chapter=<b>Chapter 4</b>
		
	"That is most kind." said Commander Hunter as he accepted the steel container of hot, sweet tea that Sanjit had made for him. "I'm a vessel of the utmost sorrow regarding the disturbance of my arrival. I was under such enchantment by the sheer physical beauty of the surrounding landscape that all notions of personal or military safety had fled my consciousness. I feel it's of essential importance that I, as an individual primarily, but also as a professional peace keeper, that I, Commander Luke Fallon Hunter, accept the responsibility for destroying a perfectly serviceable piece of United Planets hardware."
	
	Sanjit rubbed his eyes, the Commanders little monologue had made him momentarily loose awareness of his surroundings.

	"Very good sir." he said finally.

	"You see Sergeant, as a peacekeeper, I believe it is of vital importance that I accept responsibility for my own misdemeanours." The Commander sat slumped in the large comfy chair they had fashioned out of spent storage boxes and old seat liners from a blasted Nafoolian troop transporter Hitchmouth had stumbled upon in the forest.

	Sanjit smiled, how could such an impressive giant of a man be so wet, that was the thought which fleetingly crossed his normally sympathetic demeanour. There was a silence, the Commander looked troubled. His forehead, a vast expanse of beautifully clear skin, was wrinkled a little above the bridge of his larger than life nose.

	"That is a very brave stance to take sir." said Sanjit trying to be helpful.

	"As I see it, the theory is this," continued the Commander thoughtfully, "and it's one I hold dearly, taking responsibility for ones own failing is beneficial partly in that it sets a good example to the warring peoples of the Universe, and partly it's beneficial for my own spiritual well-being."
	
	Sanjit coughed, trying as he was to swallow a mouthful of tea. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing, an innocent giant so convinced of his culpability in a near disaster which was none of his doing. The cough was, as Sanjit knew, unfortunately timed.

	"Are you unwell Sergeant?" the Commander asked.
	
	"No sir, just a little tickle in the throat." Sanjit lied as best he could.

	"Do you think me a fool?"
	
	"No sir." said Sanjit forcefully.

	"Many do. I fear that is why I have been sent here, far away from the centre of decision making and influence."
	
	"We certainly feel very isolated here." said Sanjit. "But we like to think we do an important job."
	
	"I'm sure you do Sergeant, and my self pitying meanderings were meant as no reflection on the validity of your role here."
	
	"Of course not sir."
	
	"Nafos holds a very important place in the warring scheme of things. Oh yes. I know that the powers that be at the U.P. take what is going on here very seriously indeed. A small on-planet conflict like this can all too easily spread to neighbouring areas, I have just travelled here from Turnow and sympathy for the Fauls there is very strong, there are many radical elements there calling for heightened military intervention."
	
	"Yes sir. We've had reports along those lines." said Sanjit. "Plus only a week ago, Private Hitchmouth came across a Faul corpse who had been using a Turnow produced belt mounted 450."
	
	"Beautiful weapon." said the Commander. "I've used one, lovely action. The 450 is a pretty lethal piece of equipment, did it have the slide mount on the fusion tube for a conventional clip on?"
	
	"I'm afraid my knowledge of such detail is limited Commander, Private Hitchmouth however is a veritable Bible of information about such things."
	
	Sanjit was slightly surprised by the Commanders obvious knowledge and interest in weaponry. He had noticed the sidearm strapped to his belt, the standard U.P. issue Plastistun, a lightweight and non lethal pulse weapon. However, his previous comments had led him to think of the Commander as essentially an intellectual pacifist from the liberal wing of the U.P. He connected an obsessive interest in weapons to be an indication of slightly gung-ho tendencies, like those of the English Private he had been destined to live with for thirteen Naf months.

	"It's our job to understand such things Sergeant, be they unpleasant and representative of all that seems evil in the universe."
	
	Sanjit felt mildly rebuked.

	"Plus there is the clear sexual element in high quality firearms that cannot be denied. Surely watching a stream of pulse rounds descend on a target has an all too sexual connotation."
	
	"I'm afraid you've lost me sir." Said Sanjit, feeling very uncomfortable under the Commanders eye ball lock on.

 	"Why, isn't it obvious Sergeant. The male explosion of passion and release no less."
	
	Again Sanjit coughed, he had never heard this theory expounded previously. It made him feel awkward, soldiers didn't normally talk in such terms. He glanced up at the Commander who's eyes were focused on the movement sensor panel on the control wall of the steel habitation unit.

	"We have visitors." he said, standing up and bumping his huge head loudly on the roof.

	Sanjit unwillingly shouldered his pulse weapon and moved to the doorway. He glanced out, seeing immediately the yomping form of Hitchmouth coming toward him, accompanied by another figure. A woman. As they came closer Sanjit could clearly see the English soldier was carrying a heavily bandaged body, seemingly thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour.