The Supercarrier Scafiri ripped its way through low orbit, its engines howling out in a high, mechanical whine, rattling its way throughout the vessel.
Tsierik-Lufor Khaz-Dio cracked his left head against a bulkhead as the g-forces of the turning ship threw his hovering body off course. Quickly regaining control, the Tourliski flicked his through the end of the hallway and into the open space the viewing bridge. A large-headed Rafiki, notable for the varied ensemble of armbands informing others of his rank, stood the armbands befitting of his rank. Tsierik came to a halt, perching beside the grimacing simian.
"Marshal." the Tourliski saluted.
"Wing Commander."
"What was that impact? I've got my boys working on their vessels in the hangar bay, right now, and the last thing they need now is-"
"Quiet."
Tsierik nearly lifted himself off of his perch- he usually knew exactly how far he could push Marshal Trefiki- something had him on edge.
"Marshal?"
The Rafiki's face frowned, as he lifted a slender-fingered hand to his temple, listening to his audio feed, giving a dismissive gesture with the other.
"What?!" the Marshal exclaimed, eyes widening.
"Uh... Marshal Trefiki?"
The Rafiki ripped the headset out of his ear and stared at Tsierik with frightening intensity.
"Wing Commander, get your pilots into their vessels and get a defensive screen set up around this ves-"
A reverbrating crash vibrated through the ship. Lights flashed for a moment, before returning, damage alarms sounding.
Immediately calm in a crisis situation, Wing Commander Tsierik-Lufor Khaz-Dio opened up his communicator.
"Omicron Wing. Deploy in defensive posture around the Scafiri, immediately." Cutting out the communication, he turned back to the Marshal, "What is happening?"
"Nalese."
The Tourliski's eyes flashed at the mention of his feline rivals- upstarts who'd displaced his own kind from their preeminent position in the fleet. It should be no surprise that the hot-headed fools would be behind some sort of emergency.
"More of their docking 'accidents'?"
The Rafiki was already inputting a huge amount of information into his console with his dextrous fingers.
"No. Across the whole fleet this time. This is a coordinated action."
Tsierik's collected levelheadedness was immediately t-boned by dumbfounded shock. He mouthed several words of confusion, failing to vocalize any of them.
The shocked silence came to a rapid end, as a new alarm began to sound- one that few had ever had the misfortune of hearing during their time serving in the Conglomerate Fleet.
Incoming fighters.
Shifting back into his 'zone', the Wing Commander reopened communications to his launching fighters.
"Omicron Wing, prepare for contact with Nalese Fighter-Craft. They have gone rogue. Repeat. Nalese Fighter-Craft have gone rogue."
Just instants after the transmission's conclusion, the ship gave out a terrible groan, the sound of hundreds of plasma bolts impacting the hull.
"Bring up the tactical!"
A holographic image of the Supercarrier Scafiri's immediate surroundings appeared. A confusing blur of friendly-coloured craft buzzed around the ship in strafing patterns. After a moment's adjustment, the vast majority of fighter craft shifted from a reassuring tone of green to a threatening purple. A scattering of green, Tourliski-piloted craft buzzed their way through the battle, engaging their Nalese traitor bretheren. Many of the green craft were being destroyed just as they emerged from the belly of their carrier, immediately picked off by the huge numbers of enemies. A death ray tore its way out of a turret on the Scafiri, strafing its way at a painfully slow speed through the heart of the Nalese swarm, taking out a handful of unlucky fighters. The green dots were darkening out of existence at a horrifying rate, each one symbolizing the defeat and, most likely, death of one of his pupils. Tsierik's decision was made immediately.
"Omicron Wing, cease deployment immediately."
Marshal Trefiki spun about and seized Tsierik by his sensitive tails.
"Belay that order now! We need the fighter screen up immediately, or-"
"They will all die if I do so."
"They'll all die if this ship goes down. Are you denying the orders of your superior, pinhead?"
Tsierik frowned at the slur, frustration building.
"If your order is our death with no tactical gain, then yes."
