2129 Hours April 23, 2530 (Military Calendar) /
UNSC frigate Armstrong, Recon Group EE,
Sector 34-November, Eridanus System
"Thunder, this is Armstrong. Are you getting any unusual readings on your end? Our scanners are off the chart, but we can't get a visual on anything," Lieutenant Junior Grade Hamilton questioned as she typed in various commands into her console.
"Uh.. that's a negative Armstrong. This asteroid field ahead of us is completely messing with our systems. We're going to try and push through, hopefully get a better signal on the other side," the voice on the other end replied.
"We acknowledge, Thunder. Standing by in over watch position, Armstrong out."
Hamilton spun around in her chair to brief the Commander of the ship, but her hand was already up, waving Hamilton back to her post. Commander Elizabeth Whitmore was a career woman, thirty years in the UNSC Navy, and every single minute had been spent on one ship or another. She had seen it all, well at least she thought that she had until an alien species showed up and started causing trouble. Now here she was, called back into active duty to lead scouting missions in the Outer Colonies until they could find someone with her skill sets to replace her. She was a woman pushing sixty, the stress of her work had left her hair thin and gray, her face filled with lines of worry, but her body was still strong. Before being recalled she had spent five years out of the service, but didn't let herself get complacent for an instant. Whitmore maintained her physical training to the best of her abilities and every once in a while caught up on the latest improvements to Navy vessels. It was all well worth it when they reactivated her, since it didn't take her long at all to get rolling again.
"Lieutenant Escarda, hold at zero-eight-three and provide over watch for the Thunder. Hamilton, keep a close on our readings. If there is so much as a fraction of an energy spike, I want to know about it," Whitmore ordered in a calm demeanor, almost as if this was routine for her.
Both personnel replied with a resounding 'Aye, Aye' and went about their assigned duties. Whitmore watched through the viewing glass was the frigate, Rolling Thunder, accelerated in front of them. Both of the ships were assigned to the task force as it was deemed too dangerous for ships to be sent out alone. She didn't know much about the crew of the Thunder only that they were under the command of a newly appointed Lieutenant Commander and this was his first assignment as a Commanding Officer; hell, she didn't even know his name.
"Ma'am, we are holding at zero-eight-three. The Thunder should be entering the field in fifteen seconds," informed Lieutenant Escarda, her senior helmsmen.
The Thunder's thrusters ignited as it pushed through space, navigating its way through the first wave of asteroids. Asteroid fields were common in the Eridanus System and they had been hampering the Recon Group's sensors since they arrived. Whitmore had lost count how many times they had to force their way through them in order to get a clear signal about what was on the other side. This time it was Thunder's turn to navigate through and by the looks of it their helmsmen was doing a fine job. It had become somewhat of a standing game between both ships. Whoever got through with the least among of dings or scratches was deemed the winner. Personally, Whitmore felt that anyone who got through any of these things at all was a winner. She hated asteroids; mainly because so many dangers could hide in them.
"Armstrong, this is Thunder," Whitmore recognized the voice as their ship's commander and pressed the COM button on her chair to open her end of the link.
"Thunder, this is Armstrong go ahead and sent your message," she replied.
"We are about ready to pass through the first layer and my helmsmen wanted to let you know that so far they are winning this weeks' wager," she could hear the faint laughter in the background and then looked towards Escarda as he rolled his eyes and mumbled some profanity under his breath.
"Say again, Thunder? We couldn't hear you through all of the bullshit," her crew gave a loud cheer and she looked back to Escarda, who gave her a smile and a nod. As she looked around her bridge, bowing her head to the cheers and applause she noticed that Hamilton's eyes were glued to her screen.
"Hamilton, what is it?" Whitmore asked while she stood up and approached the officer. She rested one hand on her shoulder and leaned forward, peering at the screen herself.
"Massive energy spike on the far side of the field," she said with a shake in her voice. "Ma'am, it's so big that even the asteroid field can't mask it."
Whitmore narrowed her eyes to get a better look at the readings, following all the numbers on the screen from top to bottom. Something caught her attention in the middle and her eyes suddenly widened. She drew back from the officer and rushed towards her command chair, shouting orders as she ran.
"Get the MAC Gun online and arm all Archer pods," she shouted as she hopped into her seat, pressing the COM button once again. "Thunder, get the hell out of there! You have a slipspace rupture on the far side!"
