Walker's head buzzes annoyingly. The Private feels he has the strength to get up and wonder about like the rest of them on the ward, but it seems false, it is false, to think you can recover from a direct mace contact. It is known throughout U.F divisions as a Sub-man's best friend. 'But I was lucky,' thinks Walker as he concentrates on the huddle of men around the captain.

"They bombed the entire sector..and I mean the entire sector," Cpt. Brice is more than emotional about it, "there couldn't have been no one left..just...."

For the last half an hour, he has been talking about panic. Every conceivable weapon used against the hordes of light, slivers of energy that engulf and consume life regardless; turning bone and flesh to nothingness. Beings that have no need for air. No need for food. No need for weaponry. No need for communication. No need for tactics. A locust philosophy to consume everything in their path. Through Holodern IV's atmosphere with no shields or anything to protect themselves against heat. Impervious to space craft hulls. Slipping through anything to attack the living.

"We didn't have time to....scream. It happened so quickly..I...I...only got away being so..." the Cpt looks around nervously, "we attempted to speed out of the sector but they drained our engines, sucking every last iota of energy from them...computers...are forces.

"Everything gone," he stares into the blackness fearfully, knowing that the Xenophites have slowed in pace but are still moving onward, searching out any life forms, "we must...go. We....must leave this......place."

"Where? From what I heard they're covering every sector from Holodern IV, in one long fucking sweep!" The crowd of wounded look around to where the booming voice came from. Wheeler lies there smiling, left arm still awaiting circuitry, lying dormant by his side. Being an enemy of the United Forces and of Holodern IV colonists, he regards his foe with contempt. Still wondering why he was put on their ward, he finds black humour in the fact that he shall die with his enemy. He keeps feeling the cold metal, never warm like skin, remaining cold, twinges of pain where his arm used to be.

"Look at you fucks! Aren't y' ready for payback?" The Sub-man shifts the motionless limb up to prop himself forward, "welcome it!"

"Shut your hole Sub-man!" A Red Cross guard has all the while been listening to Wheeler's provocation's.

"Soldier," Cpt. Brice attracts the Red Cross guard's attentions, "I wish to see your superior."