Joanna stood before the crowd, with a huge screen behind her.
As she began explaining the purpose behind establishing the Charity Foundation, the lights in the hall gradually dimmed, and images began appearing on the screen.
"I come from the military, and so does my husband. We both have military backgrounds."
"We understand better than most that this is a special group."
"Many people don't understand us—or them. In truth, this group is nothing like the shallow impression people have of them."
"Soldiers are human too. They can be afraid, they can be injured, and they can need help!"
"That is why it was established!"
"These soldiers went to a foreign land and fought a group of vicious enemies so that we could enjoy a good life in the Federation."
"There is very little we can do for them, but there is so much..."
She gave several examples.
The images on the screen changed. On a busy street, a man who had lost both legs sat on a newspaper by the roadside.
He wore a filthy knitted cap and a woman's coat, shivering in the cold wind.
He looked to be around thirty. His entire appearance was wretched, and the beard he had left unshaven had clumped together in places.
In front of him was a piece of cardboard that read, "Please show some kindness. I need help." Beside it sat a small metal tin.
It was the sort of tin used to hold biscuits, and the paint on the outside was already badly chipped.
"He is only twenty-one."
Everyone's gaze gathered on Joanna again as she described a tragic story in a very calm tone.
"He was once a member of the Federal military, but he lost both legs to an artillery bombardment on the Amelia Battlefield."
"The doctors