Zaa'Nabar, 12H.

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Home to the proud warrior race of lizards, the Aranek, and the ape-like race of primitives, the Primordox. Zaa'Nabar has been in conflict for years. It was once a planet where only the Aranek ruled, having technology of roughly the humans in the 1960s. They lived as the humans did, split amongst themselves. It wasn't until the Zeleniyans came that the Aranek banded together. They came to take their resources, indoctrinate the people, and take their artifacts left from an alien civilization long ago, which they deemed secret.

Decades ago it was completely controlled by the Zeleniyans, but it is now split between the rebel fighters backed and funded by the CFP, and loyalist Aranek with the Zeleniyan army and marines. The planet is barred from entry, only certain Zeleniyans can get in or out. The Aranek are fiercely fighting back, but the Zeleniyans are responding with attacks growing harsher by each day.

The Zeleniyans keep this planet a secret as best they can, and for good reason. They have committed such atrocities as mass environmental destruction, unwilling indoctrination of the Primordox and turning them into mindless killing machines,, genocide, thievery, and mass manipulation of the Aranek.

Possible Reward: N/A.

Nations Involved:

- Socialist Republic of Zeleniy.

Once had full control over the planet, until the rebels pushed them out of the deepest jungles of Zaa'Nabar. They seek to regain control over the jungle territories and city regions they've lost in the western hemisphere, which contain a vast amount of Alarei cybernetic technology hidden in ancient ruins and guarded as religious relics by the Aranek.

They are backed by the few socialist-indoctrinated Aranek cities they control and the mindless abominations of the Primordox they have created.

- The Second Sultanate of Zaa'Nabar.

Merely a small group of rebels just a decade and a half ago, they now have the resources to call themselves a nation. Backed by nearly 1.3 billion Aranek, supported by a guerilla army estimated to be around 250 million, and using stolen Zeleniyan tech as well as CFP modified weapons specially tailored to the lizards.

They are fierce warriors, equally as bloodthirsty and ruthless as their Zeleniyan counterparts. Their people have been shaken from slumber, the invader has been struck a heavy blow, and they are moving in for the kill.

- Kuul'Um Tharag.

Recently technologically uplifted, the Primordox fought a short war with the Aranek to gain independence from slavery, which they succeeded in part due to the CFP's pressuring of the Second Sultanate to free the slaves. Unofficially supported by the CFP, this race is fighting for a place in a world it has never called its own, having been slaves for most of Aranek history.

They are neutral currently, with some tribes taking part in minor looting and ambushing supply lines on either side of the war. The CFP has sent some humanitarian aid to them in the way of educators, to further teach them of their world and eventually of the universe they live in.

Though despite their neutral behavior, they are starting to grow more aggressive with the Zeleniyans, as they have discovered the abominations of cybernetic soldiers they have turned Primordox captives into.

- Unified and Collective Federation of Prefectures.

Knowing that a head on war with the Zeleniyans would not benefit them, they have instead motivated and armed the locals against them. Their operation started a decade ago from sneaking around the front line and supplying tribal leaders with automatic rifles, pointing out the enemy's strategic points and helping them destroy it. The Zeleniyan Center for Strategical Information Dominance has long since known that the CFP have been supplying these rebels and even outright killed many Zeleniyan service men through their covert operations, but their counter operations against the CFP operatives have had few successes.

How they are able to slip through the Zeleniyan blockade is unknown to Zeleniyan Command, but they are finding it harder to supply their rebels as the Zeleniyans employ more stealth detecting technology. The CFP know what they're doing, and intend to keep the pressure on the Zeleniyans even as the tables turn in favor of the Aranek.

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A signal is streamed in from 14H, unintelligible, but very clearly some sort of alien number station at work. The stream pauses after ten minutes, and soon any orbiting objects at the outer edges of the system facing 14H detect three ships exiting slipspace.

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A Zeleniyan carrier, battleship, and frigate move to intercept, hooking around the planet's orbit and slingshotting themselves in the direction of the three ships. Aboard the ship, a heavily augmented captain calls out orders to his crew in the bridge.

"Crypto, decode that message immediately and identify those ships. Nav, maneuver the battlegroup into a defensive posture. CIC, power to shields and weaponry, and put the fighters on standby. Comms, send a report back to fleet command and hail those ships on any frequency we have! If they are CFP, we have our orders!"

