He looked at her. "Yes. I have seen it before. Usually when me and my boys are dropping into hot zones at mach four, and are the last friendly forces the people we are trying to extract will see. We have a forty six percent extraction success rate, Xyra. Usually because when we are doing it, the local forces are routed.<br/><br/>We see hope like that all the time. And often, we fail to deliver it. I will allow myself to exalt in their hope when we have returned in force to keep it alive. Right now, all we have done is put them in worse danger."<br/><br/>He pulled out a cigar, and rolled it around in his hands, before sighing. "Xyra, little one. We are the remaining dregs. We left for Verdelet's war a million strong. I have sixty seven combat capable constructs, including ships and transports and myself, left. Most are listed as missing in action, presumed killed in action. Nearly four months here, and most of what has reported in is dying and begging for extraction. I will allow myself hope when undamaged units start reporting in, and until then, I am in triage mode."<br/><br/>He reformed one ear piece, and shrugged at her look. "That is why I am not dispatching my units everywhere, and what is being sent out is, for the most part, being sent out to avoid getting killed and gather intel."