Unflinching, Unremorseful

0352 Hours, January 20th, 2552

Hill 132

Sigma Octanus IV "Major Ulan."

"Yes?"

Overlooking the carnage that covered the western side of Hill 132, Ulan looked back at the camouflage-clad Victorian Naval Infantry officer who had just interrupted his reflection. "What's going on?" he asked.

"We got one, a live one."

"Use your words Lieutenant. Live what?"

"A Freelancer. Apparently some of the local militiamen managed to hit her with some grenades, she's alive, but bleeding out. Your orders?"

"I'll deal with this personally. Take me to her."