For the Blade of Marmora, this was a rather minor emergency. A small fleet on Empire ships at one of the smaller Marmora outcroppings. Setting up camp there had been more of a test than anything. There was no important information, the base was tiny compared to all the rest, so it gave in to the Empire ships relatively fast—not without a fight, of course, but the Blade does not take unnecessary chances.

To mitigate the damage, every Blade on the premises had found their way to a pod and taken off at first sign of being outnumbered. The pods wouldn't be priority for the Galra as they searched the building and the charted routes were designed specifically with being chased and followed in mind. The things were even relatively comfortable by wartime evasive manoeuvres standards. The seats had a slight bit of padding over the metal, there was light, there was food reserves, there was a tiny little bathroom made only for emergencies, and then there was a night front row seat by the override controls. The pods were only made for two or three depending on the sheer size of the persons given that Galra had a broad range of 'normal' heights and builds.

Being ushered into one of these was hardly uncomfortable, even when paired with such a hulking man as Kolivan. Sure, the two of you were practically knee-to-knee in the sitting space as the pod zipped away along with a few others, but he was the most professional and experienced company that any of your comrades could've hoped for. Even if movement had to be shoulder-to-shoulder, at least there was an increased chance of not dying in case of emergency.

His gaze kept being directed to a different spot every time you looked at him. One moment he was locked onto the sealed door, as if waiting for someone to walk in even though the pod was steadily flying through space; the next he was staring the other way at the control panel and viewer, making sure nothing went awry.