The Tourliski Wing Commander gazed at the projection, watching the numbers of fighters dwindle from hundreds, to dozens, to handfuls in the few brief seconds since the battle's opening.
"You..." the Rafiki raged, "Filthy little traitor, you're no better! You are stripped-"
A reverbrating, deep explosion rattled the ship, and power flickered out. Tsierik was immediately on the situation. The explosions had come from the rear of the ship- either in propulsion or generation. Classic Nalese tactics- cripple the prey by destroying auxiliary systems first, leaving the target helpless. Tourliski preferences had always leaned towards the single, deadly strike against the center of control, rather than the slow, taunting hunt of the Nalese.
Thus, if the engines were under attack, life support would likely be next. Escaping from his infuriated commander in the darkness, Tsierik swooped in towards the wall, seizing one of the breathing apparatuses that had been deployed at the beginning of the alarm.
"All hands, equip your personal breathing devices now!"
Emergency power flickered on. Marshal Trefiki's body lay still, knocked unconscious by some sort of violent impact during the blast. That suited Tsierik just fine, he could deal with charges of insubordination to his overlords later after saving the vessel with its crew intact.
"Helmsman, engine status!"
The Tourliski at the ship's central control console shook off the surprise at his new commanding officer in a moment, then replied.
"Negative sir. They're entirely offline."
"Any sort of control?"
The helmsman winced. Tsierik understood.
A third violent explosion shook the Scafiri, as gouts of flame blasted out of air vents towards the rear of the bridge. Two new alarms joined the cacophony- one for air quality, the other for failing hull integrity.
"Where is our fire suppression?"
Gouts of thick black smoke were now pouring into the room. A quick glance around revealed that most of the crew had already attached their breathing packs, and the rest were scrambling for equipment of their own.
"Activate our fire suppression systems now!"
"Electrical is down, we've lost manual control!"
As visibility rapidly degraded into a dark haze, the gravity well alarm began sounding. A brief look showed the surface of the world- this accursed world- that had caused the invasion so much grief. A vast, rocky continued loomed below, stretching from horizon to horizon.
"No means of control at all?" shouted Tsierik to the helmsman.
"None! Should we give the order to abandon ship?"
Tsierik calculated. Nalese fighters still buzzed around the ship, although their assault had lightened. It would take too long to get the crew back to the fighters, and they were likely to suffer the same fate as their earlier predecessors. Escape pods? Possible, but they had a very high fatality rate when launched this close to a planetary body. The last alternative was to try and safely land the ship. A tremendous supercarrier holding thousands of fighters, the better part of a kilometer in length. A ship with no controls.
"Proceed to the escape pods! Immediately."
Power flickered across the ship, as more and more of the backup systems gave out, or lapsed between activity and failure. The helmsman shouted.
"I've got our stabilizers on! We've got a backup power source going!"
"Backup electrical systems online, we've got fire suppression on manual control!"
Thick foam blasted out through the airvents that had previously been belching smoke and flames, somewhat smothering the incoming fumes.
"Wing Commander!" came a new voice.
"Yes?"
"The pods... they're all..."
"Oh hell, not the Nalese?"
"Almost all ruptured or suffering surface damage."
Tsierik cursed this turn of events, but struggled to regain the composure to speak.
"Very well. If you want to risk the escape pods, take them now. Helmsman, do you still have controls?"
A critical gravity well alarm went off as the helmsman answered in the affirmative.
"Then I shall remain with the ship. We shall live and die together. Will you?"
A handful of crew rushed to the escape pods, jettisoning with rumbles that shook the already-fractured frame of the Scafiri. Several of them exploded dramatically, others simply fizzled out, while a few burst out intact, spiraling out of sight. Space was beginning to acquire a distinct blue colour as the Scafiri sank into the planet's atmosphere, and the Nalese fighters pulled off, content to watch their kill plummet down towards its demise.
Tsierik-Lufor Khaz-Dio, Commander of Omicron Wing, temporarily set aside his feelings of fury towards this betrayal. They could wait. For now, his remaining crew had a supercarrier to land.
I'm sure you could do way better with something that you create on your own! 
