One moment, the husk was screaming in her face. She could see it was going to kill her, but she just couldn't move. The whispers in her mind told her to stay still, that her pain and loneliness would be over soon.<br/><br/>Then, suddenly, she was falling, the whispers quieted. She cried out, a lightning stroke of pain stabbing up her left arm. Her armor was well padded, well designed, very resistant, but not to her simply landing improperly on her arm. She'd twisted when she fell, and looking up, Ashana was there, giving her a little nod before dealing with another husk.<br/><br/>Milenya struggled to her feet, patting the bag slung over her back. The movement drew another flash of pain; something was definitely wrong with her wrist or maybe her elbow, but she could still move her fingers. She tucked her arm in close, and with just one hand free, she fired off the last two shots in her pistol, dropping a pair of husks. She locked the pistol on its mount, and scrambled up the ramp, turning to throw pull fields into the mass of husks.<br/><br/>She was right behind Ashana, climbing awkwardly up onto the cargo bed. She lurched into a crate and cried out as the contact sent another spike of pain through her injured arm. The internal sensors of her armor read her reaction, and suddenly there was a surge of ice in her veins, the pain almost instantly gone. Clear-headed, she knew she was still injured, but at least she wouldn't be feeling it for a while.<br/><br/>Milenya turned, crouched, and knelt to offer her arms to Mathia and Darion, helping them up onto the crawler as Firas made his leap. She still felt slight twinges of pain as each one pulled on her arms to get up, a sign that she was hurting herself more, no matter how necessary it was. That done, she wormed her way between the crates, getting as close to what she thought was the center of the vehicle as possible. She locked her mag-boots to the floor, and wrapped her hands around two crate's handles.<br/><br/>The crawler jerked into motion, sending another twinge up Milenya's left arm.<span style="color: #6495ED">'Going to be bad later,'</span>she thought, as the vehicle violently rocked about in a long and precarious slide. She saw Ashana lose her footing, and began to gather up energy to<i>pull</i>her up if necessary, but it proved needless. She flicked her gaze over the others, ready to do the same for them if any of them lost their grip.<br/><br/>It was Firas' cry of<span style="color: blue">"Blow it!"</span>that drew her attention to the front and the wave of husks that the cargo hauler was about to plow through. She winced, grabbed onto the crate handles tightly, and pushed a barrier out over the vehicle.<br/><br/>The effort was draining. It had been over a hundred years since she'd learned the technique, and she had only practiced it a relative handful of times a year. Beads of sweat gathered at the edges of her crest fringes and forehead, the impacts of husks bouncing off the barrier each registering as another draw and spike of pain in her head. She couldn't keep it up long, but the deep rumble and wave of flame that washed out from the vent meant she didn't have to.<br/><br/>With the vehicle barreling on, now free of husk entanglements, Milenya drooped.<span style="color: #6495ED">"Goddess, I hope that buried the site."</span>She murmured, audible on local comms as Firas reported in.<br/><br/>She remembered something Firas had said, and slowly plucked her last thermal clip out of her belt pouch.<span style="color: #6495ED">"I have one left."</span>She said wearily, offering it up.<br/><br/>After that, her mind went blank for a few seconds, or a few minutes, barely even registering the jolting as the hauler bounced over the rough terrain. It was only when the crawler was airborne that she realized they were about to crash; her scream was barely audible over the groan and squeal of metal on metal. It took a few seconds for her to register that they were still alive, and not moving.<br/><br/>Milenya crawled from the cargo bed, sliding wearily off the end and wobbling upright. As she looked around, an emergency medkit smacked her in the left arm. Her hand spasmed, miraculously catching the kit as she gasped in pain. Dr. Beruut's urgency registered as she finally heard the doctor's words,<span style="color: yellowgreen">"The wounded, quickly!"</span><br/><br/>She could do that. Barely. She didn't need both hands fully functional for that. Just her omni-tool and her free right hand. She set about checking whomever was closest to her, likely one of the other ground team members.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>