UNSC Destroyer In Shadow Cloaked
Orbiting FLEETCOM Base October
Gladius System
08:30 Hours Local
December 28th, 2551 (Military Calendar)
Corporal Patrick Murphy awoke to the sounds of several of his fellow Marines' bare feet slapping the floor as his cryo chamber's lid opened. He held his face in his hands as the sensation of someone repeatedly clamping a vise down on his head began to ease. PFC Chu bitched as his feet hit the plating, "Goddamn, this deck is freezing!"
Gunnery Sergeant Wilson's rough alto cracked across in derision, "So were you, five minutes ago. What, you thought joining the Corps would be easy?" She gave him her lopsided grin, the left corner tugged quite a bit tighter than the right from scar tissue, and continued, "Stick with me, kid. We're gonna see the galaxy..."
She let her voice trail off, but Chu knew his line, "...go to exotic places..."
Murphy continued, "...meet interesting natives..."
And the rest of the ODSTs joined in with the old, old conclusion, "...and kill them!"
The chorus brought a smile to Murphy's features. The damned squid-heads might be beating the UNSC, but you couldn't tell it by looking at Bravo of the One-Thirty-Ninth. They were rough, tough, and ready to rock, even just out of cryo. High-and-tights abounded, and not a single one of the troopers had any extra fat. They looked vaguely like a very motley version of a college track team, until you saw their eyes. Those eyes, despite the differences in the troopers' appearances--from Wilson's obsidian coloration and deeply scarred face, to PFC Chu's flat, asiatic features, to Murphy's pale, freckled visage--all held the flat promise of death to anyone in their way. They were tough, and they knew it. Knew it so deep that they didn't have to prove it to anyone.
The platoon filed out, joking and laughing with each other as they headed for the showers. The In Shadow Hidden was one of the new Dirk class destroyers, the first UNSC ships with grav plating reverse-engineered from captured Covenant technology. That meant, amongst other things, that the jarheads and squids who manned her were actually allowed the luxury of showering without having to use a rebreather. The luxury was more than appreciated by the Marines; there is little that a jarhead enjoys more than a hot shower and clean clothes. Especially Helljumpers, since they spent so much time in the field.
After having spent several minutes under the hot spray (heat being one of the few things that is never in short supply aboard a deep space vessel) and getting dressed, Murphy made his way on down with the rest of Bravo to get some chow. They qued up and were served food by the petty officer in charge of the mess, before seating themselves at the long cafeteria tables. Coffee and reconstituted orange juice were the order of the day.
Lance Corporal Weinbender looked up from poking at his faux eggs, his vaguely Mediterranean features twisted in a mask of disapproval and bitched, "Man, this shit sucks. I've had better MREs. Y'remember that time we rotated through Australia? The little Chinese place down in Brisbane?"
Murphy's face split with a grin as he reminisced, "Yeah, with those dumplings. I've never had better. And the kung pow chicken, man...I miss that place. What was its name again? 'The Green somethingoranother', right?"
"'Green Dragon', I think. 'Course it might've been the 'Green Seas', too. I seem to remember something like that, somewhere," Chu added. "Besides, Weinbender, I think it's the eggs that're really off. If you don't eat those, you should be okay."
Weinbender frowned down at his plate, full of nothing but eggs and toast. He picked at it for a few more moments and then gave up, rising to shove the rest of his plate onto the return rack for the mess. He got another cup of OJ and sat back down next to his squad mates.
Murphy continued the conversation, "I dunno, though. I always did think the best place was that little bar in New Manila, over on Minister. That little place, the one that actually had authentic Black Bush, it served the best damned chimichangas that I've ever had. That, and the whiskey, well...if the Covenant glass that place, they're really gonna piss me off."
The Marines got quiet, as they usually did when the subject of the Covenant came up. The rest of the meal passed in near-silence as each remembered fallen comrades and destroyed worlds. The UNSC may have been able to hold their own on the ground, but in space they were totally outclassed. And, as someone had once said quite aptly, "Whoever holds the orbitals, holds the planet."
Perhaps thirty minutes passed, and then the ODSTs were herded into the briefing room. They filed in, and the hatch closed. Wilson's rough voice sang out, "Officer on the deck!"
One hundred troopers shot to their feet, coming to near-perfect Attention. Captain Samuel A. Knott strode to the front of the room as he said, "At ease. Take your seats; this won't take long."
He stood behind the podium as a holotank brought up a schematic of the Gladius system. A few heartbeats passed while he examined the troops; Captain Knott was a medium-sized British man who appeared to have been wrought from wire. His salt-and-pepper hair gleamed under the harsh lighting while he considered the room. He began as the lights dimmed, "This briefing is covered under the JAG 4465/LHG code word security protocol. Any divulgance of information gathered from this briefing or subsequent events to non-code word-authorized personnel will be punished to the fullest extent of the UNSC UCMJ, up to and including the death penalty. Your code word clearance is 'Firehawk'.
"This is the Gladius system. FLEETCOM has decided that we, Bravo company of the 139th, are here to pick up the newest model of HEV for testing. The eggheads back at UNSCOTEC"--he pronounced it "un-scow-tek"--"have come up with a new wrinkle that they think will lower our casualty rate when we drop." He brought up a wireframe model of an HEV, highlighting the ablative plating that kept a trooper alive as he dropped from orbit. "The plating and cooling systems on the new HEV have been thoroughly tested, but UNSCOTEC want a combat demonstration. It just happens that the ONI boys have found us a new colony right at the edge of UNSC space. Ninety-six hours from now, we ship out."
At that, there was a collective murmur. Four days just wasn't enough time for the Helljumpers to truly familiarize themselves with the new equipment, and that meant they were going to take unnecessary casualties.
Knott let it pass and then continued, "We are going to train and rehearse the drop backwards and forwards for the next four days. Platoon leaders, you've got a schedule downloaded into your mailboxes. Please look it over before implementing it; it has a few things that are nonstandard." He paused for a moment, obviously considering whether he should get into more detail, then finished, "Questions?"
Silence ruled the compartment. He smiled a hard, dark smile, and said, "Then let's get to it. We've got too much to do and too little time to do it in. That's why they asked for Bravo. Dismissed!"
A general, "HOOWAH!" answered, and the troops began to file out to their individual berths...