<div style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Dark Star Dropship</strong><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/ef/Damian_Harper.jpg)</div><br/><br/>Damian had expected to be left waiting in his office for a good while before his two associates would show up. Not because he believed them not to be punctual, but simply because of how sudden his request had been, and that he couldn't bring himself to blame one or both of them for wanting to stay in bed and force reality to wait at the doorstep of their rooms. Sadly, reality never waited, so his message, if nothing else, would have to drag them from any potential slumber.<br/><br/>Damian had not had any sleep whatsoever, which showed on his face. He had finally washed up after working a few hours and actually running out of things to do. He knew his constant requests for updates from those working in the hangar bay and across the vessel as a whole was starting to annoy them, and when the night shift began, progress slowed further. But, by the time he had freshened up and changed into clean clothes, work had piled back up again. he was clad in his relatively casual attire of black fatigues, sturdy, dark hued boots, a white shirt and his trademark dark green jacket. The jacket sported a few insignias that indicated his rank, loyalties and responsibilities, but was otherwise fairly unremarkable. It certainly wasn't of any military standard issue.<br/><br/>Kari arrived first, and found him sitting behind his desk. Despite the veritable monstrous heap of information he had been forced to sift through, both on paper and on his computer, his desk still managed to look obsessively organized. The piles were everywhere, but there was some rhyme or reason to their location and orientation. What he had compiled for them was in a neat folder. While he painstakingly went over every detail, he was still fully capable of distilling the matters of import from all the useless nonsense for others, which is what he had done there again. Despite that, the document was still rather sizable, counting at least a few dozen pages of writing and numbers, with a few more of graphs and scans of reports and photographs.<br/><br/>He had been looking over the information himself, leaning back in his chair while his elbow rested on the arm of the seat, his index finger pushed against his temple, while his chin was supported by his thumb. His eyes looked up at his former commander's daughter as she entered, and he immediately shoved one of the reports towards her over the expanse of his desk.<br/><strong>"Good morning, lieutenant Moreno. I will wait for Lieutenant Rowe before saying anything,"</strong> he stated as he put his own report down. They did not need to wait long before the other survivor joined them. He could tell they had both gotten at least some semblance of sleep, which was good, he needed their head in the game.<br/><br/><strong>"You should. the question is if you want to,"</strong> Damian responded before rising up from his seat and walking over to a viewscreen he had installed on one of the walls in his office. While he had a relatively poor room when he had first joined, the fact that he never seemed to spend a single credit of the money he made on anything like vacation, and seemed to have Clan Sea Fox' legendary ability to transform money into even more money, he had slowly expanded and renewed the place. Even though he had been nowhere near the highest ranking in the company, the accommodations he had for himself were rather enviable, and almost seemed above his paygrade. Not that there was excess. Everything was functional and practical, but also brand-new and state-of-the-art; insofar as that was possible considering the state of the universe they lived in.<br/><br/>The viewscreen did not show anything of particular interest, but the clanner clearly felt like walking and talking.<br/><strong>"I will start with what little positive news I can give you. As you will be able to tell from the first few pages of the report I made, the dropship itself is in fairly good shape. There weren't too many casualties during the escape where staff is concerned and we have got a few willing converts from other mercenary companies that were obliterated stowing away right now. So, if we have a modicum of luck, we will not have to look for replacements. Equipment was kept fairly intact and armor and armaments do not need too much maintenance to be back to peak performance. If anyone is going to be making any speeches to address the company, I think morale will benefit from pointing out how excellent the ship's crew reacted,"</strong> he explained and, while it seemed like he was being complimentary, his tone of voice lacked all empathy as he obviously cared little if their egos were caressed a little or not, even if there was cause to.<br/><br/><strong>"Of the lances, there is much less left. The list of casualties is on page eight, with the tiny list of injured on the next page. I will contact next of kin and let them know as soon as things are sorted here. Unless someone here has the stomach for it. I will not lie, I am not suited for something that requires tact like this,"</strong> he continued, barely giving them time to look over the enormous list of lost friends and fellow warriors before moving on. He was rattling it off like it was business, content to hide in a denial focusing on numbers, not people.<br/><strong>"Lieutenant Jirani has already informed me she will be leaving the company once her wounds are healed. One of the two in critical condition may never be able to pilot again, and the other is a question mark whether he will see the end of the week. Unless we are lucky, and unless someone can talk miss Jirani into staying, we won't even have enough manpower to fill a single lance,"</strong> he proceeded, turning around to face them by that point. There was more to come, but he was obviously giving them time to respond.</div>