"We see it, Armstrong and we are already on our way out. Watch our six," was the reply she got and the carefree tone in his voice made Whitmore furious deep down.
Through the view screen she could see the frigate turning starboard, changing its course right in front of an extremely large asteroid, one that was nearly four times the size of both the Thunder and Armstrong combined. It was then that she saw it, but at first she didn't believe her own eyes and shook her head, trying to clear her vision. No matter how hard she tried though the site of something lurching behind that massive asteroid was still there, getting ever so closer; ever so larger.
"Thunder, move your ass! You have an enemy vessel on your six, right behind that asteroid!" Whitmore screamed into her COM at the top of her voice.
"MAC Gun at eighty-three percent, all Archer pods are hot, standing by for firing sequence," her weapons crewman shouted over the sound of the ship's engines charging up.
"Maneuver us into position to get a shot at that ship coming in behind that asteroid, we have to stall them long enough for the Thunder to exit the field," Whitmore ordered as she held on tightly to the arms of her chair, instantly feeling the ship's trajectory change and move towards its port side.
As they moved into a better position, the ship could be seen even more clearly and now a line of other ships were starting to appear behind it, Whitmore counted fifteen before her attention was drawn elsewhere. The ship behind the asteroid, now seen in all of its might, started to glow at the bow in a bright, red color. Whitmore just stared on in awe, as did the rest of her crew as the light grew brighter and brighter, almost as if it was a sun itself.
"We are clear of the asteroid field and turning to engage," the voice came across the COM, but no one answered, only watched and waited.
Out of the corner of her eye, Whitmore could make out the sight of the Thunder turning to face the threat; it was now obvious that they had not yet seen it for what it really was. The ship dwarfed the asteroid, its width easily twice that of it and its length was unimaginably long, Whitmore had never seen anything that size in all of her years. The Thunder was only halfway through its turn when the ship opened fire, releasing a burning ball of plasma directly into the asteroid. Molten rock erupted outwards, spreading everywhere in a majestic, yet terrifying, display. Pieces struck the ship, but were reflected away by a shimmering, silver shielding system. The projectile continued onwards, evaporating smaller pieces of rock that got in its path; the path towards the Thunder. No one could speak, not even a veteran like Whitmore as they watched the streak of red fire shoot through the darkness of space. The silence was broken by the last message the crew of the Thunder would ever make.
"Holy shi-"
As if it was a scalpel cutting through flesh, the plasma round engulfed the stern of the ship, midway to engines, melting it away as if the titanium armor was wax. Whitmore's eyes grew wide as she watched secondary explosions erupt all along the exterior of what remained of the Thunder.
"Ma'am," the words passed through her ears unnoticed, "Ma'am!"
She was snapped back into reality by Escarda's voice and instantly gave her orders, "Fire all Archer pods, then hit that son-of-a-bitch with our MAC!"
Several numbers flashed on the weapons specialists screen, the firing sequence had been achieved and suddenly a volley of hundreds of Archer missiles erupted from the sides of the ship. Their propulsion engines glared back at the Armstrong as they shot through space. A handful of them came in contact with straying asteroids, but the vast majority of them were superbly aimed and struck directly on the starboard bow of the Covenant ship. Immediately following the volley the Armstrong was hit with a massive concussion as the MAC Gun fired the 600 ton shell at nearly half the speed of light towards the Covenant ship. A massive explosion sent a kinetic shockwave outwards, shattering nearby asteroids and engulfing the area in a white light.
"I am confirming a direct hit," the specialist announced with a hint of ego.
Whitmore didn't respond, she just stared on, waiting to see what damage she had inflicted. As the smoke, debris, and light dispersed she was left completely speechless. The massive ships' shields were still shimmering silver in the small portion of the ship where her impressive onslaught had struck; there wasn't even a dent anywhere on its hull.
"Preparing to fire MAC Gun, rearming Archer pods," the specialist immediately responded, certain in himself that his weapons would destroy the enormous vessel.
"Belay that! Make ready for slipspace jump," Whitmore ordered and Escarda obliged, turning the ship starboard and punching in numerous commands on his terminal.
"Navigation, make haste for the nearest human outpost, random vectors," with that she did all that she could do and sat back.
For the first time in her Naval career she felt utterly helpless as the Armstrong shot passed the wreckage of the Rolling Thunder. In the distance she could see the massive Covenant ship pushing through the asteroid field, the shields that protected it easily repelling the huge tons of solid rock. The Armstrong began to pick up speed, engines started to whine and then roar. In less than two minutes her ship would enter slipspace, Whitmore prayed that the Covenant would give her that much time.
9th Age of Reclamation
Minister of Faith's flagship, Divine Light,
Sector 34-November, Eridanus System
"Why is that ship escaping," Faith's question echoed throughout the bridge as he floated over to one of the terminals, "I don't remember ordering anyone to let these vial humans leave alive!"
A few grunts and snuffs from the Jiralhanae crew filled the air as they started to turn the massive Assault Cruiser towards the fleeing human ship. Faith watched the main view screen, his hands in front of his face, tapping his fingers together with anxiety. This was the part that he always enjoyed, watching the humans scatter when they were left all alone, only to destroyed. He did his best not to break out in laughter, as maintaining his composure was a sure way to keep the trust of his crew. Suddenly, he felt a heavy weight press down on the back of his craft, causing it lower a few inches and the engines to whine as they exerted more energy to stay afloat. Faith looked to his right and saw the giant hand of Hadadon resting softly on the rear of his craft. Before he could speak, Hadadon leaned forward, his face right next to Faith's, his mouth nearly the size of the San 'Shyuum's head.
"If I may interject, Minister," Hadadon spoke softly as to not draw the attention of the crew, "but I have a suggestion that may suit your wishes to destroy the heathens."
Faith stared at him, doing his best not to show any signs of fear, "Speak, but be quick."
"When hunting a smaller animal, it may sometimes be wise to let it run away," Hadadon could see the confusion on Faith's face, but he continued anyways. "Weaker prey tends to want to find safety in numbers and without knowing so may lead the hunter to the rest of their pack."
That was something that Faith could understand and he didn't waste a moment pondering it, "Stand down, let the humans escape, but follow them, let us see where they lead us."
A few snorts were his acknowledgement and Hadadon nodded in approval, "Wise decision, Minister."
In the distance they watched as the human vessel increased its speed and disappeared in a burst of blue light, ripping a hole through space and time. Faith smiled, laying his arms down at his side as the ship crept through the asteroid field. He would follow these humans to their nest and burn them where they lived.
0145 Hours May 8, 2530 (Military Calendar) /
Cargo Hold, Merchant freighter Reap What You Sow,
High orbit over planet Eridanus II, Eridanus System
Reap What You Sow was a merchant ship, owned by a Mr. Kenneth Garza and currently on loan to the United Nations Space Command, against his will of course. Several crewmen from the frigate Oklahoma had came aboard the Sow and already made it almost like home. Oklahoma's crew had commandeered the ship a few days ago while it was en route to Eridanus II and, despite Mr. Garza's stiff resistance, had transferred all of the ships' cargo throughout Hawke's fleet to be stored until this mission had been completed. Shortly after their arrival Samuel joined them in the cargo hold as they prepared for another insertion into an Insurrection hotspot. The ship was massive, just like the House of Cards had been, except this time Sam wasn't here to kill anyone; at least not yet. He had been waiting in the hold for a few days while the maintainers and technicians rushed about, piecing together a new type of insertion device. Mostly Sam just stayed out of their way, keeping to himself in the dark corners of the ship, having lost his social tendencies after his last altercation with Captain Hawke.
If the crew could see behind the helmet that he now wore nearly all the time, they would see the dark rings forming under his blood shot eyes. Over nearly the past two years his dream had only gotten excessively worse, now actually causing him to wake up when not in a cryo-chamber. Numerous times during cryo-sleep the shipboard Artificial Intelligence would have to up his dosage in order to keep him unconscious; medical personnel were starting to ask questions, but Sam continued to avoid the answers, even when the questions started coming from Hawke himself. Regardless of this setback, Sam had continued to perform flawlessly in his missions, never once questioning his motives for the why behind each attack. He had lost track of how many attacks he had carried out, but he made sure to keep as accurate as a count as he could about the number of lives lost with each one. Try as they could, personnel on board could not keep the reports out of Samuel's hands and after each attack he added more numbers to his list.
