Last Opportunities (A 5th Imperium/Halo crossover)
Fleet Captain Odovacer scowled as he analyzed the reading from his Fleet implants. The parasite warship Retribution's Embrace was rocking as wave after wave of electromagnetic energy struck the forward shields, on a scale fit to make even the Electra-class heavy cruiser shake like a puppy in a hurricane. "Status of the shield!"
"Dropping like a stone, sir! Shield burnout in twenty seconds!"
Just what we need. "Has all auxiliary power been channeled into the forward bays?" Technically, he knew the answer through his implants: they were fucked.
"Yes, sir! Still dropping!"
"Give the sound-off again to buckle in! What's our distance from the rift?"
"350,000 kilos and closing, sir! We're at .73c and climbing! Thrusters and engine systems not responding! Communication nonresponsive, either!"
"Sound-off given again, sir! All security fields active, buffers initiated!"
"Fantastic! Everybody hang on tight!"
Reach, Orbital Station 12
1712 hours
March 23, 2301
Lieutenant Morales was occupying the sensor station onboard the UNSC's communication satellite Sierra 13 (yes, technically 12, but it involved a joke played on the commander involving vodka and a turtle. Don't ask). He was currently involved in the art of sleeping, which admittedly wasn't the duties required of him at the time, but he wasn't really in a state to care currently.
At least, until the alarm on his console began beeping, and a VERY large red light on the top of it starting flaring in brilliant red strobes. Morales blinked his sleep-hazed eyes, stared at the readouts, then leapt from his seat after uttering a rather garbled sound, between a squeak and a shout. He punched the comm immediately. "Action Stations, Action Stations! Commander Dallas to the bridge!"
Across the day-lit Western Hemisphere of Reach, stations in orbit began blaring their own signals as a white light flared in geosynchronous orbit, and a large vessel fell from the sky in flames.