/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/
/AUTHORIZATION REQUESTED/
/CNI UPLINK… HQ 56TH BTLN/
/ACCESS GRANTED… DIRECT LINK STARTED/
The camera rattled from the sonic boom as the F-299 Kite UCAV swooped low over the battlefield. Its sensor suites pinpointed Abyssal positions, enabling UNSC artillery to correct their firing solutions. The Abyssals had learned to duck whenever a Kite flew overhead, as it was always followed by a hail of steel.
This time was no different, as 800 mm artillery shells began to fall behind it. One hundred miles away, SPG crews worked furiously to reload and re-aim their electromagnetically fired guns. Automated loading mechanisms rammed fresh 2 ton shells into the breeches. By the time the first salvo had landed, the second was in the air and the third was in the barrel.
Behind them came the armor, Viper light tanks and Reaver UCS. The tanks, nimble vehicles, capable of 170 km/h cross country, proved equally agile in the confines of a city. They charged across wide boulevards, using their high-velocity 70mm rotary cannons to rain suppressing fire on enemy positions. Using their mass, they rammed through buildings and walls to gain better firing positions, simultaneously deploying heavily armed soldiers. Turret mounted launchers launched volley after volley of missiles, sending a flood of precision guided death down on the Abyssal heads.
The Reaver drivers pushed their humanoid machines to their fullest extent, running up buildings, vaulting rivers, jumping high above the battlefield to come crashing back down a moment later, a crater and a crushed Abyssal beneath them. The more experienced pilots moved like they'd been born into the machines, performing flips and twists usually associated with professional free runners. One mech ripped a billboard out of the ground and used it as a battle axe, crushing skulls and splitting bodies. Another grabbed a hapless Abyssal and threw it at an enemy drone so hard it exploded on contact.
The infantry weren't falling behind either. Advancing behind a hail of covering fire, deploying drones, remote mortars and sentries, they pushed forward. Heavy armor covered them, protecting them from radiation and the return fire now arcing towards them. Pink-purple tracer fire zipped by them, embedding in the instacrete and skipping off the buildings. Rockets punched through the smoke, exploding in starburst patterns. Scores of soldiers went down, their bodies disintegrating into black dust as the malignant effects of Abyssal weaponry took hold. Their comrades weren't cowed, however, pausing to say a brief prayer or to pick up dog tags before charging ahead.
Hellbringers gave as good as they took, incinerating aliens with an aluminum powder-napalm mixture politely referred to in informal conversations as "hell on Earth". Behind their gas masks they relished the smell of burning alien that penetrated the filters. Army Rangers crawled underneath the Abyssal's firing arcs, a knife in their teeth and shotgun in their hands. Once at the Abyssal positions, they sprang up and proceeded to rip the aliens apart, using their bodies as bullet shields.
Several Spartan IVs joined in, blurs on the battlefield. The only way they could be tracked was through their trail of destruction. A decapitated Abyssal here, an eviscerated one there, one with a bullet hole in its head, one with its own knife in its stomach. Once or twice, they were caught mid-kill by opponents. Abyssals would pounce en masse, only to be flung off in a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and slashes. Surrounded by corpses, the Spartan would stand for a moment, before dashing off towards the next opponent.
Rhino tanks ground forward, crushing the bodies of the dead undertread. Entire skyscrapers crumbled under the impacts of their cannons. The crumbling buildings were barely avoided by Wyvern VTOLs circling above the battle. Derived from Forerunner Phaetons, the aircraft darted around the battlefield, teleporting behind their enemies to give their guns a better shot. Two marines sat in jumpseats, operating hardlight rotary cannons to the tune of 600 rounds a minute.
And it wasn't enough. The Abyssals clung to their positions, firing back like bullets were going out of style. Tanks lay on their sides, belching smoke, victims of precision artillery and well placed mines. Suicide drones, ignoring anti aircraft fire, plunged into bunched up soldiers and detonated. Craters and scattered body parts marked where a group of soldiers had been killed in this fashion. Abyssal anti air knocked Wyverns out of the sky, spinning and flaming. Their crew jumped for safety, only to be shot to pieces as soon as they abandoned the craft. Reavers were swarmed by Abyssals, torn to pieces and their pilots dragged out screaming. Plasma rounds burned through the armored fuel tanks of the Hellbringers, detonating them and leaving nothing behind. Rangers found themselves with their backs to the walls, slowly overwhelmed by the horde. And in the middle of the road, unnoticed, lay a single Mjolnir Scout helmet, visor cracked and burned.
