A/N: Well, I can now say this story has exceeded every one of my expectations for it. When I first started writing this, I had guessed it would get some people interested, but not that many. Similar to my other stories, with their small but dedicated fan bases. However, I can officially say that this story now has more hits, reviews, faves and alerts for it than all my other stories combined. How many hits, you may ask?
OVER 9000!
Yeah, sorry about that. Couldn't resist. But it's true (last time I checked, I had 11,000+ hits for all chapters). Anyway, I have some thanks to give;
Dusel, for reviewing every single one of my chapters, and providing a good, clear idea of my early progress,
SpartanCommander, for providing interesting alternate ideas on how to continue the story, most of which are possible, as well as having such vast knowledge on the two universes (including the small things that only the truest of fans would notice),
SpaceCowboy2013, for knowing so much about Halo and pointing out inconsistencies in my thought processes and technical descriptions, and possible UNSC/Republic relations ideas,
And finally, grey280 (formerly Avatarfanatic280), for providing grammar and spelling corrections (for this and most of my other stories), and providing me with someone to bounce ideas off of.
Additionally: I've been asked several times wither or not the Master Chief will make an appearance in this story and/or where he is currently. The answer to those questions are;
Yes (this fic does, after all, have Halo parts in it. It just wouldn't be right not to have him here) and;
The back half of Forward Until Dawn. To all of you thinking "wait, they haven't rescued him yet?", remember, in the actual canon universe, it takes them at least 50 years to find him (if not more). Watch the Believe trailers for Halo 3. One of them mentions that the day that humanity almost went extinct (A.K.A Halo 3) was "half a century ago" (ergo, 50 years). Another one mentions that 43 years pass between the Second Battle of Earth (Halo 3) and the time the add happens. So it's going to take a while for them to find him in the real universe. If it will take them that long in this one...well, just keep reading. You'll find out.
Finally; I have recently acquired several more sources of information regarding the two universes, including the Halo Encyclopedia. In response, I have made several minor changes to the chapters before this one (Example: The Spartan-class ships are now Supercrusiers, as opposed to the Heavy Carriers I had them as before). Not supremely important, but those who like to be up to date might want to look over the previous chapters.
Thanks to all, and hope you like this next chapter!
Cmd. Gen. Marasco, Out.
Chapter 5
Common Enemy
Unlike the rest of it's many, twisting hallways, the main external hanger of the frigate was relatively silent and devoid of life. Occasionally, some random broken wire would flare to brilliance, but only for a second or so. Then silence would return.
That resounding silence was suddenly, violently, and permanently removed as, with a groan of metal on metal, a rectangular hole in the ceiling opened and spewed out three green-armored shapes.
Christian, Kelly and Matt all saw the hole open, and prepared to put their boots on solid ground again.
Christian tucked himself into a ball, spinning slightly as not to hit wrong. At the last second, he exploded from his curled form and crashed to the deck. He sprung forward and out, performing a series of rolls and tucks followed by a landing an Olympic Games open-floor gymnast would have been proud of, had the Olympics not been effectively forgotten and abandoned sometime during the Interplanetary War.
Kelly's landing was less spectacular, but just as effective. She, too, curled into a ball, but instead of jumping out as Christian had, she stayed curled up when she hit and used her momentum to roll herself into the cover of a crate.
Matt's arrival wasn't as graceful as the first two's. His intent had been to do a roll like Kelly. But during his final fall to the ground, the small section of his brain that controlled fear sparked to life. Before his augmentations, Matt had been afraid of heights. His training as a SPARTAN and the drug cocktail given to him during his augmentations had forced this irrational fear far into his primitive brain, but not completely eliminated it. And now, a tiny spark of it ignited. Not enough to be a serious problem, or even be noticed by his conscious mind, but enough to cause him to break his tucked knees slightly. Instead of rolling away when he hit, he slammed into the hanger deck with the force of a meteor. The deck buckled violently, and Matt's shields sparked from it. For a moment, he lay on the deck, stunned. Then he hoisted himself to his knees and groaned.
"Ow. Why does that always happen?" He asked, more to himself than to his teammates.
"Who knows? On your feet." Christian ordered. Matt stood with a grunt. The three Spartans looked around.
The hanger was a quite as it had been before they had crashed into it. With no danger in sight, the soldiers holstered their weapons. Christian activated his COM, signaling the other Spartans, something that had slipped his mind since (and possible because of) the fall. The call managed to get through.
"Hester, you there?"
"I'm here. So's the rest of the group." The electronics expert replied. "Glad to finally hear from you."
"Same." Christian smiled under his helmet. Though he'd never admit it, he'd been worried about his team. "Give me a SIT REP."
"All personnel intact. Bit low on ammo, but not dire. Armor's still vacuum-sealed as well."
"Good. Any sign of Echo?"
"She's here. She says hi."
Christian smiled again. He'd figured Echo would be fine. "Tell her I say hi back. Any sign of that xeno girl that she fell after?"
"She's here, too. Looks like we're on the same side, sir."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I know. But we have more pressing problems. According to Ahsoka-"
"Who?"
"The girl. Her name's Ahsoka Tano."
"I see. Continue."
"Well, there's a ship incoming to our position. It's small, but according to Ahsoka, whoever's on that ship is bad news." Hester paused, and Christian heard muttering in the back ground. "Don't know the details, but she looks freaked, sir."
"Then we should be worried too." Christian declared. "Where are you?"
"Three dozen meters from your position and running hard. You want to meet up?"
"Fucking straight. Get here as soon as you can."
"Sir, yes sir." Hester cut the COM. Christian turned to Kelly and Matt.
"Set up positions. We're going to have to hold out till the rest of the team gets here."
"Great." Grumbled Matt. "Just when I thought we were going to get a break."
"You got a problem with more fighting?" Christian raised an eyebrow under his helmet. Usually, Matt was one of the first Spartans to throw into the fray.
