27 August 3027
Tengo Aerospace Facility, Sarna

	The booted footsetps tapped quietly on the crumbling
ferro-crete runway. Just outside the walled fortifications of
the Tengo Aerospace Facility, the planetary director of aero-
operations paced nervously. 

	Lord Reiver Molarri passed his aid again and again,
his shadow crossing over her feet and his long-forgotten drink
of Tranya. He stopped, about to ask one more time for an update.
The 1st Tengo and the 213th aero-squadrons were passing through the
ionization layer of the atmosphere, making communications impossible. 
He opened his mouth to speak just as he caught a glint of light high
in the pale blue Sarnan sky. Molarri grinned, clasping his hands
behind his back and rocking on the balls of his feet--obviously
quite proud of himself. 

	They came in slowly at first, trickling in like the salt springs 
on the southern continent. The primer grey fighters were piloted by
the best aerojocks the third shift of the second assembly line had to 
offer. They were the lucky 16 that got to serve their House by engaging
the Davion scum. The Celestial One was indeed smiling upon them.

	His own smile slowly began to fade as he counted the disk-winged
craft as they approached in ragged formation. Seven. He could only
see seven. Heading up the formation was Lance Dawson's royal purple
Transit. Damaged, but still flying--better than most of the 1st Tengo. 

	The first flight passed over and began a slow circle towards
the second runway. What news? How did the raid go? Molarri was furious!
Would they not tell him?!? The second flight, if it could be called 
that, approached. Three fighters, two being tended to by the third. 
There was a screaming sound coming from one of them, a ripping and
shearing of metal. The craft began trailing debris as it arced over
and buried itself into the soft marsh of the nearby swamplands. The
commotion caught the attention of a Rakabear, but only for an instant.

	Molarri watched, stunned as the last two fighters flew over.
The Tengo limped by, belching smoke. The second fighter, an SA-43, 
began a fast roll--its victory roll.  Lord Riever's eyes lit up with the
sight of this. We have won! The enemy is defeated! The.. what?
The aircraft stopped in mid-roll, racing overhead on a knife edge, 
the roll uncompleted. A victory, but a phyrric one. 

	Molarri turned, and began to walk to the medical facilities. 
May Wah followed shortly after, calling in the medics and tech crews
as she did so. She looked to the incoming dropship and aerofighters
before relaying a message to the 213th. It was time for them to load
up the 'mechs, they would be shipping out as soon as the Speed Demon
was refuelled. She wished them good luck, they were going to need it.