Operation Hammerbreach

We were running internal drills aboard the derelict Hammerhead, we shut it down and left it floating dark in the black. This was CAPTH—Combat Assault Personnel Training & Tactics—for the group. Force-on-force, non-lethal loads, pride on the line after a bad first round. I was geared up in the heavy tactical kit, helmet sealed, HUD online. Symbiotic and Hypnotic checked their training rifles beside me.

Exodus held station a safe distance off. 

“Captain, external sensors show all vessels in position. Hammerhead remains unpowered as per exercise parameters. Awaiting your status.”

Round one had been a mess—defenders dug in at the top of the primary ladder well, blast doors cracked for kill zones, raining explosives down on anyone trying to push up. Predictable, but effective. For round two we flipped it. I figured they’d stick to the same defensive stack, comfortable behind those doors.

“I’ll EVA across and cycle the main airlock manually,” Symbiotic called over squad comms. His thrusters cut as he drifted toward the big military hull.

I watched the feed. “They’re going to get comfortable. Stay right by the door. Bait and breach.”

The heavy plates slid open with a deep clunk. Symbiotic didn’t hesitate—suppression fire straight through the gap, forcing the stacked defenders to break and run deeper into the corridors.

“Go, go, go! Clear the neck!” I ordered, pushing through behind him.

We moved fast through the maze of green-lit choke points and tight bulkheads. Hypnotic called out movement on the lower decks through the observation windows. I tapped  dropped both side cargo elevators—classic distraction. Flashlights off. We went in dark through the center.

“Symbiotic, left primary hallway. Hypnotic, sweep cargo bay. I’m pushing right turret access.”

Silence for thirty seconds. Then simulated plasma cracked from the crew quarters.

“He’s behind me! Turret door housing!” Symbiotic barked.

I pivoted hard. “Flanking! Stack on me, watch my six!”

I hit the manual override, slammed the door, and drove straight into the fatal funnel. Point-blank chaos. My HUD lit up red as simulated hits registered across the armor. Legs buckled under the feedback.

“Oh shit, no! I’m down! He’s right in the corner with me!”

Even falling I kept the rifle up, trading shots into the dark. Caught one square in the chest plate as Hypnotic cleared the flank.

The harsh white utility lights snapped on across the Hammerhead—exercise over. I popped my helmet seals, sweat pouring, and took Symbiotic’s hand up off the deck.

“Messy,” I muttered, catching my breath. “But that’s the point of these drills. Pirates won’t hand us a textbook when it’s real.”

We packed up the training gear and headed back to the Exodus. No real damage, just bruised pride and good data on how the Hammerhead’s layout bites you in close quarters. The ship handled the EVA and power-down without issue, but those tight corridors and blind corners are going to need better breaching protocols next time.

It was close—too close. Another reminder that even in training, the ‘verse doesn’t care about your plan. Systems checked out. Lesson logged.