"I do when I'm almost out of ammo." Matt held up his remaining magazines. Two and a half, Christian could see, and no grenades. Not good.
"I'm almost dry too." Kelly added.
"Shit." Christian spat. "Alright, rescind that. We need to rearm first."
"And how the hell are we supposed to do that?" Matt asked acidly. Christian's eyes traveled over the many boxes and containers in the hanger around them. Nothing looked promising except. Then he noticed one of them had broken open sometime in the past. Spilling out of it were dozens of the strange guns the Spartans had seen earlier. Mixed in were quite a few small black boxes. Christian sprinted over and grabbed one of the guns. It was smaller than his Battle Rifle, but larger than Matt's SMG. It reminded him of an MA2B or MA5K, the cut-down and carbine versions of the MA5 assault rifle, as it seemed designed for destruction, not attractiveness. The design was simple; barrel in the front, uncovered workings in the middle, grip and trigger at the back. There wasn't a stock, just like on an MA5 series. On the left side, just above the grip, was a rectangular hole that looked like it was built to accept the black boxes littering the floor. Probably the robot's equivalent of a magazine. Hesitating for only a moment, Christian slapped one of the boxy mags into the receiver. The gun seemed to hum in his hands. Christian held it gingerly, ready to throw it away if something bad happened, but it stayed in one piece and didn't show any signs of blowing up. Christian brought it up to his helmet, looking for iron sites of any kind. There were none. He shrugged. As soon as he let it, his armor would link with the gun and provide a cross-hair on his HUD. He rose from his crouch, checking for anything like a safety. Again, there was none. Hesitating again, Christian test-fired the gun into the hanger wall. It spat a trio of red beams, which blew good-sized burning holes in the wall he aimed at. It was fully obviously fully automatic, and there was almost no recoil, he noticed. He fired again, steadying himself against the gun as if it were an Assault Rifle. This time, the shots hit the exact same area, each enlarging the hole several centimeters. Christian smiled under his helmet. He switched hands and fired the gun one-handed. Again, it blew chunks out of the wall, almost as accurate as when he'd been holding it in both hands. It would obviously serve his team adequately.
He dropped his tested weapon and grabbed four more guns, two in each hand, and turned to his team.
"Looks like our ammo problems solved." He said, holding up the rifles. "Sling what you got and load up. Dual wield. Take as many of these weird mags as you can." He tossed the rifles he was holding to his teammate's, who caught them easily. They both acknowledged his orders. Christian joined them, stuffing as many mags as he could into his ammo pouches. He could fit a lot of them in there. Ammo wasn't going to be a problem for a bit. When they finished, Kelly and Matt turned to Christian, awaiting orders.
"Set up." He said. The other Spartan's nodded, and did so, slipping behind boxes and other debris. Christian joined them.
"So, now what?" Matt asked, adjusting himself behind his cover.
"We wait." Christian started to say.
Then one of doors near them opened, and the Spartan's found themselves face to face with yet another seemingly endless line of robots.
"Well, so much for that." Kelly muttered as all three opened fire.
Black. That's what filled Anakin's mind. And pain. He couldn't see, and he hurt. That was his existence. Why did he hurt so much? He couldn't remember. Something about a hole, or a shaft, or-
Right. The trap door on the frigates bridge that commando droid activated. And falling. Had he hit the ground? Was he dead? No, being dead shouldn't hurt. He was still alive. Somehow.
With a groan, Anakin forced his eyes open, found the light hurt them, and closed them again. He tried to sit up. Found he couldn't. Something was holding him down.
"Captain, he's coming around!" A voice shouted. One of the clones. Probably the medic. Kix? Yes, that was his name. Anakin forced his eyes open again, coming face-to-helmet with the medic.
"You're going to be fine, sir." Kix said calmly. "Just a bump on the head. You've probably taken worse."
"I know he has." Added another voice. Anakin looked over Kix's personalized helmet to see Rex standing behind him, blaster pistol's held at his sides. "Feeling alright, sir?"
"Been better." Anakin replied, waving Jessie away. The medic retreated, letting Anakin get up. The Jedi rose, somewhat unsteadily, and brushed himself off. The pain faded quickly, aided by Anakin's connection to the Force. "How's the squad?"
"All fine. Echo and Fives are a little shaken, Waxer and Boil are threatening to tear this whole place apart with their bare hands, and Hardcase lost his rifle, but they'll all live. Thanks to you." Rex nodded in appreciation.
"Thanks to me?" Anakin couldn't remember doing anything to save the group. For that matter, he couldn't remember much after the plunge down the hole.
"You slowed our fall with the Force, sir." Kix pitched in. "You don't remember?"
"No, I don't." Anakin grumbled. He scowled.
"That's normal." Said Kix. "Humans don't usually remember the moment leading up to an impact like we avoided."
"Like that time in the Bothawui asteroid belt." Anakin said, stretching his limbs to see if he had any problems. "I remember my fighter getting hit by that chunk of debris, but not the explosion."
"Exactly, sir." Kix sounded impressed. Anakin shrugged and checked his belt. Everything was there-
Except his lightsaber.
"You might be needing this, General." Another clone had joined the conversation. Anakin turned to see Echo walking towards him, holding his missing weapon. It must have come lose from his belt from after they hit the floor. The clone trooper tossed it underhand, and Anakin caught it with a quick burst of the Force. The saber slammed into his palm with surprising force, much more than he had intended.
"That's weird." Anakin noted quietly. It wasn't the first time recently he'd noticed something strange regarding the Force. Since he'd left Republic space, his use of the Force had been...erratic. Like with those soldiers on the bridge. Their leader seemed to have shrugged off a Mind Trick. What had he introduced himself as? Christian, Something-Something SPARTAN-122. Yeah, that sounded right.
But what the hell's a Spartan? Anakin thought to himself.
"Sir?" Asked Echo, having no knowledge of Anakin's internal conversation.
"Nothing." The Jedi replied. Looking for another subject, he noticed that the right side of Echo's chest plate still bore the blue hand print of Rishi eel blood he had received from Rex during the Battle of the Rishi Moon.
