duddlered
patreon
Visit, Board, Search and Seizure Part 2
🕑 Added 2023-07-05 16:20:31 +0000 UTCSenior Adjudicator Moxara was painfully aware that her death was more than certain during this foolish boarding mission. She couldn’t help but imagine her visage plastered across the evening broadcasts throughout the Empire as the woman who tragically perished in an audacious, but foolish experiment to incorporate a lesser species into their own forces.
As soon as the hulking doors of the crude human ship slid open, a chilling sense of dread washed over Moxara. The undeniable certainty that she and the contingent she was attached to were going to be swiftly obliterated in a storm of plasma as all but certain.
Bracing for the inevitable, Moxara closed her eyes tightly, her grip around her seat's handhold tightening in silent resignation. She had been certain that her end was near. Yet, when she dared to open her eyes again, she found herself not in the afterlife, but instead staring into the stark reality of her misjudgment.
She had grossly underestimated the humans. Their approach, which she had initially perceived as undisciplined and reckless, was in fact marked by a chilling degree of ruthless efficiency. It was as if they had harnessed the very essence of violence, laying bare a level of savagery and precision that left Moxara awestruck and disconcerted.
Rising from her seat, Moxara found herself in a sudden chase. She had to sprint to keep up with the humans, who moved through the alien ship with a brisk, relentless pace. It was as if they were running a marathon, their path marked not by the usual trail markers, but by the corpses left in their wake.
Her breath hitched as she rounded a corner, nearly colliding with a group of 4 marines just outside of the last room in the hallway with what seemed to be more stubborn occupants. A hail of plasmafire was erupting from the room's entrance, the bright, deadly bolts forcing the marines to retreat momentarily.
Suddenly a lone figure marched up the hallway and yelled out over the network, overshadowing the flurry of communications. “PRIORITIES OF WORK!! When you get to the cargo hold, don’t fuckin’ forget your priorities of work!” The man shouted, pointing at the forward most elements that were rushing forward before turning to the four Marines standing outside of the hold out room. “Just fuckin’ Frag ‘em and move on!”
A lone human,adorned in the same armor as the rest, came marching down the hallway with an air of authority that said he couldn’t be defied. Even Moxara was almost spurred into action as she quickly got out of the way, and the moment she turned her head towards the obstinate room, the Tauri Officer saw that two of the marines grabbed a ball like device from one of their pouches and tossed them inside.
Moxara instinctively winced, her body recoiling as twin detonations reverberated throughout the enclosed space. The concussive blasts ricocheted off the metallic walls, each echo amplifying the intensity, accompanied by a brief, yet blinding flash of light. The resulting cacophony seemed to shake the very foundation of the ship, sending tremors of vibrations through the hallway.
Before even the smoke and dust began to settle, the humans surged forward like predators descending upon their wounded prey. Muted sounds of sporadic gunfire followed as they methodically ended any remnant of resistance.
Watching the scene unfold, Moxara felt an odd mix of horror and admiration. These humans, beings she had initially dismissed due to their physical inferiority, were swiftly dominating the situation through sheer brutality and calculated cunning. It was an unnerving sight, one that made her question their perceived weaknesses.
As she stood there, amidst the billowing dust and flickering lights, Moxara's mind wandered to the possibility of an Imperial Tauri boarding party in this situation. She envisioned her kin, resplendent in their formal uniforms, approaching the situation with an air of dignified caution, a stark contrast to the human's aggressive tactics.
In her mind's eye, Moxara saw the Tauri advancing with precision and unwavering discipline, their postures rigid from ingrained protocol, weapons held with a veteran's resolve. Yet as soon as they would make contact, she feared their advance would into trap after trap of pirates barricading themselves in each room.
An involuntary cringe crept upon her features at the imagined spectacle. Their reliance on standard tactics and stringent procedures would prove to be fatal in place of fluid, dynamic and explosive action that these humans employed.
"BREACHER!" A voice from the vanguard pulled Moxara back into reality, her eyes instantly drawn to a Marine rushing forward. The individual swiftly positioned a lengthy strip along the edges of a sturdy, pressurized door before signaling for the rest of the troop to fall back into the already cleared rooms.
As one of the many delegates appointed to supervise the incorporation of humanity into the Galactic community, Moxara prided herself on her understanding of English, one of the numerous human languages. So, when she heard the familiar word, anticipation surged within her. The human who had affixed the strip to the door began retreating to a room herself, before yelling out another series of words that confused her.
"Fire in the hole, fire in the hole, fire in the hole!" A voice echoed through the local network just as someone pulled Moxara inside a room for safety.
Just as a startled yelp escaped her lips, another and even more detonation reverberated down the corridor, a thunderous roar that rattled the very core of her bones.
