Six Years Ago:

Lara knew what she wanted, and her father was going to give it to her. 

She had graduated from the training academy with the best marks possible, she had shown an affinity for manna at a degree that had seldom been recorded in the known records, and she had the ability to employ that manner in a wide variety of offensive and defensive waves. 

She could make a difference on the front lines, pushing back Null Space Invaders and the Human scourge alike and she knew it. 

She also knew that the chances of her father allowing her to go and fight on the front lines of the ongoing wars were slim to none. He could never abide the thought of his darling little girl being hurt. 

But nevertheless, she had to try. 

She stepped up to the heavy wood door of her father's study. She had never understood his passion for things like that. An oak wood door on a starship sounded absolutely preposterous, and yet her father just absolutely had to have one. 

"Enter," the voice of the Guard's leader echoed from within. That was how she had to think of him for this meeting. Not her father, the leader of the Guard. If she couldn't do that then she was never going to get what she wanted. 

She cracked the door open and strode through, with purpose, into his office. 

Much like the ornate wooden door, the Guard leader's office was something that seemed as if it would have no place at all on a starship. 

One wall of the office was dominated by a large, ornate fireplace. Not a holo-fireplace either like many homes across the galaxy would have, but an actual fireplace with very real burning logs of wood smouldering away. 

On the mantle of that fireplace was a series of photographs printed on actual paper. There were a few of her, of course, and some of her now late mother too. On the other side of the room were an array of her Father's favourite books, printed and bound especially for him. 

The floor was carpeted in the most plush carpet that she could imagine. The sort of carpet that just made you want to rip off your combat boots so your toes could sink down into them, disappearing in the royal blue. 

His desk, meanwhile, was once again made out of the most expensive, dark wood that he could find. Though this desk was also the highest tech part of the entire ensemble. Built into the desk itself was a powerful computer, which could be activated simply by thinking thanks to the neurotransmitters in his BB unit. 

All in all the room was designed to put people on edge just as much as it was to make the man who owned it all comfortable. It had also long since lost its effect on Lara, considering the fact she had grown up with these luxuries all her life. 

"Ah, Lara, my beautiful baby girl, what can I do for you this wonderful afternoon?" The Guard leader asked, standing from his seat with his arms thrown wide as if for a hug. 

Lara would have to shut this familial behaviour down immediately because she was not here for family business. 

"I would like to discuss a proposal with you, Sir," She said, and gave him a proper salute with her head held high. 

Her father raised an eyebrow at her and failed to keep the smirk off of his face. Lara could tell that he already knew exactly what she had come to talk about, and she also knew that he was probably going to shut her down. 

"Well, please go on then," He said and allowed himself to sink back down into his seat. 

"I request a transfer effective immediately to the frontier line," She said, just as she had memorised. "My training scores have been exemplary, I have shown an affinity and utility for manna that is unparalleled by most my age, and I believe I could truly make a difference there, Sir?" 

The man leaned forward in his chair and seemed to give the proposition that she had made some real thought. Perhaps there was a chance that she wasn't going to get railroaded into some dead-end assignment after all?

"Well, I must agree with you on one thing, you do need to be transferred now that your training is complete, and considering your incredibly high test results we do need to send you somewhere that your unique… skills… will be most appreciated," He said while nodding. 

That nod ended all too soon. 

"However, I do not agree that your abilities would be best served by reassignment to the front lines. If you were to, say, be picked off by an unexpected ambush, well, that would be it for all those finely honed manna abilities that you've managed to accrue over the years, wouldn't it?" 

Lara didn't know what to say. He was making it all sound so reasonable. People died on the front lines all the time, sure, but they weren't her. But she couldn't make that argument. It sounded petty, immature and childish. 

"No, we have already ascertained where you will be transferred to," He concluded and sat back comfortably in his chair. 

"Might I enquire where you are sending me, Sir?" She asked. 

"Of course, of course," Lara's Father replied. "You will be assigned to Prespian City in the Asani sector. It is our most defended world and often brings up some of the best fighters the front lines has ever seen. Your task, of course, will be to identify the best of the best in whichever way you see fit and then train them up to be the best that they can be."

She was struck silent. A dead-end assignment was exactly what her father was railroading her into. How dare he. But she buried those words, no matter how badly they burned at her throat, clawing to be spewed out like the hot fire of a volcano. 

"Yes… Sir, I understand," was all she said. 

While in the back of her mind she was already planning. Already plotting. Already scheming. 

She would make her Father acknowledge her, somehow, eventually if it was the last thing she did. 

No matter the cost.