scope and picked out an antennae jutting out from the tank’s chassis. The Jensaarai aligned the object in his crosshairs, and pulled the trigger. A muffled shot emanated from the barrel, surging towards the tank almost invisibly. Within a few milliseconds, the blaster bolt struck the communication’s array and vaporized it into a cloud of rising gases. The tank returned fire, sending twin streams of heavy blaster bolts into the forest, which kicked up dirt and ignited some of the plants on fire. A body collapsed to the ground alongside Ravenna as the soldier lined up his next target.

“Have you called them?” questioned the Jensaarai.

“Waiting for you to say if I could,” replied the communication’s specialist.

“We’re up against a tank…I think we could use something…see what you can get.”

“Yes sir.”

The soldier dragged out his long-range comlink, which took up nearly half of his pack’s volume, and began to type out and transmit his message. Adrian lined up a black rectangle in his sights, and fired. A dark gray burst surged into the forward driver’s viewport of the tank. As the smoke cleared from it, Adrian sighed. It’s blaster resistant…meaning the bolt didn’t get in…though it’s probably be weakened… Adrian barely made out a blur which descended from the treetops to hit the same target. The Jensaarai winced. Must be made out of ceraglass with blaster-resistant coating if it can hold up to both of our shots. He tapped the trigger of his rifle; another low-visibility bolt soared through the air at the driver’s viewport. He could hear a faint shattering sound, and peering through his macroscope, the sniper noted the cracked lines of the glass which sprawled out like a mutant spider web. Weakened more, but not quite enough. It hasn’t been penetrated. A pair of shots lanced out from the tree tops to deal the final blow. The glass shattered, and Adrian heard a barely audible scream rise over the din of the battle from the tank. The Jensaarai took his eye off the scope and glanced at the comm. specialist. The other soldier shrugged.

“Help will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?!” exclaimed the agent, “by that time, the battle will probably be over, and I’m not so sure we’ll be alive.”

“It’s the best they’ve got. Getting in here is a bit difficult because of the Hiakk trees. They’re branches are too high and thick to easily land in here without a lot of planning. We should know after that fifteen kilo march from our pods over here. I’m pretty sure that is the closest clearing anyways.”

A cloud of dirt kicked up in front of them, forcing the two hug the ground closer. Ravenna felt clumps of dirt hail onto his armored back. He turned his head to the side, and glanced at the comm. specialist who grimaced back. The Jensaarai grabbed a hold of the other soldier’s belt, and ripped a grenade out of a pouch. The other man frowned.

“We need to move out of here, and that means a distraction,” explained Ravenna.

Adrian grasped the grenade, tapped a button, and threw it towards the tank. The cylinder arced over the battlefield to plummet near the tank. It detonated; shrapnel and dirt blossomed up from the ground to engender a brief obstruction between the foes. Adrian and the other soldier rose from the forest floor to run. Scarcely a second later, the Jensaarai heard the deafening roar of an explosion; felt the concussive force knock him towards the ground. Shutting his eyes, Ravenna silently swore as his head plowed into the floor of the forest, his body being tossed around like a paperweight. What the heck? We don’t have anything that packs that much of a wallop…a misfire on their side, or did our reinforcements arrive faster than expected? He lifted his head from the ground and scraped off some of the dirt and foliage which clung to his face. Murmurs and shouts echoed from the Confederate side, and surprisingly to the Susefvian, no-one was shooting. A wry grin crept onto his dirty face. Maybe we’re too worried about causing a forest fire.

“Sir!” shouted the comm. officer, “are you all right.”

The husky man nodded. “I am for the most part. What just happened?”

The two Confederate service men turned on their backs to face the Neo-Grissmath convoy. Ravenna frowned. The tank’s turret was a crumpled ball of metal, which along with the chassis of the vehicle, was covered in flames. It appeared to Adrian as if the tank had been a plastic toy thrown into a dying campfire. The speeder trucks were worse; burning with the intensity of a supernova.

“Odd.”

“What?” questioned Ravenna.

“The fire,” mentioned the soldier, “is coming from out of the vehicles.”

“But…why? How?”

“I don’t know, I’m just telling you like I see it,” replied the commando.

Ravenna stared at the vehicles. “I think you’re right…”

He closed his eyes and stretched out his essence into the flow of the Force. His thoughts crept along the forest floor among the ferns and grasses; through the blazing vehicles and the cyclones of smoke which whirled from them. Ravenna felt islands of the succumbing life and death among a sea of life. Several of them fought back hard, resisting the pull to death. Adrian’s face crinkled into a sad, almost pitiful smile. His eyelids rose open; his emerald eyes stared briefly at the ground. The Jensaarai’s lip twitched.

“A few of them are alive,” commented the dark-haired man, “signal Tyton’s men, and tell them that the insurgent’s need medics and help.”

