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| - After a brief flash of network logo and a few chords of thematic music, a brilliant, blue face of a bald, Pantoran male dominates the vid feed for a few seconds before slowly panning out and over to also encompass his guest and a bit of generic-looking background. The Pantoran is dressed in some snazzy, green and black robe wear over flowy, black pants and tall, green boots. "Good Nelona to you, and welcome to IG News. I'm Ibo Tsubana, correspondent to our Bright Jewel Cluster. I'm here now, on Ord Mantell, with Ambassador Delgard, New Republic delegate to Caspar, and controversial body of interest, it would seem. Ambassador?" The woman in question appears to be in her thirties, a bit younger than her host, and is dressed not quite as regally, but far from shabby. A sleek, grey skirt coats her legs to floor length. On top, she wears an airy, indigo-colored blouse that seems weightless in its flow over her torso, save for the tight cinching it it performs just above her hips, defining a truly narrow waist. The neckline is broad, spanning shoulder-to-shoulder, where faux sleeves are attached by silver clasps. Her hair is curled, left to flounce and tumble where it may, to just below her shoulders. She's seated comfortably in a matching chair, right hand resting atop the left, which may or may not be visible as it pulses with a steady twitch. "...Hello, Mr. Tsubana. And a warm hello to you, out there," she directs with some awkward hesitation towards the camera. Her smile is tight. Unamused and perhaps a bit taken-aback by the sudden burst of robust laughter from the Pantoran's pudgy and over-glossed lips. "For a politician so deep in the trenches, you seem a bit crowd shy, Ms. Delgard." Then, as quickly as the jovialty emerged, his tone turns serious. "But I think we understand the cause for nervousness. Not so long ago, you were rescued from imprisonment on board V2SD Nemesis, is that correct?" "...Yes," Ambrosia replies thinly, eyeing the news guy cautiously. "A terrible sentence carried out after accusations flew concerning Republic activity within the Caspian Democratic Union, yes?" Ambrosia stares, blinking. "I'm...not sure. What you're getting at, that is." "Would you like to share some of your experiences at the hands of Imperial tormentors with our viewers? The experts say that talking about one's trauma can be very therapuet-" "Allow me to stop you there, Mr. Tsubana," Ambrosia clears her throat, right hand jutting palm-first to block the next wave of air from his mouth from reaching hers. Lunch must have been very unappetizing, given the odiforous notes drifting her way. "As I informed your 'agents' who brought me to the studio, I am not here to discuss the details of my detainment..." Interrupting him again with that hand before the look of disappointment in his eye can translate into words, she continues "But I will say that my treatment was as could be expected, given the unforgiving nature of my hosts. I would like to offer a word of commendation to their medical corps, however, for their skill in reconstruction. They have saved our staff a great deal of time and money." Her statement seems to have lit at least a tiny fuse of imagination in the cerulean smile cast her way, as the man clings to the mentioning of reconstruction, and imagines his viewers will, too. Let them run with it. "Very well. I'm sorry to have brought it up," he's not, "so let's move along and rewind our story to the events leading up to your capture. There are claims, Madam Ambassador, that the Republic instigated the entire squirmish, and are to be blamed for loss of civilian life and property destruction. Can you comment on that?" "I can," the already tired looking ambassador sighs, "and I will. The brave souls who were stationed that evening did not alter settings on their rifles from 'stun’ to 'full' until numbers of their own began to fall. Contrary to what Imperialist propagandists may have spread, they were making slow but steady retreat into the building, in response to the unruly civilians, who rapidly outnumbered them, making their post too dangerous to maintain. I know, because by that point, I was listening to the com between my marines elsewhere in the building, while trying to get my daughter to safety. It sickens me to know that lives were lost, civilian or no, in such a pointless outbreak of violence.” “And what became of….Gabi, is it?" The Pantoran glances into the datapad in his lap. "Her last known status, in our record, was from images caught by one of the activated holo terms in the building, riding the back of her presumed bodyguard while fleeing the scene. Did she and the man