"It's strange, really…"

"Hmm? I'm sorry, what did you say?" Rha responded in a whisper, unresponsive at the most. Fatigue tended to do that to the mind.

Having first watch got it out of the way, but seemed to always drag on the longest, the body wanting to do nothing more than simply shut down and rest for once. After having a more than exciting day of traversing miles upon miles of urban terrain, engaging enemy forces in combat, warding off a marksman, and attempting to figure out what to do next with wounded and a malfunctioning comm. array…rest was in order.

It may not have been the most logical nor wanted thing, but organic beings, even the Irken, needed it from time to time in order to continue functioning properly. The two of them, however, were seated at the dining room table, shrouded in darkness beneath the cover of nightfall. Silence enveloped around them as their comrades slept, those wounded continuing to get rest. The small domicile was hard pressed for room with the ten soldiers present, but they made do with what was provided. The smell was a whole other story, the tight quarters and combined stench of ten Irken in dire need of cleansing, both body and uniform, was repugnant.

Vard, on the other hand, was in the bathroom with the door closed in order to use the lighting to see what he was doing to repair the communications equipment without disturbing the others or giving away their position. Ever since regaining consciousness hours ago, he had been diligently working, though his assignment of the unit, he felt more than required to do so after being unable to aid his comrades in combat. Sula assured him nothing permanent came from his close call of having his head blown off, but the psychological stir still remained at how incredibly close he had come.

"Good thing I'm not putting my life in your hands or anything, Rha," Rem elbowed him playfully in the ribs with a smirk.

"Yeah, sorry," he sheepishly replied as he readjusted his posture in the chair, keeping his rifle on his lap at the ready. "Just a little worn out after today, what did you say?"

"I said it's strange." Rem reiterated, leaning back in her chair across the table, kicking her boots up on it, hands clasped behind her head.

"What is? I'm not sure I follow." Rha answered with perplexity.

"This, Rha, all of this," she followed up, motioning around the apartment, as well as out the window. "everything. I mean, we're on an enemy planet, behind the frontlines in their territory…acting just like it's any other day and it's a usual thing."

"Well…it is, for us anyway," he respectfully pointed out, "to regulars, maybe a bit out of the ordinary, but it's our job, it's what we do."

"Even so, Rha, everyone's catching a few winks, we're watching out for them, and with this view," she pointed to the magenta glow of a full Praxxus 7 illuminating all rather elegantly in the silence, "…I'm not complaining. It's just hard to believe that we're pitted in combat operations on this world, this view makes it appear as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I bet Vort is an amazing place when things aren't all chaotic like this, a real shimmering gem in space."

"You're probably right," Rha nodded in agreement as he peered forward slightly, the rumbling of Vortian armor and the jogging of numerous troops in the street below garnering his attention for the moment. "…but that is just how things are and they're going to stay that way for quite a while at this rate. Vorts keep moving in reinforcements like this, that line is going to get stalled out, and our job gets that much harder."

"That's a whole other issue all in its own. We're hardly ever effected, if at all, by what Armada regulars do or have problems with. I mean, come on, this is the first time we've ever worked in conjuncture with anyone, right?"

Rha nodded his head once more.

"So why start? I enjoy how…relaxed things are here in this unit…with you guys," she half-heartily stated, "it's hard to explain…but I actually feel…important now, you know? Like I'm actually wanted and others care about me or what happens to me in general. Things get tough time to time, like now, but I feel…oddly serene and at home around everyone."

"Well, the Commander did want to build on the principles of brothers-in-arms, more a family than a unit, bond that cannot be broken by traditional means…you see where I'm going with this, don't you?" He finished with a laugh.

"Of course," she smirked with amusement, "I just kinda did what I was told in the regular ranks, followed orders, etcetera, etcetera, so on and so forth… now…now I can go about doing things my way, well, within reason, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah, I get what you're saying, Rem," Rha nodded with a sigh, "o, what life we live…" He motioned with his finger in the air, unamused.

"Hey…mind if I ask you something?" She queried after a moment of silence, still keeping alert as to, trying to pass the time.

"Shoot, what's on your mind?"

"I didn't know if you had a problem with bringing it up," Rem explained, "but we've been together in this unit for quite a while and you never really said how you come to get that scar on your face."