The goal for which so many were dying was the HIGHCOM Bravo Six facility. A shining conical monolith towering five kilometers above the ground, it was an indelible part of the Sydney skyline. It's shining exterior, now cratered and scorched, was a beacon of strength for the rest of humanity.
Equally impressive was the massive underground complex. Extending for 8 kilometers under the ground, the first three kilometers made of solid rock, it was known as one of the most secure, if not the most secure, facilities in human space.
Fat lotta good that was doing it.
Bravo-Six shuddered from another bomb hit. Dust rained from the roof and the lights flickered, casting the room into darkness. The medics worked by the light of handheld lamps, bandaging wounds and administering painkillers with speed and professionalism. Off to the side, in a small, taped off section, laid the body bags.
In front of the door, several marines, most with bloody bandages wrapped around various body parts, manned machine turrets. Other soldiers struggled to remove the debris blocking the door, ignoring the ominous creaks and rumbles that resulted from their efforts. Yet more soldiers worked to shore up the structure of the room, wedging titanium girders between the roof and the floor. Chunks of instacrete fell on them, but they didn't feel it.
And in the corner, all but ignored, stood the highest ranking officers in the UNSC.
General of the Air Force Alisa Kagome.
General of the Army Joseph Martinez.
Commandant of the Marine Corps Anthony D'Orlean.
CINC-ONI Serin Osman.
All except Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood, still in orbit. The heads of the UNSC armed forces, commanders of the most powerful military force in human history. Any one of them could have had cities leveled on a whim, whole continents set ablaze.
And yet they were powerless.
"Osman, how did ONI not pick up on this earlier?"
"It's hard to get data when half the navy's relay stations are blown to bits and the other half are vented to space."
"So, is ONI incapable of operating without Navy support now?"
"Careful what you say, Commandant. I'd hate for your troops to get the wrong intel and find themselves in, oh, a tight situation."
Kagome shook her head at the bickering of the others. Even with humanity on the ropes, it seemed they were incapable of getting past petty power plays and being the most junior head of the most junior armed service, it seemed she was most mature of all of them.
A deep rumbling noise vibrated the ground, causing them to break off their argument. The medics leaned over their patients to protect them from a renewed shower of debris. A large chunk of ceiling fell to the floor, revealing the titanium metalwork underneath.
"Shit. That was a big one."
"Big enough to get through the seal, you think?"
"Naw man, that thing's rated for orbital bombardment. No piddly ass alien firecracker is getting through that."
"Dunno. I was on Akoran, saw a fucking backpack bomb blast a hole in one of the seawalls. If they could do that, they could probably blow away Olympus Mons if they felt like it."
D'Orlean shot a look at his readouts. "Sensor have registered catastrophic failures in the first seal. I think we can assume Bravo-Six has been breached."
"They'll be heading here next."
The marines seemed to feel the same way, as the focus shifted from shoring up the structure to piling debris into barricades. What claymores they had were laid facing the door, and engineers were breaking out the sentries. Machine gun turrets were emplaced with overlapping fields of fire and marines used C8 to blow foxholes into the reinforced concrete. It was a futile effort: they were holding a fixed position with limited supplies and no escape route, and the enemy had unlimited supplies and time.
D'Orlean and Martinez, career soldiers, joined in the work, piling up instacrete and sighting machine guns. Kagome and Osman hung back, Kagome because she didn't have the necessary expertise and Osman because, well, ONI.
Kagome glanced at the painting on the wall. The UNSC Everest, bow facing the viewer, faced down the Covenant fleet. Psi Serpentis glowed in the background, the debris of three hundred UNSC ships spread in front of it.
"Admiral Cole's Last Stand." It seemed strangely appropriate for the circumstances. "I wonder what you would have thought of this."
