"Keep on 'em lads!" shouted Sergeant Johnathan "Sins" MacTavish, his assault rifle roaring in his hands, the kick of the weapon causing his body to jerk with every round expelled from the powerful weapon. "Everything you've got!"
The zerglings were swarming down the corridor again, the piles of corpses of the already slain creatures mixed with the occasional Marine sprawled beneath the bodies of the zerg. Spent casings showered from the weapons of a dozen Marines, gradually pulling back to not allow the zerglings to get close enough for their wicked claws to find them.
How the zerg had overwhelmed the automated defences guarding the entrance to their cavern he didn't know, and to be frank, with the lives of his men and himself on the line, he didn't care all that much. 3rd Platoon had been stationed down there, fifty marines and a pair of firebats and marauders as support, overwhelmed without a word escaping to the surface. Something whizzed over his head, embedding itself into the bulkhead behind him, he turned to take a quick examination of it. A wickedly serrated 30 centimetre spine had pierced the metal easily, embedded more than halfway into the bulkhead.
"Hydralisks! Eyes up!" snapped Sins, his warning a moment too late as one of his men fell backwards, his armour riddled with spines, the polarised visor pierced in several places.
His radio was alive with reports from the other squads of his platoon, and even on a company level in some places, as the regiment was forming to try and repel the surge of the research creatures. From the screams that filled his ears, he doubted that any unit was in a better position than his own. Another marine staggered backwards, lowering his rifle and clutching his leg, two spines had pierced his CMC-300 powered combat suit.
"Medic!" he ordered, gripping the shoulder guard of the marine and hauling him back towards the squad medic, Sarah "Angel" Warricks. Who was already treating two other wounded marines.
The marine grunted, as Angel caught him and eased him down behind the corpse of a Goliath, the warmachine overrun in the opening stages of the sudden assault, its' rent armour plating taking the stray spine thrown towards them.
"Angel how long till they can be moved?" called Sins as he gunned down a leaping zergling, it's skull and its contents now decorating the roof.
"Two minutes sarge!" called the medic from behind the busted cockpit of the Goliath.
"You heard the woman lads! Hold them here for two minutes then we fall back!" he ordered, his men forming a staggered line so at least half of them were shooting at any one time while the other half reloaded or cooled their weapons.
With a snarl, he watched as a fresh horde pushed into the long corridor, hundreds of the blasted creatures, hoping that the fragments of chatter he was able to discern were true. Reinforcements were inbound, two regiments of Dominion Marines, with a fleet escort full of Vikings and Wraiths. He only hoped they would arrive soon, every rush of zerglings and they crept a little closer, and every man he lost was one less gun on the line.
"They better get here soon..." he mumbled, racking the slide of his C-14 Impaler Rifle.
Pushing one of his men out of the way, he stepped into the front line of his troops, rifle firing on rapid fire as the zerg closed, the lethal spines of the Hydralisks snapping past him, his men angling their combat shields to try and deflect the spines rather than let them pierce fully through their armour. Sprays of ichor and torn limbs flew where the storm of firepower the Marines were throwing into the zerg torn the creatures apart, the muzzle flash of the weapons lighting the features of every man and woman on the line, casting fearsome shadows behind them, and before them as images of rushing zerglings and shattered bodies were cast along the once pristine white walls.
Beyond the walls in which the Marines battled for their lives, the first of the promised reinforcements waited close to the orbit of the station, watching the unfolding destruction, choosing whether or not to commit to the station, whether to risk more lives on the surface of a facility designed to observe and contain the zerg.
The Behemoth-class battlecruiser Prometheus held just outside the orbit of the station, the fires within the compound were visible from space, palls of smoke rising in great columns from a dozen areas, enhanced scans showed the surface flooded with zerg organisms and the ruins of Crucio siege tanks and Goliaths and downed aircraft, the Dominion forces had been thrown on the backfoot by whatever surge in zerg activity it was that breached their containment. Captain Gabriel Hornman chewed on the cigar in his mouth thoughtfully.
"The station is lost, the zerg have breached containment and are now a real threat to the system," he said finally, watching as a swarm of Mutalisks were rising from the station to meet the lone battlecruiser.
"Still a lot of Marines and civilians down there Captain," growled the augmented voice of Major Seán O'Riain, a grizzled Firebat pilot, and commander of the half regiment of Marines aboard the Prometheus.
"Indeed, I am requesting permission to bomb this station to glass, Major, you have four hours to get shuttles down there and evac all you can," said Hornman, watching as a massive Ultralisk ripped open one of the few remaining outer defence bunkers and allowed the swarm of zerglings to pour into its innards.
"Give me five, we'll secure the space port, and get the civilians out, then you can pull us out, give me the time I need to find those marines and get them out,"
"You'll have four hours, Major," said Hornman, his voice brokering no argument. "Four hours from when I receive confirmation of my orders, which should take roughly two hours once it's all verified and cleared through the correct procedures,"
"That's all I need," said O'Riain, turning smartly and almost sprinting down the hallway, his second in command and two other officers of his troops hot on his tail.
Hornman watched the men leaving his bridge, before the door sealed shut, then turned back to watch the escort of Viking and Wraiths launching from the hanger of the troopship where most of the Marines and their equipment were housed, to engage the Mutalisks, the winged creatures were closing with an impressive burst of speed. Their bio-weaponry, the blasted glaive wurm, simple in its construction, effective against almost anything it struck, it could cause some serious damage should too many break through the screen of escorts.