“Sir?”

“They are wounded,” replied the agent, “and I feel their will to fight has been banished. Someone hurt them, I can feel it, and it wasn’t us, nor them. Do it.”

“Yes sir.”

Fifteen minutes had passed since the explosions had devastated the Neo-Grissmath convoy. The Confederate team had captured the surviving Neo-Grissmath personnel and had herded them away from the burning wrecks to a clearing a half-kilometer away. Half of the original team was still at the site of the convoy, watching over it in case any new Neo-Grissmath forces arrived to investigate the disappearance of their comrades and war materials. The other half, including Adrian, not only treated the prisoners of their wounds, but casually interrogated them on what they knew. Reinforcements from the Themis had arrived in bulk, nearly quadrupling the Confederate forces for the missions. With them came heavy weapons and more medical supplies, as well as four armored personnel carriers. It was a large force for the mission in Ravenna’s opinion, and he wondered if it was akin to using a Death Star against a civilian space station.

Ravenna stumbled among the Hiakk Tree roots towards one of the Neo-Grissmath troopers, who was laying down against the trunk of a Hiakk Tree. He eyed the prisoner carefully. Let’s see, a bandage over one eye; the other’s hazel, and his chestnut hair…and a craggy face. His coat does have that odd star thing on either shoulder. That matches the description. Ravenna marched up to the prisoner.

“Are you Sergeant Torte Torunt?” questioned the Jensaarai.

The other man grimaced. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because one of your friends told me about you. He said you might have some information useful to us.”

Torunt fidgeted against the trunk, raising himself up slightly. “Maybe I do; maybe I don’t. What’s in it for me?”

Ravenna stared into the man’s eyes. “I have nothing to offer you. But if you do not tell me, I can help you live. Do you think that the people who tried to kill you and your comrades won’t try again? One of my team’s explosive experts said whoever tried to kill used what appeared to be proton-based demolitions. Those are very expensive, and very effective. Not some random explosive they found laying around.”

Torunt grunted. “Why do you care? You were also trying to kill us.”

“Yes and no,” sighed Ravenna, “we were trying to stop the flow of violence which seems to sprout up every time the Neo-Grissmath Party appears. To do that sometimes means using fire on fire.”

A triumphant grin swept across the insurgent’s face. “But you guys started this one. You’re becoming like us.”

“No,” countered Ravenna testily, “we are not. Because our goals are different. The Confederation seeks to maintain order and peace within its borders to give people a better life. That is why governments exist; to better their people.”

“And that is why we fight, because the Neo-Grissmath Party believes in helping people besides ourselves. I speak of those living under the oppression of the Empire.”

Ravenna frowned. “You want to fight and contest the Empire and speak of offering their citizens freedom, while you try to violently overthrow peaceful governments that do provide freedoms and better their people?”

Torte nodded. “The ends justify the means. When the Empire is defeated, we shall have helped more people than your Confederation ever could have.”

“You are wrong; you will have become the very thing which you loathe,” rebuked the Jensaarai.

For nearly ten more minutes, the two bantered on back on forth, arguing about the nature of their groups; if the ends justified the means. Adrian opened his mouth to make a counterstatement, and stopped as he felt an unnatural chill pass through his body. His pressed his lips together and frowned. He slowly reached for his lightsaber as his mind wandered out of his body into the woods beyond. The captured insurgent cackled at the Jensaarai’s silence.

“Have I beat you into submission with logic, young one?”

“Quiet,” admonished the Jensaarai, “I feel it; I think…I think someone has come for you, Sergeant.”

He tapped a button on the burnished hilt, and the cobalt blade of his saber sprung to life. The snap-hiss of the weapon immediately attracted the stares of both Confederates and prisoner’s alike. One of the Confederate sentries rushed towards Ravenna.

“What is it sir-”

A blaster whine echoed through the woods; a crimson bolt surged through the trees like the arrows of old, and stuck itself into the running sentry’s chest. The man’s face briefly contorted before his body slammed into the ground. He let out a cry of torment. More blaster fire erupted from the woods, and the Confederates answered back with fire of their own. Emerald bolts flared from the nozzles of the Contegorian troops and surged through air, lashing out at the attackers and illuminating the dark crags and boughs which the attackers were using as concealment. The prisoners immediately took to the ground, fearful of being hit; of the nature of the attackers. Were they friend or foe? None of them wanted to find out the hard way. A ruby dart bolted through the air at the Ravenna’s head. It seemed to the Susevfian that the bolt pushed through the air like a bullet underwater. His right hand flicked the cobalt blade upward and into a forward bash which connected with the blaster bolt, reflecting it back towards his enemies. Adrian heard the retort of a Caspel being fired from the Confederate line’s and the shouts of his concealed enemies in reply. A canister landed into a cluster of trees nearly a hundred meters from Adrian, spewing out a noxious cloud of mustard yellow. Several men stumbled out from their cover, coughing from the Bothan Stun Spores, and hit the ground either because of unconsciousness or for need to take cover from Confederate fire. Several more retorts from the Contegorian lines announced the plunge of more Caspel canisters into the enemy lines. Their opponents rushed out at them, led by a brown-haired woman flourishing a sea green blade. Adrian squinted as he stared at the woman. Callie Sunrider. You’ve come here in person to rescue your people? At least that’s one part about you that’s admirable.