The building rumbled, and another wave of dust fell from the roof.
/UNSC ENCRYPTED CHANNEL/
/SYDNEY ORBITAL TRACKING STATION/
/INBOUND TRANSPONDER… VICTOR DASH SIERRA ONE ONE SEVEN/
In an ideal situation, the pods would have smashed into enemy forces, leaving them battered and stunned. The occupants would then have jumped out and, taking advantage of their disoriented state, mopped up initial opposition before moving on their objective.
This, Chief mused, was not an ideal situation. Two ODSTs had fallen victim to anti aircraft on the way down, their pods nothing but dust before they'd had time to scream. Another's parachute, damaged by flak, had malfunctioned. The trooper had managed to steer her pod into an enemy position, crashing into the gun emplacement in a brilliant explosion. They hadn't heard from her since.
Another three ODSTs were killed as soon as their doors blew off. Caught in a crossfire, nothing was left of them except red pulp. Two had made it out, rifles barking, but they'd been taken from the side. A single sniper round turned one's head into pulp, exiting in a crimson spray of blood and bone before piercing the other's heart. Their bodies lay about one hundred meters back, pools of blood slowly forming around them.
Chief's pod hadn't been hit only through sheer luck. The amount of flak, both UNSC and Abyssal, in the sky was simply absurd. It seemed the atmosphere was more hot metal than air. That, though Chief as another hail of metal particles bounced off his armor, might not have been far from the truth.
"Left side! Chief, look out!" He ducked under a rocket, rolling to the side and coming back up firing. A plasma grenade from the under barrel launcher took out the Abyssal's shields before a single battle rifle burst dropped it with a hole in its head. If he was to be honest, Chief would admit that this was rather refreshing with him. Dealing with, in the words of one ODST, "Sparkly magic anime spirit ship girl bullshit" was beginning to wear on his nerves. Simple, understandable combat was a relief he thought, as he flipped an Abyssal over his back and stomped its head in.
"Chief, there's a Pelican down thirty meters from here. No survivors, but they were members of the 7th Armored. There's a Viper still attached, we can use it to break through to Bravo Six."
"Got it, Cortana." He swept an Abyssal off its legs and plunged his knife into its back, pinning it to the ground. It thrashed once, twice, then went still. Chief pulled the blade out, turned, and hurled into another alien's eye. He caught the body before it fell and pulled the knife out, then ran it across the creature's throat for good measure.
All resistance in his vicinity thus neutralized, he ran towards the waypoint Cortana had helpfully set. About twenty feet up was a Pelican embedded in the side of an apartment complex. He climbed into the dropship and released the tank attached to it, then dropped flipped the Viper over right side up. Chief pulled open the hatch and jumped into the cockpit, allowing Cortana to take care of the start up procedures.
"So you do know what the ladies like after all!"
Chief smirked at the reminder of his late friend Sergeant Johnson. The tank purred beneath him, all systems functional. He backed out of the ruined apartment building and pointed the tank towards the towering form of Bravo Six.
"Chief, we've got multiple armored vehicles on the bridge! Looks like three medium tanks and five APCs!"
"We can handle it." He took manual control of the gun, bringing the rotary cannon to bear. His capacitors held enough charge for a thirty second burst of firing; at maximum speed, the cannon would deplete its magazine in five. Chief toggled the burst function and laid the crosshairs on a medium tank.
Six AP/HE tungsten-DPU armor penetrators launched from the barrel, the electromagnetic rails propelling them downrange. They pierced the armor and exploded, cooking off the ammo racks and blowing the turret high in the air.
Another burst over-penetrated an APC, going through both sides without exploding. Barely slowed by the paper-thin armor, they then blew through the armor of another tank, and ignited the fuel. The resulting explosion was powerful enough to push two APCs off the bridge and into the river.
The remaining vehicles began to return fire, shells streaking towards the Viper. Chief let the targeting protocols take care of firing, focusing instead on evading hits. As powerful as the Viper's main gun was, its armor was nothing to write home about.
