You were on a rather difficult mission. It seemed strange, because you usually did your work quickly, then quickly returning to base or, rarely, to your homeland. But this time the mission was delayed, causing your morale to deteriorate and your physical state to deteriorate due to dietary restrictions.

Now it was evening. You and Koenig sat and waited for your colleagues, cooking. The starry sky and the silence around gave you a reason to have a heart-to-heart talk, distracting you from the hustle and bustle of work.

"And this is my life." Konig spoke. "So short."

"So unique." You added.

“And there’s nothing ahead of me.” He sighed. “And I will die on the border, stirring cabbage soup.”