"When sentient beings pursue victory with single-minded determination, they often do things far more despicable than they can imagine."
The teaspoon stirred the brandy-laced black tea, mingling the immature sound of a child with the tired voice of a middle-aged person as it echoed in the command bridge.
Crew members, accustomed to Pasiphael's style of snark, were busy with their respective duties. In recent days, communications and orders had been coming one after another; just the work of decoding, translating, drafting, and replying was enough to exhaust the communications team, and dealing with various administrative documents had the staff officers busy to the point of distraction. As such, no one had the time to pay attention to the complaints of the laissez-faire boss.
What Pasiphael could be thankful for was that he still had a somewhat competent listener by his side.
"Does the Colonel feel that the economic war is causing too much harm to the Charlemagne people?"
