"Solomon!" roared Commander Broom, charging through the command centre, corridor by corridor, shouting the same name, over and over, adding "Where the devil is he?!" occasionally.
Solomon sat in the metal chair with his feet on the table, smiling as he savoured his glass of smoked whiskey with Lucius when both men realised they were not alone. A shadowed figure slouched inside the door. "Now, boys. How are we?" came the slimy voice of Winslow, carrying his usual greasy mannerism. The whiskey suddenly tasted as sour as the company. Solomon and Lucius both spat out the whiskey they had been enjoying back into the glass with distaste and emptied the contents of their glasses on to the floor. "I hear, that we have been saving the day, here and there?" Winslow carried on, ignoring their spitting and tipping. "I hear, we have been dancing and prancing around the field of battle like a bunch of fairies." the malice in his voice was clear. Winslow was here, simply to cause trouble. Winslow slithered deeper into the room, picking up the bottle of smoked whiskey, smelling the mouth of the bottle and curling his lip. "Well, at least your taste in alcohol is better than your taste in war." he continued with a croaked voice. Winslows very presence chilled Solomon's soul, only Kyril had the authority to order that snake about. The words hovered upon Solomon's lips for long enough, "What do you want, maggot?" came the deep voice of Lucius, making Solomon jump slightly. relief filled Solomon with not having to ask the question himself.
"Me? Why, I'm just checking in, on the boys in blue, such a manly display you have been giving" replied Winslow with a sharks smile. Lucius closed the gap between the two men with two strides of his bulking muscular legs, "I like this" said Winslow, spreading his smile further, "It's like a little... pilgrimage, this. Going to the aliens, and showing them how it's done." he finished with putting the whiskey down with a smile wide enough to split his skin, and disappeared down the corridor that echoed with the distant words of Commander Broom, who soon appeared in the metal door frame. "Solomon! Damn you, I've been looking every where for you... is that whiskey?" he asked distracted by the smoked odour. The briefing room seemed to smell of only the smoked whiskey, the saltyness of the outside world brought the open windows was barely detectable.
Solomon's choler was raised most of the day from Winslow, although he didn't say much to either of the men, he brought with him a certain atmosphere that ruined any living souls day. Broom had come to exchange a few words with Solomon about Darren's funeral, and his plan to extend the mud wall perimeter past his resting place, designating it the grave yard for the fallen soldiers to come.
"But what about his body?" asked Lyra in shock, "We didn't get chance to fill the hole in! Those monsters will pick him out and..." Lyra stopped short, the thought of the creatures picking at Darren was too much for her. Solomon placed his heavy hand on her shoulder with a sympathetic smile, "Broom has stationed snipers along the wall to cover Darren, all day and night, everyday, until it's done." his face turned grave again as he looked up the mud walls where the breeze swept some of the defence away in small waves.
It was a constant battle, keeping the mud wall up, every meter you built back, the wind would sweep away by the next day. Work had begun with metal to erect a permanent defence where soldiers could sufficiently stand and hide with ease, but this was taking too long. All it would take is a unit to concentrate on building the mud wall up too much and not notice the advancing Mares, Solomon shuddered at the thought. Full rations had been granted back to Solomon's company, with a few bottles of crisp cider per soldier in respect of Darren's funeral. The entire company raised a toast to Darren's memory that had taken its place upon Solomon's lost family wall that he had brought from The Evergreen. As they raised their glasses to their lips, The Door slid open, and in walked the familiar aged figure of Kyril, bearing a sad expression upon his old face. Pouring himself a glass of cider, he raised his own glass, "To Darren!" he exclaimed and drank the alcohol. This was the first time Solomon had seen Kyril on the surface, he could guess it was Darren's funeral drinks that had brought him from The Evergreen, he was half right. Once Kyril had greeted the company who remained drinking, he turned his grave gaze upon Solomon. "Well Lieutenant Commander Gordon." he said with a sigh, "no where near a month on this planet and I've had to attend fifteen funeral drinks, including Darren's." Solomon felt sadder, Solomon had the command of one hundred soldiers, Kyril had the command of all the ten companies, one thousand soldiers, and then the crew of the evergreen, roughly ten thousand souls. Only Darren had been killed when the first company's first platoon made planet fall that was close to Solomon, but the company as a whole had lost more, but Lucius had lost three. The other twelve had been lost from other companies. Not exactly heavy losses, but, they are still lost family. Solomon felt his anger rise as he thought of the fifteen dead to the local wildlife. Solomon hated funerals, but as a soldier and an officer, it was expected.
