Clad in his military-grey armorplast weave, Davith hefts each of his sabres in turn, identifying them by weight and heft without looking at them. He cannot see out the window at the chaos and destruction ahead, his Force-given sight blank and empty in the void of space, but the ripples of pain and death in the Force are unmistakable. Three sabres go onto his belt, and he holds the fourth one in his hand while tapping into his own helmet com.<br/><br/>"Blue leader, Blue Squad is prepared. Does High Command wish for us to attempt to take prisoners to interrogate, or will we be defaulting to lethal force on this operation?"