Plunging shellfire bracketed him, blowing holes left and right. In response, the tank launched volley after volley of missiles. Explosions mid air indicated that interception protocols were working just fine.
The last tank exploded, torn in half by a single burst. All targets engaged successfully, the turret spun down and initiated reload procedures.
"Chief, aerial surveillance indicates Abyssals have broken through Bravo Six's defenses! Hurry, they don't have much time!" He gunned the motor, ramping over a slab of instacrete. The jump took him over a low wall, where the tank landed on an Abyssal field artillery position. He then sped off to clear the plaza around the HIGHCOM facility, leaving a pile of squashed aliens behind him.
The next few minutes blurred together into a mosaic of explosions, blood, bullets, and body parts. At one point Chief realized he'd abandoned his tank. Looking behind him, he saw the scorched hulk, overturned in a fountain. In between him and the tank was a trail of bodies and burned out vehicles. He snapped the neck of the Abyssal in his arms, then stood back up.
"Hey Chief, I think you missed a spot back there." A fountain of debris spouted into the air, bodies and instacrete spreading out at the top. "Never mind. Plaza is clear."
"Where's the entrance?"
"Over there. There should be-" Cortana was cut off by an explosion that sent pieces of Bravo Six flying outwards. They were followed by around twenty Abyssal bodies, which landed in the river with heavy splashes.
Chief and Cortana glanced at each other. They came to the same conclusion simultaneously.
"Get in there! Now!"
The room was collapsing despite their best efforts to shore it up. Several sections had been abandoned, declared a lost cause by the engineers. What was left was being held up by quite possibly the most structurally unsound collection of supports there ever was. Titanium beams, piles of rock, stacks of crates; anything that would reach the roof was being used.
The engineers had given up trying to get the doors open. In their own words, they were "too damn heavy" for the equipment on hand. Multiple C8 blasts hadn't made a dent, and they were reluctant to use C12 for fear of killing everyone in the room.
Some joker was playing music. The "Siege of Madrigal" filled the room, the lonely piano echoing off the walls. The medics were out of supplies; the wounded now lay in a corner, out of the way. A lucky few were unconscious, either from painkillers or from their own wounds. The unfortunate suffered in silence, gritting their teeth against the pain. Those who could still walk assisted in preparation.
Marines talked quietly among themselves, talking of home and family, friends and comrades.
"Hey, did I ever show you this picture? Here…"
"Damn. Who's this?"
"My girlfriend. I promised to marry her after this war."
"Optimistic, aren't we?"
"Well, I can hope, can't I?"
"Yeah. You do that, man."
Resignation. Acceptance
The joint chiefs stood to one side, trying to ignore their oncoming demise. Their ranks meant nothing now, with death as the great equalizer. D'Orlean walked among his marines, chatting, laughing quietly at a joke here, trying to keep morale up. Martinez had a small group of soldiers gathered around him, giving a final pep talk. Kagome spoke with airmen present. There was no fear in their faces, only a stoic acceptance of fate and a hard defiance. They knew they were going to die. But they wouldn't die cheaply.
Defiance. Fury.
The building shook, another massive explosion. The second seal was breached. In the background, "The Siege of Madrigal" still played.
She knew these things. She knew how it felt.
The marines said their final jokes, laughed their final laughs. A few uttered prayers, not for themselves but for their buddies.
Facing an unstoppable enemy, all on her own. Trapped, back to the wall. Completely hopeless. Wishing only that her friends could get away.
The lights flickered, went out, and plunged the room into darkness. They would not come back on.
She vowed that day: if only for a day, if only for a hour, if only for a minute, if only for a second, if she could ensure that nobody felt that hopeless… she would be happy.
/SYSTEMS BOOT/
Ratcheting sounds filled the room as bolts were pulled back. Soldiers took positions, hiding behind mounds of rubble. Machine gunners found their sight lines in the darkness, licking their bone dry lips.
/OS 7.0.2530/
So when she felt that overwhelming sense of despair, that terrible resignation, that tragic acceptance: how could she not respond?
/REACTOR… FUNCTIONAL/
The wounded took up positions next to their comrades. They held rifles, pistols, knives, even chunks of rock. If they were going to die, they were going to die fighting back. Their death would not be one of helplessness, lying on a stretcher.