Kyril's gaze grew graver still, Solomon looking questioningly at his aged face. Kyril placed a hand on Solomon's back and ushered him away from the others and lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. "We've lost contact with The Infinity, we have dispatched The Hopeful. With any luck, Captain Shu will have word for us within the next day or so." he said, lifting the clouded cider to his lips once more, "And!" he spat, "And, we still are no closer to finding out who this god damn murderer is, who killed Doctor Fredrick!" Solomon exchanged a worried glance with Kyril, He barely knew the doctor, Solomon deals with death every time he enters the field of battle, but murder was different. killing your own was incomprehensible to him. Kyril suddenly straightened up, finger to his ear and begin whispering to his wrist as he walked towards the door, speaking too quiet for Solomon to catch a word.
The grim dark bridge hummed slightly, sweat beading upon Zhou's face as he impatiently oversaw the repairs of the remains of his fleet. The Evergreen had kicked his rear end last time, Zhou knew, he was not to underestimate that glistening blue beauty again. He wanted her. She was his new prize flag ship, or at least, his personal trophy. Zhou had faced many Gryph ships and many other species before, and suffered damage, but nothing like this. Before the battle with The Evergreen, Zhou had sacked a Gryph ship, with firing only a single weapon, once. A pathogen they had been playing with for the last three decades. A weapon that spreads between any species through any internal liquid contact within the body. All you required to turn into one of their creations was a single drop of saliva or blood to enter the victims. One drop, and you will be turning into their creation within time. Prior to the battle, Zhou had fired the single pod that contained one of the creations and within seven hours, the ship had fallen. Little did he know that, firing upon that emerald Gryph ship, would also cost the lives of The Infinity, more souls to unknowingly add to his score.
Zhou moodily stormed from his bridge towards his personal quarters. His corridors dimly lit, to avoid the rust of the years of neglect to displease the eyes, the metal creaked and complained with every movement the ship made. 'A new ship is a must' thought Zhou to himself with a smile as he imagined himself once more at the command of the shiny new Evergreen. "Marauder." he smiled to himself, as he finalised its name. A crackled appeared in side his ear as the voice of his chaser followed "Captain, Most of the human fleet has ported at the nearest Gryph system. They seem to concentrate on the fourth planet." Zhou abruptly halted his path, thought for a moment and set off towards his Doctor's room.
The Doctors room was as dimly lit as the rest of the bleak, rotting ship, only a head torch provided the Doctor with sufficient light. His aged face strained and pale, his white hair and stubble beard was unkept, giving him a look of an insane breakout. The metal desk he leaned upon had lost its colour decades ago and had also fallen the ship's rot of rust. "Doctor!" said Zhou excitedly as he burst in, without knocking, as was his nature. The Doctor mumbled and groaned as he tiredly lifted his head, resting his strained eyes upon the Captain. "Hmm?" he asked, his voice seemed childish to his ancient face. "The Pathogen. We use it to spread an infection aboard a ship or a star base with the recycled air..." said Zhou, struggling to keep his excitement of his idea low. "Hmmhmm.." came the Doctor again, "Can we use it on a planet now?" asked Zhou optimistically "Have you perfected it, so soon?", The Doctor answered with a wide murderous malicious smile.