Captain Lasky's Office, Thirty Minutes After First Contact
Shortly after Lasky had left the developing firefight, he had seen to it that neither Halsey nor Palmer had been injured. After he had determined that, aside from Halsey's despair of how the situation had spiraled so dramatically out of hand, both were untouched, he had near instantly received a communique from Roland himself.
He was still directly outside of the hangar in the main corridor, and so screams and punctual gunshots were heard when he answered via his earpiece. "Captain?" When he had first heard Roland's voice, Lasky could immediately discern a noticeable amount of both worry and hesitation in the A.I.'s voice. "Yes, Roland? In case you haven't noticed, a lot's been going on down here, and I don't have much time to-" Lasky, though, was cut off by Roland, which he was beginning to grow more and more annoyed of as the day went on.
However, his sense of annoyance was forgotten as Roland promptly told him both unexpected and surprising news when he said, "Pardon me, Captain, but I have a signal transmitting to you from ONI headquarters. Top priority."
At this, Lasky blanched; one didn't normally receive calls from the most secretive, feared organization embedded within the UNSC. To get one either meant that you had only a set time to live, or you had information that they wanted. And so, when Roland told him just who had requested a conversation with the captain of the Infinity, he had nearly doubled over in surprise.
It was none other than High Admiral Serin Osman.
...
Lasky currently stood in his office, the light hue of the painted over walls doing nothing to calm his nerves as he paved back and forth before his desk. Had Osman found out about the unexplained intrusion within the Infinity? Did she know that even now as he stood, it was still going on? So many questions and very few answers rushed through the captain's mind as he waited for Roland's alert that Osmans's feed would be patched through.
He didn't have to wait long.
Roland, materializing briefly on his desk, merely said "Captain, the line is secure." Lasky turned to face to view screen, acknowledging Roland with a simple nod. Roland disappeared, and then, suddenly before him was Lasky's superior. Stiffening with a salute, he hoped that things would only pan out to be a simple "check-up" on how things were going with the Requiem Project.
With a wave of her hand, Lasky dropped the salute and eased up ever so slightly. Dressed in the dark grey outfit of a Rear Admiral, Osman looked rather intrigued, if a little bored. She began with a simple, "How are things, Captain?" Lasky, swallowing his nervousness, replied, "The Requiem Project is going along quite well. Several artifacts were recovered after we broke through Storm aerial forces, and more is expected to be recovered soon. Osman merely inclined her head, indicating she was satisfied.
However, to Lasky's mild concern, she looked off to the side as if to check something, then turned and asked him the question he'd been hoping she'd avoid. "Are these artifacts of any importance?"
The manner in which she responded, though rather curt, suggested that not even she had any clue as to what was happening within the Infinity. Lasky, knowing very well what he said would have profound effect on the Rear Admiral, replied hastily, "The majority of the Forerunner pieces we have found have not been proven to be useful, or their purposes have not yet been determined." Osman merely raised an eyebrow. "But?" Lasky took a breath. There would be no way around it; she would find out even if he didn't tell her.
"There's been an incursion..."
...
"Crimson! Move it!"
Shortly after entering the fight, it soon became evident that the arrival of the Spartan-IVs was a game-changer. One of the Germans was visibly bleeding out to the side of the artifact, and so much fire was now emanating from the UNSC lines that they hardly had a chance to even chance a look. However, two Spartans from the boarding contingent that had entered in with Crimson were wounded, one severely, when on of the Germans had blind fired a rocket from his cover.
However, it was clear that the Germans were not going to make it out from the encounter. Not seconds ago, Crimson's leader had directed the Spartans of both teams to throw flash bangs around the artifact, but not directly onto it, for fear something undesirable would happen.
The results spoke for themselves.
Six flash bangs properly thrown elicited cries of alarm and pain from the Germans, halting their fire and actually causing on to step up out and out of cover with hands clutched to his face.
Immediately, Crimson's leader shouted an unnecessary, "Contact!" At least three different Spartans, including himself, snapped up their weapons and fired. The German's armor held for roughly two seconds, giving off ghostly orange sparks and shrieks of metal on metal before it broke down. The result of over twenty different rounds of Tungsten steel being shot through the German's chest and head created a cloud of red mist that hung in the air as the body flew backwards.
By now, both teams of Spartans had completely left cover and were jogging towards the artifact. An anti-boarding member ran ahead of Crimson with a DMR poised an at the ready before his head was split open by German who had decided to peek out of cover. Readjusting his aim, he was about to fire again before a round from Crimson's support gunner embedded itself in his shoulder.