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The trio of ships break off in all directions, several high pitched beeps with several pauses in between sent as a reply. The information sent by the signal is unintelligible, literally gibberish to the Zeleniyans. When the ships approach any of the three, they find that they're unarmed, orange pods of mass with a heat signature that appears universal throughout the ship itself, equally distributed.

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The Captain of the battle group receives information from his cryptologists,"Komrade Kapitan, we're getting absolute nonsense back from the ships. They are unarmed and their specifications are of no known species, sir!" The Captain sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn't have time for this, he had a blockade to manage. "Send a warning their way, something they'll understand, I'm not having the Bureau of First Contact and their bullshit regulations come here and mess with my blockade!"

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FOB Kyteri, Oblast Jaala-kar, Zaa'Nabar.

The weary men of the 13th Marine Expeditionary Battalion sit atop their shoddily built base in the middle of a jungle clearing. They watch over the only dirt road inbetween the main Zeleniyan supply lines and fighting positions even further out. The marines, not expecting an attack, sit lazily in their covered guard posts. Large industrial bags of sand are the only "wall" this base could manage to build so quickly. A month ago, this FOB was not here, it was not needed here. But the rebels keep pushing back the outnumbered Zeleniyans.

The marines sit in their environmentally sealed barracks, clean their weapons and gear outside in the center of the FOB, listen to music, and in general bullshit with their comrades. Out in the field, on the perimeter of the jungle, teams of three patrol around the base. Inbetween the teams and the FOB are about 100 penal soldiers, their handlers yelling at them and beating them with batons. They seem to be handling barb wire, mines, and warning signs. Traitors to the military, heavily tattooed criminals, or captive rebels, they were all put in the same boat. The Republic does not discriminate.

From the west comes a few barks and clicks, some of the Aranek captives perk up their heads. The marines were familiar to this sound, and their ears pricked as well, turning their heads in the direction. They stopped cleaning their weapons, talking, turned off their music, and dropped their dumb bells. They grab their weapons and head to the western wall. A couple of rounds pop off from the west, with an even louder, brassier retort. A human voice cries out. The penal troop's handlers yell frantically, pointing back to their trenches in front of the wall. The penal troops run back to their trenches, but the few Aranek seem torn, slowly backing away from the mine field and double taking towards the forest. One of the handlers notices this and takes no times to gun one of them down, then points his pistol at the others and yells at them shrilly in Slavnok. They comply and head back to the trenches, grabbing a weapon off the deck.

Two of the men of the western team come careening out of the jungle brush, gripping their helmets with one hand and their rifles in the other. They run through the narrow dirt path through the mine field, when a crack of a large caliber rifle comes from the bushes behind them and strikes the first one in the back. The second one trips over his friend's body and lands on a mine, body parts raining down over the minefield and a greyish blue haze following it.

The marines have lined up on the western wall, and are already firing into the brush. They don't see anything, they're just suppressing. The penals reluctantly follow their example. In the center of the camp, a combat engineer opens a crate, and pulls out two marked detonators. He takes the safeties off and pulls them both. Suddenly, the entire jungle perimeter in front of the marines and penals erupts in a glorious explosion. Their gunfire halts, as a cloud of dust sweeps over the FOB, deafening silence following it.

A few marines call out in slavnok to each other, but other than that there is silence. Before the dust clears, more Aranek barking is heard in the distance. The rumbling of foot falls in the distance echoes through the dust cloud, a few war cries being called, when they suddenly cry in unison.

"Zaa'Nab nubir!"

Heavy caliber fire rains down on the FOB, the marines returning it again. Several explosions are heard as shadowy figures cross the mine field, hoarse death cries piercing through the gunfire. Suddenly, an Aranek penal drops his weapon, gripping the mines he wears on his vest and pulling the pins on all of them. He tackles a couple of handlers and martyrs himself in front of the whole platoon. The marines are shook by an explosion this close, and the penals duck to the floor, not returning fire.

The remaining handlers grab their captives by the scruff of their neck and pull them to their feet, shoving their rifles back in their hands and pointing them to the enemy. But the dust hidden figures are already within view. Their tribal armor with religious markings, worn over their kevlar vests and their CFP issued weapons clearly defined.

With the rebels so close to the wall, the marines are not occupied with their surroundings. A roaring engine comes from the south western road. A large, rusting farming tractor with socialist markings on it and messages of good will to "the honest, hardworking farmer" and the "unwavering proletariat". An Aranek wearing thick visors and a blank expression is behind the wheel, ducking behind the wheel as a few stray rounds fly past him. Mounted on the back of the tractor is a Shilka 30mm cannon, with two lizards operating it. One of them slaps his companion on the head, and he presses on the trigger, guiding the shabby ironsights over the sand wall.

30mm HE fire rains over the marines, killing or suppressing them. The penals duck into their trenches, the 30mm fire pausing as the warriors reach the trenches, jumping down and impaling the criminals with the large bayonets on their rifles or beating them repeatedly with it. The marines jump down off the sand wall and into the inner trench, shooting any penals who climb over the sand wall, pleading to hold their fire.

The tractor roars again, firing onto the communications tower, and the guard posts around the FOB. The driver is suddenly struck in the head by a slug, and slumps over in his seat. The tractor rolls on, the operators firing as if nothing happened. The repeated cracks of the HE fire deafen the warriors on either side. As the Aranek pop over the top, the marines dispatch most of them with great accuracy, but there are too many of them.

The tractor strikes the sandbag wall and stalls, toppling the wall over, the operators are thrown off. The Marines are over run, their bloodied remains laying lifeless in the ditch. A few marines drop their weapons and run, but they are shot in the back. One of them, tripping over a dead body, tries to pull himself away. A warrior approaches him, draws his blade under the air hose, and cuts it. The hose hisses as the marine wheezes and coughs, cursing loudly. He rips off his mask, hyperventilating and falling to the deck. The Aranek hop over the trenches, one of them dropping a grenade in. They run towards the green barracks rooms and bash the doors in, the carbon monoxide making them wheeze and hack. A scowling marine commander wielding a pistol guns down the first two Aranek to walk in. He clamps his mouth shut, holding his breathe as he reaches for a mask. He snaps his pistol up as he shoots another warrior that enters. As he reaches down for the mask again, he is shot in the chest thrice, falling to the floor.

The Aranek parade around the base, hanging the commander from the flagpole and writing pro-Sultanate words all over the small base, firing their weapons in the air and calling out their primal war cries.

It was clear, the Zeleniyans were losing their ground.

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Oblast Jaala-kar, Zaa'Nabar

Big ol' droptrooper stompin' through the woods. That's whats going on, the Sergeant is angrily stomping through the jungle with his team in tow. Disgruntled with a rookie landnav mistake, the TDY trooper from the CFP's regiment took point and drove on to the dismay of his team. Making enough noise for the small Traffic Control Point at the bottom of the hill to send a patrol their way.
Sarnt' didn't care, after all, troopers are killers.

They small team consisting of four men positioned themselves in the jungle, waiting to ambush the incoming 6 man patrol of death-breathing marines. The Marines had made their way into the killzone. It began, started with a burst of fire from a light machine gun, forcing the marines to take cover or hit the deck. One was cut down, another hit the floor and the rest ran for the trees. The burst of fire was soon over and the team sprawled into action, coming from their concealment and assaulting forward.

Round after round was left off from rifles of the four man DA team, wood was splintering and bullets wizzing everywhich direction. The marines were soon dispatched after the teams reaction to contact, but not without cost. The TCP was on alert, an alert being shouted frantically over the load speaker of the small post, and the junior team leader had been incapacitated with four gunshot wounds to his chest. Two pulled security and the medic got to work, dragging his boy from immediate danger to the fall back position four hundred meters back, a densely covered ravine. Now they waited while the medic was working his magic, the team leader and the SAW gunner taking what they can get from the deceased marines, and now they took cover and proceeded to wait for the QRF that they knew was coming.

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As the two CFP troopers approach the bodies, the team leader's short range radio blurts out,"Bleep -- Myla myla, Borscht-Dvat, chto proiskhodit? Reagirovat'v! -- Bleep bleep." The Zeleniyans are carrying 4 Kalishnikov 2360s, 1 ZPK-05 light machinegun, and an izhak marksman rifle. The team leader's synthetic hands twitch and writhe eerily.

