The spaceship was on its way to a safe landing area. Another few hours and Jarf would be somewhere far away from war. Galaxies between him and all the nonsense with the Dominion and Exiles. He wouldn't miss a single person on either side-- after all, he was already in the company of the only people that mattered to him: soldiers, of both red and blue uniforms, gathered in a stolen ship to flee a war that no longer made any sense to them.
The only people in the entire galaxy which they had just left that could agree with one another on at least one thing. War was stupid. It was tiring. And it did none of them any good. A temporary fix to a permanent human flaw.