As he left, Fisher made sure to clear any information that might expose him, disassembling the processors of all those robots, and even the ones that had been torn into scrap metal by the gravity grenade's magnetic field were not spared; Fisher simply twisted off the head of the former.
"Sorry, Flier, thank you for your sacrifice!" Fisher cautiously ran out of the hangar with his weapon, and as soon as he pulled open the door that had lost power due to the explosion, Fisher saw a small hunter-killer robot scuttling over.
"Oh my god!" Without thinking, Fisher raised his hand and fired a shot, blowing up the hunter-killer robot. This thing had a charge of a full kilogram, and once it exploded, everyone within ten meters would die without question, not to mention its miniature computer would guide the robot to quickly crawl towards the nearest enemy.
"This is progressing too fast, isn't it?" Fisher turned and flashed back to the hangar door, then pulled out an EM1 plasma rifle from subspace, ready to weld the door shut.
You see, according to the boarding training Fisher received when he was a fourth-class citizen, they would clear out cabins one by one, not like these hotheads who either blew things up or smashed them in the battleship, forcefully carving out a straight path. For this, he could only choose to temporarily avoid the confrontation; anyway, there was still a small door on the third floor of the hangar, used for duty personnel to enter and exit. Of course, the soldiers on duty at the moment had already been pulled from their posts.
After welding the door shut in no time, Fisher casually threw down two directional explosive mines, then activated his combat suit's propulsion system, leaping up onto the third-floor corridor.
"Thud!" Just as Fisher jumped up, a loud bang came from the hangar door. The alloy fire door bulged out a large section as if hit by a rhino, and several curses like "fuck" came from the cracks.
"Sorry, guys, the party's over!"
Picking up his gunstock and smashing the nearby decoder, Fisher pulled out the wires to overload the door lock. The banging downstairs continued. Perhaps tired of ramming the door open, the UNSA assault team switched to thermite grenades, and the sizzling sparks quickly melted the entire door into molten iron.
"Friendly forces, don't shoot, the enemy is behind!" Fisher struggled to pull open the gate, which had locked due to the overload, from above. Before he could catch his breath, more than a dozen Martian Marine soldiers poured into the long corridor, scaring him into shouting frantically.
The Martian soldiers, who were about to shoot, immediately shouted loudly: "Do not fire, friendly forces are approaching!"
"Sir, are you alright? Where's the enemy?" As Fisher rushed through the blockade, an officer immediately stepped forward to ask.
"They are breaking through the hangar door, there are many of them, with assault robot units. I only had time to weld the door shut!" Fisher channeled the psionic energy in his body, forcing out a sweat, then tearfully complained to the officer with a very sorrowful expression.
"It's too fast, we still have our fighters in the hangar! Those are the latest experimental models!"
Fisher's concern for the nation deeply moved the Marine officer. It was said that ground forces only cared about dying, and the air force only cared about flying. They all thought the air force was a bunch of useless sissies who spent the most military funds, but the heaviest work was done by the Marines. But now, looking at the smoke-stained appearance of Fisher's armor, and the remorseful expression on his face for not having saved national property, the Marine soldiers were filled with respect.
"Brothers, follow me, reclaim the experimental planes, charge!" The Marine officer gave Fisher an expression that said "leave everything to me," then picked up a Titan energy machine gun and charged into the corridor at the forefront.
The intense gunfire erupted again. The Martian soldiers, inspired by Fisher's spirit, fearlessly charged towards the UNSA special forces. The intensity of the firepower forced Ryes to choose Plan B.
"Retribution, we are suppressed, blast open the armor, let the Jackals enter!"
"Received! Be careful!"
Just as the Martian Marine soldiers and robots had formed a encirclement around Ryes and his team, and were about to launch their final attack, a dull explosion came from the thick blast doors outside the hangar, and the entire battleship suddenly shook.
"Activate magnetic boots!" Ryes roared, and the next second, the deck door exploded, and a violent airflow almost instantly blasted the unprepared Martian soldiers out of the hangar's opening. The depressurization lasted for nearly thirty seconds until the hangar became a vacuum, after which a Jackal fighter, having switched to flight mode, flew in through the opening.
The Jackal fighter's vector ion engines at the rear of the cockpit spewed out a ghostly blue flame, and its two 30mm autocannons were aimed at the corridor on the third floor of the hangar. When the first reinforcing Marine poked his head out, the Jackal opened fire.
"Retreat!" The terrified Martian soldier yelled into the comms, trying to pull back, but his comrades behind him and the magnetic boots on his feet made his movements less agile. He only had time to turn his head.
The 30mm high-explosive shaped-charge armor-piercing rounds were like a plow blade cutting through a trench, tearing the soldiers inside to shreds. The shattered limbs and splattered blood were instantly frozen, and the last thing these soldiers saw was the cold faces of their comrades.
Tactical proficiency cannot be compensated for by numbers alone. The Eighth Fleet expanded too quickly, and experienced Marine units were almost all wiped out in the lunar raid. Now, among the Marines on various battleships, only a few officers and non-commissioned officers have actually been on the battlefield and know how to deal with various situations. But unfortunately, the elites on the Posedon were either killed in the raid or sucked into space. Now, the Posedon is just a lamb to the slaughter for the battle-hardened veterans on the Retribution.
However, what the survivors on the already half-crippled Posedon did not expect was that the Retribution did not destroy the Posedon, which was on the verge of disintegration, but instead quickly withdrew from the airspace after seizing the fighters in the hangar.
"Why did they leave?" a damage control soldier, whose head was bruised and bleeding from the collision, asked curiously.
"Because our reinforcements have arrived!" Fisher's eyes were fixed on the airspace next to the Posedon. After a large number of electrical arcs flashed, the majestic silhouette of the Olympus almost filled the entire window.
"Rescue survivors, clear the battlefield, clean up the wreckage of the warship!" Fisher looked around. It seemed he had become the highest-ranking person on the Posedon. As for the captain and his staff, they had already gone on a space walk with the bridge during the Retribution's first strike.
"Sir, urgent order, Admiral Salen Kouch wants to see you!"
I finished the plagiarism report today, and then I'll print it tomorrow. I guess I'll have nothing else to do after graduation, right?