UNSC L1 Priority Transmission XX025E-XX
Encryption Code: DELTA
From: UNSC ONI Shadows In Day
To: CLASSIFICATION: BIG BROTHER
Classification: EYES ONLY TOP LEVEL
/file extraction-reconstitution complete/
/start file/
An unidentified prolonged slipspace rupture has been detected over Poseidon VII in the Beta Zentari System. Form of slipspace ruptures does not match any of the existing slipspace entry/exit protocols and methods. Preliminary reports point towards an artificial slipspace rupture that has been stabilized by unknown means. Further investigation shows a construct of unknown origin stabilizing the slipspace rupture. Poseidon VII also appears to hold human life, along with an unidentified species of intelligent aliens. Landmass is relatively similar to Earth's own (98.3% match) while the atmosphere is capable of supporting human life. However, the human populace appears to be the minority species on Poseidon VII, with the alien species being the majority. Minor human strongholds still exist and relevant information has been obtained through remote hacking. The humans on Poseidon VII call the alien species 'Chimera'. The human population is currently standing at around 5 million. Further investigation was interrupted due to a patrol of Chimerean cruisers. Recommend taking immediate action in response to the Chimera threat as they have already proven to be predatory to the human species.
/end file/
ONI CASTLE BASE,
CONFIDENTIAL LOCATION
Admiral Stanford rubbed his temples in another attempt to process this new bit of information. He had to break the news to the top brass, he just did not know when. Truthfully, he did not even know how to respond to this threat without creating an uproar. "And I'm the head of the most powerful agency in the entire UNSC" he mumbled to himself. Calling a head meeting now would be suicide, with the idiots back in HighCom piling questions onto questions. The meeting with the ONI departmental heads could also result in the same scenario. However, if he just talked to the head of Section three… Admiral Stanford pushed his finger against the button for the direct line to a certain person's office. "Commander Pickett, could you come into my office for a short meeting?"
Seven minutes later, the commander stepped into the office, the traditional black trenchcoat that ONI operatives were infamously known to wear billowing dramatically behind him. Stanford looked at the commander, sighed, and said: "Enough with the dramatics already Pickett. Stow that fan of yours away." Pickett mumbled something about the admiral having no taste, but deactivated the inbuilt under-coat fan that he specifically designed to wave the coat around, and sat down.
"Now Sir, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Pickett asked, his demeanor changing entirely to business.
"You do know about the slipspace irregularity report right? The prowler we sent out came back with this report." Stanford tossed the dossier to Pickett, who plucked it out of mid air and looked through it. By the time he had done so, the temperature in the room felt like it had dropped by 20 degrees. Pickett looked back up at Stanford, and his look matched the look Stanford gave when he first read it. The possibility of another galactic war, another unknown species hell-bent on destroying the human race, it seemed so alike in many ways to how the Human-Covenant War started so many years ago. Not for the first time, Pickett quietly cursed the forerunners about their choice placement of so many different civilizations around humanity, and briefly wondered if they had, in fact, altered the mind of all species to begin genocides on the human race from first contact. Stanford not so discreetly coughed, prompting the Section III head to quickly divert his attention from his thoughts to the Admiral. However there was this small part of his mind that was still shouting and he could not suppress it any longer. "Admiral, with all due respect, is there any samples of technology that we have acquired from the aliens?"
"The prowler team could not dispatch any personnel to the ground. However, I am confident you can do that, hence I am here by placing you in charge of the next reconnaissance mission. Standard rules still apply to you, General. Good luck". Pickett was puzzled why Admiral Stanford randomly just placed him in charge of this mission; however he was not going to throw this chance to the wind. He saluted, switched on his fan, and strode out of the office. Once outside, he split a wide grin, and was already formulating his plan. The beam on his face did not lessen as he remembered the Admiral's condition: to apply standard rules. That meant, in ONI's terms, to get the job done at any cost. And that means he would be able to acquire unconventional materials for this mission. Which meant that a deployment of a few Spartans in the state of the art prowler would not be that much of a problem now would it?
Chimera Scout Mobile Headquarters
Unknown location
The overseers in the room were buzzing with conversation. True, they never appeared that way when they were with their command groups, or in combat. However, this was the moment they all have been waiting for. Ever since the start of the campaign to reclaim this world as their own, they have been making excellent progress. Now, just a few cities remain, fortified within the walls the humans have built to prevent them, the all conquering Chimera, from crushing them. The overseers nearly laughed at that thought. One of the disadvantages of their race is the lack of a voice box that can actually emit laughter, but the majority of them did not, does not, and most probably would not care. Instead they all just cackled madly… until a certain person by the name of Daedalus came into the room. The room went silent, no one daring to offend the recently revived supreme leader of this contingent. Daedalus scanned the room with his four eyes. Pleased that all the overseers had turned up, he began to speak. Some people would expect him to start using his vocal chords, but this time, to the casual onlooker, he just appeared to be waving his appendages around in a silent speech. However, Daedalus was not just making castles in the air, but this time, he was broadcasting his message telepathically to every Chimerean on the planet.