As the echoes of the shockwave began to fade, the group of humans closest to the door sprang into action. They sprinted down the hallway with an almost gleeful anticipation imbued in every step.
Curiosity tugging at her, Moxara dared to peer out, her eyes widening at the sight. The once formidable barrier now lay flat on the ground, its edges still glowing hot and molten from the explosion and in its place were a large group of rather angry Marines barreling over it.
Humans that were trailing behind and unable to take part in the immediate assault, pulled those very same cylindrical objects from their gear and hurled them over their comrades' heads into the gaping breach. With sharp, blinding flashes, each one detonated in sequence, sowing further confusion and chaos in the spacious room beyond.
As the chaos continued to unfold, the distinct, terrifying barks of the humans' chemical-based weaponry reverberated throughout the ship. The sounds echoed off the cold, metal walls, becoming a roaring cacophony that was almost unbearable if not for Moxara’s sound dampeners. Yet, it wasn't just the sound that struck fear into her heart… No, it was the sheer volume of it.
The rapid discharge of their weapons became an almost rhythmic backdrop to the chaos, punctuated by the orders from the humans as more pushed their way in. Finding herself alone in the hallway, Moxara tightened her grip on her own weapon and forced herself to her feet. Despite the unnerving scene unfolding before her, she reminded herself of her purpose. She was here to observe these beings and judge them based on their performance.
Swallowing the lump of anxiety in her throat, Moxara steeled herself for what she was about to witness. She took a deep breath, held her weapon closer, and made her way towards the doorway from where the sounds of battle were emanating. With all the shouting, her mind couldn’t help but jump to the worse case scenario as she slowed her gait.
Each echoing shot and guttural shout were almost like another tendril around her legs, stopping her from pressing forward, but curiosity and duty outweighing her fear. Moxara HAD to push on, and so the Tauri woman mentally prepared herself to step into the maelstrom. She had a task by the Grand Admiral herself to accomplish and whatever these humans were capable of, she was going to witness and catalog it.
Just as Moxara stepped through the doorway, the sight that greeted her was one of the humans dragging another towards the rear. "CORPSMAN!" the human yelled, urgently fishing out a narrow strip of fabric that had a metallic windlass attached to it from his gear. "Ray got shot in the leg again!" he explained, wrapping the fabric tightly around the wounded leg, a few inches above the injury. “Wait, did you get shot in the ass too?”
At this, despite the urgency of the situation, a few of the Marines nearby let out barks of laughter, a bizarre sound amidst the chaos. The injured human groaned, too angry and in too much pain to retort.
A look of Incredulity painted Moxara’s features as she transfixed her gaze on the injured human and the gaggle that seemed to mock him. Turning her gaze to the rest of the massive room, her eyes widened when she saw that these beings had already managed to successfully gain control of the majority of the cargo hold. However, there was still a massive labyrinth of cargo contained in the middle of the cavernous room that yet to be clear seeing that there was still gunfire emanating from it.
These luminescent outlines served a two-fold purpose. Primarily, they operated as an Identify Friend or Foe (IFF) system, enabling the marines to maintain awareness of their comrades' positions and thereby prevent any accidental crossfire. The system was quite ingenious, especially considering the chaos of their current situation.
And the second function was equally critical, albeit in a less direct manner. The holographic outlines allowed Moxara to monitor the humans' movements, even when they disappeared behind the containers and out of her direct line of sight. This gave her an unexpected level of insight into their tactics and strategies, allowing her to better understand how these marines operated. The Adjudicator observed with growing intensity and surprise as the humans slowed themselves and opted for a more cautious and methodical approach.
Instead of running and gunning, the marines showed an unexpected level of restraint and discipline. They slowly and methodically inched their way around each corner, weapons poised, their movements slow yet brimming with cautious precision before exploding violently around the rest of the corner.
Moxara's fingers danced on her datapad as she shifted her focus to the point of view of a human identified as Corporal 'Hana Jeong.' Through Hana's eyes, Moxara watched the grim ballet unfold with an even more unsettling intimacy.
CRACK CRACK
Two echoing reports shattered the eerie quiet, as Hana fired off two shots towards a lurking figure brandishing a plasma pistol. The individual crumbled instantly, a gurgling sound escaping their throat as they hit the ground. Almost immediately, another duo of sharp cracks rang out from behind Hana, making sure the threat was completely neutralized.
Absorbed in her observation, Moxara marveled at the paradoxical fluidity of the humans' tactics - transitioning between brutal ferocity and meticulous caution. It was as if they were capable of switching combat doctrines at will, abandoning conventional training for an entirely different approach when required.
The fearlessness and flexibility in the way these humans engaged in combat stirred a visceral dread within her. She found herself plagued by thoughts of what might happen should these beings ever turn their guns towards the Galactic Community or even the Tauri Empire itself? Her mind began to race, as stories from her predecessor about the humans' relentless ground campaigns and their mythical ‘Special Forces’ took on a chilling new significance.