One hundred, seventy four thousand, six hundred and fifteen was the number that flashed in the lower left corner of his HUD. That was a lot of blood, even for a Spartan and he was never going to admit how much those lives were getting to him. All of those people could have been used in the war effort against the Covenant, one of them may have held the key to destroying them, but now no one would ever know. Their deaths, however horrible, were actually stirring the fires of morale throughout the UNSC war machine. Hawke had sent messages to Samuel—now that they had gone out of their way to avoid each other—showing the headlines detailing the Covenant attacks. People were furious, as they should be, and recruitment rates were starting to skyrocket. People from every type of colony, Inner and Outer, were heading for Reach to join the ranks of the UNSC. Sam was doing some good, but it still wasn't enough to outweigh all of the wrong that he had done.
"Sierra-zero-three-four," a young Ensign's voice broke Sam's daydreaming.
Sam blinked his eyes, coming to, and then looked up from his seated position at the female officer dressed in her service uniform. He didn't stand, didn't render any form of courtesy to her; just acknowledged her presence.
She cleared her throat, not quite sure at first how to act, but finally spoke anyways, "We are ready for you."
With not even the slightest form of response, Sam rose to his feet and walked passed her, leaving her where she stood in a slight state of disbelief. Had he been anyone else she would have snapped him to attention and chewed him a new ass, but everyone in the fleet knew what happened to the last person who tried to pull rank on Sam. It was five months ago after he had just destroyed an entire asteroid mining colony, killing the miners and their families while they slept. Needless to say, Sam wasn't in a talking mood when he returned to the Hope, but one of Hawke's officers wanted an after action report from him. He pushed and pushed, until Sam pushed back, giving him more after action than he requested. It was still unsure if the man was ever going to pull out of the coma that he was in.
"Right this way, Samuel," one of the technicians waved him over to an airlock on the port side of the cargo hold.
Lackadaisically Sam approached the man, who was standing over four seemingly large pieces of equipment. Even though he couldn't see behind the tinted visor, the technicians knew that Sam's had a lot of questions in his eyes, so he jumped right to it.
"Here," he said, pointing to each piece of equipment, "we have a modified version of a High Orbit Vehicle Insertion Pack. I'm sure you've never seen even an original model of these, as they haven't been put into action on very many fronts. They were designed to be attached to the four outermost corners of any of our vehicles and then dropped in conjunction with our ODST. I'm not going to bore you with the technical aspects of it; however, the mechanics are quite simple, much like the HEVs, except for there's no pod, just you and these here propulsion devices."
Sam knelt down, reached out, and gripped one of the thruster packs in his hand. His first attempt to pick it up had failed, due to the surprise weight of the item, his second attempt though also failed and he was forced to use both hands to bring it up to get a closer look.
"Ah, I forgot to mention that each piece is exceptionally heavy. About four hundred pounds apiece, but once we get them attached to your armor you should barely feel it," he smirked and walked over to a rotating holographic image on one of the nearby consoles.
"We will be placing one on your calves," using his right index finger he pointed at the image, "and on your forearms. The thrusters, when activated, will extend down past your feet and hands, so you won't have to worry about direct heat from them. That said, you still won't be able to take your time and go sightseeing as each one of these thrusters only contains enough energy for one minute of continuous use."
Sam watched as the hologram began showing a simulation of the device working, followed by a gage on the side that indicted how much power it was using. He lowered the thruster back to the ground and rose back to his feet.
"I know I'm going to regret asking this," Sam folded his arms in front of his chest, "but why haven't they been used more frequently?"
"You're right; you are going to regret that. Without some sort of directional programming or operator control, the devices had a tendency to move in any direction they felt like. One would want to go this way, the others that way, which resulted in a lot of vehicles crash landing or in some rare cases when thrusters on opposite sides separated; ripped in half."
"Fantastic," Sam rolled his eyes and reached up, placing his hand over his visor. "Alright, I'm on board as always. Let's get these damn things on me and get me down there. I don't want to-"
Sam paused for a second, remembering a very important detail, "Why exactly are we here? Eridanus II is under UNSC control."
"I can answer that," the female Ensign from early stepped up next to Sam. Her hair was short, now that Sam was actually paying attention to her, and braided along the sides. It was dark brown, much like her skin, and her green eyes stared right up into where she presumed Sam's eyes were.
