The Ops Chief had been transported off the Paradise planet with the rest of the wounded. He would have protested, but being unconscious and having a large chunk taken out of his shoulder by one of the heads of Cerberus, a wound further intensified by the acidic drool of the beast, he was in no position to argue. He did wake up long enough to tell the doctor to let it scar… and from the looks of the rest of his emerald skin, that seemed to be a thing for the large Orion.

Two days later, Hammor lay in his bed in his quarters. He’d been told to take it easy for a few days more, but he hated it. He wanted to be up and moving. So, with some care to his still-tender shoulder, he got up and began to get dressed.

Hammor, Ops