"Well…" Rha drew in with a pause, recollecting, "I don't have so much as an issue with it, just the memories attached. I wear it both as a badge of honor for my service to the Empire…as well as a memoir of the nightmare that was Praxxus 7 in ID 1. As for how I got it, long story short…I was unlucky enough to catch a good-sized piece of shrapnel from a Vortian grenade as out unit went up and over the berm for an offensive assault on the line. Most painful thing I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing thus far, but I stayed on my feet and kept fighting since it was below my eye and blood stayed out of it. The M.O. that stitched it back together and everything said I was lucky, any more damage and my eye would have fell out of socket." He finished, hoping that he hadn't disturbed Rem too much with the details. "Would it be fair to ask what's up with your…" Rha pointed around his own eyes, hinting at Rem's own artificial nature.

"Sure," she shrugged without a care, "being a pilot is pretty demanding if you weren't already aware. I was a bit…competitive with my flight class. Despite my height compared to them since I'm not exactly the tallest, I wanted to prove that I was just as good a navigator and pilot as those destined to captain and control the largest warships of the Armada while I and others just as tall, if not shorter, were going to be given the less than…enjoyable ones."

"Well, if you were in the Armada ranks…what would you have been piloting?"

"Taking my height into consideration…either the ever expendable and highly ironic dropship pilot or a refuse vessel. My choices were either a crate that handled like garbage with a huge target painted on it for AA fire, or one full of garbage…and dookie among other things. Pilots of my…stature are expendable. Not exactly glamorous. These…" she tapped the artificial, metallic surface "…however, set me out for the rest of them. Gives me a bit better sight and reaction time, nothing extravagant, more assisted sight than anything. If anything, a watered-down version of a marksman's scope with a built-in navigational interface."

"I see…but you're the best pilot that I've seen thus far," Rha complimented, hoping to lighten her mood somewhat, "You handle a ship that easily requires several to pilot all by yourself. Navigation, weapons, radar…everything, like an orchestrated symphony or something, you do it all. I just know how to blow stuff up."

"That is a commendable profession still. The Armada needs stuff blown up all the time, you have the skills, they need them, its as simple as that." Rem pointed out, smiling slightly behind her mask "…thanks for the compliment."

"Same to you…I guess," he laughed at how simple she had placed it. Rha stood up, wary of the noise he created as he placed his rifle against the wall beside the balcony window. "I'm going to go check on Vard, I'll be right back."

"Take your time, no rush," she nonchalantly responded with a wave of the hand, "you're not going to miss out on anything." Rem noticed the time readout on her own watch as she did so, "our shift is nearly up anyway, I'll go wake up Haxx and Corr."

The Demolitions Technician opened the door to the bathroom, light filtering from the room into the rest of the apartment in a soft glow. Rha was surprised at what he saw, more amused than anything. Remnants of his helmet's component lays strewn about on the floor and countertop of the sink, his datapad still scrolling through the schematics and readouts that pertained to their combat helmets. The minor meal of rations they all had shared prior to turning in for the evening still sat on the counter as well, a sign he had been working for hours upon hours…and that he was laying in the bathtub, one leg over the edge, oblivious to the world. With his eyes closed behind his goggles, he held a component in one hand on his chest, wires and small electronic circuitry beneath it, the equivalent of a soldering iron in the other. Vard's chest sighed peacefully as he slept, a peaceful, serene look on his face.

Rha was wary of where he put his feet as he approached, reaching out to gently tap Vard's leg.

"Sergeant? Sergeant Vard?" He respectfully addressed, attempting to wake him.

It was then that Rha had just noticed Aero was present as well.

She was beneath him, nearly dwarfed by her size as most of her back was against the wall of the shower behind her, head slightly slumped over. It was a surprise to say the least to see her there, but logic quickly took over. If anyone out of them other than Vard stood a chance of helping fix their problems, it would have been her. The radio was in dire need of repair and time was of the essence, but even they needed rest. He was more or less laying on her lap, his head resting on her chest. Aero's right arm was lightly wrapped over his person as the two of them slept.

Rha hadn't a clue as to what to make of it, tired or not, the radio needed fixed. His efforts seemed to go on denied without fruition to wake him up, further solidified as the Sergeant's only movement was a readjustment of posture and turning on his side as he lay upon the much larger Irken.