"Insurrectionist activity has started to grow in this sector, even since the last time your team was here," Sam's sudden change in body language suggested to her that he had forgotten about that incident, "we need you to put an end to the uprising before it even has a chance to start. Then, once you finish with the known Insurrectionist district and as you are moving to attack the rest of the populous, this fleet will jump into orbit. You will barely escape capture and jump out of system, at which point UNSC forces will take credit for the defense of Eridanus II."
She smiled an egotistical smile as she finished the planned briefing, Sam could tell by her body language that she was the one who had thought up the majority of the scheme. He didn't like it, not at all. Killing Insurrectionist was giving him nightmares, but if he killed civilians who were already on board with Hawke's plans, well, he might as well die down there with them. Regardless, a mission was a mission and he was going to fulfill it to the best of his ability.
"Let's get you suited up, Spartan," she broke the silence as she motioned for more technicians with lifting equipment to come over.
Over the course of the next two hours the thrusters were attached to Sam's various appendages. New programs were connected to his HUD, allowing him to give them the engage command and the detach command, which would cause the thrusters to break away from his armor. The HUD now also displayed the energy readings of the individual thrusters, which were currently maxed out at one hundred percent. Like the technician had said, Sam could barely notice the thrusters once they were attached to his armor, even though he felt gravity tugging heavily on his arms. His legs were fine, only noticing that the thrusters were even there when we went to take a step or any other motion with his legs. All in all, it wasn't a bad set up—weight wise—but the real test would come when Sam departed the ship and dropped down to the planet with the thrusters pushing him upwards of seven hundred miles per hour, using equipment that he had little knowledge of and had a tendency to malfunction; what could go wrong?
"OPERATION: VELOCITY has been activated," boomed a voice over the ships intercoms. "All personnel participating proceed to Airlock Bravo-Seven-Zulu. I say again, OPERATION.."
The voice came across Sam's deaf ears as he trudged his way towards the Airlock, technicians running around him, reading scanners and pulling wires from the thrusters as he walked. Sam didn't pay them any notice, his mind was already lost in the logistics of the upcoming mission, his eyes taking in all the information that flashed across his HUD.
"Step over here, Spartan," the Ensign from earlier ordered as she pointed to a platform on the floor.
Sam obliged, stepping onto the platform and allowed the technicians to finish their work uninterrupted. They finished their tests, checked the energy levels of the thrusters for the tenth time, and then backed away. The Ensign stood next to Sam on the same platform, slipping into a simple airtight suit and pulled an oxygen helmet over her head. There was a loud hiss as the helmet created a seal and she turned towards Sam, giving him a nod, then the technicians behind him one. With a sudden jerk the platform below them started moving forward towards the Airlock, which now opened; allowing the platform to enter. The door closed behind the two and they stood silent in the small, dark room, the only sound being made was their breathing.
"Brace for deceleration," the voice over the intercom stated. "We will be going below Eridanus II's atmosphere in 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.."
A jolt rattled the ship, causing the Ensign to slam against Sam, who now weighed down by an additional twelve hundred pounds didn't even budge. She quickly recovered, pulled a strap from her left side and bent down, connecting it to a 'D' ring on the floor; she repeated this with her right side and then stood up straight. Moments after she was secured to the platform the room lit up with revolving, yellow lights which was followed by the door in front of them opening up. What air that was in the chamber was sucked out by and the Ensign was also snapped forward, being held in place only by the straps. Sam remained still, and then approached the edge of the platform and looked down, seeing a blanket of clouds below him, he placed his left hand up against the frame of the entrance taking in the tranquil sight. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Ensign step up next to him, grasping tightly onto the railing on her right side.
"Why did you come out here, ma'am?" Sam questioned through their COMs, rendering her proper respect for the first time since they'd met.
"I wanted to see you off, Petty Officer," they both turned to look at each other in unison, "and to ask you a question."
"Well, ask away."
"Do you ever regret what you've done? What we've made you do?" Sam could see the look in her eyes behind her visor; they were sad; scared of what answer he would give.
Sam looked away from her, staring back at the sight below, "I don't believe in regrets, ma'am."
She nodded and was about to speak when Sam continued, "But I do wish someone would've stopped me a long time ago. Until that day, though, I will continue to do what is asked of me; no more, no less."
