The Fontana Summit

[Traxit]

The leaning posture that held itself inquisitive and keen turned into a couch-potatoey mess. His fist - a pillow. His breeches - paprika-dust. His mouth - spiced like a Cardi-junkie. The ramblings of dark matter storms and alien theories were cacophony for Tomas' ears, but fortunately for him the post-lunch dip hit him and his eyes would blink in and out of consciousness, granting him a brief snooze amidst the meeting. A shame it was interrupted so abruptly by the Alliance Commander's prompt.

Fortunate as it initially seems, the background character finally gained the spotlight, but the caveat stings - his heart - sinks, the monkey's paw curled. A monumental task for which he hadn't prepared for in the slightest. The Zoner hoped that he would only partake in dialogue in this summit, but did not expect to retell four-year-old history to such a crowd.

A quick napkin wipe and straightening of the spine before planting his elbows and crossing his hands, keeping them slighty afloat:
"Some of you may think Erie was a Zoner invention, and you may be right, but prior a century it was a scrapped project by Liberty. We Zoners made it work, we suffered, we endured, we built, and we propsered - And Yet! - two decades is all it took for them to stick their noggin where it don't belong."
"They failed to protect their shipping, against the very kind they bore" He sweeps his hand towards the entire room, but skipping the Order and masked John-Doe. "And blamed Erie for it, a convenient excuse to impose themselves planetside."

"...and then, four years ago, they orchestrated a ploy in order to shove their House rule down our throats. The LSF satellite, an unmanned object, was all it took for them to tyranically steal our home by force. Operation Pesticide is a testament to Liberty's oppressive agenda." He takes a deep breath to ease off from recollecting the horrors of the past.
He gestures to the holo-display "These camps make you disappear, they do not kill you, but they ship you off to the most unknown parts of space. Some say Sigmas, others Omicrons. Folks disappear like they never existed." Again, taking a deep breath, he leans back into the chair - relaxed.

"Our planetary effort is an uphill battle, we cannot compete with the endless onslaught of Libertonian reinforcements. We have to cut them off from us. The lanes leading in and out of the Jump Gates are the most obvious choices - shielded by the Badlands unique terrain, we can inflict heavy, heavy damage to the infrastructure. But we simply do not have the manpower to enact a pronged attack. Our entire force would have to focus on the Alma battlegroup, even if just for a momentary hold-out - just enough for a distraction, so another player can deal a blow."

His eyes scroll between the Libertonians.

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