make it out alive?” “The mob used explosives to gain entry to the building, with my daughter still inside. They demonstrated zero regard for life, killing one of my men instantly, and wounding others. Simultaneously, as it turned out, Imperial forces had gained access from our rooftop landing pad. It’s truly a miracle she got out at all, but they did escape, and I’m pleased to say that despite the pursuit of the Empire’s elite to slay her and the Jedi, she is alive and well - as well as a child can be, having suffered this emotional trauma. Her physical wounds, at least, are on the mend.” Ambrosia’s tone ends on a hardened note, an edge sharpening her tongue which had, in the interview’s beginning, been more or less soothing. “Tell me,” Ibo Tsubana implores, leaning forward in his chair to gingerly pat a hand over Ambrosia’s tremor-stricken forearm. “Is there any lingering ill will harbored towards the Casparian populace or the CDU’s minister? How do you feel about this awful turn of events?” “What is it I’m feeling?” The focus zooms in to cover the ambassador’s facial expressions. There’s an odd smile, which quickly devolves into something resembling grief or anger. Her voice, however, softens, tone evening. “Betrayed, mostly. But also disappointed. The fools who committed this atrocious act of vandalism on a building representing peace were, I suspect, under the influence of Imperial manipulation. While this understanding may give reason for their actions, it does not excuse them. I must defer judgment to the appropriate authorities and trust that justice - to full extent of the law - will be wrought upon them. Some of their faces were recorded – and broadcasted – to both public and private, military terminals, so it won’t be too difficult to apprehend a sampling of the group, I’m sure. /They/ have soiled the peace pact held between our governments, not the entirety of Caspar, much less the entire Democratic Union." "I will not be holding the CDU accountable for their actions, but obviously request cooperation in settling the matter – after the dire state of their own affairs is tended to, of course.” “How very gracious of you, Madam Ambassador, to offer a sense of forgiveness, considering the narrow escape you and your daughter both experienced.” “Forgiveness?” Ambrosia ducks her head aside in study of a fingernail. A very quiet, low chuckle sounds in her throat. “No, no…I’m not sure I can name it that, yet. I only mean to put my personal feelings aside and let civility and lawful accord dictate where we go from here, for the sake of our peoples and the relationship we have so long nurtured.” “Ah,” Ibo makes an ‘eek’ expression aside to the camera, then fingers through some notes on his data pad, “What is your fear then, if any, concerning the status of that current relationship, taking into consideration the stronghold the Empire maintains over the system? Is there hope for recovery of Caspian independence?” Ambrosia nods, solemnly, hands folding together again in her lap. “There is, Mr Tsubana, there is. As far as the Republic desires, at least. I confess I am not certain what the opinion of the Presav may be at this time, as we’ve not been able to enjoy a sit-down, for obvious reasons…” Drawing a deep breath, she continues. “The Republic is currently nursing wounds from engagement with Imperial forces in the Ketterslea – a battle fought on behalf of the Caspians. Once readied, we will strike again. Of that I am certain. I’d like to discredit any rumor at this time that we’ve intentions to annex the CDU territories, should our efforts – not yet combined – be successful in repelling the Empire. We stand by the Caspian state of independence and while we welcome new additions to the Republic, we do not demand them.” “On that note,” The woman stretches her neck to one side, alleviating some stiffness with a resounding *POP* “My biggest fear is that the Democratic Union’s decision to evict the Empire from its system is but too little, too late. If you are listening, Minister, Presav” she addresses some unseen, potential viewer directly, “then you’ll not be hard pressed to remember the warning I gave during our conferences in the early stage of this invasion. This is precisely the direction I feared the future of your people would fall, if the blockade was permitted to continue, unchecked. Unchallenged.” She purses her lips, eyes blinking away from the recorder for a moment to check the rising emotion in her voice and swallow the lumps away into cool, collected neutrality. It takes nearly a minute, then “I understood your hesitation, the reasons for it, but I knew it would cost you. It would cost them. I am sorry that this evil seed which