"I thought you cleaned that thing off a while ago." Anakin noted, indicating the mark. Echo jumped slightly, then relaxed.
"It's...sort of a memorial thing, sir." He replied slowly. "Honors the boys we lost on Rishi." He stopped for a moment, touched the Blaster Cannon on his shoulder, then continued. "I can clean it off, if you want."
"No need, just wondering. Besides, Domino deserves to be remembered." Anakin turned from Echo and reattached his lightsaber to it's place on his belt. "Any word from Ahsoka?"
"No, sir." Answered Rex. "We lost her in the shaft. I think some other passage opened up. One of those green guys fell with her, too."
"Great." Anakin sighed. "Guess we're going to have to find her."
"Copy that." Rex raised his pistols to shoulder hight in readiness. "Though on a ship this size, we could be looking for a while."
"Check the tracking beacon on her comlink." Echo suggested. Rex looked over at Anakin for confirmation. Anakin nodded, and Rex did so. Seconds later, he got a signal.
"Found her, sir." He reported. "She's heading for one of the hangers, from the looks of it." He pointed towards one of the doors surrounding them.
"Then let's catch up to her. Before she gets into trouble." Anakin walked in the direction Rex had indicated, but only got halfway before he stumbled and almost fell.
"Are you all right, General?" Kix asked. "Maybe we should get you checked out-"
"No." Anakin shrugged off the medic. "This wasn't anything from the fall. The Force is disturbed." He turned to his men, who raised their weapons to readiness.
"Get ready to fight. Ventress is coming." He said with certainty.
If the clones were shocked or worried by this statement, they didn't show it. The only response was a charging of weapons and Rex muttering "Good. Now I can repay that bald freak for Teth."
"Then lets not wait here, shall we?" Anakin asked. The clones shook their heads in unison, then followed their Jedi commander out the door.
Several thousand meters off the damaged side of the CIS frigate, space twisted once again to allow a ship to drop from faster-than-light travel to normal space. Like the most recent rips, it was a hyperspace jump, as opposed to a Slipspace rupture. The shape formed itself into a Ginivex-class fighter, more commonly known as a fanblade based on its shape, which consisted of a circular cockpit with a large solar sail strung out behind, attached to twin weapon/engine blocks.
Inside said cockpit, the Rattataki assassin and Sith disciple Asajj Ventress sat at the controls and fumed. Not as a part of any secret Sith battle preparation ritual or as a right rising from her species's warlike lifestyle, but for the simple reason that she didn't want to be were she was. Her place, she thought, was on the front lines, cutting down clones and Jedi with her blades and leading the armies of the Confederacy to victory. Instead, her master (if that was really the appropriate term for their relationship) Count Dooku had seen fit to send her to the literal middle of no-where as a scout, of all things.
Apparently, something had happened recently. Ventress wasn't exactly sure what, and Dooku hadn't shed much light on the subject, but she'd been able to make some educated guesses from what she'd heard. A small battle group of frigates had been sent to the back-water system of Bakura by the Separatist high command, and had run into a trio of Republic ships sent in response to the call for help the Bakurans sent out. Predictably, they had lost the ensuing battle. In a fair fight, droids usually lost to organic commanders. Unpredictably, one of the ships had made a run for safety into the Unknown Regions. Dooku had ordered a surprisingly good-sized fleet after it, for a reason unknown to Ventress. This was where the real trouble had started.
When the Separatist fleet had jumped after it's target, they had only a guess where it had gone to. Because of this, they were now effectively lost in space, with now way forward or back. Which was, once again, unsurprising.
The Unknown Regions bore their title for a reason. They were truly unknown, with few sections scouted and explored. The main reason being that there were very, very few safe, stable hyperspace routes through them, a lack caused by a galaxy-long string of hyperspace anomalies. One scientist had noted that it was "like a massive reef in space, preventing anything from getting in or out." The main conclusion regarding this strange "reef" was that it was impassible, and as such the Unknown Regions would probably stay unknown for the foreseeable future.
That conclusion, however, didn't take the Force into account.
Many times in recorded history (and probably even more before), beings with connections to the Force had been able use the omnipresent energy field to manipulate hyperspace in ways unimaginable to those not attuned to it, both intentionally (as in the few-years recent Outbound Flight Project, which had aimed at founding colonies in the Regions and hopefully reaching another galaxy and returning) and accidentally. The latter was devastatingly shown when, in debt-fueled desperation, hyperspace trailblazers Gav and Jori Daragon blindly jumped their ship Starbreaker 12 along a single unbroken route (dubbed the "Daragon Trail) that lead from the Koros (later Empress Teta) system in the Deep Core to the worlds of the long-forgotten Sith Empire (the tombworld Korriban, specifically), an event which sparked the Great Hyperspace War.
It was because of this technique that Asajj was now staring at the drifting hulk of the ship they had been sent after. She had been in her dwelling on Rattatak, enjoying a break from the war (even Sith needed downtime) when her Master had contacted her via hologram. Quickly, he had explained what he needed of her; she was to rendezvous with the fleet, and then, using her Force sensitivity, plot a safe, clear course to the lost frigate.
And so Ventress had. Now that she had found the lost ship and sent the data of her jump back to her allies, she had a secondary goal; see if the Republic had found the ship before she had. A quick scan showed that this was true. Ventress's scanners registered three of the Republic's Star Destroyers, floating several hundred kilometers away from the remains of the frigate.
But there were other ships on her screen...ones that didn't match anything in her computer's memory banks. Confused, Ventress looked out her cockpit into the inky blackness before her. Lit by the light of a large gas giant floated two of the strangest ships she had ever seen. They were blocky, linear, and tubular, and painted mostly a dark-green color.
