The recording crackles to life with an unsteady, quiet hiss of breath. "Avedis. September... Twelfth, I think. We've been out here for a week, if I'm counting right. Lost two more yesterday, making a total of —" another hiss "— of six. First three in an ambush on day three. I told them we needed more people, more time. There are four of us left. No progress since yesterday. Morale is low, everyone's injured. I can't move my fingers on my left hand now." There's a long pause and then a sigh. "Doc's playing optimistic but I know the signs. Pain meds just slow me down, so it hurts. Hot to the touch. Red. I've only told D so far, the others — they need me at the top of my game." His voice sounds slow and tired, and there's a distant sound of a glass touching a table. "Wish he'd just get it over with, but we need to get home first. It's either that or die, I think everyone knows that now.

"So to everyone who sent us out here, if these somehow make it back to you — either we survived or the cleanup did. Chances of that seem pretty low. But just in case, I want you to know that — that I won't forget this. Or forgive it. If you're hearing this, I hope you burn. I'm done taking orders." The recording clicks in silence for a few more seconds and then turns off.