She shrugged dismissively. "It's a Purple Heart. Standard medal for idiocy in the field." A Purple Heart was usually bad news for the person concerned, or more often their relatives. Awarded for death or serious injury in the line of duty it was a commendation few aspired to. With the war against Rheinland continuing to rage, they were gradually becoming a far more common sight. "I went and got my face blown off. Darn stupid decision by a darn stupid Private."
"We'd been called in to secure an artefact smuggler's ship. Can't remember what it was now. Some nice little freighter. I was going to be doing the talking, so I'd taken my helmet off. Gutsy guy, I'll give him that. Pointed a pistol right on at the Sergeant. Hartwell didn't take that too kindly and shot him. Right between the eyes." She placed a finger on her forehead, brushing against the ugly scar stretching across her nose.
"Flicked a dead man's switch on his way down. Detonated a whole lot of burner tape, all the way down the corridor." Incendiary strips, a substance more commonly known as burner tape, was in frequent use throughout the colonies, usually with miners and salvages either too impatient or too poor to use the proper equipment. A mixture of thermite, and various catalysts and enhancers, the compound burnt extremely hot, extremely quickly. When burner's were detonated in close proximity to flesh the results were most often fatal.
"Vickers hauled me out of that mess. They told me the ship just about came apart. " Hartman recounted the story detachedly, like a man handling rotten meat.
"I guess my face would've been a right mess. Never did have the guts to check out the recordings. I'm sure it's still floating around in your archives somewhere. Walked out of medical down in Bragg about six months later.
Haven't stepped on a warship since." She raised an eyebrow bemusedly.
"So, that'd be my little sob-story. Earnt me a nice bit of metal and odd looks at parties."
