Ryoma pressed on, not bothering to finish off the pathetic automated defenses the ship has. Low velocity projectiles were merely an irritation against the psionic shields of the Protoss Zealots, but there was an increasing amount of them, and it was becoming annoying.
The ship was obviously not built for Protoss warriors, and Ryoma's boarding party had no choice but to stick to the larger corridors, while their opponents, puny as they were, hid in the smaller side corridors, where the Zealots could not follow.
Ryoma's psionic shields flickered again, as several bullets hit and deflected, hitting the bulkheads with repeated metallic pings. Looking forward, Ryoma could see terrans in their crude battle armor up ahead, shooting at him like it mattered.
To his irritation, Ryoma indicated with a telepathic signal, which was then followed by a bolt of plasma in the general direction of the Terrans, scattering them like the lower creatures they were. Ryoma tendered a lazy telepathic thanks to the pilot of the Dragoon as he leapt forward, impatient to slaughter his enemies.
"Look at that bastard… walking around as if he owns the place." muttered Sergeant Karl Nemo as he followed the progress of a series of red dots representing the Protoss moving unhindered along a corridor on the Ilona's internal navigational console.
At its this rate the bogeys would reach the partition doors leading to the Ilona's nuclear reactor in ten seconds, the nuclear reactor that he was tasked with guarding. Nemo glanced at the Perdition flamethrowers built into the arms of his Firebat armor, tiny yellow pilot flames were already lit, awaiting the jet of pressurised Vespene gas to shoot out and immolate the enemy.
His weapons offered cold comfort to Nemo. From what the cameras could tell, these aliens laughed bullets off. Ten feet tall, freaky energy blades that sliced open Marine armor like cheap tin cans, and all Nemo had to fend them off with was a couple of Perdition flame throwers.
The men were understandably just as nervous, or more nervous that he was. The door led to the engine rooms, and had to be defended at all costs. The atmosphere was thick with tension mixed with a touch of hopelessness. The aliens shrugged of almost everything the crew thew at them, and the last-ditch defense had the characteristics of a suicide charge.
Karl Nemo looked at the navigation console one last time, and shouted out the orders.
"Battle stations! Incoming bogey!!" he yelled.
The few dozen marines under his command scrambled into the makeshift barricades and readied their gauss rifles with a chorus of satisfying clicks. The other firebats took their positions besides Nemo, ready to charge at the enemy under cover of sustained fire from the Marines.
"On my signal!" Nemo shouted.
There was a deathly silence as the shadow of a four legged something crept over the wall opposite them. Very soon, a golden mechanical leg stuck itself out, soon followed by the shiny body of what looked like a metal spider.
"Fire!!" screamed the Firebat Sergeant as a hatch on top the spider opened to reveal an expanding orb of light.
The dragoon's shields melted like an icicle in hell before the furious onslaught of the hail of rifle bullets, before sparks flew like a light show as its casing was subjected to a merciless pounding, which took little time to dent and warp, before bursting and releasing the blue cryo fluid within.
Nemo knew he really should be surprised the monstrosity went down so easily but he really didn't have the time to think. "More incoming!!" he shouted as more Protoss units appear on screen.
"Our shields are low," complained a Zealot.
"Protoss warriors do not let such trivialities bother them, onwards," Ryoma commanded, ignoring the destruction of the Dragoon. His gaze was set on the hastily constructed barricade, and the prize that lay behind the thick doors the enemy was defending. "If these pathetic creatures stand and fight here, then that must be a critical area," Ryoma said. "Perhaps taking it would grant us victory."
Satisfied with his conclusions, Ryoma ordered the Zealots to group together, just far enough away to be out of range of the Marines, and yet visible to the nervous Terrans. Nemo bit his lip, sensing that the enemy was about to attack, and when they do, it's not going to be pretty.
"Prepare yourselves. Warrirors. We fight for Aiur!" Ryoma shouted, opening his mouth to scream a loud, bloodthirsty roar.
The inhuman sound sent a chill up Nemo's spine, but he knew he had to let the enemy come to him. A dozen Zealots lit their psi blades and charged,r unning at full tilt towards the marines and shouting frenzied war cries. Not bothering to wait for an order from Nemo. The marines reply with the blazing of their rifles and various curses, including groans of pleasure as some injected themselves with stim packs. The Zealots leading the suicidal charge soon found themselves with depleted shields halfway through.
"To the rear, warriors!" Ryoma commanded, literally grabbing the vanguard by the shoulders and pushing them to the back of the Protoss line. Dashing past his comrades, fresh Zealots took their places, forging ahead and taking the brunt of the fire.
"Goddammit," Nemo swore, as he saw, at last, the blue forcefields around the enemy flicker and fade, only for another bunch of aliens to come out from the back, with fresh shields. "Light
up and charge the motherfuckers on my signal," he said.
The marines desperately fired, and the Zealots charged with equal desperation, managing to close the distance quickly, without many injuries. However, as soon as they get within slashing distance of the bunkers almost all their shields have been depleted.
"Attack!" Ryoma commanded, leaping forward in Nemo's general direction.