/WEAPONS… FUNCTIONAL/
She'd sworn an oath - to protect humanity. Some might have considered their duty done, but for her, in death did not duty end.
A third explosion. The third seal. Only a few hundred meters above their heads, the Abyssals drew closer. And still, they waited.
/PROPULSION… FUNCTIONAL/
She could still feel where the nova had scorched her hull. She felt a surge of bitter pride - her finest victory, yet her worst defeat. Three hundred Covenant ships, at the cost of her entire fleet.
/SLIPSPACE… FUNCTIONAL/
She remembered how Io had saluted her as she'd jumped away- the look on Io's face as the nova consumed her.
As the last note of the song faded away, a thump sounded from the door. Then another, then another. Unseen by anyone, the painting on the wall shook.
/ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL/
That song. That day, it had played over the fleet broadcast, a final reminder of what they'd left behind. What they'd be leaving behind. The piano had accompanied their deaths, buying time for Admiral Cole.
She swore that, someday, she'd make that sacrifice worthwhile. She'd use the second chance she'd been given. Her duty was not at an end, and humanity still needed its guardian, its shield, its rock, its mountain among the stars.
/ALL CHECKS COMPLETE/
It was how Admiral Cole would have wanted it.
/CA-2 UNSC EVEREST, BOOT COMPLETE/
"Don't worry Io. I'm not about to waste my second chance."
With a groan and crash of tearing titanium, the door caved in, allowing the horde to pour into the room. The marines tightened their fingers on the triggers but, before the first shot could fire, something dashed past them. By the meager light now spilling in from the hallway, they could make out… something, tossing the aliens around like ragdolls. A machine gunner ducked as an Abyssal flew over his head and smashed into the wall behind him. Flashes of light from alien weaponry blinded the soldiers, but their shots simply ricocheted. One marine felt his assault rifle torn out of his hands, and the dakka-dakka sound of the MA5d filled the room.
Their eyes becoming more adjusted to the firefight, they saw the figure use an Abyssal as a baseball bat, sending the hapless creature spinning sideways and bowling over its comrades. It then used the momentum from its throw to go into a slide, firing upwards at the aliens. Bullets pockmarked the ceiling and aliens crumpled.
Click
The magazine empty, it proceeded to use the assault rifle as a club. It butt-whipped one Abyssal upside the chin, knocking it to the floor. It lifted its foot, and the crunch of bone caused every human in the room to wince.
The last few aliens scrambled frantically for the exit, but in an instant it was in front of them. It turned into a blur of motion, breaking bones and caving in skulls. Punches sent bodies into walls, while kicks sent them to the floor to be killed by vicious stomps.
Soon, all were dead but one. The figure turned from the Abyssal it'd just pounded into the ground to stare at it. Several of the marines would swear later on that they heard the alien whimper.
"That's enough out of you." Its voice was a barely a whisper as it picked the Abyssal up by its neck and punched through its body. The crack of bones and squelch of guts turned the stomachs of even the hardened marines.
The body fell to the floor with a thump, the only sound in a suddenly silent room. The figure stood over the body for a moment, breathing heavily, before it turned around. Nobody dared to move.
"Catch." The marine barely had time to react before it threw his rifle back towards him. He caught it by the barrel shroud, then hurriedly turned it around and lit the flashlight.
The sudden illumination caused the person to grimace and cover their eyes while the marines waited for their visors to polarize. With the glass sufficiently darkened, they could finally see what that thing was.
A girl in her late twenties, wearing a somehow impeccably white naval dress uniform. Short cropped brown hair fell around her neck, and a row of medals decorated her chest, glinting in the light. She stood tall, more than six feet in height.
The marines and soldiers, tense as they were, began to tighten fingers on triggers. D'Orlean and Martinez noticed this.
"Stand down. Hands off those triggers." The two generals set an example, safing their weapons with exaggerated motions and holstering them. One by one, reluctantly, their subordinates followed suit.
Kagome realized then her pistol was out as well. A little embarrassed that she'd lost situational awareness so badly, she quickly holstered it. She also motioned to her airmen to put their weapons away.
