Fallen Angels [2]
I originally wrote this as a REALLLLLY long comment, but now I kinda wanna flesh it out further. (Credit to u/SpecialStorm4188)
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[Mori]
Mori sat on a crate, watching the Humans and friends unloading supplies for her and the remaining survivors from the previous attack an hour or two ago. Some of the soldiers they had didn't hold the off-tone white with decorative orange streaks, but instead a sterile, clean white on their armour. With red pluses on their shoulders, and matching red streaks. Their helmets weren't as fierce as the others had. They were more gentle looking. They were less sharp, with the eyes being a calm blue instead. Their expression didn't seem angry or determined. But more sad looking, more upset that people had to be hurt. But it wasn't a distraught sadness, but a hopeful one. She didn't know how it was hopeful. But it was. And it gave her hope as one of the clean white angels did their best to help Azer.
Azer was hurt. Not too badly that he'd be like that forever. But he wouldn't be able to walk on his own for a while. During the commotion, Azer was accidentally shot in the thigh, some of the doctor angels around him said that an Ar-tor-ee was punctured, and that's why he was bleeding so much when they found him. Though he seemed to not be in so much danger as before, because now only one is tending to him. While the others went to go help someone else. Others aren't even doctoring though, and instead helping move supplies and set up a little camp, where many medicines are being stored.
Another flash above the sky appears as streaks of light dance over the sky and big flashes occasionally appear. More fiery streaks cry down as more things come crashing down from the heavens. Mori thought that they were more of the human Angels, but the things falling from the sky seem too big and small. They differ in size too much. They don't seem uniform at all either. The things falling looked imperfect in shape and didn't seem like the style the humans would have. They were much more graceful when falling down, so she didn't know what they were. But she still felt hopeful.
[Rosemary]
Rosemary, nicknames Rosy by most, was working the radio systems and sensors on the Federation Star Ship labeled Mothrin. The fast lil cruiser being named after him, because he was the mascot of the ship. He worked on that ship ever since it came into service, when Captain Theodore Jeysko was still naming it. Rosy went to the Federation just before Cpt. Jeysko had finalized the name, and being the only ship Captain with some sort of humanoid moth thing. A bright pink and yellow one for that matter. It seemed fitting to him. The recognition made Rosy blush a little though. He didn't think he'd have a ship named after him 3 days after leaving training. He worked on Mothrin throughout every rank. And became the telecommunications officer for the ship. A few more rank ups and he'd be second in command. Maybe he'd get his own ship soon. But what would he name it?
"Captain, we have 3 more Zalm dreadnoughts jumping in. 80 degrees, clockwise rotation. Approximately 30 kilometers out."
Cpt. Jeysko was rubbing his face a little as the ship twisted and turned and spun, Pilot Demetrius doing his best to keep the ship from ASB [Anti Ship Battery] shelling from the planet and incoming laser and missile fire from the Zalm ships. Mothrin was not made to be as close to the front of the assault as it is. The dreadnoughts and cruisers fighting between each other were easily twice or thrice the size of the ship. But all the same. This little ship was fast. And definitely COULD hold its own for long enough to charge up an FTL jump to get out. If they're lucky maybe apply some hull damage.
"I'm starting to think we weren't as up for this fight as we could've been.." Cpt. Jeysko grumbled, knowing the strain the entire ship is having to keep itself from being taken apart. The engineering team is running across the ship back and forth to patch hull breaches and fix damaged systems, "We might have to jump out. Mothrin isn't made to take on fights with these big ships. It's made to take on multiple ships of its own size. Not.. this."
"We have some Federation battleships on their way sir. They have 2 more jumps to go sir." Rosy said, looking over a multitude of star maps, looking over the pathing of more reinforcements, Zalm reinforcements, and the actual map of the star they're fighting in.
"The battle is getting too intense. We need to go otherwise we'll be caught in the crossfire. Rosy, make a request to exit the star and let the bigger guns of the fleet handle it." Cpt. Jeysko ordered.
"Yes sir." Rosy began wiring into the fleet comms, taking a break from looking at the maps and charts. "Come in Fleet Command. This is Mothrin, designation FSS Kestrel 493-218. We are requesting to leave the firefight and allow more room for other more sturdy cruisers and destroyers to move in and maintain the assault. Captain Jeysko fears that Mothrin will accidentally fly itself into a wall of shelling from both sides and be destroyed."
Fleet Command took around fifteen to thirty seconds to return a message, busy with commanding and radioing every ship in the star system, which is becoming a larger number by the minute.