Intrigued, both by the lack of data on the ships and by their presence, Ventress quickly scanned them using her ships advanced long range sensors. Readings spilled over her control screen. As they did, the Sith's eyes widened. The ships seemed to be incredibly primitive. Their hulls were made of some naturally-derived mineral (titanium, of all things, if her sensors were working correctly), their engines powered by a relatively simple form of nuclear fusion. And the weapons that her readings showed were apparently ballistic in nature, missiles and giant-sized slugthrowers. Ventress pulled her face into her trademark smile. Primitives in space. The irony was delightful. For a moment, the Separatist commander played with the idea of attacking one of the ships, just to see how worthless their equipment really was. She shrugged it of just as quickly. After all, her Master would probably want to open diplomatic accords with these people, to see if they might be of some use-
Ventress never finished her thought. With a suddenness inconceivable to the humanoid mind, a massive wave of raw Force energy slammed into Ventress. It passed as quickly as it came, leaving her sweating and shaking worse than the times she had been hit with Sith Lightning. With this Force burst came something else; a single thought that, as Ventress examined it, was so clear and obvious that it must have come from the Force itself.
These people will never be allies, the thought said. They will only lead to the destruction of everything that we know.
Ventress shook her head, freeing her mind of her confusion. She still didn't understand how she had received this premonition, but she wasn't going to doubt it. Her path now was clear; if these primitives were not going to ever be allies, then it was better to destroy them now while she had the chance than to have them possible ally with the Republic.
Once again, Ventress smiled. Though she was quite obviously outnumbered, she had faced such odds before and survived, even dominated. She could take them on easily.
Laughing out loud in excitement, Ventress shoved the throttles forward and soared towards her target.
Unknown to Ventress, several beings witnessed her arrival, deliberation, and acceleration, sealed behind the heavily reinforced windows of the Supercrusier UNSC Kelly's bridge.
The bridge was dark, as all non-essential power had been diverted to weapon and defense systems. Even Juliet's holotank was powered down. The only light came from the systems star, reflected via the gas giant. This light formed a small pool of brilliance on the right arm of the command seat, situated in the very center of the bridge.
"Contact Alpha is accelerating." A voice spoke from the gloom. Male, slightly edgy, from the Targeting station on the right side of the bridge. "500,000 klicks and closing."
"MAC's are at 93 percent charge and rising at oh-point-eight per second. Missile systems are hot, hard lock for all. Pulse lasers and Helix II point-defense systems are operational. All single ships in contact and awaiting orders." Another voice joined the first, calmer and female, this time from the weapons station on the left. "Should we engage the contact?"
"No." A third voice, female like the last, but cold as the space surrounding the Spartan-class ship. It emanated from the command seat. The single patch of light on the bridge fell upon the right arm of the voice's owner as she leaned forward. The sleeve of a UNSC Navy-standard uniform, light blue and lightly-armored, a change implemented after the end of the Human-Covenant War. "But ready the PDS and Crossbow missiles, and tell the fighters to prepare for a dogfight. Lets see where this ship goes."
"Ma'am, are you sure that's a good idea?" The first female voice asked. It sounded surprised. "After all, there really isn't much-"
The voice was cut of as the visible portion of the arm made a quieting motion.
"We don't know anything about this person." The arm's owner explained. "They may not be after us. We don't want to make an enemy if we don't have one."
"Understood, ma'am. And if they are after us?"
"Then we retain the element of surprise till we need it. And we destroy them."
"A good plan, ma'am." The first male voice joined in. "But don't you think that's a little risky? We're a little exposed here..."
"Risk?" The cold female voice laughed, an almost inhuman noise. Shuffling noises filled the bridge in response. The laugh was making the officers present uncomfortable. The owner leaned forward into the light, revealing more of her anatomy. More armored uniform, the pins of a Captain in the UNSC Navy, a corner of a mouth curled into a cold grin, and a tag bearing a last name;
Keyes.
"Do you think," The still-living, now Captain Miranda Keyes whispered to her Targeting officer, "That after what I've been through, I'm worried about risk?"
"No, ma'am." The Targeting officer replied, swallowing hard.
"Good." Captain Keyes leaned back in her seat. "Now get it done."
"Aye." The two officers jumped to work, quickly following orders. Keyes looked out the window at the rapidly approaching ship.
"Come on, let's see what your planning..." She whispered.
She didn't have long to wait.
Howling an ancient Rattataki war cry, Ventress shoved her fighters engines to their limits. Her craft spun on it's axis and sped towards the ships. Ventress scanned her sensors, looking for her first target. Her targeting software picked something up; a fighter, it looked like. One of many soaring through the void. At least, Ventress guessed it was a fighter. It was huge for a single-ship, at least 60 meters long and 75 wide. It was all black, and was incredibly slow compared to her ship. It would do well as a target, Ventress decided. She locked onto the ship and slid into position behind it, steadying herself for a killing shot. Unfortunately, the ship was more advanced than she had guessed; the moment she locked on, the fighter started jinking and juking, trying to throw her lock. It must have some form of lock on warning system, she decided. And while the ship was massive, it seemed to be amazingly maneuverable. Ventress stuck on it's tail, but with more trouble than when she was fighting Republic ships. The pilot of this ship knew what he was doing. But no matter what level of skill, the pilot didn't have a connection to the Force. Within seconds, the lock reestablished itself. Ventress laughed again, and reached down to press the firing studs on her trigger.
As she did, her fighter was rocked by a series of sever impacts. Her lock disappeared, and her shield indicator dropped. Ventress looked at her instruments in fury, looking to see if another ship had snuck up behind her. None had. And yet, her ship still rocked.
A thought struck Ventress. She looked over at her shield indicator again. It revealed that it was her front shield that was taking hits. The assassin raised her eyes from her readouts to look at her target. Streams of light seemed to be coming from ports on it's back.
No, not ports, Ventress realized. Guns. The ship she was attacking had ventral weapons systems. Ballistic weapons, admittedly, but still weapons.
Ventress grit her teeth in frustration, but calmed quickly. Though she'd have to be careful when attacking, she could still destroy the craft. After all, bullets weren't going to do that much damage to her ship.
