The years had made much effect on Paladin himself. His face was drawn, marked with many wrinkles. He was past his sixth decade, and the years were starting to add up.
But on that day, his face looked as youthful - as commanding - as it had during his time as President of the United Earth Federation. Somewhere, in some very dusty paperwork, that title remained, but everyone thought of Paladin in a different way now; they knew him as the First Commander, and his title was not "defender of the Federation", but "avenger of the lost". And now, only two weeks from the tenth year since he was effectively exiled from the galaxy he knew, he was preparing to see his title fit.
The Zidagar could fight for themselves, but now it was past alliances and co-operation. The United Earth wanted vengeance, and for now to maintain their morale, that meant war - fighting for themselves and their people, alone.
The time had come, and the fierce blockade around them was no longer a reason to stall. To victory or defeat, the United Earth would march.
Paladin stood at the Renzokuken, his personal Dragon - outfitted with unique technology to enhance the shields and weapon power, that they could never seek to emulate - watching the swirling clouds around F-25, where the Garland's remarkably tiny, yet still visible, form rested below. A black dot, with thousands of lights sparkling, it shone out through the swirling clouds across the many thousands of miles to the Renzokuken, in orbit of the planet.
"I never saw it so small, but I realise now that it is," Paladin remarked, lost in his thoughts.
"Sir?" one officer, who stood by Paladin's said, reviewing a tactical database by the side of the main viewscreen, asked curiously.
Paladin turned his head, a faint smile on his face, and then turned back to watch the clouds. "The Garland. We thought it was so great, and look at it. Less than two months from us coming here, and already it is downed, for many weeks yet. We'll never restore it to it's true glory."
"Our goal was so simple. The Garland alone could have defeated the Galactica we fight here, singlehandedly. Blasting planet after planet away with it's incredible weaponry, never being even scratched. That wasn't meant to be, however."
"We were meant for the glory of battle, and we shall have it."
The officer smiled. Like everybody else, there were no fears in the upcoming battle. Galactica had ships, but they were spread thin. Everyone knew that things could be achieved, if work was put into it. What Galactica didn't know, was that the United Earth were not the same any more. Not at all...
Preparations had begun, and over two hundred Dragons were being prepared. Wyverns were also be placed on standby, as were the Drakes. Within a day or so everything would be ready, and it would start.
Meanwhile, Paladin was standing on the ground, outside the Garland. Being on a planet was a luxury he did not oft have, and he was enjoying himself. More importantly, he was preparing for the most important stage of the attack. Three of the 64 cubes of the Garland were being towed off by small groups of Dragons. The cubes were packed with all the heavy - sadly unusable - weaponry the Garland had. Incredible weapons, which would serve some purpose, the purpose of making an energy output.
A big boom was too much to hope for - but a message was quite possible.
Tomorrow, the galaxy would see....
...the vengeance of Paladin.
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That's all very nice, but where are the guns?
- SilverDragon
