Smoke drifted through the air as the passenger door opened and Gerrin, Park, Wilkins, Reilly and Aldous stepped quickly from the Troll’s cargo bay, weapons at the ready, and spread out, scanning the packed-dirt landing area marked with small craters and bodies, otherwise empty except for the Troll and a few scattered crates and drums. Doc emerged behind them with a med kit, looked around, and moved toward the nearest body. Kneeling over the man, Doc examined him rapidly while Gerrin and Aldous stood watch close by. “This one’s alive, but barely”, she called out to Gerrin. “Multiple gunshot wounds, couple of knife cuts, shrapnel. He needs a hospital, like an hour ago”.

“Ain’t got one”, the man groaned. “Nearest one’s forty miles from here”.

Gerrin moved cautiously up beside them. “Who did this?” he asked.

The man saw the rifle in Gerrin’s hands and struggled to move away. “Relax”, Gerrin assured him, “we’re friendlies”.

The man relaxed slightly as he continued “They came over that ridge. Seemed like a hundred of ‘em, shootin’ at everything in sight”.

Gerrin glanced across the field to the small valley beyond, focusing on the ridge on the far side. “Who were they?”

“Don’t know”. The man confessed in broken sentences. “They come, they shoot, they go. That’s about it. Three times they’ve hit us”.

“That still doesn’t tell me ‘who’”.

“Can’t - didn’t -“ Suddenly the man started gasping violently. “Hey! Hey!”, Gerrin commanded, “You hang on, now! We’re gonna get you fixed up. What’s your name, mister?”

The man’s spasms relaxed for a moment. “Wood”, he rasped.

“Alright, Wood”, Gerrin continued, leaning directly into the man’s line of sight, “I want you to focus on me, and Doc here’s gonna get you stable enough to move, okay?”

Wood’s breathing became labored. “Wood, don’t you slip on me!”

Woods bo