With his weapon firing at the crimson beasts, his squads followed from the transport. As more blue ships dived closer to the surface, more soldiers joined the battle, within minutes, the entire second company was at full fighting strength, bringing themselves into a firing circle, they slowly expanded as they killed. Only breaking formation to grab a prone blue and sometimes bloodied body from the ground and drag it back to the centre where medical staff could work.
One of the larger predators noticed the gigantic blue figure of Lucius without his helmet and charged, roaring as it kicked up the dust with its enormous crimson feet, Lucius smiled with glee as he pulled his large combat knife from his breast plate, charging in kind, towards to the creature.
The crimson beast tried to bite at the running captain who dodged the attack easily, spinning on his heel as the creature ran past, he slashed his blade at the dinosaurs ankle. A fresh spray of blood spattered his face. Lucius, who smiled like an excited child smacked his lips as he tasted the animals blood. With a thunderous crash the beast collapsed and gave out a high shriek of a roar, and by the time it had begun to turn its large carnivorous head, Lucius had dug his blade deep into the creatures skull and it went limp, and silent. He had quite forgotten about the rest of is team as he relished his recent kill. A beast three times his size.
Small and slender emerald vessels came gliding from the distance with such grace, it would have held many spectators in awe struck envy, but this was a battle, and such things had no time to be admired. Twenty of the Gryph fighters came down so close to the surface, a crimson predator could easily had chewed them up, if they had not been distracted by the scuttling blue armoured humans. Each fighter, carrying a large barrel shaped device under its hull. Strategically dropping the barrels around the perimeter, this caused the predators, birds and even bugs that had been aimlessly buzzing around to flee desperately away from any of the containers. The only things left in the clearing as the dust settled, were the remains of the first company and many dead crimson beasts.
Lyra found Solomon laying motionless beneath a large ammunition crate, metal bent, wood splintered, and a trickle of blood making its way down his face. She gasped as she felt for his pulse, her fingers sliding on the slick blood around his neck, but she finally found it, slow and weak. 'He's in a bad way', she thought and immediately began feeling his limbs for broken bones and internal bleeds.
A Medevac was called, this action caused The Evergreen to empty all the vessels within its belly that could carry even just two passengers and damn the Gryph's security checks. The remnants of the First Company had to be withdrawn. The Third Company would have to take the place of Solomon's soldiers as they were shipped back up to The Evergreen. Inside one of the bulky supply ships, Lyra was sat at Solomon's side, a bed made from stacked beer crates held up his limp form, his helmet had been taken off and was placed upon one of the many storage shelves that were mainly now empty. Lyra had injected her patient with a cocktail of liquids, mainly steroids to stabilise him, but now she had to leave him, as she checked on the other six prone figures in the shadowy belly of a container that was hauled up by the transport. If Lyra looked out of the window, she would have seen the emerald fleet sending down their own convoys to support the humans down below, she would see that they still held the other human ships in high orbit, undergoing security. Captain Hyphon must be red in the face, having to deal with that scoundrel Winslow, jabbering and bitching in his ear about the situation. But she did not look through the window, her attention on her patients only broke when the ships intercom hissed with an open channel and heavy wet breathing.
"..Fin... little fingers.. um... very tasty... ous... re... you... bother... no... more..."
"Sorry, what was that? Did you say something?" came the voice of the pilot over the intercom clearly having heard the strange message, caution in her voice. "No, that wasn't me..." said Lyra defensively, "Uh-Huh." said the pilot, not believing her, and Lyra heard the Cockpit door mechanism lock and saw the Hull Intercom had become locked out. She could see The Evergreen and didn't panic, knowing that she wouldn't be locked out for long, once they saw she hadn't gone crazy and proven that it wasn't her on the intercom, she would be able to carry Solomon to the infirmary. Lyra hadn't known that the pilot had called ahead, alerting the security teams and they were waiting for her. The ramp lowered and there stood four fully armoured soldiers with their rifles aimed at Lyra, a squad commander stood between her and the guns with his hands out in a calming manor. "Easy... Easy, Nurse..." he said softly, gesturing her to slowly come to him, his blue cap resting crookedly on his shaven scalp. "That, wasn't me!" retorted Lyra defensively as she backed off into the darkened shuttle, When Solomon gave a soft groan the teams focused their rifles on him, and saw the wounded bodies laid upon makeshift beds. "Tricksie little fingers!" spat a little voice from the intercom, "Fingers in too many pies! Tasty pies! Dangerous to remember! You bother nobody any more!" the voice said getting higher and more manic towards the end. The soldiers illuminated the room and cleared out the wounded, searching every hatch, every corner and underneath every pile of bloodied cloth – nothing.
The Intercom of the vessel was limited to internal communications only, but the source couldn't be found.
The corridor outside the medical bay of The Evergreen was deathly silent. A lone figure paced outside the glowing window of the infirmary, seven steps forward, turn, seven more steps. Upon reaching each end of the window the forever ageing figure of Kyril would allow himself a look inside. A glance upon the many wounded. Solomon had been brought here, Kyril could make out his bandaged form at the far end of the Infirmary, next to where Doctor Frederick's desk used to be. Lyra had also come here after the questioning, she sat in the corner chair next to Solomons bed, her arm in a sling and a heavy bandage around her centre, giving her broken ribs some support. With her free hand, she was lightly dabbing Solomon's brow with a damp cloth. Kyril raised an eyebrow at this sight, Lyra was gazing upon Solomon with not the concern of a nurse, but the the look of something more. When Solomon stirred, Lyra's eyes glowed with the hope that he might wake up from the heavy blow that struck his head, to no avail. The Infirmary was full to the brim with soldiers of the first company with a small few of the second. Legs and arms placed in casts, small spatters of blood rested on the metal floor that the rushing and overworked medical staff had neglected to mop up whilst tending to the many needs and moans of the hurt and needy.