As if her prey had heard her, a new sound filled her cockpit; the shriek of a missile lock-on.
Not only did her prey have guns on it's back, it had missile systems as well.
For a moment, Ventress lost her cool and reacted in fear. She slammed her ship away from her target, breaking the lock. Or so she hoped.
As it turned out, her hope was short-lived. With a burst of fire and disintegrating safety covering, her target launched a pair of missiles. They floated for a moment, before identifying her as their target and igniting their motors. Ventress accelerated again, soaring ahead of the ship. As she did, another shriek filled her cockpit;
The ship had front missile systems too!
In seconds, predator had become prey, and prey predator.
Ventress swore in her native language and dived "down" (towards the gas giant), just as her former prey (now possibly predator) launched a second pair of missiles at her. This new pair joined the first and tracked Ventress relentlessly.
Seeing that her gambit had failed, Ventress soared "up" again, the missiles hot on her tail. Almost panicking, she searched the space around her for a way to survive. Nothing, except for the two capital ships. A plan fell together in Ventress's mind. She would steal a tactic from Skywalker. Over Christophsis, the young Jedi had killed Admiral Trench by using the Admiral's own missiles against his bridge. Ventress could pull of something similar. That would do.
With an idea (however shaky) of what to do, Ventress charged the closest ship, the missiles right on her tail.
The ship grew in her vision. Still the missiles gained on her. In desperation, Ventress dumped all power from her weapons into shields and her engines. The missiles fell behind, but not far enough. Ventress ignored them and focused instead on the ship. It rushed up to meet her, green hull glinting. In seconds, she would smash into it.
Before that happened, Ventress pulled up sharply, slamming herself into her seat with extreme inertial forces, but breaking the locks. Devoid of a target, the missiles soared on, straight towards the ship. Ventress leveled off, holding position a good two dozen meters above the ship, smiled again-
Then felt her jaw drop as the missiles simply exploded a good dozen meters from the hull of the ship. Shrapnel spun harmlessly away from the points of detonation.
The Sith's mind raced. Maybe the missiles had some kind of system that triggered their warheads if they missed their target. Or something like that-
But that sadly (at least for Ventress) wasn't the case. As Ventress continued alone the hull of the ship, she could see that the point of impact glowed slightly.
The larger ships had shields too.
Ventress swore again, wondering what else was going to go wrong.
Below her, as far as she could see, sections of the hull slid apart, and towers emerged.
No, not towers. Turrets. Hundreds of them.
Ventress had, to use the old spacers saying, jumped from the burning ship into hard vacuum.
The Rattataki only had enough time to say "Oh Sith" before every turret (and the ones on the ship on the opposite side of her, which she had forgotten about) opened up simultaneously.
"Point defense systems activated!" The Kelly's Weapons officer called out. "All autocannons functioning normally. Confirmation from the Arthur; Target Alpha is boxed in."
"Excellent." Keyes tapped her clenched left hand into her right palm, a movement she had inherited from her father, minus the elder Keyes's pipe. "Juliet, get me an estimate on the damage done to the target."
"Nothing lasting so far, ma'am." The AI replied through the bridge speakers. "It's got shields, and we haven't managed to crack them yet. But the pilot's throwing it around the sky, so at least we know our autocannons will eventually punch through."
"Good. Keep shooting, and alert me when it's down and out."
"Yes ma'am." Juliet fell silent again. Keyes turned to another member of her bridge crew, this one manning the Communications station.
"Any word from the Spartans?" She inquired.
"No, ma'am." The officer replied. He adjusted several dials on his panel and then turned back to Keyes. "But we are getting status information from their armor. They're still alive, and unharmed, as far as we can tell. We also received an information burst form their AI. It's being unpacked now, but it's going to take a while. It's massive."
"Keep at it. And the exfil Pelican?"
"Still ready. The pilots complaining about just sitting in the hanger."
"Tell her to hold tight. She'll be in the black soon."
The Communications officer nodded in response, and relayed the orders to the Pelican. He started to say something, but Juliet cut him off.
"Target Alpha has disengaged!" She reported. "The ship is making a bee-line for the edge of the system. Orders?"
"Let it go." Keyes resumed tapping her hands. "But get me the CO of Wardog Squadron."
"Aye. Initiating COM connection...done." Juliet's voice faded, replaced by a gruff male voice, the commanding officer of Cutlass Squadron Wardog.
"Blaze here. Orders, Captain?"
Keyes smiled. She'd worked with Blaze before, during the Battle of Instillation 00. He was a good pilot. She could trust him to get the job done.
"Good to hear from you again, Blaze." Keyes banished the smile from her face, returning to her previous level of military calm. "I have a target for your squadron."
"Name it." Blaze's voice took on a hint of anticipation.
"The ship that's been buzzing us is bugging out. I want you to take it out."
"Consider it space dust, ma'am. Chopper wants payback for the scare that SOB gave his buddy in the Advanced Longsword."
"Actually, try and keep it in one piece. I want to have something to give to ONI to study."
"Understood. We'll do our best."
"That's all I'm asking for. Good luck."
"Thanks, but we don't need it." Blaze cut the COM link, but not before Keyes heard him say "Wardog, engaging". Keyes smiled again.
Whoever was piloting this ship, they were about to enter a world of pain.
Flight Officer Alvin "Chopper" Davenport was angry. Before him was the cause of his anger; the ship that had almost shot his buddy Swordsman, alias Longsword Blade 1. Behind him was the rest of his flight, one of three in his squadron; fellow Flight Officers Kai "Edge" Nagasai, "Archer" Grimm, and their CO Lieutenant "Blaze" (if he had any real name, Chopper had never heard it.) The latter was currently speaking to Chopper.
"You have point." Blaze said. "We'll cover you. Just remember; the Captain wants this ship in one piece. Don't go overboard with the destruction."
"Understood, sir." Chopper replied. He shut off his COM and focused on the ship. He took a quick mental inventory of his fighter's capabilities.