If these were their conventional forces, or ‘Grunts’ as they like to call themselves, then what were their more… clandestine units like?
Recalling the harrowing tales her superior shared, Moxara felt an involuntary shiver crawl down her spine. He had described how their more specialized units seemed almost painfully and disarmingly average and boring as a human. However, during the night they were dropped in the middle of enemy territory, haunting and hunting in the shadows like demons in the night.
Her attention was jerked back to the present by a commanding voice that reverberated through the speakers of the human helmets. The voice issued a stark ultimatum in broken Imperial Standard that made Moxara's blood run cold. "Hands up, or you die!" They ordered, pointing their weapon at a surrendering slaver. The human then switched back to its native language and growled, “If you move I’ll fucking WASTE you!”
Moxara watched with bated breath as the humans maintained their distance while peering around the corner with their weapons trained on a small group of the ship's crew. The slavers were huddled in the corner, shaking like leaves in a storm with their hands held high above their heads. She could see the raw fear and confusion etched on their faces as the humans continuously barked orders at them in a threatening manner.
One particular human, the female Moxara watched earlier named Hana, barked out orders in their coarse version of Imperial Standard. "You stand! Keep hand in air or you die!" The human's tone was harsh and unmistakably aggressive, leaving no room for interpretation. "You touch weapon, you die!"
These words made the collection of different species turn slavers yelp and whine in horror as they tried to press themselves deeper into the wall. Moxara could only assume that they thought if they made themselves a smaller target, these horrifying creatures with exotic weapons pointed at them would just go away.
However, the yelling just grew in intensity as the humans left no room for negotiation, no pleading for mercy, only clear-cut consequences. The harsh reality of their predicament seemed to dawn on the slavers, as one of them nodded vehemently, their hands shaking.
The individual brave or perhaps terrified enough to surrender was completely covered in fur, one of the distinguishing characteristics of the Felirik species. This being, a female judging by the slightness of her stature and the softer contours of her face, was wreathed in an intricate fur coat of tawny and sable shades that bristled with tension. Her piercing green eyes darted from one human to the next, the pupils dilated in fear. Her pointed, cat-like ears were flattened against her skull – a universal sign of fear among her kind. The terror palpable in her demeanor told the story of the encounter with a clarity no words could manage.
"P-Please don't kill me!" The plea tumbled from the Felirik's mouth in a shaky whimper as she edged forward, her narrow shoulders sagging and her normally graceful and lithe body seeming to crumple under the menacing gaze of the humans and the cold, blackened barrels of their weapons. The oppressive weight of her fate seemed to shrink her, making her appear smaller, almost pitiful.
“Walk towards me!” Corporal Hana, shouted angrily. “Now!”
At her words, the Felirik jolted as if she had been physically struck, a small yelp escaping her mouth as she brought her arms in close to protect her chest. She stammered a terrified acknowledgement, and then, with legs that threatened to give way beneath her, she forced herself to obey.
"NO!! Hands up!! I said hands up!” Corporal Hana's voice was as hard as steel, echoing throughout the chamber. In an instant, her weapon was switched from safe to fire, the lethal intent clear in her unwavering stance. “You put hands down again, I kill you! You understand!?”
A terrified gasp escaped the Felirik as her body jerked in an involuntary reaction to the harsh command. With renewed vigor, her hands shot back up, trembling violently as she stuttered out a shaky, "I-I understand," her voice barely a whisper.
Moxara held her breath as the humans meticulously and methodically apprehended the rest of the slavers, ordering them to mimic the Felirik's movements. One by one, they stumbled forward, their expressions mirroring the same blend of fear and resignation that the Felirik had shown. As each slaver approached the humans, they were systematically disarmed, searched, and directed to kneel, their hands still held aloft.
When the last of them was in custody, a sense of relief washed over Moxara as she exhaled heavily. Her gaze moved from the trembling, sobbing slavers and fell onto the holographic display of her helmet's HUD. It was buzzing with multiple incoming communication requests along with several text notifications.
Furrowing her brow, she quickly clicked open the first message. It was from Adjuitactor Dorius, het male colleague. The text was succinct, the message clear: "Bridge secure."
Blinking for a moment, Moxara closed the communique and opened the second message. "Humans have secured the Engine Room.”
For some reason, the Tauri Adjudicator felt a wave of confusion as she read the final communication request. It was a simple, pointed inquiry: "Your status?"
Furrowing her brow in momentary confusion, Moxara let her gaze wander around the cargo hold. The scene before her was surreal. The marines were efficiently dragging bodies away from the massive storage containers, a pile of abandoned weapons in one corner serving as a grim testament to the fierce engagement that had just unfolded.
