0343 HOURS
In orbit, Olypsum Oridali System
Second Lieutenant Michael Hansen walked along the deck inspecting his ODST Marines. They all wore their matte grey camoflauged armor along with their faceless helmets with the visors down. It was hard to see their faces but Michael knew that they all wore their combat face and looked straight ahead, right through him. The Helljumpers were assembled in two lines of ten, equal to about four squads each commanded by a Sergeant.
As he reached the end of the two lines the four NCOs saluted him in unison with precision, snap, and military bearing. Michael returned the salute with as much snap as his groggy, underslept body could muster. He turned to face the his men and women, all equally ready to jump into the plane of Hell itself at his command. "You're all ready for what's about to happen" Michael said as he stood akimbo in front of them, "I have every comfidence in all of you, you'll do well. However, you must understand that not all of you will come back alive. Those of who do not come back, know this: your sacrifice was not and will not be in vein. Remember your training, and you will do preform admirably." They all sounded off with a loud, "HOO-RAH!!"
As Michael turned and began to walk to get his gear he said passively in a hushed voice to one of his senior Sergeants, "Battle stations." With that, the Sergeants began yelling at the Marines to get their gear and prepare for planetary assault. Michael walked over to a small table where his gear had already been layed out for him as per his request. A commander was always the first to be ready, the first to fight, "First in and last out." He strapped on a rucksack which contained medical supplies, ammo, survival gear, and enough food and water to last him a week. Lastly, he slipped on his helmet and pulled down the visor. His HUD winked on and it displayed his vital signs, blood pressure, and a quick link to those of his platoon.
After he was squared away he began the trek to the Pelican bay at a half runnning, half walking pace. An Ensign ran up to him out of breath and said, "Lieutenant Hansen sir, you have a COM call from Captain Novall." The two officers were equal in rank but it was clear to both of them who was the more experienced. Michael nodded to the junior Officer and walked to a nearby keypad without saying a word, he typed in the keycodes for the bridge and was transfered to the Captain sooner than was normal. "Lieutenant, I know you've been briefed on your mission, but there is...a situation" the old gruff man said, "Apparently, two hours ago a Pelican dropship carrying recon personel crashed into a low valley. The recon operatives were carrying a highly advanced AI that, if fallen into the wrong hands, can give the Covenant information to you don't even want to know." Michael knew from the word 'operatives' that these were ONI personel, not surprising that they would mess up like this but they had never had an AI with them before. He knew not to ask questions though, no matter how high his rank was he was still a footsoldier sloshing around in the dirty mess of combat. "What's the good news sir?" Michael said. The Captain made an amused face, "That was the good news Lieutenant. The bad news is that the Pelican crashed smack dab in the middle of a Covenant fortress no less. Your orders are to extract any survivors, and the shipboard AI if it has survived. Your previous mission is now scrubbed do you read me?" Michael said without a moment's hesitation, "Yes sir." The COM switched off and Michael continued to walk through the hangar.
He hated when the top brass of FLEETCOM changed their minds so suddenly without any warning for their ground troops. He began to think to himself, 'If this is such a dangerous mission, why don't they send in the damned SPARTANS? Afterall, they're everybody's heroes. Who gives a damn if the SPARTANS go in or not? We've got our orders and they have theirs. Helljumpers lead the way!' With this renewed attitude he began sprinting to the Pelican bay carrying more than enough gear for such a task. He passed by crewmen and other lower ranking UNSC personel who stared at him in awe, it wasn't too often that they saw a battle-ready Helljumper running through the ship. Once he reached the Pelican bay he saw three Pelicans being checked from top to bottom by their flight crews. He climbed into the nearest Pelican, Tango-613, and stepped into the cockpit to speak with the pilot. The pilot, SCPO Gordon, turned her head to look at Michael. She closed a writing pad and layed it down under her seat, "Morning sir, how can I help you?" Michael slung his battle rifle on his shoulder and said, "Get these Pelicans off the ground immediately. The Helljumpers are ready to make landfall." She zipped up her half-open flight jacket, "Aye aye sir."
Michael walked out of the Pelican and saw his platoon arriving carrying their combat gear. "What's the matter!? Are you waiting for an invitation!? Saddle up Helljumpers, we're givin' them hell!" His response was a loud roar, and then twenty Marines simoutaneously boarded the Pelicans. They lifted off and were heading to Dusk, to send the Covenant to whatever they called Hell.