The Cutlass-class fighter was the most advanced single ship in the UNSC. It was visually similar to the Saber-class interceptor built towards the end of the Human-Covenant war, but that was quite a bit more effective. It too, carried shields, but they were much stronger than the ones on the Saber, having been built with Covenant technology. It's engines could propel it to the same speed as a Seraph fighter, and that thrust could be shunted through a series of thrusters around the ship's frame for increased maneuverability. Its weapons consisted of four 120mm rotary cannons, two Class-2 Energy Guns (the same cannons used on the Banshee and Seraph), two Model 6 Nonlinear Cannons (upgraded, vehicle-mounted versions of the famous "Spartan Laser") a Plasma Torpedo system, and a Scorpion anti-vehicle missile system. Its targeting software was backed up by a pseudomicro AI, meaning every shot went where it was supposed to, as long as the pilot had a target in mind. And if it wasn't already deadly enough, it's hull was stealth-coated with the same material as a Prowler, and it could be modified to carry an active camouflage system (at the expense of it's plasma cannons, as the ammunition for them tended to emit radiation that messed with the camo.)
Some people considered the fighters weaponry and equipment excessive. Cutlass pilots, however, had a saying to respond; "Well, you've got a choice; an excessive ship, or a glassed planet."
That was usually enough to quiet any dissent.
The ship he was targeting, on the other hand, seemed to be less heavily equipped. They were sure it had shields, possibly some form of weapon system (judging from the barrels emerging from the pods on it's top and bottom) and, apparently, a FTL drive. Other than that, nothing was known about it.
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Chopper narrowed his eyes. The ship was fast, that was sure. He was soaring at 95 percent engine power, and the thing was still outrunning him.
But if there was one thing that Chopper knew from pilot training, when it came to advanced ships, speed came at the cost of armor and weapons. So, while his target may have been a speed demon, it probably wasn't the toughest thing in space. That, and apparently his stealth coating was working; the target wasn't taking any evasive maneuvers.
"Acquire lock on." He said clearly into the dead air of his cockpit. His AI heard him, recognized his command, and quickly brought up a holographic reticule on his HUD. It wavered, then solidified.
"Charge Model 6's." He said. A pair of bars appeared on either side of the reticle; charge indicators for his Cutlass's Nonlinear Cannons. They rose quickly, topping off in seconds. Chopper smiled fiendishly.
"Die." He whispered. He squeezed the triggers on his control yoke.
Even when she was being shot at from all angles buy the turrets, Ventress didn't panic. Same for when her shields fell to almost nothing and the pounding her ship was taking got worse. Not even when she pulled out from between the two ships and gunned her engines for the edge of the system did she panic.
That moment came when Chopper's lasers impacted her weakened shields, punched through, and gutted the back section of her ship.
Part of the reason for this panic was that Ventress hadn't noticed Chopper sliding onto her six. As the Saber pilot had guessed, Ventress's sensors had failed to pick it up. And having the ship you are currently piloting suddenly break is a traumatic experience, even for someone with Sith training.
It actually took Ventress a whole half-minute to realize that her ship was holed. She only noticed it when, as she attempted to maneuver for a jump into hyperspace, the craft refused to respond. Chopper's shots had cut through the back of the cockpit, not close enough to expose Ventress to vacuum, or breach the ship's engines, but in just the right spot to cut her controls and leave the Sith dead in space.
It was, as Blaze would tell Chopper during their debriefing, "One hell of a shot."
In vain, Ventress tried to re-route the command signals through an undamaged system. Unfortunately, there weren't any. Ventress was about to smash something when she felt her ship move beneath her. For a moment, she thought something had worked.
But a quick flick of the control yoke showed the ship wasn't moving under it's own power. Now, it was just another object in space. And as such, it was obeying the unbreakable laws of physics; in short, her ship (and by extension her) was being pulled into the gravitational well of the frigate.
Ventress blinked in confusion, wondering how it was possible for her to end up in such a situation. Then she tightened her crash harness and braced against the coming impact.
"Boo yah!" Chopper howled. He punched the air, or tried to. The confines of his cockpit made it hard for him to move. He settled for raising his hand off the control yoke a couple inches. He quickly returned them as he noticed the ship start a slow decent towards the larger ship (which was classified as a frigate by it's makers, according to the recent data burst by the Spartan's AI Penny). Chopper turned with it, keeping his reticule on the ship as it descended. He glanced at the power levels of his Cannons, noticing them rise quickly, aided by the advanced reactor powering his Cutlass. He kept turning, lining his craft up for a killing shot. Just as his cannons reached full power, and as he fine-tuned his final shot, Blaze cut in over the radio.
"Break off, Chopper." He barked. Chopper jumped in his seat, startled.
"Sir, I have the shot! What-"
"That's an order. We're supposed to disable the ship, not destroy it. You've done that. Now. Break. Off." The tone of his flight lead's voice left no room for argument. Chopper sighed.
"Breaking off." He hauled his ship around to meet with his flight, watching the ship fade in his rear camera.
Well, he thought in self-comforting, the only place that ship is going is where the Spartan's are. That pilot's dead anyway. If the crash doesn't get them, the Spartan's will.
Smiling under his flight helmet, Chopper rejoined his flight.
The hanger of the frigate was filled with the deadly light of lasers. On one side of the massive barrage of visual-range radiation was Christian's half of Alpha Team. On the other was a large compliment of droids (Penny, noticing the Spartan's predicament, had gotten on the COM with all the information she could dig out of the ship's system on the robots they'd been fighting, including the fact they were officially titled "battle droids").
Naming didn't matter much to the Spartan-IV's, however. Droid or robot, it was still a target to be taken out. And "taking out" was what the IV's in the hanger were doing.
