Repel Borders !

Gunnery Sergeant Sharpe sat on the floor against the bulkhead looking over the wounded or dead. Cries and moaning were heard as Sharpe's head was solemnly down, phaser rifle still in hand. The battle was a victory, but at what cost. His head rested on the barrel of his rifle as he slowly drifted into unconsciousness.......

Port Dorsal near Briefing Room

Gunnery Sergeant Richard Sharpe clad in a Marine EVA combat suit raised his assault phaser rifle firing several bursts into the nearest brood warriors. Looking over to his remaining squad of Marines. Some were in prone positions firings, others in kneeling positions like him; one thing was certain that they could be overrun any moment. He swept his phaser rifle in a semi arc deadly blasts surged forth and hit their targets. Thumbing a proton grenade active. Sharpe rose and tossed his grenade at a mass of brood warriors.

"Grenade !" Sharpe called out in warning as the orb flew into the midst of the enemy exploding. Pieces and bodies blow away from the hull. As phaser beams slice across the hull of the USS Leviathan-A the space between the encircled Marines and Brood Warriors closes even more. "Come on Marines earn your damn pay !!!"

Moving down into a kneeling position Sharpe firing again rapidly into the menacing mass of creatures. Next to him Lance Corporal Sheila Namaan was firing at the unseen enemy behind him. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, Richard could feel the adrenaline pumping through his system. He felt his finger activating blasts from his phaser at the creatures in front him. He saw at the corner of his eyes a dark hideous shape rush into the Marine next to him. Phaser rifle still pointing in front him firing, his free hand moved from the stock of the phaser rifle, grasping a hand phaser he pulled it slightly and fired a blast at the creature who ripped into Fredericks. He heard himself calling everyone to close up the gaps.

The encircled Marines pulled back into a smaller circle, bodies of the dead all around floating at various heights making it even harder to track new targets. Lights slice through the dead to reach their targets. Gunnery Sergeant Richard Sharpe stands up firing and observing the Marines around him. They all were firing; wounded and non-wounded. The only silent weapons belonged to the dead or the dying.

"Stand your piece of ground Marines. Make them come and try to get it. I order you to send them to hell !"

Sharpe kept firing as his grim voice called over the headsets drowning out the cries of the dying and letting his squad and others know that they were not alone in the slaughter. Looking around him as he fired, his more humane part of his soul churned in regret as he saw the fallen and the forlorn; but the professional soldier part of him shoved away such feelings and concentrated on the moment. The battle.

The vicious fight was underway. Sharpe was asked for a status report from Major Phanan.

"Sir, issue in doubt." Sharpe's words hearkened back to two historical moments from US Marine forces in the 20th Century's World War II. The first one was from the fall of Wake Island; the latter was the taking and securing of Beach Red, Guadalcanal. The first had been a disastrous defeat; the second a costly victory.

............ "Mr. Sharpe," a sweet voice gently a woke him.

He shook off the fatigue. "Yeah." He looked up it was the doctor.

"Come on. It's your turn."

"What about my Marines ?"

"You are the last."