To: Crayter Military Command | From: Lieutenant P., Winston

► Sender-ID: Lieutenant Winson Perceval
► Sender-ID-Code: DIO-189
► Recipient-ID: Crayter Military High Command; CC: Admiral Scott Garan
► Source: CFV Dionysus, Tau-23
► Actual: Epsilon-Two
► Encryption: High

[Before the speaker even begins laying out his plea for help, there is visible commotion behind Perceval's position -- various officers moving back and forth, shuttling dossiers with what, at first glance, one assumes to be important information given the nature of this urgent transmission. Still... there is little he can do but put through the message. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he sets off.]

Gentlemen, ladies, esteemed Admirals and other High Command staff that will receive this message,

The past two days have been very eventful, to such a point that one cannot fully expand on them within a single live transmission. A detailed report, containing all the facts, is a responsibility I lay on the shoulders of the Primary Fleet members present alongside us. It is my hope that they will do so faithfully and uphold the ideals we stand for as a nation, as a people.

Moving on, I shall touch on two particular issues.

[Another deep breath; a short look towards a sheet of paper in front of him, outlining his concerns. He continues, moments after.]

One;
Though we have secured most of the refugees from Freeport 10 and seen through their arrival in Coronado, a Maltese task force now controls most of the system, making any approach to the Freeport suicidal at best. Our scattered forces were swept aside without issues; the IMG arrived much too late to affect the outcome of the battle. I hereby request that the Crayter Military immediately transfers any available forces to Java, or to Falklands, else we risk seeing this force pour into Tau-23 and further. At that point, it will be a matter of counting the dead...

[Having returned from that very battle together with his crew, barely in one piece, Winston is badly shaken still. The surprise attack out of the nebula caught everyone off-guard, much more so the fresh crew of the CFV Dionysus. There was nothing they could do against the avalanche moving toward them but call retreat; and so they did, though not all escaped safely.]

I apologize, but the way they-the Outcasts... swarmed our ships, we had to retreat to Tau-23. All we can do is pray those aboard Falklands are safe and well. Please hurry any available forces through and into the system. That will be all on this debacle.

Two;
The previous day, we had set up a picket line near Java, extended out towards the Languedoc Jump Gate, intending to stop any non-IMG or non-Crayter ships that would take on the risk of transporting refugees away. To our surprise, we witnessed an IMG liner escorted by not one, but two Gallic warships... Bewildering and most strange. Sirs, we tried to talk sense into them, but, they wouldn't listen, damned guildsmen... We had to resort to firing a warning shot, hell, even so, they moved through into Languedoc.

[Perceval sighs, knowing that what he says next may well end his career in the Crayter Military, if not outright be the flame to spark conflict between the Guild and Crayter yet again.]

We had to destroy the liner. All hands were lost, including an unfortunate count of somewhere north of four-thousand refugees. We retreated back to Tau-23 shortly thereafter for repairs.

Esteemed Command, I respectfully request another assignment. I-my crew are tired, we have fought the Outcasts and dealt with this mockery of the countless lives lost by our dear Republic at the hands of the Gallic Royalists. Please hear us all out and send immediate aid to deter the Outcasts from pushing further, but be wary of some guildsmen being double-agents for the Union. That concludes my transmission.

[Exhausted, Winston leans back into his chair after finishing. He had one more task to do - ship over the incident logs to confirm his words to the rest of the Crayter Military. The rest was for fate to fill out.]

Incident logs, sent through after the transmission