Understanding of the situation, Rha picked up the datapad on the counter, opening a blank file, and began inputting information on it while keeping the diagnostics program and schematics up in the background. After a few keystrokes, he placed it just in front of Aero's face on her chest.

"Hopefully the alarm isn't too loud," he commented, assuring it was so, "but I'll let the both of you get some more rest, at least until next shift change for watch."

Meanwhile, Rem had already waken the Captain and proceeded to do so with Haxx. Turns out that even after several hours of sleep, especially for an Irken, that he didn't seem to be anywhere near waking up. His annoying, loud snoring continue, his posture managing to allow for his arm to become wrapped around Volx's torso. If she woke up, there was no telling what she'd do upon finding him touching her, regardless of being unintentional or not. Space didn't permit for much else, but the last one of them she wanted around her at the moment was him.

"Haxx, get up," Rem gently shoved, getting what sounded like a groan of annoyance, as well as a gentle push of her hands off of his side.

"5 more minutes, robot arm…" he mumbled, barely audible. It was clear he was still half-asleep, but it still perplexed Rem nonetheless.

"Get your c'hurta up, Haxx, it's your turn for watch," she pressed, vigorously shaking him more.

Like a child, he did the same once more, responding with his own sounds of annoyance as he slapped at her hands. She retracted, hands on her hips in a perturbed manner, turning as she felt Captain Corr's hand rest on her shoulder.

"Allow me," Corr politely stated, getting her to move. "Go get some rest."

With ease, he rolled Haxx onto his back and promptly slapped him in the face, just hard enough to get the point across. It didn't resonate too loudly, but Haxx's eyes shot open with surprise as he clutched at his cheek from the prompt, stinging sensation.

"Ow! Why'd you do that for, Rem?" He responded defiantly, only to see Corr standing over him, his expression more or less demanding him to get up, "er, I mean, Captain, Sir." Haxx corrected himself, saluting while still laying on the floor.

"On your feet, Sergeant," he thumbed, "watch duty with me, hop to it."

"Yes, Sir," Haxx obeyed without question, collecting his helmet, and placed it back on his head. "You do remember that I don't have a primary weapon, don't you, Sir?"

"It's watch, not an assault," Corr clarified, unamused, pointing, "if it would make you feel any more secure, use Rem's for the time being."

Without a word of resentment, Haxx obeyed his superior, the two of them taking their places at the table just as Rem and Rha had done for their shift. Rha closed the bathroom door behind him as he exited it with the intention of turning in for the night as well.

"Aero's in there as well if you need her for her shift, Captain," he yawned as he began laying down.

Corr simply nodded in understanding as he situated himself into a comfortable position.

"I haven't had a chance to tell you," the Captain looked over at Haxx, whom was still drifting in and out of sleep, straightening up at Corr's voice, "but that was rather noble of you what you did for Lieutenant Volx, Sergeant."

"It was the least that I could do…especially since it was my fault, Sir," he answered humbly, covered by a stretch and a yawn. "Sorry, Captain, still a bit tired from carrying her around."

"Just keep your eyes open and pay attention," Corr ordered in a manner of importance, "watch is simply more than just being awake while the others rest. You're the first of line of defense if our position is compromised. If you aren't prepared, everyone would more than likely be killed. Don't take this job so lightly…" he trailed off.

Haxx swallowed nervously.

"Never looked at it like that before to be honest, Sir," he admitted sheepishly, his full awareness finally apparent. "...you and the Commander are angry at me, aren't you?"

Corr was a little surprised, especially with the tone.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I've still got 3 weeks or so left of latrine duty on the ship because of my disobeying orders. Now, I've managed to get one of my squadmates injured in the field due to my lack of regard for safety. I don't even want to imagine what punishment you or Commander Vult have planned for me, Captain."

"Well…to be quite honest," Captain Corr summed up calmly, "you took your punishment without confrontation for the most part, and this most recent…episode, Sergeant…I think you've managed to balance that issue out by carrying her, your literal burden. There is, however, one amendment left to that you should seek in rectifying."

"What would that be, Sir?"

"Smoothing things over between Lieutenant Volx, both for this and the past thus far." The Captain looked at the Sergeant across the table, "Look…Haxx," he began, immediately signaling that it was more sincere and less formal than usual in Corr's usual nature. "I know that you're a bit…eccentric than most soldiers, you like to cut back…a little more than I would hope you would at times, but nonetheless, it's just one of your character qualities. It tends to get you in trouble, both with orders and your fellow squadmates, especially the Lieutenant. She's a stickler for regulations…those which you constantly breach, so she's diametrically opposed to your presence. Even though it's not your style, try showing a little more respect, she may stop treating you the way she does."

