The Rebel Faction

The appetizer had arrived in the company of some excellent wine, a white sparkling liquor that refused to stop bubbling. Stewards in black dress jackets atop high-collared tunics decorated only by SS runes brought bread and condiments. Officers of all branches and arms sipped on their wines and poked at the blooming onions with different forks.

Grand Admiral Desaria, however, went directly to the end fork. The rules of ettiqute stated - in the abbridged version, at least - that during a multi course meal on formal occassions, begin with the outermost utensils and work in therefrom. Desaria took in hand the smallest fork, a brilliantly polished silver one mounting five thin prongs, and made his assault on the onion. Glacing over at Commander Fleetfire of the SS fighter contingent, the Baron watched him stab at the onion. Desaria however was less blunt in his attack - he dissected it as would a surgeon with a las-scalpel.

A glance around the table at the other officers was as revealing: those of noble birth, men who had honed the arts of sophistication, were delicately carving up their dishes while those without such refinement were using all the brute force cutlery could provide. All but Selere, Desaria noticed - he was eating...properly. To that, Desaria arched an eyebrow.

" I notice, Colonel, some familiarity in the accent of your voice. Praytell, where are you from?"

Grand Admiral Desaria pursed his lips, savoring the tart sensation of a holandaise sause on the onion delicacy. Thinking hard, he tried to recall the name of that particular family, but specifics escaped him. Not wanting to be disrespectful, he shot in the dark at a target not easy to miss.

" I cannot say I've had the pleasure of meeting your family, but the name sounds familiar. You had a representative on the KDY board of directors, no?"

Prince Jurror meanwhile was cautiously observing the second of theSS fighter officers, Commander Lomax. Everytime the Baron would look to take in the scene as a whole, he caught the displaced royal family member casting glances that were they cannonades would have smothered any defenses. The name, Lomax, Desaria thought it too sounded familiar but could not place it. Without any conspicuous act of gallanmtry to pin to the name, memory of one officer of a million was difficult, even for a Grand Admiral.

" Ah, the Academy. I've had the pleasure of speaking on Raltiir where I graduated and Carida as well. Raltiir was immense to me when I arrived and I never thought Carida would dwarf it so. Which one did you attend?"

For a moment, a scant moment, the Commandant of the Guard looked wounded. His eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as the thought of his accomplishments from what felt like a bygone era were eclipsed. It was as if, for that very moment, the Baron had come face to face with a fate far worse than death - dishonour.

The clouds passed, however, as did all things. The comment was not mean to insert superiority or to insult, it was good natured in its inception and only improperly received. Lieutenant-General von Strachwitz straightened the right sleeve of his well-pressed tunic, pulling it down and thus straightening the Panzerclasp above his rank plaque; he looked at the Grand Admiral with concern and downed an entire glass of wine. Desaria beamed for a moment.

" Tied me in fencing, did you? Well then, Colonel, I challange you to a duel! I'll wager you last week's pay that I can best you now!"

Kuati to Kuati, another layer of Hoth-thick ice was broken. Colonel Selere removed his gloves from a trouser pocket and threw it down onto the table near his plate. " Sir, I accept!"

Noise rose up as the Guard and SS united in laughter. Prince Jurror however, was not laughing. His face had reddened as recognition dawned. He stood and spoke as deliberately as his royal bearing permitted, an arm pointing directly at the second S fighter officer. The single word he spoke ended all laughter, all joviality.

" Coward."

" He is a coward!" Prince Jurror said, barely containing his rage. His fists were balled and resting on the table, his body now bent over. He looked at the man challanging his accusation, glowering at Colonel Selere. " My cousin was killed on [font=Arial]Analuptar [/font]having been abandoned by an officer command in battalion command. That officer deserted under fire and every civilian 3rd Battalion, 12th Regiment of the Guard was tasked to evacuate was slaughtered, along with the soldiers - all but him."


Grand Admiral Desaria himself stood, his hands bare having removed his gloves in th course of the meal. He looked across the circular table at the Prince, fury burning in his face. The Guard honoured all soldiers, regardless of race creed and allegiance provided they fought with gallantry and courage. To desert was the greatest crime of dishonour a soldier could committ - all the much worse for a Guardsman. Desaria raised an arm to silence Jurror, but the man continued.


" His brother, a Major as well, challanged this...thing... He refused. He refused! If he did not desert than he would not have refused!"


" Enough!" Desaria shouted, his eyes a little wider than before but his composure remained. " Colonel, sit down. Now."


Selere was about to interject but the Grand Admiral tossed him a look that intimated any words would be useless and any attempt to speak them ill-advised. The Baron looked slowly at Lomax. " I remember the story of a deserter from that world when the Dragons struck. I dismissed it as rumor since no soldier reported back as surviving. Is this man you?"

The matter at hand was grave. If the Prince was right, then the SS man was a deserter and shirker, having abandoned his unit in a time of battle. If Lomax was right, all he had done was leave a battlefield that no soldier was left alive on. In either case, he had absconded from a duel.

Desaria straightened. " Commander, you did not return to your regiment. What happened? How did you happen into the SS?"