Southern Frontline HQ, Serenity Valley, Planet Hera

The smell of antiseptic assaulted his nose, and the man hugged his legs closer to fight off a wave of nausea. His eyes, rubbed red in the night past, gazed vacantly at a star-shaped rock resting on the ground of the infirmary tent. Aside from the infrequent nurse that glanced in his direction, no one in the infirmary took any notice of the traumatized young Corporal sitting in the corner. There were far too many other patients to take care of, living, breathing, and screaming.

Next to the quiet Corporal was a deceased patient, his white handsome face unblemished except for the missing ear and the necessary bloodstains resulting from that injury. His lips were grey, their life color having been drained a couple hours past. His chest was bare, the skin slightly singed from the electric discharge that tried to bring him back to life, along with a big red X drawn by an exhausted army surgeon. Clutched in his hand was his dog tag, Sergeant Thomas Treadwell.

Two soldiers trailing a nurse came over, covering the late Sergeant's body and face with a white sheet and began the motion to carry him out for the mass burial. The Corporal shot up, asked for them to wait, to allow him to button up the Sergeant's uniform, trim and official as he had liked it to be in life. The nurse gave the Corporal a sad smile, pressed the late Sergeant's dog tag into his hand, and then directed the two soldiers towards with the exit with the body. The Corporal, running his thumb over the dog tag, slowly slid back down into this corner, a small tear threatening to form in the corner of his eye.

A figure stepped into the tent, her hands holding the tent flap open such that the descending sun brightened the dusky interior. The ray of sun drove into the Corporal's eyes, stunning him momentarily and chasing away the threat of tears. The figure, a female officer, the Corporal noted, was carrying a clipboard.

"Sergeant Treadwell?" The female officer called ou