"Even if I did, she still hates me, Captain." Haxx pointed out, his eyes lowering to the floor, "…I get the feeling everyone does sometimes."

"In her case Haxx, that's just how she is. She's not even all that talkative or sociable with me, the Commander, anyone for that matter. The Lieutenant takes her job and position very seriously, though she may not show it…she's as good as friend as any of the others, if not more so." Corr explained reassuringly, "and despite your feeling, Sergeant, I know that without question, each and every one of us in this unit would risk life and limb to aid you if you needed it. That was the principle that Commander Vult raised us all on from the start."

"We are Shadow Strikers," Haxx recited as he had done time and time again, "we are an entity without attachment, we rely on no one but ourselves. We wait in the shadows where we are most at home, and strike when commanded without hesitation or mercy."

"Without our creed, we are nothing Haxx," Corr made clear, "that is why it is spoken as such, "We" instead of "I". Without trust and reliance…we have nothing. We can't be so callous, so…thoughtless to simply go and complete our assigned task without it. Unlike the regular ranks, we don't have the luxury of simply calling for help and wait to be saved from whatever situation our short-sightedness got us into in the first place."

Haxx was stunned in silence at actually how prevalent and important a simple mantra that was spoken had been.

"Wow…I guess I never looked at the big picture before like that, Sir," he finally admitted, feeling a little relieved, "I always thought I was part of something larger, but in fact…they're all a part of me. I'm me, but so are they, without them, I'm only a small part of what remains."

Corr nodded with a smirk of satisfaction after finally getting the point across to him.

"I hope you'll act a little more…becoming from now on, won't you, Sergeant?"

"No promises…but I'll try my best, Captain," He huffed a bit of a laugh.

After a moment of silence, Haxx chuckled to himself, peaking Corr's interest.

"Something funny, Sergeant?"

"What? No, no, nothing, Sir," he explained with a smirk, "I just got to thinking about some things."

"Such as?"

"Well…call me crazy, but I get the feeling that I have incredibly bad luck for no apparent reason. Sure, I deserved some of what has come about in consequences for my actions, but like at the fountain and in the sewer…oh, Irk, the sewer….it's as if I'm not in control of my actions sometimes, then terrible, terrible things happen in response. I…I feel like someone else is forcing me to do these things at times. I don't know how else to explain it."

"…That is crazy, Haxx…you're crazy," Corr finally shook his head of the idea. It was absurd, even for him. "It's not fate and you're not tempting it, it's something that you're in control of, just keep a clear mind and use logic as opposed to your usual bravado and everything will be just fine, I assure you. A little common sense goes a long way, after all."

"I hope so, Sir," he nodded, the thought still bugging him slightly, "…Captain?"

"Yes, Sergeant, what is it?"

"…Thanks, I appreciate it," He cracked a smile that actually matched his tone of voice for once.

"Think nothing of it," Corr nodded modestly, "I'm your commanding officer, comrade, but most of all…friend, it's what I do. I expect you to do the same for anyone else in this unit when the need arises as well. That compassion and understanding is what sets us out from the Armada regulars, it's what makes us who we are."

Calling it an epiphany would be a stretch, but it was more or less a revelation for the Heavy Weapons Sergeant. He only hoped the sagely words of Corr, a trait that seemed to have been directly learned from Vult, would prove to be useful, let alone true, especially in the possible wrath of Lieutenant Volx when she came to again.

The rest of their shift went on without incident, the occasional conversations spanning the usual topics of their prior missions, as well as Haxx's impressive knowledge of Armada weaponry.

In turn, Corr was more than eager to share his retained information of their people's history. For a soldier that thoroughly enjoyed the arsenal of the Armada, this was more than engaging, an academic lesson that was far from boring…more than he could say for the very limited and less than appealing ones offered on Devastis that were more technical than anything.

Soldiers needed to know how to find cover, fire weapons, and follow orders. Past that, the Empire cared very little of what they knew, "staying alive" on that list as well. When casualties were so easily replaced in such a system, it was just wasted resources. To think that life was worth less than funding for enriching courses at the Academy was quite depressing to say the least.

