The General appeared to have aged in the 36 hours he’d been gone.
Only 36.
He lifted his blaster rifle over his head and leaned this against the weapons locker as well.
Then he stared down at his black gloves for a long moment and Piett moved to him, placing a hand on his forearm.
It was Max who gazed at him from red rimmed grey eyes and not the Iron General.
The two men held eye contact, and long experience told Piett that something worse than defeat or loss of personnel had occurred.
“How bad?” he asked quietly.
Veers’ jaw worked and then he shook his head.
Kark .
Piett moved to the small cold storage and found water which he handed over to his friend.
“Do you want those cleaned and put away?” he asked, gesturing to the cuirass and weapons.
“Thank you,” Max croaked and then he sank into his sofa and drank the water in one go.