Lieutenant Six
By Commentaholic
A/N: This is a songfic of the song "Major Tom" by the Shiny Toy Guns. It has long been a favorite of mine, and I've only considered writing for it since I started writing the occasional songfic. Keep in mind that: No, don't review just to say that you "as a rule don't enjoy songfics". This is kinda annoying. If you can't review it, giving your honest opinion of THIS songfic, as opposed to your opinion of songfics in general... then just don't. Those who I am talking about, you know who you are.
Once again, my series of songfics are merely songs that I feel jive with the scene I put them with.
And yes, I know it didn't occur over earth, but the situation (altered as it is in my mind for the purposes of this songfic) still applies.
"Just be careful up there, Six. Word has it that there's going to be heavy ship to ship fighting, and we won't be there to back you up."
Six just nodded at Carter as he looked up at the Sabre two-person combat starship that stood on the launch pad. Carter's armored glove patted him on the back, and he heard the team leader's boots proceed back towards the control room.
Standing there alone, the ship is waiting.
All systems are go. are you sure?
"Please run through the Pre-launch systems check." the Sabre's shipboard computer beeped. Six ran it through its confirmation checklist as Jorge and his heavy suit of armor clambered into the seat positioned behind him.
Control is not convinced,
but the computer has the evidence
No need to abort.
The countdown starts
A technician's voice echoed through the launch chamber, "Countdown initiating. T-minus Forty-Five seconds and counting."
Carter, Kat, and Jun stood in the Control room, looking out at the Sabre. Around them, technicians bustled about, checking and re-checking computer information being relayed from the Sabre's on-board computer. Everything checked out.
"All set back here, Six," came Jorge's deep voice, tinged with the accent found on most of the rural populace of Reach. Six nodded, pulling the lever that would slide the canopy shut.
Watching in a trance, the crew is certain.
Nothing left to chance, all is working.
The canopy slid for a moment, then shuddered to a halt, stopped by an armored glove. Emile's decorated facemask appeared over the ship's side.
"Any last requests?" he joked. It was the standard SPARTAN manner to joke about the almost certain death that came in space combat. However good and efficient that the SPARTAN-III's were good on the ground, even if they were less efficient than Jorge's SPARTAN-II's, none of either generation could have a certainty of a survival without their boots on solid ground.
Six gestured at the metal canteen of water set into the side of the Sabre's inner cockpit. "Got anything stronger than this stuff they're sending me up with?" he asked. Emile chuckled, patting Six's shoulderpad before retreating from the launch pad.
Trying to relax, up in the capsule
"Send me up a drink," jokes Major Tom.
The count goes on
"Countdown at T-minus ten seconds and counting... Opening outer doors." Above the Sabre, massive metal doors retracted into the walls, revealing a star-studded sky. The Oort cloud near the edge of reach spiraled about, its teal-tinged mass cutting the night sky in half, the dark part punctuated by small orange and blue explosions, reminding Six of the reason for this launch. Reach was in danger of destruction, which was why they'd been called in.
Six looked up at his teammates as they stood in the control room. He saw Carter give the thumbs-up, then returned his gaze forward, gritting his teeth and preparing his body for the inevitable acceleration. The technician's voice cut through the launch chamber once more. "Five,"
4, 3, 2, 1
Earth below us,
drifting, falling, floating weightless
calling, calling home
Six and Jorge's suits were pressed hard into the seats as the massive rockets attached to the Sabre lit, rocketing them skyward through the roof's opening. Clouds streamed past the cockpit as the Sabre streaked into space. He could see the Sabre's wingmates similarly soaring skyward. Six felt the planet's gravity ease, then the Sabre flinched as the booster rockets that had got it into orbit burned themselves out and disengaged from the hull. The shields emitted by the Sabre flowed over the parts in the hull previously covered by the rockets.
Second stage is cut.
We're now in orbit
"Stabilizers activated... Shields at full strength... Engines online... Sensors collecting slip-space scans from Anchor 9... Overlaying data on NAVCOM" the small computer warbled. Six felt the ship whir to full readiness around him. He glanced about, seeing wreckage from several UNSC medium-tonnage vessels. The front of a destroyer's hull spun past them. He only hoped that the data they were collecting now would make a difference in the battle to come. Several red triangles appeared on his HUD as he swept it across the field of operations, indicating traces of slip-space windows from the last wave, as well as likely inbound vectors from new arrivals.
