Chapter 6: Boarding Battle

[Host! What are you doing aaaaaah—!]

Boom—!

The enemy ship loomed larger until both vessels collided.

Bow tentacles immediately coiled around, locking them tight.

Chen Xing wiggled her snowy little feet, spinning once in the virtual command pod.

She steadied herself, tiny hand sweeping.

“Begin boarding action!”

[Aaaaaah?]

The system blinked non-existent mascara eyes, light ball showing panic.

Wait wait wait, space battles aren’t fought like this.

[Host host! Space combat means long-range guided weapons for precision strikes. At worst, keep distance and duel with broadsides. Who rams head-on? You think this is Salamis? Lashing ships for land-war?]

“Relax, this is Warhammer 40K—boarding is king!”

[Ah? Unscientific!]

At that moment, acid finally melted the Cobra-class’s thin metal hull, opening a gaping hole.

Next second—like a charge trumpet—Tyranid bio-forms poured out!

Hormagaunts led, spinefist-wielding termagants behind.

Naval troopers in flak armor returned lasfire.

But armor pierced easily by spinefist barbs.

Termagants sprayed wildly in tight corridors—firepower like Gatlings.

In minutes, trooper lines shattered.

Corpses fed trailing rippers.

“No retreat!” A sergeant raised his lasgun. “First to run eats my bolt!”

But routing troopers ignored him.

Without a commissar anchor, these noble-loyalist rabble morale collapsed fast.

Sergeant grabbed a squad leader for exemplary execution.

Then ventilation ducts above sprouted claws—crunch—upper body torn in half.

“Aaaaaah!”

Blood-splattered squad leader finally saw the foe.

A four-armed Tyranid crawled out—a genestealer!

It eyed him, one swipe.

Squad leader blacked out, off to meet granny.

As known, boarding is mutual harm.

Once started, you board me, I board you.

An elite boarding party exited Stormhawk’s airlock.

They tread dust-covered decks, boarding Chen Xing’s hull on foot.

Up close with Tyranid bio-ship, awe filled these veterans.

Then—where’s the entry?

Suddenly, white chitin deck parted, even thoughtfully providing human-sized stairs.

Boarders tensed.

They activated boarding shield energy fields, loaded shotguns, readied breach.

“Forward, For the Emperor!”

Captain’s order.

Boarding party achieved “lured into urn.”

Rear hatch and stairs vanished.

They were trapped in a tight space.

Walls contracted.

Elite troopers couldn’t fire before meat-walls encased them.

Instant vacuum-bagged cats—immobile.

Ah, this…

Chen Xing savored the foes within her hull.

Trap and all fed to digestion pools—premium bio-mass.

Wait, too easy?

Small interlude resolved.

Chen Xing deployed more “children.”

Bone-sword warriors boarded Stormhawk’s decks.

As psionic synapse nodes, warriors were fierce and tactical.

Under them, hormagaunts and termagants swept forward.

Reactor and key areas seized soon.

Power failed—the Cobra-class paralyzed.

On the command bridge, Bruce heard reports, face paling.

His ship falling to Tyranids.

The bio-ship clung tentacle-fast to Stormhawk’s side—weapons couldn’t bear.

Bow torpedo tubes useless.

Dead end, no hope.

Quick-thinking Bruce eyed the aft micro-hangar’s Valkyrie assault craft.

He could escape on one.

Decision made, Bruce sidled toward bridge exit.

But as he turned—a gem-and-gold laspistol aimed at his head.

“Captain Bruce, return to post.”

Gun-wielding Eric.

Bruce nose-touched, scalp-hardened back to command.

He stared at Stormhawk’s 3D hololith—lower decks nearly all red.

Eyes deep despair.

“You stay, continue command,” Eric ordered. “I’ll return with reinforcements soon.”

He left the bridge with four guards, heading aft hangar.

A Valkyrie engines spooled, ready.

“Director, sir,” pilot asked, “departure time?”

“Now.”

“Understood, lifting off.”

Landing platform warning lights spun.

Yellow flickers lit Valkyrie armor.

It rose, engines roaring, through vacuum forcefield, accelerating starward.

But then—spore mines materialized ahead.

No evasion—Valkyrie slammed in.

Explosion and corrosive mucus obliterated it.

“Hm?”

Chen Xing glanced at the blast.

Pre-deployed spore mines scored.

Now the destroyer was her dish.

Eyeing the towering Gothic bridge, Chen Xing had a bold idea.

Three days later, mining command star fort.

A Cobra-class destroyer approached slowly.

Parlan crest prominent.

Spaceport commander recognized it—Stormhawk, departed for Station 21.

Parlan property—servant dared not slack.

“Prepare welcome for Lord Eric!”

Minutes later, connector extended.

Commander led all noble officials in formation.

Clean uniforms, fawning smiles.

But as airlock opened—all smiles froze!

Not the stern director—a horde of claw-baring Tyranids!

Massacre began, ended swift.

Unarmed officials and nobles no match for armed-to-teeth Tyranids.

Corpses and gore soon devoured by trailing rippers.

Little critters waddled, bellies round with flesh, into digestion pools for hive ship replenishment.

Star fort soon drowned in death and blood.

Aged defenses useless against Tyranid assault.

Some blasted connectors for isolation—mere delay.

Hours later, star fort fell.

Only silence and rippers chewing flesh remained.