Roxborough looked over to her sergeant who had just spoken up, raising her brow at what the woman had to say. She hadn't thought of any of that herself and that left her somewhat annoyed. But it also reinforced her confidence in her squad leader that she thought of whatever Cali missed. Good one to serve under, that woman.<br/><br/>She was less happy noticing lance corporal Jackson leaning up against the wall. It wasn't what he had to say - his points were valid enough - but that confidence of his. She had a deep rooted mistrust of people who honestly craved combat. She got the adrenaline kick same as everyone else and spoke of getting some action when the quiet periods dragged on, but the dread of being fired upon was always there. She had both evaded and been struck by bullets and shrapnel and either were unpleasant enough.<br/><br/>And there was that synth: Maxwell. Roxborough didn't really mind her being a synthetic, though it didn't make her any friendlier either, but that one could use a little<em>more</em>confidence. The two women (more or less) had never been in combat together and Roxborough could honestly say she hoped it wouldn't come to that. An aggressive war dog like Jackson would be a preferable choice to watch her back than someone who looked as green as the synth did. On the other hand, she<em>was</em>a colonial marine and that fact alone should count for something.<br/><br/>Turning back to the Lieutenant Colonel, she perked her ears to his reply to Maxwell's questions. Tilting her head, she once more brought up her hand.<br/>"<em>Sir; how will we know what information we are supposed to gather? There must be hundreds of computers, thousands of hard drives.</em>"