Christian fired of a short burst at the mass of targets before him, scoring a direct hit on the droid leading the charge. It fell, sparking and twitching, to the deck, joining the many other busted machines that littered the area before the door. Half a dozen more joined it as Kelly pulled of an impressive series of headshots, the debris of which were quickly scattered over a large area as the droid Matt had been aiming at simply exploded.
"This thing rules!" Kelly exclaimed, cutting down a fresh row of droids that came through the door. "I am so keeping one of these!"
Christian had to agree with his team's sniper. Thought the guns were (in his opinion) ugly, they were incredibly damaging against this new enemy (even more so that his Battle Rifle), and they had a huge ammo capacity. Christian had approximated it's magazine size at an amazing 500 rounds. And since a single well-placed round could disable or destroy a droid, a single clip was far more ammo than needed to deal with just about any squad sized grouping of enemies.
It did have its drawbacks, however. As Matt had found out quickly, rapid fire caused it to become uncomfortably hot, which would have been a problem had he not been wearing MJLONIR MK VI/B armor, as like the MK VI before it, it carried a temperature regulation system for the wearer. It was also surprisingly fragile, as Christian discovered when he used the one in his left hand to bash a droid that got to close and broke not just the droid but the gun.
Still, despite its problems, the gun was serving Alpha Team quite well. With the amount of ammunition and back-up weapons strewn around their hiding place, the Spartan's could hold their position for hours.
Ironically, they held it for only a full minute more.
Kelly, taking a break to reload, noticed something out of the corner of her eye. As the team's sniper, she'd received training to enhance her naturally good vision, followed by the augmentation process that made them even sharper. As such, she didn't need to turn her head to get a good picture of whatever she'd seen. It took her a second to realize it was a ship.
"Boss, there's a ship outside!" She called to Christian, turning back to the door just in time to grease a couple more droids. Christian heard her, and turned to look.
He saw a ship, just as Kelly had, but his fuller attention on it provided more details for him than Kelly had noticed. First, he saw the ship was not UNSC design. That much was obvious. Second, it was trailing a comets-tail of smoke and debris, meaning it was probably damaged. Finally, it was coming towards them, fast, and showed now sign of slowing down or adjusting course.
Whatever damaged it must have knocked out its control systems. He thought. Because he was feeling relatively safe (Kelly and Matt had actually started to push the droids back without him), he calculated the where the ship might go if its current trajectory wasn't altered. What he learned didn't please him.
He and his team were standing directly in the line.
In that second, Christian made a decision.
"Fall back!" He bellowed.
"What?" Kelly and Matt shouted in unison.
"But we're finally winning!" Matt added.
"That's an order!" Christian fired a quick series of bursts at the droids, then picked himself up and sprinted towards the door at the opposite end of the hanger. A quick pause and exchanged glance later, Matt and Kelly followed him. As they did, Matt glanced over his shoulder to check on the droids and saw the approaching ship, which had sped up as it neared the center of the frigate's mass.
"Rescind what I said earlier." He said, before doubling his speed, sprinting past Kelly, who, always one for a competition, on or off the battlefield, accelerated to catch up. Together, they caught up to Christian, who had entered the open door.
"Where to now, sir?" Matt asked, not even breathing hard from his run.
"Further into the ship, see if we can meet up with Hester's group." Christian ordered. "I don't want to be anywhere near that hanger when-"
Christian's sentence (and his forward momentum) was cut violently short when he literally ran into Hester, who (followed by Echo, Coraline and Ahsoka) had been making her way towards the hanger. The two Spartans rebounded from the collision with grunts, falling on their backs with shields shimmering.
"Well, at least that's one problem solved." Kelly deadpanned.
"Apparently so." Matt said, just as calmly. Coraline and Echo helped their teammates to their feet.
"Good to see you again, sir." Hester said, standing with a groan and help from Coraline.
"Likewise." Christian replied. "But we can talk later. We need to get out of here, now."
"But we just got here!" Coraline groaned.
"Then stay here and get fried." Christian snapped. Quickly, he jogged down the hall.
"Fried?" Coraline wondered out loud. She looked at the three females in her group. All shrugged. Deciding to puzzle it out later, the four followed Christian, Kelly and Matt around the corner. They found the three other Spartans pressing themselves against the wall. They joined them. Moments ticked by, with nothing happening. Hester turned to her boss, who she was crouching next to.
"So, why are we hiding behind this wall?" She asked. Christian ignored her, and as she stopped talking she noticed he was muttering something. She listened closer.
"Five...four...three...two...one..."
The moment Christian's countdown reached zero, Ventress's ship completed it's gravity-initiated arc into the frigates hanger, an event noticed by Hester, who had leaned out around the corner in an attempt to find out what had cause her boss to freak out.
The disabled fighter soared through the magnetic field that protected the hanger from the vacuum of space, still trailing its line of debris. As it passed through, fires ignited along it's length, the small sparks that had been sputtering within it gaining power upon exposure to slightly-pressurized oxygen. The carcass of the ship fought for a moment with the draw of the frigates artificial gravity, but finally succumbed, slamming into the deck with a massive shriek of metal on metal. More sparks erupted from the meter-deep gouge that formed as the ship bled its forward momentum into the deck, quickly gaining power and spreading. They engulfed everything in the hanger in seconds, including the few droids left standing, the many destroyed ones on the deck, and finally a collection of droid starfighter fuel cells. These quickly reached a critical temperature and detonated violently, bringing the whole symphony of destruction to a brilliant, billowing climax. The blast spread in all directions, filling the hanger and roaring out into space. It leaked out anywhere there was oxygen;
Including the hall the Spartan's were hiding in.
Hester fell back from her view point just in time to avoid being roasted by the firestorm.
Just as quickly as it had started, the fire died, leaving nothing but many meters of blackened deck and wall and the soft tinkle of heated metal cooling and contracting. The Spartans picked themselves up gingerly, quickly checking for any injuries. Thankfully, there were none.
"So that's what we were hiding from." Hester said quietly.
"Fuck, how did you see that coming?" Coraline added in awe.