"Thank you. Nice not to be staring barrels." The girl lowered her arm, blinking to clear her vision. She seemed to take in the room and the sorry states of it occupants. "Seems like I arrived just in time, didn't I?"
Of course it was Osman who spoke up next. "Identify yourself. Now." Unseen by her, the other joint chiefs subtly facepalmed. Naturally, ONI would go all alpha-bitch on the person who'd just saved them.
Luckily, she seemed not to take offense. "I highly doubt you'd believe me if I told you."
"Not good enough," said Osman, not liking the evasive answer.
"It's going to have to do for now." She closed her eyes for a second. "We've got two full enemy battalions above us. They currently hold the only functioning elevator." She glanced over at the wounded. "They're not going to last much longer. We need to get them out of here."
"Not until you tell us who you are." She let out a sigh of exasperation.
"Well…" The marines blinked, and she wasn't there anymore. "Unfortunately…" A slight wind blew on their skin. They spun around. "We…" Suddenly, she was behind Osman, faster than the former Spartan-II could react. "Don't…" A hand was on her back, another gripping her gun hand. "Have…" She pushed and pulled at the same time while planting a foot behind her knee. "Time for that." Before anyone could react, Osman was on her knees, pistol on the floor. Her arms were restrained behind her, a foot on her legs keeping her from standing up. She couldn't turn her head, but felt something next to her ear. "Okay?"
She managed to keep her nervousness from leaking into her voice. "I recommend that you let me go, if you what's good for you."
"Unfortunately, Admiral Osman, I don't answer to you." A fist slammed into her temple, and she was out cold.
The others stood frozen, unable to believe what had just happened. What was this girl?
D'Orlean found his voice first. "Wha…" He swallowed and tried again. "What are you?" She glanced at the painting still hanging on the wall.
"Call me Everest." The roof cracked, the crumbling coming at a faster pace. "And I think we should get out of here."
Behind them, the room finally caved in, hundreds of tons of rock and titanium falling inwards. The wounded were placed on stretchers or carried over shoulders. Everest herself had the unconscious form of Admiral Osman slung on her back. Nobody protested.
"Alright. General, which way to the elevator?" The three generals looked at each other in a brief, intense match of you tell her no you tell her.
Kagome lost. "It was that way." She pointed down a hallway choked with debris.
"Not a problem." She handed Osman over to an Army trooper and held out a hand, closing her eyes and concentrating. The air around her shimmered, coalesced, and turned into an oversized gauntlet wrapping around her forearm. Everest fiddled with it a bit, then pointed her arm at the debris. "You're gonna want to step back."
The humans complied immediately and with enthusiasm, retreating around a corner. Everest paused to consult her engineers.
You're sure this'll work?
I did the calculations myself. If it doesn't work, next month's salary goes to Hawkins.
Very well. She opened her eyes, engaged targeting protocols, and let loose with a single Archer.
The modified missile struck an instacrete slab. Yield inhibitors engaged, denying most of the payload a chance to detonate. What happened instead was equivalent to a mere two kilograms of TNT, albeit highly directed. The blast shot bits of reinforced concrete and metal everywhere, leaving behind only softly glowing slag. Everest was untouched by the blast; a mere two kilograms was nothing for her.
Once the noise had dissipated, the others poked their heads around the corner. A few had nosebleeds from the extreme proximity of the blast, but were otherwise unharmed. The debris was gone, blasted into slag. Everest took on a bemused look at their awestruck expressions.
"Well? Path is clear. Let's go." Still looking confused, the soldiers not carrying the wounded shouldered their weapons and moved ahead. The others, bearing their comrades on stretchers or on their shoulders, moved behind them. Everest came behind everyone, watching the rear.
One Abyssal patrol died in a hail of gunfire. Another was put down in a bout of vicious hand-to-hand, the marines using knives, bayonets, and rifle butts to tear them apart. They didn't look behind themselves, but could hear the sounds of combat. Evidently, from the distinct lack of enemy fire coming from the rear, Everest was doing just fine.
"Elevator just ahead!"