"This time," Daedalus mentally shouted, "We shall get rid of the human scum that has been residing on this planet! The time has come, my brothers, to finally crush these pathetic meat bags! As the humans try to hold out, we shall prove to them once and for all that the Chimera is the superior race! WE are the evolutions for a greater future! We shall crush their strongholds! And no one shall stop us!" The hordes of Chimera gave such a battle cry, such a cheer, that everything stood still for that moment. He smiled, and resumed speaking, only that this time it was broadcasted to the overseers in front of him. "Brothers, we have to crush the filthy meat bags before they amass an army that would incur massive losses to our own forces. Now then, I presume that you can order your own troops effectively in normal circumstances. However, this is no longer normal anymore, and from this day forth, I will take over the entire command structure. Thank you for your services, and I do hope you can cooperate with me." The overseers looked at each other, and then shouted, or screamed, their answer. However, before any of them could ask what the plan was, the first few started to drop dead, alarmed, some of them raised their weapons in anticipation of an enemy, and some even fired a shot. The next attack came in the form of a sonic pulse, which decimated most of the overseers. The remainder became alarmed. 'Only the supreme leader can perform such a feat, but the' whatever they wanted to think was cut short when Daedalus released his final pulse that destroyed all the overseers in the room. Daedalus smiled grimly, and started to take over all his units. The humans would experience a new Chimera, a more precise, a more deadly Chimerean strike. They shall quake before his might, he thought as he slowly walked out of the room.
Human Resistance Stronghold Main Headquarters
The Island of Madagascar… or its counterpart…
The sound of continuous machine noises drove staff sergeant Harris nearly insane, but just nearly. He had to keep reminding himself that for every sound of the hammer or power drill means a better way of defending this headquarters. Thankfully, this outpost turned headquarters had not been discovered as of yet as most of the defenses are underground, evading scans of both the visual and electronic kind. However, with the amount of work going into fortifying the defenses, they were bound to get detected sooner or later. Harris walked past a group of people slacking in a corner, and he nearly screamed at them. "Stop slacking around soldiers! Help the techies set up the Apocalypse cannon in that corner." The Apocalypse cannons are the latest in stationary defense systems. The remaining scientists, secure in the bowels of the headquarters, created such a devastating weapon that nothing could theoretically approach it up to 500 meters and live. Even more devastating than the rocket launchers and anti aircraft cannons, the apocalypse cannon uses a hybrid of Chimerean technology to enhance the already deadly flak shells. The missile itself is about a meter in length, with nearly half of it comprising of a high yield nuclear warhead, superheated flak shards or thermobaric explosives. The other half would comprise of a drill mounted top and a secondary propulsion system. And it is rendered impervious to all types of weaponry, Chimerean or human, due to the reverse engineered shield that has surrounds the missile. This adds to the punch that the missile makes as the blast would be contained inside the missile, causing the blast to be exponentially increased. The drill has already been proven effective against both armored ground and air units, and has been quickly adapted to other missiles. A test firing of the missile was conducted at Russia, with startling results. 2 missiles were able to down a Chimera capital ship. Now they were being manufactured at maximum capacity, save for the heat seeking missiles. The turret can fire at a rate of 120 of these missiles in a minute. However, there is a few downsides- the turrets are very delicate machines, filled with so many important parts that any attempts to fit armor onto the turret have backfired. Then there is the problem of the manufacturing itself. The missile has been considered to be worth a lot, not that money matters now, but usually the more sophisticated it is, the more it would cost. And this was no exception. With a production time of 6 hours for a missile, the supply is extremely limited. So limited, that none of the front line troops have gotten it yet. Even the supply at the headquarters is tight, with only 500 missiles per turret. Other strongholds have started to produce the apocalypse missile, but the complexity of the missile requires some of the strongholds to shift their entire production facilities only to manufacture the missile. The mechanics would have to create a faster way to build the missile, or else the Chimera would just overrun them, missiles or not. As Harris walked into the mechanic's workstation, he saw a weird contraption with a newly built apocalypse missile sitting in front of it. Before he could do anything, the machine sputtered, causing him to instinctively raise his rifle at it. He heard a shout for him to put down the weapon, and felt someone push his rifle down. Before he could react any further, the machine started to move its gears. As Harris watched on, slowly another apocalypse missile began to take shape. Within 3 minutes, the newly created apocalypse missile rolled down the small slope and into a pile of more missiles. Behind him, there were whoops and cheers, and slowly even he began to smile. With this machine, the possibility of a future missile shortage suddenly seemed a bit more far off.