Like clockwork, the next pair to assume overwatch for their comrades took over, Aero and Vult found their places at the table. Thankful that the alarm went off when it did, it allowed her to get some rest while having some more time dedicated to continuing repairs on the comm. array. She moved most of the components from the bathroom onto the table and proceeded to work under the cover of darkness with a small, dim lamp from a desk in the other room over her. Vard had managed to rewire and solder the damaged electronics, all that remained was connecting them and assembling the array once more, something Aero could handle with ease, despite her lack of formal Communications knowledge.

"How much longer until that thing is up and running, Sergeant?" Vult politely asked of her as she worked. He hadn't a clue as to what did what in the array, all he saw was a series of small electrical components that were intricate as could be. It was impressive at how she worked with such delicacy and speed.

"Not too much longer, Commander," She admitted without looking up as she began soldering pieces together, "Vard fixed most of the sensitive and complicated stuff already, I'm just trying to piece them all together again. He said unless there is some major malfunction he's overlooking, it should work once I get put back together."

"I don't want to rush you or anything, Aero," Vult half-heartily commented, "but the sooner you get it done, the better."

"Of course, Sir, I understand," she commented with a laugh, "but I have to do it right the first time, I'm moving as quickly as time permits."

Vult released a sigh of anxiety over the situation as he blinked blankly.

"You seem to have something on your mind, Sir," Aero commented after she looked up, "something's troubling you…I'll listen if you want to share."

"…It's nothing that you or any of the others should worry yourselves about, Aero."

"Never stopped me from soliciting help or someone just to talk to when I started growing breasts…among other things," She clearly pointed out with a smirk. "Just like you've told us time and time again, it helps to talk about it, so let's hear it."

The Commander adjusted his posture, uncomfortable with the question.

"Look…Commander," Aero finally spoke, retracted, "If you don't want to talk about it-"

"I hate it when my soldiers use my own teachings against me," he chuckled, reverting back to seriousness as his smile faded, "I'll keep it simple, I'd rather not go into details."

"That's perfectly understandable," she answered, continuing to put the components in place on the comm. array. "I picked up enough from the conversation between you and Captain Corr earlier that there is…history that is in question."

Seemed there was no other option than to simply tell her.

"Long before all of this, long before Praxxus 7," Vult began, remembering the events that had transpired, "…I was a younger Irken, fresh out of the Academy, and assigned as replacement for casualties to a unit on Drevin."

"Drevin?" Aero quizzingly asked with a cocked brow, "I've never heard of it before."

"It's a small planet in a backwater system. The Vortians controlled it, a mining facility and colony settled on it, several hundred thousand making up the populous. Long story short, this wasn't too long after Tallest Miyuki and Spork were devoured by some energy monster…blob thing created on Vort, so relations were strained at best between our peoples. The Empire wanted Drevin for the same reason that the Vorts wanted it, so a fight was inevitable. I was assigned to the very same unit that we're going to be working with there as one of the commanding officer's assistants at the rank of Lieutenant."

"So what happened then, Commander?" Aero pressed, intrigued.

"I knew right away there was something wrong with him. I couldn't place my finger on it, but after our first run-in with the Vorts after operations had been declared…I found out quickly. I know to avoid showing compassion to the enemy, but they still deserve respect, as well as mercy….Saro was void of all that. He is no mere Irken in my eyes, but a monster that mimics our visage. I stood idle, horrified as he took enjoyment in the slaughter of innocent civilians, even personally ascending to the task himself. I was forced to watch as he executed children in front of mothers, killed fathers in front of families, and molested women. He knew these things struck fear among many other powerful responses and emotions to give us the "upper hand" as he called it. There was no justification for the acts he committed, in any society of any sentient race of this universe. The images still disturb me to this day, Aero."

She was more than awestruck as she continued to listen, images of what the Commander described dancing through her mind…horrible images of things no one, even the Irken, should see.

"He was my commanding officer, if I spoke out of line, there were terrible consequences. Another Lieutenant did so…he disappeared a couple days later. I'm more than certain Saro killed him for doing so. I followed orders, continuing to force myself into believing that I was in the clear and wasn't responsible for the things he was doing…all because I followed orders. I couldn't take it anymore, after nearly 3 months beneath his command, I mustered the courage to confront him about the sick, cruel, and unusual punishment and treatment of the Vortians he had been encouraging."

