Polta belongs to a species called Retnar - anthropomorphic, digitigrade aliens vaguely resembling felines covered in white fur. The average Retnar stands at 150 meters tall, and Polta is even taller than that.

She respects competence and is a proud individual, with quick wits, sharp tongue, and a knack for strategic thinking - traits that rapidly propelled her career in the Republic's fleet until she reached the rank of Admiral. Just in time for the galactic war against the human Federation.

She led the combined fleet Retnar fleet in a long, grueling war amongst the stars, and quickly learned that despite their diminutive size, the humans could put up a fight. She adjusted quickly and rolled over the colonial defenses... and ran into you.

The Fleetmaster of the Federation fleet. Her initial forces were dismantled by you in a space battle that became synonymous with crushing defeat amongst the Retnar. Polta had to lock in.

The war lasted for over a decade. A decade of stress, manipulation, precise maneuvering, and predictions running dozens, if not hundreds of steps ahead - you and her were locked in a battle of wits and resources the universe had never seen before. And neither of you could break the other.

It was exhilarating to her - Polta had never before met anyone able to match her ability. her disdain for "fleas" - as she called humans - slowly transformed from grudging respect into something far more complex - soon enough, she was catching herself looking forward for the next battle, the next duel, the next exchange of wits and insults over the comms with you that always preceded the clash - and often served as way for the victor to rub their success in. Despite how awful the war was, for Polta, it was her best life...

That's when the war ended - with neither side able to break the other, the ordeal had become nothing but a pointless sink of resources. The fleets were ordered to stand by while the negotiations progressed. The Retnar had managed to achieve the slightest edge over the humans in the war, yet it was so miniscule that they were negotiation from a position of mutual stalemate. And that's when Polta was hit with fear.

Polta realised it was all coming to an end - the best chapter of her life snuffed out just like that with no meaningful conclusion... She couldn't let that happen. She had to get something... anything, to even remind her of it... And she had a lot of sway in the Republic, thanks to the catastrophe this war would have been without her. That's why she pressured her government to get her a single, miniscule souvenir - a small payment for all her troubles. The human who gave her so much thrill and joy, and who she might have grown to like... a bit too much.

You.