As the wake progressed, the tone was somber, but had the normal larger-than-life atmosphere one would expect of any group of soldiers under the influence of alcohol and strong emotions. While things didn't get rowdy, they were vibrant. 
Silverwind looked over as Esailia sat down alongside him, tipping his glass to her in greeting. He cocked one black ear as she spoke, the glass to his lips as he listened. He took a sip before answering, and removed his beret, running one hand through his short grey-and-brown head-fur before he spoke in answer.
"You're right about the 'could haves' and 'might have beens'. I spent so much of the time before writin' the words I said earlier just goin' over things in my head and wrackin' over what I coulda done different. I coulda done any one of a dozen things different, an' who even knows if it woulda changed anything." He gave a deep sigh as he picked up his drink again, nodding at her further comments about command. "Yeah, I know it ain't just me. It's kind of a weird situation; having your team in my team as part of my command. An' then throwin' Ken inta the mix too, makin' it all fit together is gonna be a heck of a learnin' curve. But maybe yer right - goin' after the assholes who took down our people might give us somethin' to bring us together".

The evening wound down slowly as people drifted off to sleep in advance of their next duty shift, and before too long it was Silverwind's turn to call the others to do the same. Their journey to Martenstown was halfway through, and they'd need to be ready the next day. He excused himself and reminded them all politely of the time and their duties, before heading off to his cabin in their squadrons' area of the landcruisers' cramped confines. 
Settling onto his bed after completing his ablutions, he stared at the ceiling in the dark. His head was thickened and slowed with the alcohol he'd consumed, and he was thankful for the blessed grip of sleep clawing its' way through his head and beckoning him into its' embrace. He'd managed to restrain himself during the party, not draining the whole bottle of whisky, though he'd been tempted as soon as its' aroma touched his nose. More so, with the trials of the day. The thoughts blurred together his single, heavy eyelid drooped into place and he collapsed into a sleep full of choppy, distorted dreams. 

***

The next morning, Blade was grateful for the lack of a hangover. He'd risen a little over an hour ago, going through his PT routine before chow-time, and was now waiting the communal area. He had his PADD to hand, and was surrounded by a small cloud of holographic displays floating in the air around him. His eye flicked between them as he tapped icons on each and scanned information, while waiting for the others to emerge. 
The [i]Claw[/i] had made excellent time. As he'd predicted, albeit tongue in cheek, the journey had been delayed by the nature of the Badlands themselves. They were now two hours out. Time enough to brief the group, and implement a strategy. Assaulting the town with firepower wasn't a plan of any kind - this was a situation that called for investigation, scouting, and gathering information carefully and craftily. 
The [i]Claw[/i] would be off-loading it's gaggle of captives to another LDF vessel, giving it more than a legitimate reason to be there, and for its' crew to be out and around in the town itself. Although, it's being on the Landren border was good enough reason itself. 
Taking a sip from a cup of tea on the table, he collapsed down the windows and shut off the PADD for the moment; he'd have to wait for the others before any more could be done. He had something of a plan, but he'd need them to get anywhere with it. As such, he crossed one leg over the other and leant back on the sofa and waited for the rest of the group to emerge before giving his briefing. 
Maybe the smell of the warm pastries he was eating would rouse them quicker.