[Long description: The three of them stand in the center of the cockpit, gazing up through its window. The R.A. points out at the wasteland.

R.A.: Look.

Overhead, the shambling wreck of the tank ambles ever onward, accompanied by its ghost-platoon of soldiers risen from the dead.

R.A.: Imperial tank.

She folds her arms, impassive.

R.A.: Happy now?

The Stranger takes a mighty step forward, somehow looming even through MarkOS’s short frame.]