With less than ten feet to go, the Spartans collectively broke into sprint, closing the distance with in several seconds. In his mind, Crimson's leader kept track of the Germans. One was still on the ground, and two were still behind the artifact. That changed, however, as the two combat-able Germans Crimson's leader had just noted both stood up and started backing up, firing their weapons as they went. Crimson's leader ignored the tracers that flew past his head and the cries of pain behind him as he depressed the trigger on his assault rifle, going full auto.
He was so close now, that accuracy no longer mattered.
The overwhelming fire instantly took down one of the Germans, his body spinning away, bloody and smoking. The other German, who had been injured in the shoulder, dropped his empty gun and instead reached for one of the odd-looking grenades on his belt. Calmly readjusting his aim, Crimson One sent a burst through his skull before the grenade could be reached.
Deafening silence filled the hangar as the corpse hit the ground, the sounds of gunfire and shells hitting the ground having evaporated, along with any threat the Germans may have posed. Everyone, Spartans included, eased up and started checking their weapons and the bodies of the Germans.
Crimson One checked the one he had freshly killed, looking for any distinguishing. He specifically noted an armband, labeled Deutches Reich. Frowning he was about to PCI up the rifle that the former German had dropped, but froze when he heard a gasp.
He and nearly everyone else turned to the cause of sound. There, propped up at the base of the artifact, sat a bleeding and disoriented German. Before anyone could do anything, Crimson One shouted out, "Hold fire!" The German appeared to be in no position to do any harm, and killing him outright wouldn't serve to do anything to anyone. As he saw it, the German could be gleaned for valuable information, and then disposed of properly.
He ordered his squad to disperse to attend to the wounded along with seeing if anything was worth salvaging, and then made up his mind. With eyes intent on the German and possibly a rank promotion, Crimson One began his walk towards the injured and dying German.
...
Steiner knew the end was near. His armor was compromised. His vision was going red with pain, and he had lost a massive amount of blood. A handgun lay just a few feet from him, but he made no move towards it. Seeing the armored being walk towards him he knew that in no way would he live. He only hoped that his plan of no surrender would work.
The armored individual was now within a few feet of him. His grip tightened on the detonator he held behind him.
...
Crimson One began his interrogation with a smirk; though the German couldn't see it, he was filled with joy at the though of personally interrogating and subduing an enemy of the UNSC. Moving closer he spoke out. "Haven't see armor like yours in circulation. Must be a pain to make, I bet."
No response.
His smile dipping just a bit, he continued on with, "You seem pretty badly hurt. How about we make a trade; you answer some of my questions, and you can get some of the best medical care the UNSC can afford."
This time, the helmeted head tilted slightly. "UNSC? Never heard of it." At this Crimson One paused; it was possible that the man was now delirious. He would have to hurry.
"Where are you from? Why are your weapons off the charts? What is Deutches Reich?" At this the man stirred, saying, "Please, come closer. I can't speak very well." Crimson One leaned in as the German, who was now audibly gasping for breath, leaned his head forward as well.
"Aufwiedersehen, schweinhund!"
Confused, Crimson One pulled back. It wasn't until he caught the German bringing his hand around did he understand just how badly he had misjudged the German's threat. For there, firmly clutched in his hand, was a detonator with multiple wires attached and running back to the German's armor. Eyes widening, Crimson One stumbled back and reached for his sidearm. The others noticed the commotion, and they too started shouting alerts and raising their weapons.
But it was too late.
The German had already depressed the button on the detonator, and even as bullets slammed into his body and the detonator dropped from his hand, weak laughs could be heard along with a high pitched beeping. Crimson One simply stood, muttering the age-old phrase that had been passed down through generations of UNSC soldiers of all caliber, both on and off duty.
"Well, shi-"
And then Crimson One was transcended into nothingness.
...
"So you're telling me that a team of operatives from an unknown faction have boarded and are currently attacking personnel of the Infinty due to a misfire from one of our personnel?"
Osman had been believing of his story, more or less, but she had demanded he go over it more than once. Even summing it up, it still took rather long, and Lasky only had so much patience. Osman was especially interested in how the unknown soldiers were speaking an ancient human language and how they had seemingly appeared out of thin air. And though Lasky had tried to answer to the best of his ability, it obviously wasn't satisfying the Rear Admiral's questions.
Just as she was beginning to ask another series of questions, however, a small, albeit noticeable vibration shook through the room. Osman's image broke up slightly, and then went to black. "Captain!"
