C5 Veni, Vidi, Vici

Aboard the International Space Station, John and his fellow astronauts had been closely observing the massive battleship that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere near Thrae.

They watched with a mix of awe and apprehension, trying to make sense of the ship's purpose and origin.

John's eyes remained fixed on the view screen, scanning every inch of the imposing structure.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to four small objects exiting the battleship.

It was a dropship flanked by 3 fighters all coated In the same coating as the battleship, small as mosquitos compared to the warship but nonetheless substantial.

Their trajectories were clear and purposeful, heading straight toward the ISS.

"Look at that,"

John murmured, pointing at the window, the other astronauts crowded around, their eyes tracking the spacecraft's approach.

The ISS crew was well-trained in protocols for potential contact scenarios, but this was beyond any of their simulations or drills.

The dropship's approach could mean a multitude of things – from a friendly gesture of communication to a prelude to something more hostile.

"We need to alert Mission Control immediately,"

John said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty of the situation.

"And keep a close eye on those spacecraft, let's get as much data as we can."

As he contacted Thrae, relaying the situation in clear, concise terms, the rest of the crew worked feverishly to gather information.

They trained their instruments on the spacecraft's, capturing images, and attempting to analyze their structure and potential capabilities.

The atmosphere aboard the ISS was tense.

Every crew member understood the gravity of the situation, this was uncharted territory, a direct encounter with a technology that was far beyond their understanding.

John, while maintaining communication with Mission Control, couldn't help but wonder about the intentions of the beings aboard the spacecraft.

Were they explorers like himself, or something else entirely? The answer, he knew, would soon be revealed as the spacecraft's continued their steady approach towards the ISS.

...

The death squad, tasked with a high-stakes mission aboard the International Space Station (ISS), readied themselves inside the dropship.

Clad in imposing power armor coated In the same pattern with white skull paint jobs on their helmets faces modern gas masks shaped plates and equipped with built-in chemical thrusters, they were a formidable sight.

Their orders were clear and unequivocal, breach the station and capture any personnel inside, this was a mission of assertive dominance, not diplomacy.

As the dropship maneuvered skillfully close to the ISS while the space fighters spread out and started circling the station the death squads leader Alex reviewed the plan with his team.

"Remember, we breach, we secure, we capture. No casualties. Move fast, move hard, In Death, We Live"

He commanded finishing his words with Terranums Militariums motto, his voice resolute over the comms as he did the unison thunderous response sounded from the marines.

"In Death We Live!"

The squad members, trained for such high-pressure scenarios, checked their 30 mm smart assault rifles and other equipment.

Once in position, the dropship master chief decked out In a standard black space uniform that acted as an environmental suit designed to protect Its user from the harshness of space, and a fully enclosed helmet with the house connected to his harmored vests life support system gave the green light.

"Go! Go! Go!"

The master chief roared as he slammed the depressurised dropships back ramps release button with his gloved fist causing the ramp to open up by raising Itself up while the Interiors lightning changed from red to green.

The marines stood up from their seats arranged In the middle and activated their Inbuilt chemical thrusters, propelling themselves out of the dropship with precision.

The chemical thrusters, emitting controlled bursts of blue flames, allowed them to maneuver toward the ISS with surgical accuracy.

The death squad composed of 11 marines approached the ISS, targeting a section of the station they had identified as a viable entry point.

Their movements were swift and coordinated, a testament to their rigorous training, the commander of the squad positioned himself at the forefront, ready to breach the station's hull.

Without hesitation, he clenched his armored hand into a fist and plunged It Into the space station's outer hull.

Sparks flew in the vacuum of space as the torn electrical cables short-circuited. 

As the commander of the elite squad effortlessly punched through the space station's outer hull, the astronauts inside were caught in a sudden, life-threatening crisis.

The first sign of trouble was a subtle vibration, quickly followed by a deafening alarm. The station's sensors had detected a breach in the hull's integrity.

"Breached hull! Breach in the hull! Oh G*d the aliens are breaching the hull!"

Shouted Commander Ryan Jacobs, the seasoned astronaut in charge of the ISS. His voice was filled with both urgency and disbelief. This was a scenario they had trained for but never expected to actually happen.

The astronauts that were still curiously observing the circling around the fighters, scattered throughout various modules of the station, were jolted into action.

Dr. Amir Patel, a biologist, was in the middle of an experiment despite the chaos outside the station when he felt the rush of air. His eyes widened in shock as he dropped his equipment and raced towards the nearest emergency locker.

"Get to your suits! Now!"

Ryan barked over the comm system, even as he fought to keep his own rising panic in check. He knew they had mere minutes, perhaps seconds, before the station's atmosphere vented into the cold void of space.

In the microgravity environment, moving quickly was a challenge.

Every action was met with equal and opposite reaction, and urgency often led to chaos. But their training kicked in.

They propelled themselves through the modules, grabbing hold of handrails, pulling themselves towards the safety of their suits.

Dr. Lena Sato, the station's geologist, had been closest to the breach.

She heard the hissing of escaping air and saw a spray of tiny ice crystals forming as the cabin's humidity froze in the vacuum of space.

Adrenaline surged through her as she kicked off the wall, propelling herself towards her suit with a speed borne of desperation.

Technician Michael O'Donnell, meanwhile, struggled with his locker, his hands shaking.

The reality of the situation was overwhelming – space was unforgiving, and every second lost was critical.

He finally yanked his suit free and began the arduous process of getting into it.

As the astronauts scrambled, the air grew thin, and their breaths became labored. The station's emergency lights flickered, casting eerie shadows. The serenity of space outside was a stark contrast to the chaos within.

Ryan was the first to seal his helmet, his suit's life support systems kicking in. He immediately checked the status of his crew, his eyes darting to the suit indicators on his wrist display.

"Report, now!"

He commanded.

One by one, the astronauts confirmed their status – suit sealed, life support operational.

They gathered in the main module, their faces visible through the visors, a mix of fear and determination reflected in their eyes.

"We need to seal off the breached module,"

Ryan's command to seal off the breached module was cut short by Dr. Lena's horrified scream.

Through the gaping hole torn apart by bare hands in the station's hull, a massive figure emerged – a marine, towering at 240 centimeters, clad in intimidating armor, with red round visors glowing ominously.

The sight was so surreal, so unexpectedly terrifying, that for a moment, time seemed to stand still for the crew aboard the ISS.

The marine stepped through the breach with an eerie sense of purpose, the magnetic boots clinking loudly against the metal floor of the station and his assault rifle's green laser glowing ominously amidst the station's emergency red lightning.

The other crew members, frozen in shock, could only watch as the imposing figure approached.

Before any of them could react, the marine, with swift and precise movements, incapacitated the astronauts.

They executed controlled punches to their stomachs, utilizing a technique that rendered them unconscious almost instantly.

The efficiency and speed of the marines' actions spoke of rigorous training and experience.

As the marines moved methodically through the station, their presence was a stark contrast to the usual calm and scientific atmosphere of the ISS.

Their magnetic boots echoed through the corridors, an ominous sound that seemed to signal a change in the very purpose of the station.