The small colony world of Bernal II had known nothing but hardship since it's settlement. It's inhabitants, hard working miners and terraformers that struggled desperately to forge it into a habitable world and earn from it it's rich mineral resources. But when recent delivers of supplies and much needed government support ended, the people of Bernal II rose up in revolt and used the only leverage they had; their minerals and their meager taxes. Even now, rioters fought New Republic troops in the streets, while a armored drop ship hovered over head.
Surveying the scene below was the slight form touched with a feline grace of Corinthia Grael, altain agent of the New Republic. She stood half leaning out the open rear hatch, her keen pale eyes of pink quartz taking in every detail. Gleaming chrome encased her every curve like a second skin, a high tech hardsuit that she had managed to acquire through use of her standard political favors. A complex currency all it’s own, but the results always proved to be beneficial to Grael.
Hefting up from beside her she checked a vicious looking blade, it’s edge made up of a series of chain that came to life at the handle’s command to chew through near anything. A favorite weapon of hers’, she adored her chain-blade, to the point she shunned almost any other weapon. Instead she preferred the thrill of close combat, even deemed the use of firearms cowardly to her. After completing her checks, she felt satisfied and allowed herself to be interrupted from her thoughts.
“Excuse me, Ma’m, but I really don’t see what you aim to accomplish here. I mean what can you do here that the troops on the ground cannot?” Looking up, Grael locked eyes with a young officer, concern clearly etched into his brow. Calm, her tone reserved as if her very words were a recital of scripture, Grael spoke. Her eyes almost alight with an intensity. “Do you not have faith in guiding light of our New Republic?” She asked him, pausing to let a moment of silence emphasis her point.
“But, your just one person, Ma’m,” his rebuttal quivered slightly as his own voice faltered slightly. The conflict below showed in him as it gripped at his young mind. “If you have not faith in a single agent of our great New Republic,” she began. “Then have faith in the glory it has created, and the righteousness of our cause. These misguided souls have strayed from the path. They seek to cast themselves from our number and if left to do so will surely fall. It is up to us to return them to the truth, to show them they’re error. I may be but one, but I am the spear of faith, the guiding wisdom to light our troop.”
Her ashen gray-white skin started to glow, slowly turning to a muted rose as she keyed on a drop pack and set it to standby. “Believe,” she whispered in a hushed tone full of emotion. And then, with chain-blade in hand she leaped from the open hatch to be carried down into battle, slowed by the roar of the drop pack as it cushioned her decent. Pure dedication burning inside her, blazing with the resolve of unwavering faith.