Down on the hill, a couple of engines roar to life. A ZMP-2 IFV pulls ahead of the checkpoint and aims its turret up at the hill, the commander popping out of the top and ducking behind the steel hatch, scanning with a pair of binoculars. He grips the ZhnSk 14.7 millimeter machinegun mounted on top and turns it towards the top of the hill. Two ZUS-46 troop transport trucks pull into a makeshift road blockade, the engines cutting and the drivers hopping out.

Several distant voices call out, and some rustling is heard as two squads of 8 men each make their way up the hill. They sweep in a line formation, the squad leader clicking the radio on and off so they can hear the deceased team leader's radio squawk.

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Squelch, squelch, squelch. The fallen team leader's radio was working and left in the same place where he had fallen, somewhere near the crest of the hill. The two TDY drop troopers waited as they heard the 16 man pheasant hunting line make their way up the hill, the team leader gave his gunner a nod. This lead to the gunner to pull an incendiary grenade from his webbing, he holds down the safety spoon and pulls the pin, making eye contact with the Sergeant. The sergeant at his time was preparing a 9-bang smoke grenade, which he then tosses out of his cover towards the oncoming troop of Zeleniyans. The incendiary grenade soon followed, a few moments have passed and the 9-bang had gone off, the smoke then filling, the incendiary device following, catching a large amount of jungle and dried brush ablaze. The two members of the team took this "distraction" as time to fire into the smoke and jungle and try to make a hasty retreat.

Meanwhile, the medic was working on the junior team leader, packing his wounds with a clotting agent and wrapping them with a biogel infused bandage. One wound was a sucking chest wound, requiring a plastic film and valve in order to cover the wound, and a 14ga needle to the side of the chest to relieve the tension pneumothorax. The young teamleader was stable and ready to move, the medic now just had to wait for the two at the crest of the hill.

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The Zeleniyans immediately fire ahead of them, cutting down hedges and trimming trees with their suppressive fire. Three men are hit and fall to the ground, as the rest of the squad takes cover behind thick trees and fires into the smoke. A man with an RPG steps up onto a tree root, digging his heels into the ground as he fires a HEAT rocket into smoke, immediately lowering his launcher and ducking behind cover afterward. The squad leader reaches down and grips his VHF transmitter, yelling over the gunfire,"Sudazhene, sudazhene, umirat ti primordoxye!"

Down in the road, two men jump into the back of one of the ZUS-46 trucks, they step into the back, two augmented, brainwashed Primordox sit in a comatose state. One of them takes out a black box from under a seat, cracking it open. It has a few simple switches and buttons on it. The other curses and grunts under his breathe, heaving out two Dusha-ka 12.7mm machineguns with a dual box fed system. He loads the guns and leans them against the truck outside.

The man with the box switches two switches on, and a light blinks on in the back of the cerebrum of each of the creatures. They open their four, beady, angry eyes and grunt and growl, gripping their skulls and bashing them. The soldier slaps one of them on the head, it growls as he yells, pointing out the door. The two heavily armored, lumbering animals step out of the truck, the suspension squeaking as they do. They robotically pick up their dusha-ka machineguns and their bandoliers, and they are pointed up the hill. When the man wielding the black box presses a button, the two cyborgs grip their heads, groaning loudly. Some white vapor seeps out of the corners of their gasmasks and they go mad.

They start to climb up the hill with great speed, lusting for the blood of the enemy. They charge through the fire, one hand gripping their machineguns, the other helping them run. The Zeleniyan squad pulls back as the fire advances, letting the machine slaves do their work.

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Squelch, Squelch, Squelch, Squelch. Four squelches meant they were in trouble, the medic took this short time to heave the teamleader over his shoulders and start sprinting to the secondary extraction. The other two were coming down the hill fast, they caught up with their medic and casualty and kept his pace. The TDY trooper was now barking over comms.

"Madman Actual, Madman Actual! This is Madman 1-4. We have TIC! I repeat, we are TIC! One casualty and two monkey men on our tail, extract is gonna' be hot. We are heading to secondary extract! I repeat secondary extract!"

"Madman 1-4 this is Madman Actual, we read you loud and clear. Dustoff is in the air, hang tight. Over and out."

The group kept on running, hoping to outrun their new pursuers, but that won't be the case. They made it to the secondary extraction point about a click or so south of the hill in a small clearing. The medic grounded his casualty and went to pull security with the rest of his team as they waited for whatever would come first, the crazed beasts, or the CASEVAC.