Before she could get another word out Sam leapt from the platform, straightened his body out, then shot downwards at a tremendous speed. He blazed through the sky for only a few seconds before activating the thrusters. They turned on instantly and violently, shooting Sam towards the surface at remarkable speeds. Every muscle in his body strained, trying to keep the force under control. He could feel the heat pushing off of the thrusters against his body, it was intense, but his suit would manage. As he shot through a layer of clouds he noticed the ground getting closer and closer, rapidly. He grunted as he tilted his arms backwards ever so slightly, causing his body to slowly start to rotate vertically. A reading on his HUD popped up, showing that he had ten thousand feet to go. Now he could start to make out the outlines of small buildings scattered throughout the landscape.
When the reading hit five thousand feet Sam disengaged the thrusters, turned his body into a full, straight up, standing position then reengaged the thrusters. They whined and hissed to life as they forced to slow down Sam's descent and go against the momentum that he had already created. Two thousand feet to go and Sam's body ached, he was still travelling close to two hundred miles per hour and only had didn't have much time to slow his speed down. In a last chance effort he overheated the thrusters, using up their remaining twenty seconds in three. They burnt white hot and he could hear the sizzling sound against his armor, even through the rush of the air around him. His speed though dropped to below one hundred, with less than one thousand feet to go. Each thruster broke away from his body with the detach command and Sam leaned forward, spreading his arms and legs out wide to slow his speed even more. The ground was so close now, he wasn't going to have much time to slow down any more and as his body came in contact with the ground at nearly seventy five miles per hour he bent his knees, absorbing the impact and transferring it throughout his body. The ground around him quaked slightly as his one ton armor collided with it. Several systems in his suit started flashing red, displaying warning signs and error messages. Sam just remained still, frozen in place and wondering if he was even still alive.
He heard the four distinct sounds of the thrusters falling to the ground around him, giving him the sign that his head was alright and slowly he straightened himself out, only feeling aches and pains around his body, nothing severe. He looked around, seeing that he had landed in an open field; there was no one in sight. With a sigh, Sam exhaled the air that was in his lungs, and then inhaled the fresh air of Eridanus II. After a moment of rest a Navigational Marker appeared on his HUD, directing him towards the location of the Insurrectionist stronghold. It was about forty kilometers away, a decent hike, but nothing that would take him too long. Sam headed north, lightly jogging towards the marker. He wasn't in a hurry; the Insurgents were going to be there either way, regardless of how fast he moved. Eridanus II was mostly farmland, its population much smaller than the planets size would make it seem, which meant that Sam didn't have to worry about detection until he made it near one of its smaller cities. Under the cover of the morning darkness, Sam proceeded towards his objective, unaware of the dangers that were making their way through the shifts of time and space.
1545 Hours May 8, 2530 (Military Calendar) /
Merchant freighter Reap What You Sow,
Orbiting planet Eridanus II, Eridanus System
It was quiet on the bridge of the Sow, despite all of the running about that the newly formed crew was doing. Mr. Garza, the true Captain sat quietly at the helm, navigating the Sow around to the far side of the planet. Though the ship had a massive cargo hold, its bridge was relatively small—in comparison to most UNSC warships—and only one other individual could comfortable fit in the room with Garza. Both were sitting side by side, silent as the space around them; one navigating the ship, the other reading a report on a holographic notepad. As the ship seamlessly eased around the crest of the planet a bright, blue light flashed before them. Garza gave it a quick glance, but didn't pay any heed to it; his companion, the Ensign that had spoken to Samuel, didn't even look up from her work. Moments after a ship fully emerged from the rupture static filled the COM channels. Several loud whines and whistles followed closely afterwards as the signal started to correct itself, till finally a female voice came across the net.
"This is Commander Elizabeth Whitmore of the UNSC Armstrong to all UNSC personnel and civilians in the area—," static cut off the last portion of her message, which now had the Ensign's full attention. "There is a large Covenant force in this system. I say again, there is a large Covenant force in this system, being preparations for immediate evacuation."
Garza looked over at his counterpart who was already typing in commands to bring Captain Hawke on the net, she had to inform him that this wasn't her message for him to send in the Calvary and scare Samuel out of Eridanus, but she was too late.
"This is Captain Hawke of the UNSC Hope, we read you loud and clear Commander. Rendezvous with us at bearing niner-eight-three and come into formation with my battle group," the Ensigns eyes grew wide; that was their rendezvous point. "All personnel are advised that evacuation is not necessary, we have the situation under control."
