Soldier: Ah, hell! There ain't nobody here.
Conchran: Someone left the music on. Here, sync your locator to Sergeant Lumley's RIG. We should be able to pick up his suit's transponder.
Soldier: Why'd the General send us here anyway?
Conchran: Boy, an army marches on its stomach. We don't last one week on this planet without our food and guns. Lumley has both.
Soldier: Ah, shit.