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As the remains of their little vanguard discussed the correct course of action, Selene sat quietly atop a discarded crate, listening intently and trying not to worry about how cavalier some of them sounded at the idea of a suicide mission. Five Bishop patrols, three Knight scouting parties, and two or more Rook encampments, all before even stepping foot inside the Nest itself, or facing the Princess. She didn’t doubt the capabilities of her companions, some of which she’d had the delight of fighting alongside before; unfortunately, the line between heroism and vainglory could be quite blurry. Yes, what else could Ahkari’s plan be considered but suicide? And she could not understand why. 

She knew the reason, of course: to save Alora. To rid her home world of the Aberrants so that its people might return, rebuild, and regain their strength. It might take decades, maybe centuries. Entire generations of Alorans would grow up on a ruined world, working to recreate something they’d never seen themselves, and die hoping those that came after might be able to finish, so that their own children could enjoy the fruits of their labor. Planets were monuments, there was history rooted so deeply in the earth that could never truly be recovered if it was lost. People were tied to their homes in ways that defied the material. Not pride but duty, not heroism but instinct. She knew that, she knew [i]all[/i] off that—she just didn’t understand it. 

The civilians were safe, for now, evacuated or sheltered until they could be. The UAS and MHA had established themselves and while, true, there was resistance, progress was being made with each day, each hour even. Perhaps the answer was not to simply wait as long as they could, but surely vengeance was preferable to martyrdom. 

She heard humming—or maybe she was humming herself—and felt inwardly ill. No, what a terrible thing to think. Terrible and callous to the suffering of people like Ahkari. Dr. Reom had told her—not dissuasively—that she might have been promoted a year ago, had she a habit of prioritizing the success of a mission over the wellbeing of her comrades, and not the other way around. That tendency had thus far failed to impress her superiors, but neither had it brought her any sort of court martial or official rebuke. 

Still, it was best she hadn’t voiced those thoughts, and she was glad to hear a proposition that seemed to come from a place of similar—if more pragmatically-minded—sentiment. “[color=8882be]I agree with Odessa too,[/color]” Selene said softly, hopping down from the crate. 

She placed an extra ration bar beside Rudis with a smile, and then made her way over to the pair of pilots. She didn't recognize either of them, but then, protracted battles had a way of introducing strangers to each other, and she never turned down to the opportunity to meet new people. Though still in one piece, there was a weariness to the man—though Selene was not entirely sure if he simply looked that way normally—and the woman bore a scorch in her left side that Selene had noticed bother her more than once. 

Reaching into her coat, she produced a small medipen. It was nothing more than an analgesic gel, but it was what she had, and it would likely serve the pilot better anyway. Sadly, she didn’t smoke and had already given her ration to Rudis, so had nothing to offer the man, but she made a note to remember in case they both made it back. 

“[color=8882be]I’m sorry I don’t have a proper burn kit.[/color]” she said, offering the medipen to her. “[color=8882be]I’m Selene. I look forward to working with you both.[/color]”