The light from the moon shone deep into the Everfree thanks to the large, gaping hole that had been ripped into the canopy. The smoldering debris from the crashed Corvette sizzled in the night, providing an eerie glow that illuminated it's surroundings. A hand shot out from underneath a shattered dura-steel plate and hauled itself over the wreckage. A small tuft of hair appeared, followed by an ashen face.
"Gah, Son-of-a-Mynock! Sound off!" Yelled Sergeant Wyrren Zerga.
The battered man could hear indistinct grunts and moans all around him, but it reassured him in the way that he knew he wasn't the only one alive.
"Well . . I've seen *cough* . . . better landings."
"Jag? Jag, is that you!? You alright?" Shouted Zerga.
"Yeah! Fit-as-a-Frozian! What about you?" Replied Sergeant Jag Bendal.
Zerga tilted his head and observed what little of his body he could see under the debris. He couldn't feel anything below his waistline, and his right arm was hurting more than the time he had sliced it open with a fusion cutter.
Other than that, he was alright.
"Yeah! D'ya think anyone else made it out?" He asked.
"Could be! Where are ya?" Yelled Jag.
"Over here!"
The sound of Jag shuffling over the destruction could be easily heard in the unusually silent night. For Zerga, the pain was subsiding for now, a clear sign that he was probably going into shock. Jag's head crested the wreckage and a faint smile could be seen on his bloodied face.
"Hey there buddy. Lets get you outta there."