"... Emergency Departure Reque.." Rosy failed to hear the full message from Fleet Command as a multitude of the crew cheered as one of the big Zalm battleships began to explode into multiple great flashes, like fireworks. The ship splintered and fractured into multiple pieces, while slowly sinking into the atmosphere, making bright fiery streaks of reentry. Most pieces would burn up in atmosphere, but some might crash into the planet in much smaller melted pieces.
"I'm sorry Fleet Command, please repeat, Departure Request is what-?"
Rosy was cut off by Demetrius crying out in half a swear, as the shearing of metal was heard and the sound of vacuum opening into the entire bridge of the ship.
"Warning: Hull breach detected in [Command Bridge] Oxygen deprivation imminent."
[Sergeant William "Patton" McAllen]
Sgt. Patton ducked into a foxhole as more Zalm machine guns fired down at him and is platoon. They were making good advancements, slowly pushing through enemy forces and placements, away from the small refugee camp that contacted them. Patton contacted some of the ships just out of the atmosphere that were made to support infantry advancements, rather than any ship firefights. Every time a ship was destroyed a bright flash caused the whole area to briefly light up, letting everyone realize they were WAY closer or farther from an enemy than they meant to be, or thought they were. It was pitch black out here.
"This is Sergeant Patton requesting more HAIS [High Atmosphere Infantry Support, pronounced as "Highs"], I need some more Spearheads to lock onto these bastards. We can't see where the hell they are half the time. Launch some flare pods too."
The radio gave static and a light crackle as Patton received a response.
"Confirmed Sergeant Patton, what's your coordinates?"
"We're stuck at around Sector 284, coordinates should be around cell B-4 to E-9. Look for heat signatures and make sure you lock onto the right guys."
"We see you Patton, we'll take care of em. We're detecting 32 heat signatures around your area, how many are in your platoon?"
"We got twelve, launch 3 spearheads then, we'll take care of the other two."
"Get your boys to group together then and we'll make sure to avoid you."
"On it."
Patton turned his comms to the rest of his platoon, yelling at them that spearheads will be raining down, and if they don't get together, they will get hit indescriminately.
They use the flashes to locate each other, and to try and avoid any Zalm forces, although gunfire still kicks up plenty of times. Thankfully, Federation Ground Infantry can take some real damage before actually being compromised. The Federation spends good money to keep armour up to date. Patton once met a guy who survived getting shot by a Betraski hover tank. Hit him dead center in the chest. His organs weren't as lucky, had pretty bad damage to his lungs, liver, esophagus, and a kidney. While his stomach, other kidney, and nearly the whole ribcage were destroyed, his ribs got powdered. He lived though. Fought for another year before being forced on leave. Patton wonders how he's doing sometimes.
Patton watches through the flashes as two of his units carry another. Hopps was on his chest armour extruded onto it and painted in the Federation's strong hopeful orange. He was still wiggling though, blood seeping out of some bullet holes in his armour. His leg got caught up. Federation armour protects the chest and head the most. With thighs and biceps having the medium portion of armour, and the shins and fore arms the less. The gloves and shoes are mainly for keeping a seal, in case they need to do a spacewalk and take care of things outside of a carrier ship or try and board.
Hopps had his thigh bleeding to hell, but according to some basic health teachings he got from the Federation, to make sure there's at least SOMEONE who can help, the bullet didn't hit an artery but a vein, due to a constant steady oozing, rather than spurting and gushing. The blood also looked darker than it should. But according to their clocks, it's night, so everything is darker than it should be.
Patton contacts HAIS again, telling them that it's all clear for them to fire spearheads. Everyone is accounted for. Meanwhile, the MIU [Medical Infantry Unit, pronounced "Meeyou"], of his Platoon, Doc, began to tend to Hopps. Every MIU is called Doc by the rest of the force. The only time a MIU is referred to by their actual name or alias is because they're talking to other Docs, or need to be specifically picked out from other Docs around.
Faint whistling is heard for a second or two, as three pops sound out overhead. Piercing air and cracking of Zalm armour rings out, with the collapse of 18 bodies, in close succession to each other. With the next flash, the 10 remaining infantry men pop out of cover and fire at the last two of the Zalm ambush they walked in, before packing Hopps up on a stretcher and moving forward. He might not be able to walk too well, but he can still maintain suppressing fire, along with the fact he isn't critical in any way. Hell, soon he might start walking again out of stubbornness.
Whatever it is, it's the Federation's job to march on, and by God or whatever supernatural being a soldier might believe in, they will do it. To their last breath.