[h2] Commander Stader Volger
89th LSC CO[/h2]

Volger had arrived to the debriefing late. An unfortunate matter of coordinating two battle torn ships full of his troopers, the degenerate boarders and their collective casualties. So he was still in his armor when he slipped through the door a few seconds ahead of the Prince’s arrival. 

His helmet was off, carried in the crook of his off arm per regulation, so he kept his features schooled. His gaze now and then sneaking towards the “Captain” of this so called vessel. 

Some would notice the similarities between the two commanders. Pale skin endemic to habitual spacers. Steely gazes common among veterans. The hardness of features that usually came with hard decisions and harder consequences. 

All Volger could see was the artfully constructed chaos of a uniform Captain Ganishka had chosen to don. A lax, easygoing stance as if throwing around the might of an Imperial Lance and its support company were standard occurrences. As if she had a place in their chain of command because the Prince brought her and her crew along for some void-forsaken reason. 

It was when the debriefing died down and the side conversations inevitably began that he made his move. A graceful sidestep, for being encumbered in armor and assault frame at least, and he was in front of Captain Ganishka. 

“Captain.” His voice was tight. The sarcasm evident even if the respect was somewhat there. “I want to have a conversation offside.”