"I can do something... if..."
That was what Torvan replied with after Tatehan had finished narrating his current situation.
Tatehan stood there, his armored hand gripping the phone, his visor reflecting the chaotic scene around him as fighters continued to load salvaged weapons into transports and secure prisoners. Bjorn was nearby, overseeing the operation with his usual commanding presence, but Tatehan's focus was entirely on the conversation he was having with Torvan.
"If what?" Tatehan asked, his tone urgent. "We need to move these mechs, Torvan. They're too valuable to leave behind, and we don't have the equipment here to transport them."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Tatehan could almost hear the gears turning in Torvan's head, the man's mind already working through possibilities, calculating variables and running through scenarios.
