Out Of The Frying Pan...This cheesy story copyright 1994 by Richard R. Ward (email@example.com), all rights reserved (like anyone would want to rip it off.)
You look back to the twisted wreckage of the transport. Just a few minutes ago you were just another pilot taking a squad of those Special Forces units to some new hot spot. It seems like there was some sort of trouble at this top-secret installation and they needed to send in the Big Boys. And these boys were big, huge in fact, in their neurolinked power-armor. Beautiful items, power-armor. Some sort of high-tech beryllium composite, mirror smooth and able to stop a sidewinder missile. Enough firepower strapped on to these bad boys to take out a frigate. Linked directly to the brain so they act like an extension of the body. Wonderful stuff when the canopies are closed. Were they? Of course not. Those Special Forces studs wouldn't dream of sealing up when they're inside a transport, that'd be sissy. So what happens? Some crazy flying eyeball comes out from behind a freaking crater and blows a hole in the side of the transport. The explosive decompression flipped the transport over and slammed it on top of the eyeball, killing it. Of course it killed the Special Forces studs, too. Good thing you keep your flight suit sealed, your momma didn't raise no fool.
Great, trapped on Phobos with monsters on the loose. Well, at least you've got some firepower, those new BFG-18,000's on those power-armor suits should take care of anything that tries to eat you. But that would be too easy. Yep, the weapons on the suits are bolted on with no finger triggers. Great. And get this, the suits need a neural connection right into your brain, not like the last model which used a web bonnet over your head. But you're just a pilot, no brain-jack for you. Only Special Forces grunts get paid enough to risk the kind of brain damage that can cause.
You take stock of what you do have; a flight suit with about 15 minutes of air left, a standard-issue pistol with 50 rounds and two slices of beef jerky. Great. If you don't run out of air before getting to the pressure field at the landing crater (providing it is still working) you'll make a great snack for some butt-ugly monsters.
You slowly walk towards the crater. Better to go down with company than alone. Damned Special Forces jerks.