The residual steam from her [i]Ostroc[/i] hadn't yet dissipated before she was climbing down its side, having to skip a couple rungs on the mounted handholds as they had been blown off by shrapnel in the fighting.  There were still a couple pockets that glowed with an unnatural heat within the cratered armor, and its innards hung open like a man disembowled.

Ingrid was better off, nothing more than the usual slight tenderness in the limbs from getting thrown around in combat.  A few seconds after she left the comfortable sauna of her cockpit, the winter cold of the cave - amplified by wearing not much else besides a cooling jacket, boots and briefs - bit at her skin.  Her expression was grave, her lower lip pulled taut upward as she took her neurohelmet off, handing it to advancing form of Sanders silently.

"Ma'am?"

[color=SteelBlue]"Yes?"[/color]

"Looks like you managed to get the shit beaten out of you, ma'am."

[color=SteelBlue]"I did, Sanders.  Thank you for your work on the hand actuators."[/color]  She gave a brief huff through her nose, and looked at him in the eye as she added [color=SteelBlue]"If her crew is willing, get to work on the [i]Raven[/i] first.  I did not suffer much here."[/color]

She heard him say something about a savior complex, but paid it no heed.  From there it was straight to her 'room', a subdivision made with some leftover medical curtains, where unlike the others she had no one waiting to welcome her back.  Her interim period was spent bathing by dumping lukewarm water over her head and calling it even, returning to her whole uniform, and then marching back to the briefing table.  There, she sat on a crate with her sheathed saber clasped over by both hands and pointed toward the ground.  The spitting image of an old Terran warlord of many centuries ago, if being a short, barely imposing and slightly damp woman didn't impact that impression.

In her own internal estimation, she hadn't succeeded.  Supplies were here, casualties were acceptable, but their expenses in repairing damage were going to be great and not [i]all[/i] of the supplies were here.  The debriefing would be the ultimate determining factor in their success, but for now, the tight-lipped expression Ingrid made while staring forward was enough to get across that she had failed by her own metric.