"Sir!"

A marine pushed through the olive canvas flaps of the field tent, used for a temporary sleeping arrangement for the ground forces. Belatedly, the young man realized his mistake, as the captain rolled over on his cot and propped himself up on his elbow with a tired expression.

The young lieutenant, as though sensing his imminent demotion, came to an abrupt halt and saluted. "Permission to speak, sir!" Remarkably, he didn't think to alter the volume of his near shout.

The captain dragged himself upright, he hadn't been sleeping anyway. Really, the interruption was almost welcome, replaying as he was memories of reinforcing barriers, and laser fire, and women crying over the charred corpses of men who, just moments before, had been shouting at the security forces in an unfamiliar tongue. "Clearly your message is urgent enough it can't wait until morning," he replied dryly. He hoped. "At ease."

"Yessir." But the lieutenant didn't relax; if anything, the boy looked ready for a dressing down, like a drill sergeant from basic training might swoop down on him at any moment. He remembered this soldier now from the night before; despite the action earlier in the day, despite the vague resemblance of the open-faced helmet to a samurai warrior of old, the new-minted officer's armor still had its factory polish. "Kurtz VMO-3 reporting in from patrol on the east airstrip." The captain waved the boy on. "They were ambushed, sir."

Not unexpected, and he could see how it might have happened. Reduced visibility, and his men were all green, overeager and out looking for glory. They'd simply seen an opportunity to chase after. He sighed. "How many?" he asked, reaching under the cot for his folded grey trousers and mao jacket.

"Four casualties, two dead." Half the squad. "And they took the roller."

His mind stumbled over the news, taking a few moments to attempt to process the informa