[center][h1][color=maroon]SSgt. William Jacobson[/color][/h1][/center]

[i]"Staff Sergeant Jacobson," Slade communicated through her radio to the survivor. "This is Second Lieutenant Slade reporting with Corporal Craster, our medic. We are headed your direction. Are there any signs of hostilities? What is your condition? Over."[/i] Jacobson was relieved to finally hear some sort of response from the outpost. Apparently they were sending a medic as well as the 2nd Lieutenant, which seemed needlessly risky. While it wasn't as bad as sticking the commanding officer of the outpost out by themselves, it wasn't much better. The medic was smart, he conceded, since injuries were uncertain after a crash like that. That was sound, at least, but sending the officer out, not so much. But there was time for that later, as he kept slogging forward through the damn snow, ice, and bitter wind. This was certainly not one of his favorite places to be, the Staff Sergeant decided, and just as he made visual with what looked like the officer and the medic, shit hit the fan. He really should have expected it, spotting the outlines of Tellosian scouts attacking their position. Jcobson snarled under his helmet, responding to their questions coldly as he snapped his carbine up to take aim on one of the scouts. [color=maroon][i]"That answer your question on hostilities, ma'am? I'm fine, focus on the Tellosians and we can exchange pleasantries later."[/i][/color]

Jacobson put down one or two scouts, the familiar kick on his rifle against his armor putting rounds down onto the scouts he took aim on. They went down with little ceremony, but one wounded one jumped the 2nd LT as she, sounded like a she and he couldn't tell armor profile due to the weather. Thankfully she seemed adept in hand to hand, which was a god damn miracle. The continued overkill was, however, unnecessary and he pushed through the snow up to her position, glancing at the increasingly desecrated corpse of the Tellosian and sighed in his armor, not broadcasting the noise as he checked to make sure he hadn't run dry on his rifle. He proceeded to actually speak, letting the armor broadcast that locally instead of via radio. [color=maroon]"Ma'am, I do believe he's dead. Recommend getting out of this damn cold and into combat positions. Scouts preempt assaults, far as Tellosian battle doctrine is concerned. Far as intel can understand, at any rate. How many of you sorry lot do I have to work with?"[/color]

Jacobson hadn't even addressed the medic yet, he had no reason to, therefor he simply didn't. Like he had said before, the time for pleasantries and introductions would have to wait. Right now, if need be, he would personally drag the two of them back to NO-36 to defend against the Tellosian assault. Jacobson would not simply abandon the two of them though, not unless they, for some ungodly reason, decided to not press on back to the outpost to take up defensive positions. He couldn't see very intricate set ups for the outpost from here, which concerned him. Did they not have time to set up defenses, or did they not have the resources? Jacobson was not sure which concerned him more, and he would have to burn that bridge once he crossed it, he suspected. Instead he focused on the now. Get to the outpost, beat back whatever attack was coming, then take stock and figure out how screwed they collectively were.