In another corner, a group of marines were methodically patting down the trembling Felirik and her crewmates, their faces covered by the cold unfeeling metal of their full face helmets against the backdrop of frightened slavers.
The whole experience from start to finish had left her speechless. It was like a fever dream and her mind was struggling to process the controlled chaos that encompassed the last 5 minutes.
"My status...?" she murmured quietly as she read the message again. Moxara couldn’t tell how she was supposed to know what her status was after going through such a mind bending experience.
Pulling herself together, she began typing a response on her datapad, her fingers dancing over the holographic keyboard. Her eyes, however, never left the scene unfolding before her. Her message read: "Slaver vessel secured. Human force efficiency and capability... unprecedented. Beginning thorough investigation. Updates to follow."
But before she could hit send, her colleague, Adjuitactor Dorius, flanked by two human marines, rushed into the cargo hold with wide eyes as he searched for her. Dorius was slightly taller than the average Tauri male, his long and thick, whip-like tail thrashing about with worry.
"Moxara!" he cried out, scanning the chaotic scene until his gaze finally landed on her. He sighed in relief before striding over with urgency. "Why haven't you been responding?" he questioned with a mixture of relief and annoyance, his eyes narrowing. "I was worried something happened to you."
Moxara blinked, caught off guard. She glanced at her unsent message and went back to Dorius. "I was...," she stammered out, her voice small. "I was observing." The woman’s voice was almost mechanical in answer as the confused look still clouded her face.
The momentary silence was broken only by the distant sounds of the human marines performing their tasks and the whimpering of the terrified slavers. Dorius' gaze softened, as he seemed to understand the state Moxara was in. "I understand," he said, his voice low. His hand instinctively moved to rest on the top of his helmeted head, an old habit when he was deep in thought. "I am... equally as... impressed."
He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting away as he sought for a more appropriate word. "Or should I say unnerved...?" he finally said, his tone grave. His eyes, however, shone with the same mix of fascination and dread that Moxara knew reflected her own. The humans had shown them a side of warfare they were unfamiliar with, a side that was unpredictable and raw, yet tactical and ruthless. They had been a force of nature, unstoppable in their mission.
Dorius's voice brought Moxara back from her thoughts, "I have made arrangements for the humans to be debriefed. We need to gather as much information about this incident as possible. But, for now, Moxara, you should rest when we get back to the ship. This has been a... a truly enlightening day." He looked at her sympathetically, knowing full well the toll such an event could have on an adjudicator.
But Moxara found herself shaking her head, a new sense of resolve building within her. "No," she said firmly. "I'll attend the debrief.” Her answer was firm and final.
Moxara then turned to walk away in order to start overseeing their new prisoners when she suddenly stopped and turned to Dorius. “We should make a recommendation to the Grand Admiral for a contingent of these Human marines on every one of our ships."
"That's... That's a serious proposition, Moxara.” Dorius looked taken aback, his eyes widening slightly. "It would be a seismic shift in our doctrine"
A deep quiet reigned as the two stared at each other thoughtfully.
"Yes, it would be," Moxara finally broke the silence. "But the humans have sustained only a single casualty and they laughed it off.” She added. “Dorius, our intelligence was wrong, there were a lot more than 15 or 20 pirates on this freighter and the human’s laughed off their ONLY casualty . By the Emperor, the one injured laughed it off themselves!”
Dorius remained silent as Moxaria approached in a rather aggressive manner. “Their approach, their adaptability... it's nothing short of extraordinary. Can you say our own boarding parties would come even close to having the same results, Dorius?"
Moxara’s words hung heavily in the air as Dorius silently watched the human marines continue their work. Their efficiency was unsettling, their ability to face danger with a mix of reckless abandon and calculated precision was unlike anything he'd seen. It was a wake-up call. The stark difference between their own forces and the humans’ was sobering.
"You're right," Dorius finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our boarding parties… The casualty rate they would have sustained to accomplish the same task would be… unacceptable.”
"But integrating them into our own forces?" Dorius mused, still somewhat skeptical. "That won't be easy. They're... different..-."
Moxara gave him a stern look. "We can work out the logistics later," she interrupted ,waving her hand dismissively. " Plus, I believe it to be easier than you may think, Dorius. They even look like us," she said emphatically.
Crossing her arms, Moxara turned towards the pile of bodies in the corner. “The Empire's navy eclipses all in the galactic community, but can you imagine if our adversaries get the same idea of using these Humans as specialized raiders?”
"I'd rather not," Dorius replied grimly. The thought of their adversaries employing human tactics against them was a chilling one. "We've seen what just a few of them can do. If the pirates or the Zegarians got their hands on them..."
"Capital ships lost to just boarding parties," Moxara finished the thought, her voice barely a whisper. Her gaze was distant, as if she was envisioning the horrific possibility.
Dorius frowned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I shall make the recommendation."