"Well, large billowing explosions are what usually follow ship crashes, aren't they?" Christian explained. "I figured there might be an explosion. So, not knowing the size of it, or that there would actually be one, I chose to hide here instead. Just to be safe."
Good plan. Echo signed. Christian shrugged.
"Wait, ship?" Ahsoka wondered out loud. "You don't think-"
"It worked. That's all that matters." Christian cut her off. He paused, turning to look over the other half of his team and Ahsoka. He quickly signaled for his team to take up positions around the door, which they proceeded to do. Ahsoka, not having anything else to do, joined them. Hester made to do the same, but Christian stopped her.
"Anything new to report?" He asked.
"Nothing really, sir." Hester assumed a stance of attention, hands behind her back. Her standard posture for a briefing/debriefing. "After you and the rest of the team fell down that hole in the bridge, Coraline and I received your coordinates from Penny. We decided to meet up with you, and proceeded towards your projected landing point."
"The hanger out there." Christian guessed. Hester nodded.
"Yes, sir. Along the way, we encountered Echo, who was currently in melee combat with Ahsoka. We managed to break it up...barely."
"I'm going to assume Echo wasn't too happy with that."
"No sir. But she didn't seem interested in killing Ahsoka. To me, it looked more like she was well..." Hester trailed off.
"You can speak freely." Christian stated, answering Hester's unasked question. The girl nodded in response.
"Well, it looked like she was playing with her. You know, like a cat."
"I do know." Christian said quietly. "Continue."
"Right." Hester drew new breath. "Anyway, after meeting up with Echo and Ahsoka, we heard about that ship that was approaching. The one that worried Ahsoka."
"Probably the same one that's now burning in the hanger."
"Affirmative." Hester paused again. "After that, we met up with you."
"Alright. Now we need-"
Christian was cut off as Kelly's status light blinked orange. He jogged to her position, followed by Hester. The sniper motioned with her free hand, giving the look out carefully sign. Christian complied.
His eyes registered the hanger, now burning and blackened. There was quite a bit more debris in the area, both from the crashed ship's entry and the resulting explosion of the fuel cells. Nothing moved, except for the flicker of flames and the occasional spark of busted electronics.
Then something else did. Christian tracked it instantly, eyes locking on like a missile targeting system. A figure, hunched and coughing, emerged from the opposite side of the ship, using it for support. A window popped up in Christian's HUD; a 15x magnified view of the figure as seen through Kelly's sniper scope.
He didn't like what he saw. The figure was humanoid, even more so than Ahsoka, but quite obviously not human. First, it's skin was far, far to pale, practically chalk white. It was completely bald as well (Christian couldn't even see any eyebrows), and it's skin was marked with either natural markings or tattoos of some form. Finally (though it wouldn't be noticed by anyone without the extensive visual identification training the Spartans received) it's bone structure was wrong for it to be human. The figure was long and lean, like a knife, Christian thought. A body build for two things; fighting and survival. Very little else.
As if to prove Christian right, the figure lifted her head (it had breasts, Christian noticed, so he guessed it was female), showing eyes that were quite obviously not even close to human. Even from here, Christian could see the hate in them.
Had he had the experience in the areas of the Force he would receive in the coming months at that time, Christian just might have been a little worried. Now, the only only feeling running through him was exhilaration.
I wonder if Echo would like her head, he thought quite calmly. She doesn't really have that many body parts in her collection.
Something nudged Christian's shoulder. He looked over from the female figure to see Ahsoka standing next to him. Only his training and the unspoken need for stealth prevented him from hurling the alien girl across the hall.
"Ventress." Ahsoka hissed. Christian couldn't figure out if this was an insult in Ahsoka's native language or the name of the figure.
"Huh?" Hester hissed in response, solving Christian's dilemma for him.
"The pilot." Ahsoka indicated the figure with a tic of her head. "Asajj Ventress. She's the person I warned you about earlier."
"Well shit." Coraline swore. "And here I was hoping that she was dead."
"No such luck." Ahsoka sighed, and fell back behind the bend in the hall. Christian, after ordering most of his team to hold position, followed her. As they rounded the corner, Ahsoka turned to face him, arms crossed.
"Okay, I can tell you guys obviously hate aliens," She said, with a hint of bite in her voice. "But it looks we're going to have to work together."
"What for?" Christian's question wasn't angry, but genuinely curious. "What do we get out of it?"
"Well, you, your team, and probably everyone you care for gets a chance to not be made into slaves, and your government gets to survive long enough to get back on it's feet."
"Fair enough. Still, why do you need our help specifically. Is just one freaky xeno bitch is too much for you?" Christian snapped back, smiling under his helmet as he did.
"She'd be more than a match for your entire team." Ahsoka countered. Christian actually laughed at this.
"Oh, I doubt that." He calmed quickly. "But if your offering to help, I'm not going to turn it down. You know this bitch, correct?"
"All to well." Ahsoka scowled (or pulled her face into what Christian assumed was a scowl).
"Then you can be of some help. But we'll need a plan."
"Already have one." Ahsoka's scowl turned into a smile.
"Oh really?" Christian felt mildly impressed. "Is it risky?"
"Probably. But-"
"Is it above the skill of normal soldiers?"
"Most likely. Still-"
"Does it require stealth?"
"Yes. So-"
"No need for details. That comes later." Christian stepped closer to Ahsoka, gun held loosely in his hands. "Just wanted to make sure you had the right stuff to work with the Spartans. You're good to join. At least, unofficially." He lowered the gun completely and offered his right hand to her. "Welcome to Alpha, Ahsoka."
The girl hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she took Christian's hand and shook it firmly.
"Glad to be part..." She blinked, realizing she didn't know the Spartan's name.
"Christian."
"Christian." Ahsoka released his hand and walked a couple paces away. "Now, I believe we have a common enemy to take care of? Let's see what your team has."
"Straight to the point." Christian smiled under his helmet again, but this time from real joy. For a xeno, this girl was good. "We're going to make a great team."