He still wore his armour, and his rifle was slung at his side. The dust and dirt from Bursa clung to his armour and his face where he had wiped the sweat from his cheeks with the back of his dirty glove. He hadn’t even bothered to take his helmet off. Lines of stretcher-bearers passed him as crews from the ships were ferried towards the hospital that had been established on the surface. The Diderot lay where it had crash-landed half a kilometre in the distance, with crews going back and forth. Kelly came to him first, as no one else could find the courage. “You okay, Colonel?” Taylor nodded as he took another drink. “Oh, yeah, I’m just fantastic,” he replied, watching another heavily damaged vessel come into land, and fires still raged on several levels. “We fucked up. I fucked up.” “You can’t put this one on yourself,” Kelly quickly responded. “Yeah? Doesn’t matter whether I do or not, we’re in deep shit.” Kelly laughed, and that made Taylor look up. “Now we’re in deep shit?