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The two primal beasts were fast on their heels, their blood coursing with some synthetic adrenaline. On the edge of the clearing, hooping, hollering, and growling was heard. Several branches snapped and the trees rustled. One of the pair appeared from the edge, taking cover behind a large tree. It stepped out of cover briefly to fire, swaying the Dusha-ka side to side. But the gun did not fire. It looked down at the gun in anger and confusion, turning it over in its hands.

It was struck in the shoulder by a round as it received fire from the CFP team, and it looked up and growled loudly, ducking behind cover. It heaved and panted, looking over the gun. Its hand hovered over the weapon, it was programmed to do something after sliding the magazine in but the brainwashed beast couldn't remember what. Its meaty hands felt around the machinegun, as the growing urge to pound it into the ground grew. Muscle memory took over as its fingers found the bolt, and it racked it. It again leaned out of cover and fired the 12.7mm gun onto the group, sweeping the weapon from side to side.

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The SAW gunner was immediately cut down by the fire, falling onto his back and blood poured from his mouth onto his face. The remaining two took cover, waiting for the burst of fire to pass, and when it did they reemerged and began firing back. A 60mm grenade from the underslung launcher of the team leader was fired towards the covered beast, the dirt being kicked up and the branches fo the trees being cracked and splintered.

It felt like four hours, but it was only a matters of minutes until DUSTOFF had arrived, coming into the clearing and using the mounted 8.8mm miniguns in order to cover the small teams retreat. The two of the team collected their casualties and booked for it, it was about a 300 meters dash to the ship, and they were moving as fast as they could, each carrying a man weighing 170lbs with another 100lbs of gear. Either luck was on their side, or it wasn't.

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The tree exploded from the grenade, the beast being showered in splinters. It grunted and howled, leaping from cover as the tree collapsed into the clearing, pulling the trigger on its weapon again. It snorted, racking the bolt again and trying to fire. The machinegun is still jammed, and the soldier beast threw the machinegun onto the ground and leapt after them on all fours, when suddenly the 8.8cm minigun obliterated it.

Ignoring the obvious danger, the second beast jumped from their left flank, firing its heavy machinegun. But just as it opened fire, it too was killed by the massive autocannon.

High in the skies, a V2-D Hoodlum soared over Oblast Jaala-kar. The SIGINT operator spoke curtly into his helmet microphone,"I've got something."

_______________________

Oblast Zhanam, Tyrkoff Airfield.
15th Air Patrol Wing.

10 minutes later.

The four Yelenov-6 gunship pilots were driven out of their barracks, wearing their full flightsuits. The GAZ they were were in blared a siren, the driver speedily making his way to one of the hangars and veering inside.

The four pilots jumped out and made their way into their craft quickly. They expelled the oxygen from the cockpit as they were towed out onto the airfield. The multicolored vests of the ground crew running around them checked over their aircraft, and after another 10 minutes they were ready to take off. The two blue vested men in front of them gave them the thumbs up, and they ignited their engines and took off. After gaining about 300 meters of elevation their VTOL engines started to turn back and they soared forward with great speed.

Over their radios, their command briefed them,"SIGINT wing is currently tracking them now, but there's a chance we'll lose them, they're smart and maintain radio silence." The two gunships cruised to their objective, they would be within range of their target in about 5 minutes.

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Dustoff does its best to stay off the radar by flying just above the tree tops, this giving small arms fire and SAMs are greater advantage, but anything survival is better than meeting the business end of a ZMiG. Dustoff headed on a Northwest azimuth, keeping low and going fast.

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The commander of the Air Wing urgently cautioned the V2-D hoodlum attempting to track the CFP CASEVAC as the Yelenov-6 gunships closed in,"Jackal-3, do -not- lose them! Drop from your ceiling if you have to!" There was a pause in comms when the pilot replied,"Copy Command, Jackal-3 dropping down to 5000 for better tracking, out."

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The dropship kept going low and fast, being no where near its evac point yet. The engines were just above the tree tops, the pilot kept is steady as they kept their pace.

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The two Yelenov gunships were gaining on the dropship. From about 3 kilometers out, one of the pilots called out over the radio,"Treehawk 2-1, 2-2 here, got something, not broadcasting any IFF. 3 kilometers out, matches with the trajectory of the contact Jackal is tracking, over." A pause, as the pilot of Treehawk 2-1 glanced over and gave him a thumbs up through the cockpit,"Copy that, 2-2, tuck this one in and put it to bed, over."