Adrian, followed by several SpecForce soldiers, rushed forward towards the woman. The crimson bolts increased in intensity as much as the emotions of those around him as he neared the vanguard of the Neo-Grissmath rescue party. His right hand relentlessly whipped the cobalt blade across his body, swiping enemy blaster bolts away from his body and those of his men, and occasionally taking the time to reflect crimson attacks back at their senders. He felt the rising courage and confidence of his men behind him, and felt a surge of pride and strength run through his heart as he moved to cross blades with Sunrider. Her coffee brown eyes stared across the battlefield to link up with his emerald eyes, and in the process, transmit a bitter anger and determination. Well, this is going to be fun…

A cacophony of emotions flooded the man’s mind as he rushed into battle: fear and courage; confidence and doubt; serenity and panic. But through these chaotic tides of emotions, one thing stayed constant: the adrenaline which tore through his body like a flashflood. An odd sensation of permanence seemed to descend from the heavens and placate his mind; sealing his fears and buffing up his calm and confidence. He caught a glimpse of the green energy blade surging towards him. He beat down Sunrider’s lightsaber to the forest floor with a forceful hack from his cobalt blade. The sea green blade plunged into the ground, changing the blade’s hum and searing some of the plant life beneath; scents of burning and charred grass wafted upwards. Almost simultaneous with his parry, the Jensaarai’s left hand flew forward in an open palm blow to woman’s face. It connected with her cheekbone, and she staggered back under the blow. Surprise and anger flushed through her face to radiate across the battlefield. Soldiers on both sides ceased fire, out of fear of hitting their own, especially the two leaders, or out of prospect of seeing the two force-users clash. Ravenna began to deepen his breathing as assumed the Jensaarai Warrior Stance; a stance taught to apprentice warriors which supposedly helped channel the Force to make faster, more efficient combat response times. He faced the fallen Jedi head on, and leaned forward as if to charge. Adrian spun his saber to assume a high guard. Three meters away from him, Callie had taken something of a T-stance with her feet, and pointed her saber towards him; the classic Makashi stance of lightsaber combat. She squinted at him.

“I do not understand you and your Confederation,” spat out the woman, “we haven’t harmed any of your people this time, nor have threatened to do so, and still you interfere with our operations. We were attempting to simply just move out and leave. Why did you? You have no love for the Empire either.”

Ravenna slowly shook his head. “We have no love the Empire, that much is true, but to simplify to those terms is cut out that which makes us different. We will not become the Empire in an effort to seek its end. No, and we shall fight to keep violence from spreading and harming innocents. That is why we fight; because as we’ve seen, the Neo-Grissmath Party brings unnecessary violence to peoples like disease. Violence to people who are innocent and aren’t even part of or supportive of the Empire-”

“Enough!” interrupted Callie, “we’re all patriots here. We stand for what we believe in, and that is why we fight!”

She sprang forth, lunging at the Jensaarai. Ravenna surrendered himself to the Force in that moment, letting its current guide his every action. He too leapt forward. The two energy blades crashed into each other midair with as much sizzle as bantha burger on a well-greased grill. The two continued on their paths forward, touched ground, and spun around to face each other. They began to warily circle around each other like Corellian sandpanthers around their prey. She lunged again; he sideslipped to the side and slapped the sea green blade opposite of his position with his own lightsaber. She recovered from the deterred attack and made a series of lighting lunges and feints at the Jensaarai. Adrian found himself both slowly retreating and his blade whirling around in vortex, trying to stop the fallen Jedi’s attacks with the tight arcs of Soresu. The sea green blade surged forward again, to which he countered with a circular parry. But after bouncing off of his own blade, Callie’s blade continued forward. He heard a tormented scream and turned about to see one of the Confederate soldiers clutching his arm where the tip of Sunrider’s lightsaber had burned past his skin. The blonde-haired woman produced a predatory grin.

“The more you fight me, the more your own people will get hurt,” announced the insurgent leader, “they’re part of this too, you know. Never forget that; your actions have consequences.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Why?”

“I’ll cut you a deal,” proposed Adrian, “if you can draw my blood first, I let you and your people go; including the prisoners we’ve taken from the convoy. But if I draw your blood first, then you and your people surrender to me. But if one of us hits anyone else, then they immediately lose, and forfeit the game.”