"Light 'em up, faggots!" Nemo shouted, as six firebats activated their Predators, jets of flame coming out from each arm, each three feet long, and hot enough to char a Zergling near-instantly.
Nemo charged forward, attacking Ryoma the moment his feet touched the ground. The veteran protoss warrior was caught unawares, there was a look of genuine surprise in his face, for he did not expect this batch to come forward to attack him instead.
"Buuurrrrn!!" Nemo screamed, flames penetrating the forcefield, hitting Ryoma square in the chest, causing the protoss to scream in pain. "BURN!" Nemo yelled again, taking a step forward, pressing the advantage, only to let himself get on the receiving end of a psi-blade swining towards his head.
Instinctively, Nemo raised his arm to block the blade, the force of the blow was enough to make him think he broke an arm, the blue psionic blade dug deep into the fireproof ceramic plating.
"Impressive," Ryoma thought, as the fire-wielder parried his blow. Ignoring the pain to his chest, he raised his other arm, this time, he was ready to stab Nemo in the head, and be done with this bothersome insect once and for all.
Then Nemo realized with a tingle of horror, that Ryoma had cut through one of the armored feeder hoses for the Predator in his right arm. Pressurised fluid gushed out of the hose, covering both combatants in sticky liquified vespene gas. Desperately, Nemo tried to extinguish the flamethrower on his other arm, but it was too late.
Ryoma did not know the reason for Nemo's look of terror, and thrust his psi-blade forward, intent on decapitating this bothersome opponent. The blade never connected, for the fine spray of mist caught fire, consuming both Protoss and Terran in a bloody explosive fireball. Death for both was swift and painful.
The battle raged on without pausing, the Zealots desperately trying to cut down the firebats, who laugh cruelly as the charred and burning corpses hit the ground. One after the other the Zealots fell, their shields unable to block the deadly heat of the Perdition flamethrowers, they fell to their knees and died, cooked alive in their battle armor. The stench of burning flesh mixed with spent cordite and blood, as the marines and firebats mercilessly cut down the last few Zealots, until they all followed Ryoma into the lands of the dead.
The marines ceased fire, but little did they know the battle was not truly over. After the Zealots fell, a shiny orb with a glowing streak zigzagged from the distance toward the marine line. Several others swiftly followed this orb.
"What the hell are those things?" Asked a firebat, as he armed his Perdition, ready for anything.
"Will-o-wisps?" someone answered.
The Protoss Scarabs impacted the marine line with deadly effect, detonating silently with a bright flash. After the light faded, there was no trace of humans ever being there, not even their armor survived the detonation of the scarabs. The caterpillarlike Reavers inched forward, already manufacturing new scarabs inside their caterpillar like shells, as they proceeded to their last programmed target.
The last remaing Dragoon armed its photon cannon, ready to help the Reavers blast the door open.
The battle inside the Ilona was not the only area where the humans found themselves pressed by the overwhelming superiority of the Protoss. In space, the Divine Wind had their own problems against the superior Protoss Scouts, and the dogfight became more and more furious with each second. Despite their superior aircraft, the Protoss could not break free from engaging the Wraiths, so instead of attacking the Ilona or the helpless transports, they had to do the aerial dance of death, dodging Geminis and replying with missiles of their own.
Glensather, sighting a Terran wraith flying slowly into his sights, opened fire with his Scouts photon vulcans as he waited for the lock, before the Wraith, almost as if expecting it, spun around wildly out of the line of fire and zoomed straight for Glensather.
"How valiantly these Terrans charge into battle… it's almost as if they care not for their very lives." thought Glensather to himself as the Gemini missiles and burst lasers glanced off the Scout shielding
He brought his plane around, charging at the Wraith at full thrust. At this range and speed, both pilots could not obtain a missile lock, but it didn't prevent them from blazing away at each other with lasers and photon vulcans, both missing the other, as the pilots jiggled and weaved, ironically ending up flying right past each other.
Glensather stifled a cold laugh when he glimpsed the indignant face of Oblivious through his cockpit as Scout and Wraith flew past each other, laser and photon vulcans blazing away.
"Maybe in a thousand years Terran…" he shot to Oblivious telepathically as his Wraith was pounced upon by two interceptors.
"I'll kill you if it takes ten thousand you sonuva bitch!!" shouted Oblivious furiously; clearly oblivious as to how he heard Glensather's words, when his cockpit was again filled with another teammate's scream of death.
"DAMN IT ALL!!" Oblivious shouted, banging a fist helplessly against the instrument panel. What would it take to kill these motherfuckers? He wondered.
The Divine Wind was hopelessly out numbered and being slowly picked apart by the combination of swarming interceptors and the powerful Scouts with their anti-matter missiles. The lack of cloaking devices further worsened the problem. It was all Oblivious could do to keep himself alive, and there was nothing in the playbook, nothing he had ever fought against, that could give him any insight, any idea as to how to defeat these enemies.
"Goddammit Episode," Oblivious swore through gritted teeth."I could use some fucking help in here," he swore, glancing back to the Ilona, which was seemingly engaged in firing its ATA lasers at random.
