This is a poor excuse for an update, but I decided to include a few messages between people under a particular Patriarch's authority. (wink)
-----------

<<Priority: Alpha>>
-From: Inferno
-Subject: Supernova Commentaries
-To: Tempest
-Confidentiality: Above Top Secret
-Date: !&_^)_*(($

As per Supernova’s commentaries, candidates are being selected for post-war program. The current count is 26 at the moment [see attachment 1 for ID]; Sol is working on procurement. Off the record, I must say that this is absolutely unprecedented, Supernova is ordering us, not just to cover-up our ops, but to kill loyal and well-placed citizens of the Cradle!
I know he wouldn’t order us to do our jobs if the skates weren’t so high, but this is not something anyone would accept if this leaked out! Just forget it, we'll just follow our orders and keep this between ourselves and leave everything else to 'Nova.

You know you’re end, but I’ll say it again anyway. We need elite personnel to train these troops, no matter where they are or who they are. Above skill we want experience, cold, harsh, and gritty. Don’t turn people on the frontier, we need them more than the others because these units will be fighting on the edge, they need to be able to adapt and compensate for the battlefield without Intel reports on every crevice and boulder on the planet’s surface.
Look, if ‘Nova says we need these when the time comes I can run with that, but I know I won’t ever feel secure looking at my family anymore..... ever again.


-----------

<<Priority: Omega>>
-From: Maelstrom
-To: Supernova

It was on this day that I read an encrypted message sent from one of my subordinates to another. I make it a habit to understand the minds behind those below me. The communication was properly encrypted (it took my new software twenty full minutes to crack), but I found something much more..... unsatisfactory in it.

Doubt is the worst affliction an individual can be diagnosed with, once it takes hold it eats away and away at a person, until they are a useless husk, drowning in their paranoia and erratic misconceptions...... a pitiful end that even the best and brightest can face.
However, Inferno is not an immediate liability, she is still useful. But when her destruction becomes inevitable, I will put her at ease and place a fresher mind in her old position.

I am spent too much time on Inferno; the project is progressing smoothly: 26 candidates have been selected already, and trainers for them are also being targeted. When the time comes your Special Operations Troopers will be ready for anything you command them to do.

The scavenger probes are in position and have begun collecting small samples of Plys'Iea armor, in three months they will have acquired the amount specified. Everything is in place, Master, but I do have some concerns.
With the greatest respect to you, I believe that there is a chance Fenix may catch on to your plans, in spite of all the precaution I have taken.

I don't mean this in a bad way, but sometimes this feels like giving CPR......
-----------

The War Leader loomed over the facility; it would not be long before their creation was complete. While it had been an excessive set back when the AI Mute Testimony hacked into the network, the progress they’d made was not lost after all.
Replacement staff had been found and it hadn’t taken long for the new staff to pick up where their deceased brood left off. A familiar presence approached and the stress from the past few months lessened greatly, though she would never admit it to anyone.

She turned to greet Zarauhn; the psionist was young and inexperienced but made up for his failings with raw potential and guile. “You’re study went well? Knowledge will remain with you until the day you die, but strength will leave you long before if you are lucky.”

Zarauhn clapped his massive right hand against his chest and bowed his head. “I cannot argue with such insight, but I prefer strength, knowledge is a fine fall-back.” Many of the non-combat personnel shied away from the pair, unwilling to offend them and pay retribution.
The War Leader glanced over Zarauhn’s shoulder and spied the High Naryyn woman lying unconscious on a crate. “You haven’t killed her yet.”

As his War Leader walked past him toward Kartah, he replied. “She’s not capable of posing a threat to us or a possible informant for the other Naryyn, but I gleaned quite a lot of interesting information from her not long into the partnership.
Zarauhn continued when the War Leader gave him a look to continue. “Staff Sergeant Kartah met a couple interesting individuals before the botched operation that resulted in her meeting me. Two Iso Naryyn, or rather, one Iso Naryyn and a half-blood.”

The War Leader’s vertical-slit pupil widened slightly, and her jaw tightened into a scowl. It was common knowledge that Naryyn did not intermingle, but it was believed by the current Chieftain that worst thing the Naryyn could do was unite again, however unlikely the prospect.
Certainly a half-blood would the most obvious harbinger for a new union. The War Leader was about to respond when the sky flashed radiantly. The light burned into Zarauhn’s retinas, but he saw the silhouettes of several heavy capital ships.

Every Plys’Iea in the valley stopped to stare up at the new arrivals. There was no need to glance at the War Leader’s snarl to notice her displeasure. The fleet remained above while one vessel, a dreadnaught of great majesty, descended and moved in to land.
“Promise me you won’t provoke the Chieftain’s hand, Mother....” The psionist pleaded, but the War Leader did not reply, her glare following the dreadnaught.

---------

The Terminal Upheaval was a fine ship, only a destroyer, but Revan found being surrounded by High Naryyn atmosphere refreshing in a way. Whereas Iso Naryyn vessels had dim lighting at best, the High Naryyn corridors were flooded with light.
Rhys leaned against the railing in front of the viewports of the Upheaval’s observation deck. “We’re almost clear of the fog,” Revan’s voice resonated through her mind, physically on the bridge.

“I wish you were right here when the fleet exits the mist, Rifton hasn’t been scarred by the war yet.” She whispered, her eyes gazing through hull, crystal, and space at Revan.
“I’ll know what it looks like; this way we can see the region with both our own eyes and the High Naryyn’s technology.” He replied, matching looks from some of the personnel.

From now on, every moment was a moment the Plys’Iea or High Naryyn Expeditionary Force might appear for a fight. Revan was leaning against a bulkhead, encased in his newly forged armor. One way or another, this won’t last much longer. With everyone upping the stakes it’s only a matter of time before someone pushes hard enough.....
Commander Xaries turned and met gazes with him, sharing a slight nod of agreement.

Hopefully it will be the Imperial fleet, or us, the Plys’Iea need to be defeated before this goes all over the place. Revan crossed his arms, waiting for the armada to get somewhere......

Things are moving nicely. Keep it up.