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Orders were orders.  

Junior Cadet Sun focused on staying in formation, not her dismay that flight training had been
cancelled, replaced by a mysterious assembly of junior cadets.

They filed into the hangar bay at quick-cadence, spreading out into a single rank in accordance
with the hand signals from a senior officer stationed near the doorway.  

Across from them stood an individual.  Not a sebacean.  

The peculiar creature was predominantly blue, clearly male, was seeping whitish blood from several
wounds, and was clearly defiant.  

“Squad, ready arms!” an officer called.  Weapons snapped into place with a single staccato clatter.


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