On the bridge of the Ilona, Episode gritted his teeth. The battle wasn't going well. The swarms of those fast and maneuverable ships were insistent on staying as thick as ever no matter how many they destroyed. Directly in contrast with the Divine Wind squadron, which had suffered seven losses so far…Worse still, there was no word from Nemo, and he had no idea what happened to the enemy boarding party. He had to act or things were going to the pits.
All of a sudden, the floor and bulkheads started shaking ominously.
"We've lost both our secondary thrusters." reported Kate.
"We can take that." replied Episode. "Anything else?"
"Half the burst laser batteries have been crippled, the hangar has been exposed…"
"Close the partition doors, hurry!"
"Hull damage in sectors twenty two through fifty one has exceeded the Helmer's limit."
"Damn…"
"The barracks and the armory have been destroyed and… the beer hall too."
"JESUS CHRIST THAT DOES IT!!" roared Episode
"Helmsmen! Bring us into range with the enemy mother ship! Kate! We're firing the BIG GUN!"
"You mean the Yamato Gun…" came Kate's tired sounding reply.
"Yes yes whatever."
"Initiating Yamato Gun startup sequence… twenty five seconds to one hundred percent output. Fifty percent… seventy-five… what the, we've lost power!!" Kate shouted in panic.
Episode hastily picked up a phone. "Engine room! What the hell are you guys doing?? Engine room?? Engine room??!" There was nothing but static to answer his frantic questions. Episode wearily put the phone down…
"Convert emergency power to the Yamato Gun! Hurry!" he ordered.
"But what about life support?!" Kate asked. "After this shot we'll be lucky to have enough juice to boil an egg!"
"Don't worry about that! Give the order to evacuate immediately! Order the Wraiths to retreat as well, we're done here. Just as well, I suppose. What about the transports?"
Kate stared at her instruments for a few seconds before replying "about to enter orbit. Still no contact with Rogziel, but they've picked up the starport's landing beacon."
"Excellent. The important thing," Episode said, as he got up, walked over to Kate's post, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "is that the transports are safe. We're not letting Darkainia down:"
The lights dimmed throughout the ship as one system after another shut down, leaving only the artificial gravity and air pressure systems alongside the most rudimentary lighting.
Kate responded with some enthusiasm, "Yamato gun at one hundred percent… arming the Yamato gun."
"Prepare to abandon ship," Episode said, grimly.
"Target in maximum range," the helmsman reported.
"You're going to FEEL this you bastards," Episode muttered.
The actions of the Ilona did not go unnoticed on board the Galdrados. After ordering the interceptors to attack the Ilona, Avalon noted with some consternation that the Battlecruiser continued to close in on the stationary Galdrados, ignoring the steady bombardment from the interceptors.
"Glensather," Avalon ordered quietly. "Forget your games, and focus on the largest terran vessel. I do not like its intentions."
"Very well, Executor." Came Glensather's reply. Thinking to himself, "you get to live, Terran pilot," he veered away from pursuing Oblivious, ignoring the battle computer's shrill beeping that confirmed he had a missile lock on the Wraith. Pulling away, he steeled himself, trying not to feel any regret.
"I nearly had him…" thought Glensather, fighting back frustration. Bound by his obedience to his executor, he was forced to end his winning duel with Oblivious and focus on attacking the Ilona. .
"Stupid dickhead isn't pursuing… bastard was playing with me…" muttered Oblivious as Glensather's scout made a hundred and eighty degree turn and blasted off in the Ilona's general direction. He thought of pursuit, but Episode's already given his order.
"Any of you monkeys still alive?" he radioed.
"Yea just me… fuck off you alien scum my boss wants to live." came a single reply.
"Shut up Mr. I-have-only-one-engine-left-and-am-flying-like-a-retard before I shove a missile up your ass." replied Oblivious, not mentioning that he had half his wings shot off and had both engines in the red from reckless piloting… it would be a miracle if he could enter orbit and live.
Ignoring the frantic attacks of the Protoss Scouts, the Ilona pressed on, and fired the Yamato Gun. A massive sphere of energy, crackling with raw plasma accumulated at the Ilona's main cannon. Reaching a critical mass, it shot forth from the Ilona and streaked toward Avalon's Carrier, engulfing a Scout and several interceptors in the process. Barely affected by the scout and interceptors, the super dense ball of plasma penetrated the Carriers shielding and flew directly into the hull's cavity in the center.
Avalon reeled from the colossal shock and wanton disbelief as the Yamato shot crippled the interceptor factory and caused the Carrier's plasma battery to collapse in an implosion of blue flame, pulling in with it in a good amount of the surrounding structure.
"I have… underestimated them. A horrible blunder…" muttered Avalon in the darkness of a power failure as emergency alarms blared around him.
Just how many shots do they have remaining… Left to choose between pursuing the Terrans and destruction of his base of operations, Avalon reached toward his comrades telepathically, and orders a retreat…
"Warriors! Retreat at once! The Carrier must not fall!!" he commanded as emergency power restored the lighting.