The wings of both Yelenov gunships opened from the bottom, and 4 radar tracking missiles dropped down on each. Both gunships began to acquire a lock on the CASEVAC.

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"We're tagged! Hold onto to your butts!" remarked the pilot as he began evasive maneuvers and launching chaff and flares. Two of the missiles took the bait of the radar chaff, but that wasn't enough, the pilot kept his craft speeding along, but the missiles were gaining. A beat, a moment, an explosion. The craft was hit by two of the missiles, the engines caught fires and the craft proceeded to plummet to the ground, the pilot did his best to keep control and mitigate the damage. They came crashing into the earth, trees splintering and muck being kicked up, the craft finally came to a halt after it had been caught by one of the many marshes of Zaa'nabar.

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The Yelenov gunships closed in, slowing down as they approached the cloud of smoke in the marshes. "Tango down, went down hard in the swamps. Cover me, 2-2, dropping my chalk." The second gunship came to a halt, circling around the crash site, the gunner pod swiveling and scanning the crash site. The primary gunship flew about 200 metes from the crash site, dropped low to about 30 meters off the ground and went into a hover, it's VTOL activating as the thrusters turned upwards. One of the side doors opened, a 12.7mm machinegun turning from the inside out, watching dropship. A rod shot out above the door and unrolled a rappel line. A hand reached out to grab it and a Zeleniyan marine dropped down, sliding down quickly and landing in the soft mud. A creature stirred and sunk underneath the nearby murky water, spooked by the marine.

The marine cursed, bringing his feet out of the muck and slowly walking outward to a security position as his comrades zipped down the line one by one. A squad of 12 in all, with the 12.7mm machinegunner last, all on the ground. The Yelenov gunship pulled off and went into a holding pattern as the soldiers moved in. They were restricted by what solid ground they had to walk on, but they were able to approach the dropship as quickly as they could.

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The tail end of the dropship was sticking out of the muck, four corpses lay inside. Only two of the men were left alive, the SOF Medic and the Co-pilot. The cabin was left dark, the medic groaned as he awoke.

"Fuck me! We're fucked here, Ackermann," the medic remarked, feeling around along his webbing for his emergency light. Once taking hold of it he hit it against his knee and it came to life, he waved it around the cabin of the craft. He only saw the bloody mess of what was once his team, blood and guts were strewn along the cabin. The medic gagged some and turned towards the pilots. One was obviously a stiff, his head seemed to have collided with the windscreen at least four times, the other was breathing, but his leg was mangled and smashed. Kolz mumbled curses to himself, he hooked the light to his webbing and worked at pulling the co-pilot free. When successful, he heaved him over his shoulder and withdrew his sidearm. The ramp of the dropship was then opened, and he came stumbling out, on the business end of a Yelenov gunship and an entire chalk of Zeleniyan marines. The medic froze in the swamp's muck, he dropped his weapon and just stared.

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The Zeleniyan marines raised their weapons, yelling at the medic, one of them approached him, motioning with his rifle towards the deck,"Pokino, chisnau! Duragoy!"

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The medic pauses for a moment, the hand once holding his weapon moves into the inside pocket of his field jacket. After a moment of rustling, he pulls out his Common Access Card and proceeds to hold it upside down, signifying that he is in duress. In a calm tone, he states: "I am in duress"

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The soldier tenses as he reaches into his pocket, yelling,"AY, AY, AY, CHISNAU. CHISNAU!" The marine racks the bolt of his rifle, centering the iron sights on his head. As he pulls out the CAC, he approaches him, snatching it from his hand, snorting visibly, and shoving it back into his hand. He motions to let the man down again,"N'duroy, chisnau!" The squad leader approaches him and lowers his rifle, pointing and yelling angrily,"You put him down! Put him down!" Another man steps up next to him, his rifle shouldered, a satchel with a red cross on it held in both hands.

One of the gunship descends into the swamp, hovering a few feet above the muck.

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The medic complies, slowly rolling his wounded comrade off of his shoulders and into the muck. He keeps his hands up, the CAC still secured in his left hand. "Two compound fractures to his left knee, he is unconscious and concussed. Get him out of here, please." is what he says to the medic, his eyes trying to make eye contact through the visor, the medic speaks in Salvnok.