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Commandeering (fiction)

Updated on February 1, 2013

Act I: A Formidable Foe

"Commander. Our hull has been breached. They're boarding. Our systems are failing one by one. What should we do?"

"Well....what else is there to do? Meet them head on with everything we've got."

"But...but that's suicide."

"No, that's honor, and that's valor. You can run away and surrender to those creatures, but I'm stay right here and stockpiling ammo. Are you with me or not, Lieutenant?"

"Don't even ask such a dumb question. I'll go grab the supplies." The Lieutenant ordered an underling to begin preparing to barricade the doors. The ship's bridge was the last bastion of hope for the ship Aftershock. The sad part is that the ship was fairly new, and this was only a trial mission. No one expected it to end this way. As soon as the fight turned sour, the Commander sent out a distress call but no one answers. There were grumblings about being set up, but grumblings can't be taken seriously.

"Wonderful. I'll take two pistols and an assault rifle. Oh, and plenty of 'nades for good measure. This ship was a marvel... It's sad that it's being ripped apart like this. The least we can do is use its reserves of weapons effectively."

"That we will, Commander, that we will."

The noises of guttural screams and visceral grunts of the enemy were getting closer and closer. The beasts were issuing commands and readying to enter the bridge, he figured. Their language was so foreign and even the inflections couldn't be discerned, but well, what else would they be saying? 'Let's have a tea party, right away, chaps!' If only.

The barricade was ready, and now it was just a waiting game. Nothing else could be done. Quiet ensued, except for the alien language outside, intermittently shattering the air like an elephant's call.

Act II: Onslaught

The pounding began after an hour. It pierced the air and the very bones of the Commander. He found himself shaking, for fear, and excitement. When had he ever been so excited or afraid? Never. This was living, truly living. Truly living is with the notion that soon he would soon be dying.

The doors were now slightly ajar and the enemy could be seen somewhat. Some of the recruits were shooting preemptively. The enemies laughed and dodged all their rookie shots. The enemy backed off and began talking amongst themselves and seemed to come to a consensus. The leader was present, the vagabond Extan, by the looks of it. On the top ten most wanted captures. Like a pirate, he, or it, rather, had been known to poach off Imperial ships out in deep space, and use the intel stolen off the ships to keep up the business.

Efforts to evade him or catch him were always in vain, and today was no exception. No commander could have predicted his coming, or evaded his ambush. It was too quick, too planned. That's why it felt like a setup. And not even this brand new ship stood a chance against his behemoth vessel. No chance at all.

Extan came to the door and in his best human dialect grunted, "You. Puny humans. Put weapons down. I let live."

One of the rookies looked to the Commander for his call, and didn't need to look long for his answer. The rookie yelled, "NEVER!" and fired some shops at Extan, missing wildly. Extan ordered the attack to resume. His cohorts tossed in some grenades and everyone ducked for cover. Pieces of metal and plasma went flying in all directions. The outer glass of the bridge was struck by a large pipe and began to crack.

Now the first creatures were through the door and systematically disemboweling every member of his ship's crew. Each one dying a quick, painful and humiliating death at the hands of creatures that they had never encountered before and had only been trained to fight in virtual realities. The real thing was just a massacre.

The commander poached off a few aliens and tossed grenades at the door, slipping them through the opening, causing distress behind enemy lines. His comrades were going down one by one, but the creatures were retreating behind the door slowly, as they were losing a great too many in the process, he figured.

He kept throwing grenades through the door and using his pistol to snipe the heads of any creatures stupid enough to poke their head through the door. That's when he realized he was all alone in the room. Everyone else was dead or dying. No wait, the lieutenant was on the floor bleeding badly. The Commander ran over to him and cradled him in his arms. "Soldier. Lieutenant. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, stop bloody yelling. Are they all dead. Have they had enough. Is that why they're leaving?"

"I'd like to think so. They're probably just scared of what we'll do to them if they come back in."

"Yeah," he grunted as he spit up blood. "Give em hell Commander, and don't you wimp out on me. You're a better marksman than they're whole...." he trailed off as he shuddered a few times and then died.

He was angered beyond belief now, and ready to kill some more. He turned around to see Extan standing there nonchalantly. "You done?" he grinned.

"I"ll take your head off," he said as he raised his pistol to do just that. Extan ducked and dodge the bullet and grabbed the Commander by the throat.

"You good shot. You be useful to me. I torture you, you give me intel. Good?"


"Or I crush throat. It not matter."

The commander raised his pistol and before Extan could crush his throat, he shot the cracked glass window three times. It began to crack, more and more. Extan was freaking out and threw him to the ground like an unwanted toy.

The Commander ran up to the console and used it to see if any power remained in the ship. Yes. Just enough. He could do it. He set the ship full throttle ahead with the last remaining energy, which temporarily ruined the dock between the two vessels, disallowing any creatures to exit. And he shot the glass again.

Act III: A Valiant Effort

It was all over the news. The new test ship attacked in near space by Extan's crew and how the Commander was the last man standing and took out all the creatures with himself. They all went jettisoning into space, never to breathe another breath.

The Commander of that ship was given posthumous commendations out the wazzoo. The entire space program had largely been a failure since the arrival of these other sentient beings, but this was seen as a major victory.

His fireteam was about to be deployed to inspect the wreckage of the vessel and look for any signs of life, even though prior teams had found nothing of import, and the creature's vessel had long since left. They humans still didn't know where the creature's home planet was. It was easier to call them creatures than what their species name was in human tongue. It wasn't even something scientists or linguists could very well determine, so they're just creatures. Makes it easier that way.

The call came in, and they're off to fight another day, for the sake of Earth that once was, and for mankind that shall always be.


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