The screeching alarm drilled through the bridge. The captain stood, dumbfounded, by the forward windows, after watching the ship he had known as home, be torn apart by this newcomer’s weapon systems. His shock quickly crystallized into anger, realizing that these people had desecrated his ship. He assumed his duty.
“Damage report!”
A tactical officer quickly responded, his calm tone the anti-thesis of the captain’s anger.
“Primary weapons are offline. Primary power is offline. Main drives are inoperable. TIE wing has been destroyed. Secondary power is keeping us afloat. Secondary weapons are offline. Radiation alarms have been tripped in every main turret. Enemy personnel have boarded the ship. Secondary drives are online, although the enemy ship could easily disable them. The enemy is blocking long-range comms, but one of our TIEs managed to escape the enemy’s interceptors, and his heading toward the nearest station with a battle report. We have taken heavy casualties, and several enemy groups are veering toward fire control, engineering, the primary reactor, and the bridge. Enemy gunships are depositing more troops across the ship. All sectors report enemy contact.”
The second-in-command pops a question.
“Are the missile launchers online?”
The tactical officer checks a panel before responding. The panel shows a basic diagram of the ship, with different sections and readout. Most are red, or orange. Several other officers are busy organizing a defence and Damage Control teams.
“Missile launcher are online, but they will have minimal effect against the enemy ship.”
“Can you target the enemy gunships?”
“There is a medium probability that it could work, although they could shoot the missiles down, or we could hit our own ship.”
“Captain? What do you think?”
The captain runs the scenario in his head, not wanting to damage his ship more, but also wanting to stop the boarding action. He comes to a conclusion.
“Do it.”
In the cockpit of one of the gunships, pilot Jack Henson monitors the situation, maneuvering his dropship around the enemy ship. He sees a few red glints in a window before hearing a marine over the comm.
“Hey Jack! We have a bit of resistance. Can you give them a warm introduction?”
Jack touches the comms panel.
“Sure thing. I can already see them.”
Jack switches to the inter-craft comms channel.
“Gunners, prioritize targeting enemy forces at corresponding point.”
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The two gunners respond.
“Copy, traversing turret.”
“Locking on to target. Lock achieved.”
Jack checks with the marine on the enemy vessel
“Hey, did you pull your people out?”
Blaster bolts are still flying by in the window. A different marine responds.
“This is Sergeant Johnson! The marine you were talking to was hit! We are stabilizing him right now!”
Jack can hear the distant gunfire. Sergeant Johnson yells, but not at him.
“Marines! I want four 40 mil grenades into their laps! Jackson, Hayden, Marcella, Sam, I want suppressive fire as we pull out! Do you want to be here when our gunship tears them a new one?!”
Jack can feel his spine stiffen as the Sergeant talks, or rather, yells. The marines respond.
“No sir! HOORAH!”
“That’s right marines! Give em hell!”
The gunfire fills the comms channel. Jack can see a few explosions through the window. One of the gunners talks to Jack.
“Hey Jack, I’m reading a ton of thermal signatures heading straight for the marines, from their left.”
Jack snaps the comms channel on. Sergeant Johnson is yelling insult after insult, both at his marines, and the enemy. Jack recognizes a few, but it is clear that this marine has quite the deep vocabulary when it comes to insults.
“Sergeant! Enemy thermal signatures headed your way!”
“Thanks for the heads-up! MARINES! We got a new group of troopers headed our way! Our gunship is going to rip the original target up, while we give these newcomers a big surprise.”
“What kind of surprise, sir?”
“Something with a pointy end! Pull out your swords! Sam! Give 'em a smoky, then seal the door!”
“Yes sir!”
Jack switches comms channels while the Sergeant is busy coordinating his troops.
“Gunners, prep to fire on original target.”
“What about the new contacts, sir?”
“The marines are gonna handle them.”
Down in the hall, the Sergeant pulls his sword out, strapping his rifle to the back of his armor. His side arm, a plasma pistol designed for inter-ship combat, bears little similarities to the Stormtroopers’ own rifle.
Marine Sam cracks the access panel to the door, before using a laser torch to seal the edges of the door. The other marines follow the Sergeant, pulling out their swords, and sidearms. They are armed with the standard marine laser pistol. The sound of the approaching troopers is audible. The sergeant checks his FFI (Friend-or-Foe Identification) just to ease his anxiety. One of the approaching enemies talks, his voice filtered through his oddly-shaped helm.
“The invaders should be just through the next corridor!”
The sergeant smiles. The marines are lined up on either side of the door, four marines have swords and pistols, two have rifles, and one has a ballistic shield and a sidearm. The medics tending to the hurt marine.
The Sergeant stops for a moment. An ear-shattering boom echos through the ship, the death knell of the group of enemies. The Sergeant speaks up.
“I will be breaching!”
He lifts his leg, and with the pure power of a man that knows no limits, slams the door down before charging into the crowd of confused Stormtroopers. His sword cuts one in half, bisecting the poor man. The other troopers halt in their tracks, before trying to fire. A few try to punch the marines, to no avail. The other sword-bearing marines charge in too, The Sergeant flips on his armor’s exterior speaker system, and starts yelling insults, all of which cannot be presented here. The Marines push forward, undaunted by the Stormtroopers.