Stabilizers up, running perfect.
Starting to collect requested data.
"What will it affect when all is done?"
thinks Major Tom
Jorge and Six were pressed into their seats as Six sent the ship tumbling through space, the inertial dampeners grinding with the pressure of keeping them from turning into jelly inside their suits. Jorge, for the first time, began to wonder the wisdom of letting the new guy drive. Six maneuvered the ship behind another banshee, blasting it to bits of plasma-leaking purple shrapnel. His eyes widened as the control yoke began to vibrate in his hands as something flew past him, anti-gravity pods thrumming. A blue flash. An explosion rang out from behind them, rocking the ship, sending it spiraling through space.
Back at ground control, there is a problem.
Carter could only look on as the visual from Anchor 9's external cameras recorded one of Noble Sabre's lateral thrusters catch a volley of plasma, exploding in a shower of sparks and flames, and launching Jorge and Six's ship into an uncontrollable spin.
"Get a calculation of its trajectory, NOW!" Carter barked, watching helplessly as the Sabre spun towards a field of debris. Keying his radio into TACCom, he switched to the Spartan frequency, ignoring the ones filled with the combat reports of the SPARTAN-IIs on the ground half a world away, searching for Noble's. "Six, Jorge, report! Calling Six or Jorge, can you hear me? Turn on your main thrusters!"
"Go to rockets full"
Not responding.
"Hello Major Tom, are you receiving?
Turn the thrusters on.
We're standing by."
The only sound coming through the radio was static.
There's no reply.
4, 3, 2, 1
Earth below us
drifting, falling, floating weightless
calling, calling home
Across the stratosphere, a final message:"Give my wife my love."
Then nothing more
"Sir, this is Jorge."
The massive Spartan's voice crackled through the radio as the signal faded. Carter wanted to leap for the console, but barely held his emotion in check. Spartans didn't do such things. "Jorge, Report."
"Sir, Six says he might be able to hold the Sabre together... But we're not sure about making it back to Anchor 9. The maneuvering thrusters are shot, and we might not be able to make the docking procedure accurately. And beyond that, our core is slowly building into an overload state. We don't have much time. If we don't make it... It was an honor, sir."
"Likewise, Jorge. See you on the other side."
"Yes, Sir."
The radio signal fizzled into static.
Carter returned his gaze to the visual screen, squinting to make out the flaming meteor that Noble Sabre had become. The ship weaved back and forth, fire gushing from all over, heading towards Anchor 9. Carter stepped up the magnification, focusing on the cockpit, seeing Six fight at the controls while Jorge worked furiously on his terminal in the rear of the vessel, fire creeping up Jorge's arm from the core's breach behind his seat. They neared Anchor 9, velocity dropping, when out of the blue, a tumbling piece of debris struck the vessel, sending it careening into the docked UNSC Savannah. An explosion was all that remained.
Far beneath the ship, the world is mourning.
Carter heard Kat swear in Russian, while Emile merely pulled out his kukri and began sharpening it, a nervous habit he'd picked up on Zeta Alpha Six, after they'd lost Brandon - S346, Jun was as stoic as ever. Carter could only cut the visual, feeling a bit hollow inside. He'd been the one to order them up there.
They don't realize, he's alive.
No one understands, but Major Tom sees.
Up in space, no one caught sight of the two objects floating towards the lower reaches of Anchor 9.
"Now the light commands
this is my home, I'm coming home."
Six caught a handhold of the station, reaching out for Jorge, who drifted towards him, grabbing his arm and similarly securing himself. Six glanced down towards Reach, the blue-green sphere that it was, dotted by orange where the Covenant had begun its attacks. Home. He was coming home. He keyed his suit's radio. "Sir, this is Six. We're alive."
Earth below us,
drifting, falling.
Floating weightless
coming home
(repeat)
home ...
A/N: For those of you who didn't guess, they jumped out right before the debris hit them. They were in much of a better position to see it coming in. I know, this one wasn't the Bioshock one I promised, but I felt that, though I probably didn't capture the true Spartan personae, I did try to make it apply to the song. It's hard writing these things. And thus, I enter into a new genre. Poll for my next songfic on my profile. Fanfiction Genre used in conjunction with the song T.B.D. Keep on tranglin', -=Commentaholic=-