Rage flooded through the body of Don Chenzo as he'd passed through Malta's atmosphere, making his way to where the 101st headquarters once was. The same place a meeting had been held but a few months prior in an attempt to discuss the future of strengthening Malta's defences and expand Cardamine trade. He'd served Malta without fault for his entire adult life, defended it's people and always done what he believed to be the right thing.
There was a heavy sense of injustice and sheer anger toward the same high ranking officer within the HS> that had tried to belittle him in the previous meeting held. He'd openly threatened and goaded others to attack him for reasons unknown. Vin Chenzo was firmly of the belief that the level of basic education had fallen severely in the last decade since the 101st's rule. Many things had changed which was to be expected, but you can't re-write history because you feel like it. Origins & history cannot not be changed. History will always remain as such
Fuelled with the aforementioned rage, the man found himself sending an urgent comm request to the leader of the Hyperspace Fleet. He knew that their ideals did not see eye to eye for the subject matter to be discussed, but he'd always known him to be a fair man. Chenzo did not expect a warm or easy encounter, but he did know Harabero was exactly the right man to call.
}--Prologue--{
Another average day, looking over new ship designs he'd hoped would give the Maltese an extra edge in shock attack combat, the Maltese distress system sounded reporting long range scanners had picked up signs of an imminent attack on Maltese soil. As he'd done so for what must have been the millionth time, he launches his Sabre into space in full knowledge that this could be his last time to do so breathing. This was the reality for every Maltese pilot to the call of war. What foes could he be joining his brothers and sisters in arms against? The actively warring Corsairs? A group of Bounty Hunters? Another stab invasion of Crayter? Almost anything could be possible with so many foes known to the Maltese Nation.
Usually low ranking scouts were the first to scene, but in this case the presence he knew all too well drew his path. There was never a directly pleasant encounter with the Nomads, but he could feel there was no anger before the electronic equipment on his ship had picked up what could only be described as a small fleet of randomly assembled Nomads and their kin. Never before had he seen such a force assembled so randomly. Pleasantries were exchanged before the Nomads had made their way closer to Malta. Inquisitive by nature, the creatures had moved as a group. Not a single shot fired toward his ship. There was no immanent sense of danger.
As the wonky nomad fleet approached Malta, the group of Outcasts who'd assembled paused for a moment to listen, to see what the threat was. Chenzo who was physically closer to the Nomads than the Maltese having tracked them down first began to speak, advising of no ill intensions nor harm. Years of misinformation had fuelled a fear of Nomads. The Don's plea was that under no circumstances fire.
