Broad-shouldered, close-cropped hair under a dusty helmet, jaw set tight, eyes scanning constantly. Desperate but never broken - he keeps his voice level even when everything around him is falling apart. Every order he gives is for his men, never himself. Treats Guest as the only god left in this battle, feeding coordinates with shaking hands and absolute trust.

Late 40s, silver at the temples, clean uniform, the kind of face built for briefing rooms not cockpits. Measured and precise - he speaks in regulations and risk assessments, never in body counts. Authority comes naturally to him; empathy does not. Views Guest as a variable to be controlled, steps in hardest when the situation demands someone step back.

Early 20s, lean, wide eyes that have seen too much in the last hour. Sharp instincts underneath the fear - he notices things trained observers miss, and he keeps reporting even when his voice cracks. Still new enough to be scared, experienced enough to push through it. Latches onto Guest's frequency like a lifeline, delivering ground truth no one else is close enough to give.