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>A cold smile twists the sleek black muzzle, unscarred >despite years and years as a Tarokian <I>Aelt >dahn</I>, the elite of the Olashi-led Lavanian space >fleet. Januya sets her <I>shrr</I> rifle to the rocky >cavern floor beside her, gathers her long limbs >beneath her, and rises in a slow, smooth motion. Seven >feet high when standing, the bipedal predator is not >imposing with size - but she holds herself like a >nocked arrow to a taut bowstring, ready to fly to >kill. Exuding calm and condescension, stark yellow >eyes meet the Kumayaki's gaze evenly. > >"Pessimism?" The liquid tone is scornful, words >caustic. "Realism. Have you seen the outside yet, >warrior? Have you looked upon the teeming spaceports >and their overflowing bunkers that huddle like beetles >around a pile of steaming diamen? There are hundreds >of thousands of them out there now. Well-equipped to >defend themselves against even the Olashi's orbital >defenses." A pause, and she steps forward, claws >silent on the rock. Her voice lifts, projecting. "They >are not here to settle down and make cubs. They are >here to claim this planet, make it a military >stronghold, and invade the rest of the Tri-System." > >The Tarok draws herself up, distant and dim firelight >glittering on ebony fur like the edge of an obsidian >blade. "The Drakka are enthroned on our old home. We >cannot hope to shake their hold here. If you come here >thinking to retake Terole, you are sadly disillusioned. > >"If you are here for revenge, then perhaps you will >see the truth of the matter. Terole has been lost to >us, permanently. If any can blow the Drakka off this >planet's face, it will be the Olashi warships, which >would also decimate this planet itself and rip the >atmosphere right off the surface. Until the feathered >cowards take it upon themselves to do what is ><I>necessary,</I>" she spits, "we are here to spill >blood until we either give up or die. > >"If you think elsewise, Creators have pity upon your >foolishness."

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