has been sown by weeks, months of inaction, by dangerous and impulsive behavior from certain civilians, is now ripe for the harvest. I am sorry that so many of your innocent, your faithful, may not be spared the iron fist of the Empire, though we will do our damndest to try. It saddens me to know that the difficulties you must now face could have been avoided, mostly, if you’d given your military the chance to defend its home.” Ibo winces slightly at the gentle scolding and runs a hand over the few, bristly hairs on his cranium. “Surely you needn’t remind them of the suffering they’re currently experiencing as economy falters and battles clog their shipping lanes…” “No, I needn’t.” Ambrosia swallows, staring head-on at the camera for a moment longer, then bends aside to reach for something out of sight. When she straightens out, there’s a drab, slate and green patterned Union Marines fatigue jacket held aloft in her hands, unfurled to reveal a number of medals pinned to the shoulders, but there are two conspicuous, less-faded patches where name and rank should be. “But I do want to remind them of this.” “That is…what, precisely?” The Pantoran prompts. “A uniform,” the ambassador enlightens. “Worn by a Union marine, the day he and some comrades intervened with the attempts made on Leo and Gabi’s life.” Leaning around it to take a good, long look along the length in demonstration for the camera, “When my daughter landed safely on base, she was wearing it. She was trying to get away from the trooper shooting at her, so she dove into the sea…washed ashore a distance from where her guardian and their assailants did battle. I suspect they wrapped her in it to keep her warm…” Her voice breaks, slightly, eyes shining. “To this man, and to you other ‘soldiers of yesterday’ who braved the unthinkable to aid in the rescuing of my girl and my friend, I owe my life and my happiness to you. Words alone cannot express the gratitude held in my heart for your courage and selfless acts that day, but until we are able to break the chains binding your worlds, and I can shake your hand and return this to you, words are all I have to give. I ask that you please /keep safe/, but awaken that sense of duty and loyalty to what is /good/ in the rest of your people, so that when the time comes – and you will know it – you may rise up as one.” “Remember these soldiers of yours, Minister, remember the asset, the strength, which you have in them. For they have not forgotten it. They have not forgotten you. They remember your history, and they recognized the danger of its repetition while many among you were still blind to it. Pay heed, younger generations. Stand up and match the /pride/ held in the hearts of these brave souls! Do that, and you will not lose your independence. You must defend yourselves. We cannot win your fight for you.” Ibo remains speechless for a time, simply looking between Ambrosia, who is now folding the uniform lovingly away, and the recording crew. “Powerful words, but will they carry the distance?” Ambrosia shrugs a shoulder and follows Ibo’s gaze to the camera. “I can only hope. As it’s the last time I’ll be wasting breath in repetition of them.” “Do you mean to say that you are calling it quits?” The correspondent asks, incredulously, perhaps a bit /too/ incredulously, for the viewer ‘benefit’. “No,” Ambrosia amends calmly and wipes away a tear, “but I am turning my attention to more personal matters for awhile. I can still be reached, through all the proper channels of course, but…I don’t anticipate any calls.” “Ah. Very well then, I believe we are out of time. But before we end…may I ask what - if anything - you feel about the CSAS operating under the Empire’s request to resume aid shipments to Caspia?” Drawing her lips into a thin, neutral line, Ambrosia shakes her head. “I am not troubled by it, if that’s what you infer. It may seem insulting, being denied the ‘right’ to offer humanitarian assistance to worlds I worked so closely with, but so long as food and medical supplies are /reaching/ the people of the Union, I do not care who sends them. Not anymore. Their need is too great to quarrel over who takes credit.” Ibo clears his throat and stands to extend a hand to his guest. “Thank you, Ambassador Delgard, for taking time to speak with us and shine a little light over some dark matters.” A faint smirk crosses the ambassador’s lips, but she stands and meets the correspondent’s hand with a firm shake of her right hand. The left gets tucked away into a pocket on her skirt, uniform jacket tucked under the arm. “Happy to be of service, Mr. Tsubana. Good luck with your next segment.”
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