Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022
"Same deal, Boss. I'll put Crissy on the plane, but... I'm not much good in a fight anyway; I'm no good to anyone warming the bench." He thumps his injured ribs with Archie's Level and winces, but doesn't gasp in pain. "That's as good as I'm gonna get before this crisis is over. Put me on REMF duty or something, if you have to, but this shit's broken and I need to fix something."
"Medic or mechanic don't make much difference to me. Parts is parts, just give me something to do. Pounding we just took..." His voice trails off, and when he speaks again, it's in hushed tones. Referential. "I can put 'em back in the field, or I can try to send them home in one piece. But I can't just... quit now. I need to help. Let me help."
Berto rarely made eye contact; he rarely even took his sunglasses off, if he could help it. But he looked Myron in the eye.
"Please."
"We're going," the young man said, "Henri, take point until we reach our allies' Transports. The rest of you, follow me and take Cristina; you're going to the Phnom Penh International Airport - It's clear that the shock of this has left you guys unable to fight any further."
"I still - have some vim in me. You'll need the backup... and I have a mean left hook."
Raising her left hand, it flashes white, revealing the armored gauntlet of wrath.
"I've never liked leaving anyone behind to make a run for it; I won't start now. Please."
"Same deal, Boss. I'll put Crissy on the plane, but... I'm not much good in a fight anyway; I'm no good to anyone warming the bench." He thumps his injured ribs with Archie's Level and winces, but doesn't gasp in pain. "That's as good as I'm gonna get before this crisis is over. Put me on REMF duty or something, if you have to, but this shit's broken and I need to fix something."
"Medic or mechanic don't make much difference to me. Parts is parts, just give me something to do. Pounding we just took..." His voice trails off, and when he speaks again, it's in hushed tones. Referential. "I can put 'em back in the field, or I can try to send them home in one piece. But I can't just... quit now. I need to help. Let me help."
Berto rarely made eye contact; he rarely even took his sunglasses off, if he could help it. But he looked Myron in the eye.
"Please."