“Very well; I hope the sense of honor you displayed at Brachnis Chorios hasn't faded.”

“And I yours,” replied the Jensaarai.

Their blades again flashed in an intricate dance; filling the once serene forest with crackles and snap-hisses of their weapons. But despite the adrenaline rush from dueling with a superior opponent, Ravenna felt somehow oddly apathetic to his situation. Time and motions seemed to slow as if he were watching a slow motion scene of a holofilm. As the two blades continued to clash, Adrian could have swore that they were running through the same actions, even though the logical part of his brain told him they weren’t. It’s as if I’m watching a holofilm I’ve already seen a dozen times over, and I don’t have to worry about dying because I’m seeing everything from the viewpoint of the actor. Unsurprisingly, as a Form III adherent, the Jensaarai was making very few attacks; instead, he was forced to counter the continual thrusts of his opponent who favored the quick, lunging motions of Makashi. He spared a glance at his opponent. Callie’s forest-like eyes seemed to be burning with a fierce anger. Their eyes briefly met, and Ravenna felt the full extent of her flaming hatred pierce through to his mind. Their eyes uncoupled just as rapidly, as each focused on the duel at hand. She lunged forward, with her blade surging towards his head; he ducked and swung his own blade upwards. The cobalt blade crashed into the fallen Jedi’s weapon, sending arcing back towards and above Sunrider’s head. There. We’ve finally got a gap in her defence. He sprang forward, and with a combination of a fist uppercut and a force push, smashed into her chin.

The fallen Jedi flew briefly into the air before plummeting to the ground like a cannonball. She landed with a surprisingly audible thud which scattered the fallen autumn leaves into the air. He felt his indifference to his situation fade away and be replaced by the coalescing emotions of calm and confidence. As the two feelings mixed into a invertible amalgam, the Jensaarai Warrior assumed the orthodox Soresu stance and stood his ground. Callie slowly rose, her blonde hair tussled and festooned with fading leaves. He stared at her closely, noting a series of new sanguine beads splattered all over her sooty face.

“You’ve lost,” announced Adrian, “it’s time to live up to your end of the bargain. Surrender now...”

“No,” shouted out the woman vehemently.

“Your comrades already here have been treated quite well-”

“They’re dead,” interrupted Callie, “they were as soon as you had them stopped. I didn’t like pressing the button, but sometimes it’s those moments which truly shows how patriotic we are.”

Adrian frowned, “You would blow up your own people?”

She nodded. “It’s a heavy sacrifice, but a necessary one if the Neo-Grissmath Party is to survive. It’s better to become a martyr than a traitor. Goodbye, Ravenna.”

Her hand extended towards him, and a Force push knocked up dirt and foliage from the forest floor, obscuring the two sides to each other in a dirt storm. One of the Confederate soldiers began running past him. Adrian grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. The Jensaarai shook his head.

“Don’t,” directed the Susevfian, “They’re leaving, and there is no need to keep pursuing them right now. Besides, it could be an ambush…”


Delaborde-class Star Destroyer Themis, in orbit via King’s Galquek

Adrian paced over to the conference table in the Scout Lab again. Saheel and Valeska both handed him a sloppy salute, which he returned in kind. The two gazed at him with a mixture of admiration and curiousity. The emotions emanated off them and crept into his mind. Adrian blinked.

“What is it?”

Saheel coyly smiled. “We got to see the footage of your duel with Sunrider about a half hour ago. It’s pretty impressive. In fact, I’m surprised that we’re not using you for propaganda right now.”

Valeska shook her head. “I’m sure there is a reason why Lucerne or Thorn hasn’t done so yet…”

Ravenna ignored the comments, “So I’ve been sleeping and recovering for the last twelve hours. What exactly is the status at this point?”

“Well, we tracked down the base there and occupied it,” returne Saheel, “there was no-one there, and it seemed to be mostly empty of everything, even basic equipment. They did, however, leave their security holocams there, and so we have footage of them packing and leaving groundside.”

“Spaceside, one of our CAPs stumbled upon a group of rather hastily leaving freighters. They got fired upon, and from comparing that footage with the shots taken on the base, we’re fairly certain that they left for somewhere else. But there’s something very weird; as the group was exiting the atmosphere, some of the freighters and shuttles were actually firing on each other.”

“A civil war within the Neo-Grissmath Party?” questioned Ravenna.

“Perhaps,” mused Saheel, “or a mutiny.”

“Intelligence thinks that Sunrider’s public admittance into trying to kill her own people to prevent their capture has probably set it off it’s a matter of internal strife,” reported the Commodore.

“Speaking of those prisoners, they’ve been surprisingly helpful,” mentioned Krieg, “we have several areas now that may house Neo-Grissmath bases…”