“Forward you dogs ! To Victory !” The Lieutenant shouts over public comms.
https://youtu.be/4sgimfISzPs?t=26 And so, you do.
Dozens of men, perhaps even hundreds, as the Reavers had no doubt been almost entirely emptied of their crew, but for those needed to keep them moving. A bunch of pirates, for that is what they are, no matter what military ranks had been imposed upon them, alongside proper imperial navy marines charge against the cyborgs. Having destroyed your means of escape, the cyborgs had signed their death warrants, for if there is no escape, you have nowhere to go but forwards. In situations like these, even the most timid of fighters will show their all.
Still, the enemy is good. Even through the charging horde, they direct accurate fire upon those clad in power armour. You come to this conclusion, as your comrade, the one who prayed, is suddenly slammed onto the floor like a wet rag, as an anti-material rifle smashes through his chest, leaving a clean hole in his chest.
Scores of men are cut down in their charge, each and every one had fired their rifle, aimed their shots, and did nothing against the thick armour these machine men wear, in response, all were slayed. Their tactics, whilst textbook for an engagement like this, eerily so, as you observe their movements, are rendered pointless as the first men in protection suits reach point blank range.
The thing about textbooks is, it only works when you are fighting people who had actually read it. Carrying a disturbing number of explosives upon themselves, the new “recruits” hurl such an excessive number of them, that they would never be allowed to carry so much unless they were the explosives experts of a squad.
Circular, miniature stars quickly bloom and faster even dim. What is left behind are those same cyborgs, their armour glowing red hot from the heat, rivers of molten metals flow and float outwards. Even metallic beasts like these are rendered incapable from such sheer destruction.
You, like so many others, level your rifles. Its kickback is soothing, as round after round is ejected from the barrel. Only when it clicks dry, do you realize that someone screaming in your ears had been you.
Breathing raggedly, you look upon the bent, broken, hole ridden, superheated piles of metal, now laying still and unmoving. It takes a moment for you, for every man still standing really, to process just what happened. You won ! The cyborgs are dead !
But before a shout can begin, your officer cuts in. “Keep it together ! Everyone gather up and prepare to breach, we do not have the time to enjoy this victory !”
Snapping back to reality, you quickly begin to move towards one of the entrance.
“Form up ! Form up !” The sergeant shouts.
You quickly set a breaching charge and step away.
“One. Two. Three. Breach !” Your immediate CO orders.
The explosion blows out the airlock. “Go ! Go ! Go !” Your move as the sergeant shouts.
