"Don't thank me until I actually fix you up. Bingo friendlies, unfortunately." Valkyrie slapped the mag to ensure the bullets were seated, then tucked it into her gear. She knelt beside the wounded spartan and dug into her medical supplies, injecting biofoam in a few key places through access ports in his suit. She briefly interfaced with Gladiator's suit to check pulse and blood pressure. "... very slow BPM and a failing blood pressure. You've lost a lot of blood from your wounds." Valkyrie pulled the other spartan to his feet, dragging him over to the bus and smashing the door inward with a stout kick. Easing the wounded soldier into a comfortable position, she took her pack and climbed in.<br/><br/>It was cramped, but out of view and relatively safe from the odd plasma bolt. Valkyrie went to work rapidly, hooking an IV into Gladiator's arm and connecting it to an artificial blood transfusion bottle. A few more administrations of biofoam and a painkiller drip set the man up for a slow, but definite recovery. A small assortment of gear landed at the wounded soldier's feet - field rations, water, grenades and a stamped steel can of ammunition. "That's standard ball ammo. None of the high-velocity DMR stuff, sorry, but ammo is ammo." The M392 was designed to share ammo with the MA-5 series if necessary, but relied on ultra-high pressure, armor piercing ammo for its performance. The spartan was actually relieved the man hadn't carried a battle rifle, which carried a heavier type of ammo she hadn't brought with her.<br/><br/>The immediate situation seemingly handled, Valkyrie turned to the spartan. "A UNSC-standard SOS signal pinged my sensor array briefly. It went out before I could get an exact location, but I have a general area. Was anyone with you when the M12 crashed?"