Bretonian Armed Forces Defense Intelligence Staff (DIS) (iRP) (AO)

[roxas]

**Incoming Transmission: Secure Lines**
**Source: BAF|Ens. Alina Farwyn**
**Subject: Battle Report**

This evening, while beginning some overdue R&R at Grimes' Pub on planet Leeds, I received an emergency communique from my commanding officer, Lieutenant Gilead. His transmission was somewhat garbled...not that it was any easier understanding anything with the woman on the karaoke. She sounded like a rabbit caught in a trap...I was only too thankful to have something important divert my attention. The only words I could make out with any certainty were, "...Corsair...","....gunboat", and "Cambridge." His tone was calm, but I knew that for him to request assistance, whatever he was facing couldn't be good. Not even sure where I was supposed to be heading once I got there, I sprinted through the main door, knocking aside a gentleman carrying a pint of something dark brown and delicious looking. I was so focused on getting to the flight hanger my bomber was stationed at...I didn't even think to turn my head around to yell out an apology as he bellowed in protest. As I entered the hanger, I saw fellow ensign Jake Blackstar sprinting to his own bomber. Once we entered the cockpits and undocked we established ship to ship comms with each other. He told me he had received much of the same message I did, with one addition. He thought he had the coordinates from the lieutenant's last known position.

Once the two of us entered Cambridge, we sent a system wide transmission encrypted on a cycling BAF frequency. With a sigh of relief, I received two pieces of good news...Lieutenant Gilead was still alive and Jake and I were heading to the correct area. As we neared our commanding officer's position, we saw the reason he had requested assistance. There was a corsair gunboat whose name was Sicarii[TBH] and a titan by the name of Black.Falcon[TBH]. Lieutenant Gilead was flying his bomber and was under heavy fire from both of them but ordered us to bring down the gunboat while he distracted the fighter. After a few minutes, fellow ensign John Everyman showed up in his templar but went on standby from the lieutenant's orders. Shortly thereafter, the gunboat's hull buckled and came apart. Our coordinated attacks were too much for it. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the final hit, none of the corsairs piloting the vessel could be captured.
Black Box file #42

By this time, the titan had been on our commanding officer the entire fight but was now going on the defensive. After a few short, pointless minutes of attempting to finish what he started, I'd like to think he realized the futility of his efforts before his ship was gouged into two segments.
Black Box file #43

Before the corsair pilot was exposed to hard vacuum for more than an instant, the lieutenant tractored in his pod and told us the pilot would stand trial for his crimes against Bretonia. I was tempted to question his decision. After all that, ejecting the corsair's pod on a collision course with the sun seemed justice enough. But since the lieutenant had suffered the most at their hands, I decided not to say anything. I couldn't imagine how much effort it took Lieutenant Gilead to save the pilot. Now that I sit here, preparing to hit the submit button on this report, I realize he made the right call. Everyone deserves a fair trial, criminal or not.

On a side note, I would like to enter into record that were it not for the exceptional efforts and team work from all members of the squad, we wouldn't be around to celebrate our victory. Now that the threats to the Bretonian way of life have been deterred for the time being, I'm obligated to go back to the pub, find that gentleman, and buy him a pint of his choice.

Ensign Alina Farwyn of squad XPQ-21, Signing Off
*Transmission Terminated*

---

-- For how should man die better, than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his father and the temples of his gods?

-- Brushing the tips of my fingers, don't let me lose you.