The roars of Gratch and Fenrir filled the air along with the sounds of fighting. Everywhere you looked was a dismembered corpse, a bloody weapon, or some other evidence of violent deaths. He stood in front of a particularly wounded Gratch, its wings and arms pinned by about eight men in all. Its movements were slowing and the men pinning it down repeatedly shanked it with whatever they had, adding to its extensive injuries. In a drawn out, gory final stroke, one of the men on its back plunged his knife into its neck, sawing through his throat until it lay unmoving in its blood. 

In moments, the aliens would trigger the automatic defense systems to cull the humans and salvage what they could of their operation. That moment would turn the tide in favor of the humans. He'd rewritten the code for the targeting protocol. It was simple, really. He changed a few lines in the code, flipping all the "yes" targets to "no" targets. Of course, there were the countless firewalls and security measures he'd navigated in the system, but it had become second nature to him, thanks to his computer integrated mind. In addition, it would normally trigger an automatic lockup of all armories around the complex... unless you knew the code. He and his five captains would lead their "troops" into the armories, enter the code, and walk right in. Everything in there would be for the taking... once they got through the guards.