"…what happened, Sir?"

"It didn't end as I had hoped," Vult admitted, shaking his head gently, "but he responded in his usual bravado and attacked me with a knife, trying to cut my spooch out for being a "filthy sympathizing traitor". I defended myself…and lost control in the process. I'm not proud of my actions, but this insurmountable rage had built up for this one man, and it all came out at once. With my bare claw…" he trailed off, holding up his left hand, his only remaining natural one, "I shredded into his flesh of his face, got a grip on his left eye…and ripped it from its socket. Needless to say, he wasn't pleased with that, but other soldiers in the unit pulled me off of him before I could finish the job. As for closure on the matter…an investigation determined that I acted in self-defense and was transferred to lead my own unit to prevent conflicts in the future."

"What about Saro though?" Aero asked, unable to believe that someone as composed as the Commander could lose complete control like that.

"After that…I don't know, and I could care less to be honest," Vult stated, more angered at the mentioning of his name than the asking of the question. "I had truly hoped I would never have to see him again in this life or the next."

"So he's the C.O. of AO ten-three then? No wonder why you don't want to work with these guys…"

"Correct, Sergeant," Vult nodded, looking at the comm. array, "please tell me that thing is fixed now. There's a slim chance I can convince Command to call them off and let us work alone."

"I've got everything hooked up how the schematic says, I'm not as good as Vard is at this, Sir," she stated of her own abilities, reaching for the power switch, "but here goes nothing."

She flicked the switch on, the headphones on her head instantly filled with hissing of static. Not white noise, but light, gentle static. A good sign.

With a series of manual twists of knobs and dial adjustments, Aero found the correct frequency as the static completely died out and left nothing but silence, giving a thumbs-up to the Commander. Vult motioned for her to hand him the headset that was removed from Vard's helmet, putting it on his own.

"Command, Commander Vult of Alpha Centauri 00, please respond."

Silence, then a short hiss of static.

"Command here, Alpha Centauri 00," a droll, male voice responded, synonymous with comm. operators that weren't in the field, "where the Irk have you been? Your unit has been out of contact for over 14 hours, why haven't you been transmitting?"

"Our array was malfunctioning," Vult explained clearly, "my comm. technician just finished up repairs. We are still on-mission and a bit behind schedule. We have taken on wounded from moderate Vortian resistance."

"Any casualties?"

"Negative, Command," he responded quickly, "only 2 with minor wounds. Transmitting our positional coordinates now."

"…Coordinates received, Commander," the disembodied voice from the radio informed, "have you established contact with Alpha Omega 13 as of yet?"

"Negative, Command. Regarding that, I am formally declining their assistance on this mission. This is something my unit can easily accomplish on our own."

"You're in no position to do so, Commander," the voice uttered with annoyance, "after have being out of contact for so long, it was believed your unit had been KIA to begin with. Not to mention the fact that you've taken on wounded, your unit is in no condition to go it alone."

"With all due respect," Vult attempted, his teeth grit, "nothing good will come from working with them."

"You're going to have to figure out that solution on your own, Commander. Alpha Omega 13 is already en route and has been in your absence, E.T.A….2 hours at your current location. You are to stay put and await their arrival. Is that clear?"

The Commander said nothing as he ground his teeth in anger.

"Please confirm you received the last transmission, Commander."

"…Understood, Command," Vult finally forced himself to say, "Alpha Centauri 00 out."

He turned the knob to close the channel with Command, disgustingly pushing the array away from him back towards Aero.

"I'm going to say it's safe to assume that they denied your request, didn't they, Sir?" Aero sheepishly questioned.

"That…and they're only about 2 hours away, so even if we tried to leave now and go ahead with the mission, they would catch up." Vult replied, a sigh of annoyance coming forth.

"…what are you going to do then, Commander?"

Vult looked over at her from across the table, his face distraught.

"The only thing I can do, Aero…follow orders and hope the past doesn't rear its ugly head once more. I've tried to forget the matter and leave it where it belongs."

"And Saro?" Aero naively asked, realizing it before she even finished.

"Knowing him…it will be one of the first things he brings up. Sure, soldiers have spats and arguments here and there, Sergeant…but this is by far the worst of blood between two individuals you can think of."