100m From Objective Alpha
Delta 132 IVa (Temperate Zone)
04:40 Local Time (08:40 Zulu)
January 10th, 2552 (Military Calendar)

Murphy wasted only a moment goggling at the smoke-wreathed form of the Gunny before responding, "Goddamn am I glad to see you! What took you so long?"

Wilson grinned behind her helmet and she said, "Well, the Covvies were none too happy about us leaving the party early. I had to leave 'em a present." Just then, a muffled whump! was felt through the corridor floor. "Used up most of our C9 for an FE tank mine. I brought some friends along, though..."

She gestured behind her with a languid, gauntleted hand. It was at this moment that Cpl. Murphy noticed the gaggle of troopers entering the base through the abbatoir that was once the side entrance. It looked to be about seventy soldiers, all told; Murphy's HUD told him that the highest-ranking one still alive was his good ole' Gunny Wilson.

He asked, "The Old Man?"

"Gone. He took a plasma mortar trying to coordinate the charge against that Wraith that had us pinned down. Most of the platoon leaders caught it in the first five minutes or so, and you know Top bought it last drop, so..." She let her voice trail off in sadness as she shook her head.

"Well, Gunny, let's get to it," he said in a much grimmer voice after a pause, bringing up the little Intelligence that ONI had been able to provide them on the structure of the base. He highlighted the corridor that they were in, noting that on the orignal Intel briefing's map, it had a T-junction where there was an L-junction now. He frowned, saying, "Gunny, I think these maps are full of shit. We're going to need scouts, unless I miss my guess."

"Thank you for volunteering, Corp!" was her artificially cheerful rejoinder. More seriously, she continued, "Take Lima, what's left of it, Hugo, Richards, and...mmm...Groening, and go scout ahead. Make sure you top up on ammo before moving out, though; I don't want you kids running into anything you can't handle. We'll be following in fifteen mikes; I've got to get a medevac station and resupply DZ set up in the meantime. Keep in radio contact, updates every ten mikes."

"Gotcha, Gunny," he replied. He brought up his IFF menu in the HUD and highlighted the three extra troopers, adding them to Lima's roster. "Groening, Hugo, Richards, front and center," he ordered.

The three troopers materialized out of the crowd, hunkering down at the end of the corridor. Murphy detailed the situation, applying callsigns to each before speaking to the fireteam in general. "Make sure that your ammo is topped up, and grab a couple of SPNKr launchers. We might need 'em, if more of them damned walking tanks come down on us. Anybody got any fucking idea what those were, by the way?"

A ringing silence answered him, with a couple of "nope"s, "negative"s, and "naw"s mixed in. He shrugged, continuing after a moment, "Well, if anyone sees one, sing out. We sure as Hell don't need to find out that they're 'round the corner by running right up on 'em. While you're taking on ammo, take a drink, too. I know it's cold out, but you're probably sweating anyway. You won't realize you're dehydrated until you collapse. You've got two minutes, people; make 'em count. Anybody gives you shit about grabbing the heavies, you tell 'em to talk to the Gunny. Questions?"

"No, Corporal," was the general answer.

"Alright. Let's move like we got us a purpose, then."

Two minutes later on the dot, the nine troopers headed out down the corridor. The lighting was an eerie bluish-purple; the ONI boys thought that the Covvies might see in slightly higher frequencies than most humans. That would explain the odd illumination, but it was still jarring to the ODSTs assigned to pathfind for Bravo. They moved in a loose formation, each pair of troopers covering each other. Murphy was third back from the pointman, Groening.

So, he had a good view when Groening came up stealthily on the fourth door, about seventy-five meters of twisting corridor down, and triggered the opening mechanism. Swarms of crystalline needles came flying out of the opened entryway, embedding themselves into his torso before exploding. Bits and pieces of Groening's corpse rained down on the drop troopers, stunning them momentarily with shock. They were well-trained, however; the soldiers only hesitated for a moment before Hugo and Murphy moved forward to the door, unlimbered M9s, and tossed them sidearmed into the darkened interior of the room. Roaring could be heard, followed by a pair of loud, near-simultaneous CRACK!s that marked the frag grenades' detonations.

Murphy dove across the entryway, firing "Tessie" as he went. The double-ought filled the entrance, and it turned out that his instincts were correct. A yellow-armored squidhead was less than a meter from the arch, its energy sword held high and ready for a strike. The buckshot blew it back in a welter of purple gore, tossing its lifeless body to the floor of the high-ceilinged room. Hugo entered first, glancing left and right before covering straight forward in his assigned sector. Richards was second, covering to the left. Matthews was third, bringing his weapon to bear on the right. Murphy was fourth, covering straight behind and up. A chorus of, "Clear," came over the COM, followed by a single shot and, "Really clear."

The foursome, backed by the three troopers remaining in the corridor outside, stood in a room that was perhaps five meters on a side; it was filled with violet pillars that were faced with glowing holopanels--some kind of Covenant workstation, by the look of it. Murphy ordered, "Lima, check for exits. Six, stay on the door for now."

A few heartbeats passed, and then Private Hugo, Lima Eight, sang out, "I gots som't'in' over here. Looks like its seal'd or lock'd or som't'in'."

Murphy made his way over, looking over the massive sliding doors. He was trained in cracking procedures--they were all Special Forces and cross-trained on at least two different specialties--but this looked like a serious job. The doors were huge and heavy-looking, joined in the middle by what appeared to be a complex electronic locking mechanism. He doubted that a C9 shaped charge would even scratch the thing, let alone a SPNKr or two. He got on the COM, "Gunny, we could use Timmons up here. She'll need her toolkit; we've found something that the Covvies really want to keep us out of. Request reinforcements, as well. If there's a decent force on the other side of this door, well..."

Wilson's voice came back over the COM, cool and collected, "You got 'em."