This is a story both nopersonal and i came up with. This part is mine, his will be up soon
The Nemesis dropped out of Whitherspoon-FTL Space two days ago. It was in the Gaia system, and was within sensor range of the planet. They were still a day away from Gaia VII, far enough out to get a good sweep of the region. The radiological alarms blared as they approached within several hundred thousand kilometers of Gaia VII.
“Captain,” said Lieutenant Scoze from the center operational station. “We have positive ion trails.”
Captain Dubois nodded absently, fixated on the fore view screen. It would have been impossible to see the enemy ships at this range but they were out there.
“Captain?” Scoze asked when he didn’t say anything. He nodded to her, confirming her fears.
“Set battle ready stations throughout the ship,” he ordered. Lieutenant Scoze turned to Lieutenant McMaren at operational left.
“Battle conditions,” she ordered. Scoze pushed a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Most of Dubois’ bridge officers were fresh from the Naval Academy on Luna, Earth. Scoze still had the neon pink highlights popular amongst teenagers on Earth. McMaren was fairly young as well, though he was already a veteran of several battles. The only true veterans on the bridge of the Nemesis were Captain Dubois and his Second in Command, Commander Hendricks.
“I don’t like it,” said Hendricks. He was standing at the port-fore view screen, observing the nearest gas giant as a storm rippled across its equator. “There’s something out there, and we’re all alone.”
The Nemesis was the fastest cruiser the Federation had within three sectors of Gaia VII, and the only one with a full company of Marines onboard. Her mission was to perform a quick recon of the system, whose last transmission had an unknown number of hostiles bearing down on the only planet with a noteworthy colony. Hostiles whose electrical emissions matched those of known Techno ships.
“That’s why we’re here, Jake,” Dubois said to Hendricks, breaching naval protocol by referring to an officer by his first name in front of crewmen. “We only need to deliver the Marines and hold until reinforcements arrive from New Mozambique.”
He smiled with more optimism than he felt. The war with the Technos (a name coined by one of the first Naval officers to engage them in battle) had Federal forces stretched unbearably thin. In fact, they would likely be the only ones to defend the Gaia system for days until a larger fleet, combined with contingents of the Federal Army, could arrive.
“I know, but I still don’t like it,” Hendricks had witnessed the Battle of Old Hera and had watched thousands of men and women die. The experience had hardened him considerably. “I think we should send out a combat patrol.”
“No,” said Dubois. “That won’t be necessary. Take us around the moon, Lieutenant.’
Lieutenant Gonzalez at navigation center typed in the coordinates, setting them on a slingshot orbit around the moon. They’d cut transit time in half.
“Sensors, scan the planet’s upper atmosphere for contacts,” Dubois ordered Lieutenant Holiday.
“Aye, Captain,” Holiday replied and set to work. Hendricks was about to comment on the gas giant being a good ambush spot when Holiday cried out, “Contact! Enemy contact!”
“How many?” Dubois asked; suddenly bolt upright in his command chair.
“My God, hundreds, sir,” Holiday said, the blood draining from his face. The Nemesis approached the moon revealing a sleek enemy carrier on the far side, in the upper atmosphere of Gaia VII. The fighters spewing from its launch bays played looked like a swarm of insects against the light of the planet.
“Action stations!” Dubois snapped. “All of you, action stations!”
Hendricks occupied his position at the weapons console, ready to relay orders to Lieutenant Phillips. The swarm edged closer as Phillips typed commands into the weapons system. He initiated the Nemesis’ targeting computer just as the flak cannons swiveled around to aim at the mass of fighters.
“Order the Marines to prepare for immediate combat drop,” Dubois said to Lieutenant Scoze even as the slow drum roll of the firing flak cannons filtered up from the gun decks.
Private First Class David Phish fidgeted with his rifle nervously. He was a replacement for a Marine in Company A that had been crippled in fighting on Aquatos IV. The others were comfortable on a starship, having fought in hundreds of battles and served on dozens of starships.
“Damn it, that’s my last credit!” Corporal Giles, his Phish’s fire team leader yelled. He threw down his cards with a bark of laughter and mock-punched Sergeant Reddings in the ribs. The NCOs played cards all throughout the voyage, stopping only to replenish their supplies of Neptunian Cigars and Saturn Rolled Cigarettes. Other enlisted men wandered about the hold of the ship, cleaning weapons, stowing gear, and going about the important works that kept a Combat Assault Personnel company running.
It was something special to be in a CAP company. Only the best, the proudest, the strongest Marines ever made it into a CAP, and almost never straight out of Boot. Phish had gotten in right out of Boot.
“Hey,” Lance Corporal “Snowflake” Jackson said. “You know you’re cleaning the safety, right?”
Phish looked at the rag he held in his hand, realized he was polishing the safety button, and looked up embarrassedly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just stay cool; you’ll be alright.”
“Easy for you to say,” Phish told him. “I’ve never been this far from home. Never been in the military. Never been in a CAP.”
“We take care of our own in the Feddies,” said Snowflake, loud enough for the others to hear them. Company A joined in with a shout.
“Ooh-Rah!” they yelled. They stomped on the deck and pounded crates until the hold came alive with shouts and calls. When the shouts rose to a crescendo, the all-hands chimed in. “All hands report to battle stations. All hands report to battle stations. This is not a drill, this is not a drill.”
The Marines stopped shouting immediately. They quickly dogged loose gear and grabbed up rifles. Phish jumped up and struggled to move. He had no idea what to do first. There was a book on his bunk that needed to be stowed away in his foot locker. His rifle was on the bunk, and the rest of his gear was put away. He quickly grabbed up his books and switched them for his vest and equipment. The quartermaster was walking around handing out fresh magazines to be loaded into rifles and stuffed into ammo compartments.
Snowflake packed away his loose items and donned the bullet vest and head gear of the Federation Marine Corps. He grinned at Phish and clapped him on the back as Corporal Giles stood in front of them. He was their fire team leader, and as such they lined up behind him as he awaited Staff Sergeant Connors, the squad leader.
Second Lieutenant Regina “Angel Eyes” Prise threw her cards onto the makeshift table. She had a winning hand, too.
“All Marine Combat Aviators report to pilot ready room,” the all hands sounded. Prise hissed through her teeth as she stood.
“You ready, Angel?” Bobby “Longshot” Meeps asked her. He was her wingman, and her best friend in the Company.
“Always, Bobby,” she said. Captain Blithe marched around his aviators.
“Let’s move it, ladies,” he said. “To the ready room!”
Prise stretched and yawned before following him to the pilot ready room.
You made this extremely realistic with just the right mix of character description and good dialogue. Kudos.
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