Midnight was on the ground, still alive. Thankfully.

"Midnight!" I yelled to him, quickly diving towards his position.

"I'm alright!" He yelled, "That dickhead shot my rifle."

I grabbed him by the body armor, and flipped him slightly to the side to check on him. There was a scratch mark on the side of his helmet. The bullet must've ricocheted off his rifle. His rifle on the other hand, was in pieces. The receiver was blown open and the barrel was dangling off of it.

With a sigh of relief, I said to him, "That's way too fucking close."

He drew his M-5 sidearm, "Few more inches up, I'll be dead."

I can't lose a friend. Not today, or any other day.

"Everybody stay down," Jackal yelled, "Caxe can you-"

Another round flew over heads again, followed by a loud supersonic crack and a bang.

She shook her head, also behind cover.

Then another two more round flew in, striking above her head.

"Lee, do you have any electrosmoke grenades?" Jackal asked.

"Negative, sarge. I've packed HEDPs."

"James?" Jackal asked the other grenadier.

"None sir," James replied, "packed according to mission requirements."

"Shit, we gotta use normal smoke then," he said, "He may have thermals, we don't have much time."

Another gunshot screamed into the air.

"Caxe and Frost, take the second floor. Everyone else lay down covering fire. I'm going to pop smoke," Jackal said as he pulled out a M10 smoke grenade.

I slowly crawled my way towards Caxe, making sure I was low enough not to make myself a juicy target.

Another gunshot rang out, but the round went nowhere near me.

Jackal gestured behind us, "There's an escalator behind you use that to get up. Once there, we'll draw that cunt out. You two gotta slot that bastard the moment you see a flash. Got it?"

"Got it," I said.

Caxe loaded a fresh 7.62x51mm magazine box into her rifle and cocked it. A loud chk-cha shounded as a round was fed into the chamber.

"Ready?" Jackal asked, pulling the pin off the M10.

"Ready!" I replied.

He tossed a smoke grenade ahead, "Wait for it..."

A soft smooth sizzling hiss later, a cloud of white-grey smoke began to form rapidly, "GO!"

Muzzles lit up around us as the squad opened fire. Rapid firing bangs opened into the air. Bright, orange flashes illuminated the surrounding walls.

I ran towards the unit's six o'clock with Caxe following behind. Quickly we sprinted up the escalator stairs. Our boots chimed with every quick hasty step up.

A few seconds later we found ourselves behind a pillar.

"We're here," I relayed.

"Alright, see if you can spot that wanker," Jackal said, "Look out for muzzle flashes, reflections anything."

"Copy that," I replied.

Gunfire from the squad didn't stop and McCord yelled over the noise, "Left side, behind the tree!"

"Told you guys he was behind the tree!" Jackson yelled.

I looked to Caxe, and nodded. She nodded in reply.

One bang rang out.

She lowered herself and raised her rifle, using her knee as some sort of makeshift support for her DMR.

She inhaled.

Another bang rang out.

She exhaled.

And her DMR screamed.

---------------

"Cap, I tagged them," Jenkins said.

Using the battlescreen Johnson magnified an area somewhere far ahead, starboard side.

There they were, almost twenty to thirty PRF Naval Aviation gunships and transports, waiting, like a pack of wolves. They seem prepared for an assault, forming some sort of ring.

Targeting reticules formed across any ship the Stormbringer's viewfinder can locate. Short range probes put them at about 2000m away.

'Cayman' gunships and 'Scroll' assault transports made that formation. They must have been slowly creeping their way towards the Stormbringer and the heavily damaged Sandstorm. This was nothing new, he saw this two years ago on a peacekeeping mission on Ganamede Prime, where large waves of small PRF crafts would slowly close in on larger enemy ships before attacking within approximately 1000m. But he never faced this many ships at once and back then he had the support of a Wraith-class battleship.

Luckily, Johnson took Marcus' tactical advice and deployed probes to form some makeshift perimeter.

Johnson almost didn't realise that the proximity warnings from the probes were going bonkers for the last 2 minutes. Jenkin's console was lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Jenkins shut that thing up," Johnsom said.

"Captain what do we do?" Jameson asked.

Johnson paused, thinking. Never on his life would he risk the well-being of his crew or even let a single enemy boot stain his ship. On the other hand, he needed solid intel on the corvette, one that he could get by capturing an enemy personnel. He also needed to save the Sandstorm and her crew.

And Freya.

"Sir they're moving in again, 1700m," Jenkins announced.

"Weapons hot sir, waiting on your command," Jameson said.

Richard stepped next to Johnson, "Captain, we're running out of time."

He was tired of guessing what the enemy was going to do. He has the firepower and the Marines. He has Jericho on stanby. And he has his trusty Xiphos ready to blast anyone who dared step foot on his ship.

"Get the probes to self-destruct," Johnson ordered, "I want all Phantom guns and lasers to target the Caymans."

"You got it sir!" Jameson said, almost happy for them to come a little closer.

"What about the Scrolls?" Richard asked.

"We let them board," Johnson answered, "Not all of them. Only some of them."

"1600 meters and closing!" Jenkins said.

Johnson quickly walked over to the comms station and placed his hand on Rebecca's console, "Pass the PA."

She didn't say anything other than looking at Johnson and pointed one hand at the back of her neck while the other hand was rapidly typing into the touch-screen keyboard.

She gave a thumbs up.

Now the PA system was linked to his mil-spec implant at the back of his neck. He cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have detected enemy vessels preparing to board us. All combat personnel report in to Lieutenant Mendoza. All non-combat personnel proceed to the mess area and barricade it.  "Challenge is 'Phoenix', countersign is 'Winter'."

"1200 meters and closing!" Jenkins said.

"Let's these dumbasses know who they are messing with. These bastards seek to attack our ship, our home. As such, we will send them back in body bags," Johnson paused, "Semper Vigilans, Stormbringers, good luck, out."

"Battle-shields on stanby," Jenkins said, "Probes ready to go."

Richard walked in with a full combat load, armed with a crossbow. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder as he walked towards the center.

Jameson stuck his head above his screen, like a meerkat. "You're seriously not bringing a crossbow to a gunfight," Jameson commented, "Are those shock gauntlets?"

Richard smiled, "This thing does wonders." He rubbed the two metallic bar-shaped knuckle dusters as electricity danced across them. "One of them isn't going to have a nice day."

Johnson drew his Xiphos, "Let's get to the hangar bay, Jameson, you have the con."