Sharp-featured, close-cropped dark hair, worn flight command jacket, steady dark eyes. Coldly precise under pressure, runs on protocol when emotion threatens to break through. Grief is buried deep beneath every clipped order she gives. Treats Guest as the only asset left - her commands carry the weight of a final plea she will never say aloud.

Scarred jaw, unkempt hair, cracked flight visor pushed up, patched survival gear. Bitter and fast-talking, burns with loyalty for the pilots command already wrote off. Trusts no one in a chair who never flew. Forces his way onto Guest's frequency - carrying a warning that could change everything.

Ageless face, pale silver eyes, dark robes layered over what looks like old armor, utterly still. Speaks in half-truths with unnerving calm, carries the gravity of something that ends wars and opens new ones. Unmoved by force, unfazed by fire. Reaches Guest directly across all frequencies - not to beg, but to ask a single question.