<strong>Kris Fielding: Out side med</strong><br/><br/>Kris had been walking towards the CIC, knowing that now that they would be in battle she would be needed.  But when the ship suddenly shook, throwing her up against the side of the metal hall walls, she couldn't help the gasp of pain that signaled a bad bruise that would appear if not a strained muscle.  Shaking it off her head turned in the direction of the explosion, turning abruptly her steps turned into running.  Her Brig was was in that direction, and her men where still stationed there.  Her speed faltered as she reached the area that led into the brig, twisted and morphed pieces of metal littered the floor, and she could see body parts scattered across the floor.<br/><br/>Pushing stray hair from her face, her features steady, harden.  She wasn't new to battle, she had seen more men she had worked with die than survive, mourning for them would come later, when she was alone.  Bending down she stares down at the small metal tag that read the name of the Lieutenant that had just helped her in her recent interrogation.  Taking out a handkerchief, something she always carried on her, she picked it up.  The burning metal was hot to the touch, the heat coming through the clothe still burning the tips of her fingers.  Wrapping the her hand around the burning metal, she turns back, heading for the CIC.