Lasky whirled around to see Roland, who had materialized on the desk, frantically trying to get his attention. "Roland, what was that?" he began. "What's the situation with the Germans?" Roland, who had begun to run data reports through the system mainframe, replied with, "There's been a military grade explosion in the hangar area. Damage is unconfirmed, and fire control teams are en route to the location, along with two contingents of Spartans." Lasky merely stood, contemplating what he had just been told.
"My God..." he breathed.
The Germans had just possibly cost him not only his best fire team, but a near full complement of Pelicans, assault vehicles, and Marines.
Osman would have a field day with him.
...
The bomb was salt on the wound of how poorly prepared the Infinity was to handle intruders.
Palmer moved in after the fire control teams, surveying the blazing inferno that had previously been a proud, industrial workhorse of the Infinity. Several Pelicans, with their fully stocked ammunition and fuel deposits, made for a bright fireworks display of popping .50 caliber rounds and ruptured fuel lines. The assault vehicles, fared no better, with several having been wrecked, their frames warped and blackened by fire.
It was fortunate that only several vehicles of the Infinity's stockpile of arms and vehicles had been up and "on deck" when the bomb went off.
However, the personnel inside when it did go off weren't. Twisted, morphed assault rifles and DMRs lay about on the ground, and the odd cracked helmet or arm piece lay about randomly.
No one within a stone's throw of the Germans had been spared.
As the control teams moved in, suppressing the fires that mainly came from the exploded vehicles, Palmer received a call on her off-duty ear piece. Upon accepting the request, she discovered that it was none other than Lasky attempting to call her.
Turning her face from a sheet of flame that erupted from a previously unexplored cache of ordinance, she shouted over the din, "What is it, Captain?"
"How bad is the damage?" he responded quickly. "What are we looking at, Sarah?" Observing the damage, and stepping aside as a trio of medics dragged an unconscious, unidentifiable Spartan from a pile of debris, Palmer replied, "It mainly looks that the vehicles and personnel suffered the most. Other than that, the deck's held and we might be able to get this things back into shape within a few days." An audible sigh of relief was heard before Lasky asked, "Do we know how many are dead yet?"
Palmer, moving forward through the wreckage of what were once barricades began making her way towards the artifacts last position. "Teams are pulling multiple survivors from the debris, but I don't think that Crimson made it." She paused, and then continued on. "Most of the Marine contingent we sent in are also gone, though some wounded ones are being transported to the medical bay for operation. It's a mess, Tom."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the kind before the captain continued. "Well, can you determine whether the artifact is stable or even if it's still there?" he responded.
By now the fires, having exhausted their sources of fuel, were beginning to die out. And as she stumbled through towards the center of the hangar, a dim red glow emerged through the smoke and fire to reveal that the artifact had indeed survived.
Raising her hand to her earpiece once more as she moved swiftly towards the artifact, now within sight.
"Yes, I can see it. No enemy contacts in sight either. It looks like..." Her voice trailed off as she neared the object. What appeared to be an advanced shielding system appeared to be in effect around the artifact, and though the area around it was blackened what was covered by the shield was completely untouched. Even if it was Ground Zero for the blast, the bomb blast was thrown outward and around the artifact. Bathe shield must have been placed by the Forerunners to protect the device from a possible forced opening.
It was ingenious.
"What? What is it?" came Lasky's reply. "What did you find, Sarah?"
The reason she had stopped was not because of the shield, but rather what was inside of the shield. For there, directly to the side of the artifact, bathed in red was Kurt, the original German that had been shot.
"Just, give me a moment Tom," she answered, and then, tentatively, reached her hand out towards the shield. Surprisingly, her armored glove passed through with no resistance, and she quickly grabbed the deceased German by his arms and dragged him out.
"Now, who are you exactly?" she murmured. Ignoring the heat given off by the wilting fires around her, she examined the former leader of the Germans. Aside from having a gaping hole in his shoulder, his armor was miraculously unscathed. His sidearm was still strapped to his side, and his jet black armor still gave no indication as to whom he was affiliated with. The eagle clutching the strange symbol was still visible on his chest, though what it meant still wasn't clear.
However, as she started to turn over his body to see if there was anything else she could gather, her eyes widened in shock. She stood up and grasped her dual Magnums, aiming them at the limp body of the German.
"Medic!" she yelled.
The German was still alive.
Consider this an apology and recompense for not updating as frequently. More to come, and thanks again for your support!
