She looked down her nose at him - not too far, she was only about three inches taller than he was. "Young man, I was living dreary and futile before it became fashionable," she said snottily, then went back to her normal tone. "I'd prefer dreary and futile and not changing everything at random every four months,thank you very much."

"The mercs could be very futile. Take the paycheck, win the battle, help the rebels, and then two years later you're hired back because the rebels who took over run the planet twice as badly as the previous bunch. I used to be better at putting it aside, that's all. 'We lost, massive casualties, nothing accomplished? Well, let's toast the dead and then go dancing.' Here I just can't seem to strike the right balance."

It didn't help that the funerals on Stacy weren't accompanied by a proper funeral feast.