"Hold up." She shut her eyes once more, listening to something within her. "The lobby level is clear. You should encounter no resistance up there. I…" She frowned. "Wait… what?" Her eyes widened. "Okay, wounded first. Get going, hurry!"
"Wait, what's happening?"
"There's a large Abyssal group approaching on this level, get out of here now!" The group dissolved into a frenzy of activity, marines rushing their injured comrades into the elevator car. Soon, it was filled to capacity. That still left around fifteen marines, stranded with Everest.
Martinez, now carrying Osman over a shoulder and not looking happy about it, glanced back at Everest. "What about you?"
"I'll be okay. I have a habit of getting out of impossible situations. Now, go." She hit the 'up' button. "Besides, I still have an explanation to give. I'm not about to die until the job's done." With that sentence, the doors slid closed and the elevator began its journey upwards.
Everest turned back to the marines still left with her. Greenhorns, every one of them. And yet they'd still let their comrades go ahead of them, quite possibly giving up their own lives in the process. Everest checked her chronometer; five minutes until the Abyssals arrived at their position, fifteen until the elevator came back down. It'd be tight.
She scooped up an abandoned assault rifle. Everest checked the ammo counter; 27 bullets. It would have to do. Unless…
"Marine, can you spare me a magazine?"
"Huh? Uh, no. I mean, no problem. I mean, uh, here! Take it!" The marine handed over a full magazine with jumpy, tense movements. She took the magazine, giving him a smile to put him more at ease.
"Thank you." Turning, she addressed everyone with her. "Alright. We've got three minutes until the Abyssals show up. They'll be coming down that these two corridors. Cover them and conserve your ammo, we need to hold for ten minutes until the elevator gets back."
They hurried to obey, taking positions hugging the walls. A few marines managed to shift debris into a workable defensive perimeter. For Everest's part, she stood in front of the positions, arms crossed, waiting for the onslaught. She wasn't about to let these marines face the Abyssals alone; she'd be in front, duking it out.
Heavy stomps, and lots of them. Safeties were disengaged and sight lines established. Everest breathed deeply, letting a calm settle over her.
The Abyssals appeared at the end of the corridor. Seeing her, they seemed to hesitate, growling and eyeing her. In response, she twitched a finger.
"Come get it, boys." They complied.
"Reloading!"
"Last mag!"
"I'm dry, going to pistol!"
She'd run out of ammo two minutes ago. Checking the time, there were still two minutes left on the elevator. Everest growled in frustration, breaking another Abyssal's spine over her knee. She hurled the limp body like a frisbee, bowling over the aliens crowding into the corridor.
Plasma and crystal shots bounced off her skin. Blades cut her clothes but not her flesh. Through the maelstrom, she towered above her foes, a mountain rising above the sea of war.
"Frag out!" The grenade knocked her opponents back, giving her some breathing room. Simultaneously, the elevator doors opened with a pleasant ding.
"Go! Get in there!" The marines looked ready to argue, but then a new, even louder roar turned their faces pale.
"Champion!" They rushed into the elevator as fast as they could, throwing down their weapons when they wouldn't fit in.
One of the marines, holding the doors open, screamed at her. "Come on! Get in! We've got to go!"
"No! I'll hold this thing off! Get out of here!"
"Bu-"
"That's an order!" As far as she knew, she had no real authority over them, but battlefield example could be more powerful than any rank. As it was, the marine was only too happy to obey, pounding the button to close the doors.
The elevator went up once again, accompanied by the fading whine of the motor. Everest turned to face the massive Abyssal. The other aliens had retreated behind the thing, content to let it finish off this seemingly unbeatable foe.
It stepped forward into the large open area created by the junction of the three hallways. Everest recognized what this was: a challenge. "Alright. If that's how you want to do this." She stepped forward as well.
The two combatants eyed each other, sizing the opponent up. Everest's sensor suite fed her relevant statistics: mass, size, estimated striking power, armor strength, speed. Her computers compiled the data into a single threat assessment: Grade Five. She smirked. Finally, something worth an effort.
The Abyssal struck first, a lightning blow to the gut that left her staggering. Following it were two more that she barely deflected. She caught a fourth strike, guiding it to the side and leaving the alien overextended.
