Chapter One

Reach

0300 hours

March 25, 2301

Everyone worth anything in Reach's military command structure was gathered in what was deemed the Anvil by the soldiers who manned it. There was a reason it was called the Anvil: an entire Separatist Fleet tried to smash it with 20 days of orbital bombardment, and then got smashed in low orbit in turn by a surprised but prepared UNSC fleet which had been performing maneuvers in a system a few light-years away. Needless to say, the Separatist Fleet was smashed against both opposing forces on ground and sky, and few made it out. Hence the Anvil.

Currently representatives from every corner of the quadrant were funneling in, as the discovery of what was being deemed the Find of the Next Thousand Years was spreading through fast Slipspace couriers. Currently, up to 23 salvage teams had been deployed to the site in northern hemisphere of Reach, but the vessel's impact in the shallow seas had vaporized a large stretch of water with the energy of impact, and visibility was very poor due to the mist. However, tentative orbital scans had revealed an intact ship, without even a buckle in the hull, let alone the utter catastrophe everybody had been expecting from such a turbulent crash.

But the problems with getting to the site had in fact been a good thing, as it gave time to UNSC MilSpecWep experts, military generals, and UNSC tertiary governors from the quadrant to begin trickling in. In only two days, a flotilla of Slipspace vessels had arrived, and rumors were abound with the shuttle crews and various planetary and station personnel, who occasionally caught broken snippets of conversation from their superiors trundling to and fro.

Already, the rudimentary scanning in orbit had revealed several interesting facts, including one which had MilSpecWep twitching: the energy from such a reentry at close to 77 meters/second should have caused a lot more damage to the planet that a light mist of vaporized water. With a multi-kilometer ship fireballing through the air at such speeds, Reach should be in the middle of a catastrophic extinction-level event, but it wasn't. And the ship was intact; which said magnitudes about its hull strength, and the inevitability of super-strong metallic alloys which could survive such punishment.

Onboard the UNSC merchant vessel Clam Bake, the salvage teams were deploying. The Bake's 150-meter frame was hovering over the site of the crash, mists from the still-boiling water rushing in still enveloping and whooshing around it. Zephyr-class dropships were loading up with salvage gear and modified drop pods, to penetrate the boiling water and get to the ship with minimal intervention and maximum speed. Once the crew got out of their pods in protective skinsuits to protect from the boiling-hot water, the gear would be dropped comparatively next to them, and operations would begin. The most recent scans revealed that the hull was composed of a metallic alloy that, while of an unknown composition, seemed partially magnetic, which meant that the salvage teams could do this the easy way and get ready to prepare a series of hard-points for giant ass, 30-meter electromagnets to attach to. The Bake would then drag the vessel to the shore, which was approximately four miles away with the vaporized waterline, and also fortunately uninhabited (and now uninhabitable) by any of the new colony ships landing. A 200-kilometer no-fly zone had already been established in preparation for the vessel's towing, and troops had secured the entire area.

The leader of Salvage Team was British maritime veteran by the name of Chester Morrigan. His life had been a boring one, and frankly he looked and behaved like the dullest person on the planet. Gray, nondescriptive-appearance or build, the works. But he did know his stuff, and had been doing this sort of vessel salvage operation in waters for a long time, him being 57 and all. However, that had been a few systems from here, and when he had been shanghaied here, he was faced with the most difficult salvage op of his career.

He was currently suiting up, along with his co-worker for quite a few years, a woman with dark red hair named Sarah Kerrigan. She had been assisting Morrigan for about four years now in maritime ops, and before had been in the UNSC's Maritime Corps program, a planet-side program to survey potential officers for field command. Though she's tested and performed well and had absorbed her studies very adequately, she had voluntarily quit UNSC duties after the death of her mother, and returned home. She was suiting up next to him, smiling her ass off, thinking over and over again "holyshitholyshitholyshit—". Instead of saying that however, she had proposed the giant-ass magnet idea, and Reach's planet-side construction facilities and yards had been more than happy to oblige.

"So, think this going to work?" she asked Morrigan.

The graying man grunted. "Hell no. I'd prefer going down there in a diving suit or a robo-boat like normal, but the hot water won't let us. These drop-pods are brand-frickin-new , according to the MilSpec types. Don't trust them yet." He squeezed his haggard frame into the suit, then began shouldering gear which he could carry with him underwater.

"I think it will," Sarah said.

"Your idea, though. Wouldn't have recommended it if you'd thought it wouldn't." Chester smirked.

"Not just that. Hell, even if my idea doesn't work, the military ain't going to let something like this get away with sitting there. Hell, they might get one of their ships which can land on a planet, get it into the water, and have it PUSH the ship to shore."

"Crazy enough to do it, that's sure." Morrigan finished. "Ready?"

"Ready." They left the dressing station laden with their gear. Outside lay the open hangar bay, howling misty winds whipping only a little bit though the thick open bay doors. Their crew lay ready, though the Zephyrs were still getting loaded, judging from the frantic movements of the shuttle crews. It was a bit mad, but Morrigan and Sarah were fine with it, so their team was too. If either of them began panicking, this usually meant that shit was neck-deep anyway. "We ready boys?" Sarah bellowed over the wind.

"YES MAAM," they shouted.

"Them load the gear, you scallops!" she shouted. They complied, grabbing their gear and trotting to their respective ships. The crews, having loaded the heavy stuff, assisted and complied with the salvage team's operations. Sarah got her gear loaded, then pulled a small micro-camera, attached it above her left eye, and walked over to the edge of the bay doors, looking down.

Few humans see what she was seeing. The ship, traveling at such speeds (over 3x the speed of the K-T dino-killer back at Earth), and composed of futuristic unobtanium metals, should have cracked the planet clear to the mantle, caused continent-wide firestorms, and almost tore the atmosphere off the planet. Instead, it hadn't; evidence showed the vessel slowing down MUCH more than it should have been realistically capable of moving, but it had.

But it had done enough. Impact in the shallow sea had resulted in the instant vaporization of trillions of gallons of water, which was beginning to cause massive cloud-cover to build up. In addition, in the two days since the impact hurricane-force winds clocked at over 500 miles an hour had torn over the site, but had calmed considerably, down to a more manageable speed of 125 miles/hour. Even at the window to such carnage, the winds nearly were knocking Sarah off of her feet, only her magnetic boots keeping her steady enough to film.

She looked up. Aside from the massive metal radiator fins jetting out and up from the Clam Bake itself, the sky was black, thick with clouds and the vaporized water from impact. Rain was going to come down soon, but not until the waters had begun to cool to slightly less than boiling. Amidst the swelling clouds, the winds and overall atmospheric turbulence was resulting in an eye forming overhead, a black where no wind lay, but the stars overhead could barely be seen. Barely, because the vessel's streak through the atmosphere had totally wrecked the ionosphere, causing massive Aurora Boreali across the sky, leaving the Eye flickering with light at an intensity rarely seen by planetary folk.

Sarah swept her cam across the sky, then swept her cam down, catching the mists, swirling winds, and the howling rumble of the water underneath them. She smiled, then mumbled loud enough for the microphone in the camera to hear her, "Hell of time, boys!"

She smiled, switched off the camera, stowed it back in her locker, and rejoined Morrigan and the team, who from the looks of it had finished preparing. The waters looked close to calming down, and they had work to do.