Onboard the Armstrong, Whitmore's eyes grew wide with both surprise and anger at the last transmission. There were Covenant forces in the system and this unknown Captain was declaring that they had the situation under control? With the Covenant the situation was never just under control. She slammed her closed fist down on the side of her chair, cursing the name of the man she had never met. She shot a glare at Escarda, who returned it with a nod.
"Heading for niner-eight-three, ma'am," he stated as he typed in commands on his console with one hand, while slowly maneuvering with the other.
"Hamilton, set up a secure channel with the Hope, I want to have a word with this Captain Hawke and explain the gravity of the situation," Whitmore ordered to her COM officer.
"Aye, ma'am."
No sooner had Whitmore given the order when less than ten kilometers in front of them there was flash a blinding light. The windows of the Armstrong quickly polarized, barely able to keep the light at bay. As soon as the light faded, as well as the polarized windows, it became clear that the Armstrong had been followed by the Covenant. Whitmore was silent as the massive ship from before shot through the slipspace rupture, heading straight for them. The size of the ship was now completely understood by Whitmore, as its bow completely engulfed the small frigate. All she could do was watch as the ship shot towards them, until someone shouted out.
"Brace for impact!" It was the last thing Whitmore or anyone on the crew would hear as the massive assault carrier slammed into the Armstrong, causing it to erupt in a violent ball of flames and shrapnel, all of which bounced harmlessly off of the seemingly impenetrable shields.
Garza and the unnamed Ensign looked on in horror as the frigate was rammed into by the enormous ship and then completely obliterated. The Ensign remained silent, awestruck by the events that played before them, but Garza was already at work changing their course to head away from the vessel. As they began to veer away from the Covenant ship, several more slipspace ruptures occurred, each one producing more threats to the UNSC forces. The Sow turned slowly, heading away from the planet and out towards the darkness of space; Garza preparing the ship for slipspace. Once they were fully turned, right before them, came another rupture and a Covenant ship emerged through, its plasma weapons already glowing beneath the bow.
"They're sealing off the planet," the Ensign stated, finally coming out of her shock, "they're not going to let any of us leave."
A bolt of burning, red plasma streaked through the sky towards the Sow and Garza just watched, not even making an attempt to evade. Tears started to fall down the Ensign's cheeks and she placed her face into her hands, not wanting to see her own death. Garza just watched on, feeling the heat on his face as the plasma drew closer, knowing that it would all be over soon.
Hope emerged from slipspace, several kilometers from Eridanus II, but not far enough way to see the explosion in the distance as the Sow was cut bow to stern by a Covenant plasma torpedo. Hawke looked on in shock at the number of Covenant ships that had emerged from slipspace and were still emerging. Each vessel emerged on the holographic table before him, giving readings of their size and velocity. The majority of the ships were around five hundred meters in length, a few of them the size of the Hope—roughly one thousand meters—but the massive ship in the center of the fleet was pushing six thousand meters, the largest ship Hawke had ever seen. Thirty-three ships in all consisted of the Covenant fleet, as opposed to Hawke's nine ships. He was outmanned, outgunned, and all out of options, other than to fight. Several Covenant battleships had taken up perimeter positions around the planet; whoever was leading them had taken extra measures to ensure that no one was running from this fight once they entered the arena.
"All ships separate in twos and engage the closest Covenant ships. Concentrate on the ships guarding the perimeter; avoid the bulk of their forces at all costs," Hawke barked his orders as red lights started flashing on the bridge.
He watched on his view screen as the eight ships in his battle group broke into four groups of two, and then accelerated towards the nearest Covenant ships. Hidden on the other side of the crest of the planet was the rest of the Covenant fleet, some twenty-eight ships were moving into formation to descend upon Eridanus II. The massive ship was in the lead, already pushing into the planet's atmosphere and Hawke guessed that they would be deploying their ground troops shortly.
"Launch all Longsword fighters," Hawke barked. "Tell them to head for the planet's surface and clear an escape route for Sierra-zero-three-four."
Several acknowledgements came from his crew and in a few minutes he watched as hundreds of Longsword fighters shot towards the planet as every ship in the group released their entire bays.
"Get Samuel on the line, the battle for Eridanus II has begun," he folded his arms in front of his chest, then whispered under his breath, "and I don't want him to take part in any of it."