Punch, punch, kick. Her cruiser-grade strength sent the Abyssal into the wall. Not one to give her opponent time to recover, she followed it with a two uppercuts and a brutal haymaker.
Before her last blow could land, the alien's hand shot up and grabbed her fist. It followed by planting both legs on her chest and pushing out. She found herself on the ground, the alien straddling her and about to deliver a series of vicious hammer blows.
Acting fast, she wrapped her legs around its body, planting her palm on its chest and shoving. The move sent them rolling across the floor, ending with Everest on top. Pinning the alien with her legs, she wasted no time in delivering a beating that left the alien bloodied and dazed.
She was just about to deliver the finishing blow when the elevator doors opened behind her. The chime diverted her attention for just a split second, but it was all the Abyssal needed. It used its position to its advantage and inflicted a savage headbutt. As Everest reeled back, it spun and backhanded her into the elevator car. It followed her in, entering just before the doors slid shut again. The sudden acceleration of the lift pressed Everest to the floor, just as the alien stomped down on her back.
Her spine didn't break, but it sure as hell felt like it. She swore she felt her ribs, warship grade titanium, crack. Stunned, she could only lie there as her opponent wailed on her.
Eventually, the Abyssal tired of the game. Getting her in a headlock, it prepared to snap her neck and finish her off once and for all. She could feel its hot breath in her face, the foul smell of hot metal and rot choking her.
It growled in her face, sounding vaguely satisfied. This human had been a surprisingly worthy opponent. A true test of strength. It stood still, savoring the moment.
Everest's senses came back to her ever so slowly. She realized the position she was in, but kept still in order to buy time. Looking down and to her left, the sight of her free left arm greeted her. She grinned in the alien's face.
"Hey." The Abyssal's face registered surprise. The human was still conscious? Well, better that it should be able to see its death coming.
"Bit of advice for you. Celebrating your victory?" Her smile turned grim. "Make sure you've won, first." She held her left hand in front of its face, Archer missiles mounted and primed.
Everest had said there'd be no opposition, but circumstances change. In this case, the marines found themselves engaged with around twenty new Abyssals in the lobby. Steel filled the air as the firefight devolved into a stalemate. The marines couldn't leave cover without being gunned down, but neither could the Abyssals.
That was before an explosion from the elevator well sent the doors flying outward, slamming into the aliens and sending them out the door. The explosion was followed by the body of a truly massive alien skidding across the floor into the middle of the atrium.
Out of the smoke stumbled Everest, clothes torn to shreds, singed, bloodied, and beaten. She made it to the nearest piece of cover before slumping to the floor, coughing and gagging. Medics rushed to her side but she waved them away, directing them towards the other wounded.
Chief ran through the doorway, rifle out and prepared for heavy combat. When he wasn't greeted by gunfire, he lowered the gun, wondering what the hell was happening.
A marine stuck his head above cover. Upon seeing the Spartan II, he jumped up, waving wildly. "Guys! It's the Chief! Chief's here!"
"Bloody hell!"
"For real?!"
"Let me see, let me see!"
Chief identified the JCS, walked over and rendered a salute. "Generals. Adm… What happened to Admiral Osman?"
The officers looked at each other. "She hit her head."
"She hit her head."
"Yep. On a rock."
"Sounds legit. I'll say- hey, who's that over there?" Chief felt Cortana gesture in his mind and turned to look. There, propped up against a piece of concrete, battered and barely conscious, was a girl. Her uniform was ruined, barely enough remained to keep her modesty intact. Around her left forearm was a large gauntlet, small conical shapes peeking out from underneath it. He suddenly realized that the gauntlet looked very familiar.
"Don't tell me…"
The girl glanced over at the Spartan, finally registering his presence. With a struggle, she got to her feet, leaning against the concrete block, and brought her arm up in a ragged salute. "Chief. Good to see you again."
"Identify yourself."
"Heh…" She gave a pained smile. "How do I do this… CA-2, UNSC Everest, reporting for action."
Cortana broke the silence that resulted.
"Another one? Really?"