PART I
DELENDA EST CARTHAGO
Chapter 9: Long Live the King
September 26th, 2558 (Military Calendar) UNSC Flagship Infinity, In Orbit Above Sangheilios
Marcus knelt over Laskey's dead body, checking for a pulse when he knew he would find none, the man's lifeless eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Marcus was not a man without a conscious, and the death of a man who had done nothing more than get in Romanov's way pained him, but the knowledge that all of this was necessary for the survival of mankind strengthened his resolve. In any case, even though Osman had not ordered Laskey's assassination, it was better that he had died a hero rather than have Marcus execute his original orders to collect evidence on Laskey's disobedience. Laskey would have lived, but after the humiliation of a court martial it would be in disgrace.
He reached around Laskey's neck, pulling off the dog tag with one swift movement. Another to add to Romanov's collection. This is what made Romanov the most elite assassin in the Office of Naval Intelligence, one of the select few that was entrusted to handle the delicate and often messy missions of eliminating threats to ONI within the UNSC. He almost never killed his targets directly unless there was no other option available to him. Instead he would maneuver his targets into a position where they could be killed, usually by a third party. The result was total plausible deniability. Romanov was frighteningly efficient when it came to executing this particular strategy, and Marcus knew very well why.
Neutralizing the Spartan II Black and Grey teams may have been what had propelled Romanov to a position of favor within Osman's eyes, but Marcus had known Victor since they had first joined the UNSC together. Even when he was young, Romanov had a fierce intelligence. One that could rival, or perhaps even surpass, the intelligence of Halsey herself.
A medic leaning over Palmer's broken body shouted out, "We have a pulse!"
Marcus turned around and thought, stubborn bitch. No matter, Palmer could be dealt with later.
The bridge was in complete chaos, the weapon systems on the Infinity almost silent, the body on the great military serpent wriggling ineffectively at the loss of its head. A shaking Ensign asked allowed, "Who's in charge?"
"I am," Marcus replied almost immediately. Whether or not he could actually command the fleet in this situation was irrelevant. People responded to authority, not rank. "Get Palmer to the med bay now. Durendal, access the wireless on her suit and inform the med bay the extent of her injuries."
"Aye sire," Durendal's disembodied voice replied.
Marcus nodded. "Communications, get in touch with Captain Romanov and tell him to rendezvous with Infinity so that he can take command of the fleet." Marcus stepped into the position that Laskey had occupied not minutes before, hands behind his back. He stared at the three remaining capital ships in front of him, the Infinity's shields flickering as each burst of superheated plasma hit her. "Bring the MAC guns back online and give me firing solutions. Let's take the last of these bastards out."
…
September 26th, 2558 (Military Calendar) Sangheilios, Seventy Kilometers West of Vadam
The plasma mortar arched over the sky like a blue sun, and the Master Chief was caught in its glow. He rolled left, fire from plasma rifles hitting the ground around him as he moved from cover. His right side was washed in heat as the mortar impacted, fresh cries of the wounded following soon after. Behind him he could hear Madsen firing his sniper rifle, Thorne and Grant taking cover behind a formation on his left. The ground was steep and rocky, John having to crane his neck just so that he could look at the fixed positions in front of him. They could not assault with warthogs or scorpions, the terrain was too rough for that, but John did not see the sense behind Romanov's decision not to use hornets or heavy artillery to aid in the assault.
This point was driven home as Hoya advanced up behind him. Just as the Spartan IV was about to pass him, the Master Chief grabbed his back pulled him to the ground. "Stay down," John said as a flock of Banshees roared past, spraying the spot where Hoya had just stood with plasma rounds.
Hoya was treated to a visor full of gravel. He struggled to get up but John's hand remained firm. When the banshees past John relented, and Hoya moved into a kneeling position. "Thanks I guess."
John switched to his pistol. Popping out of cover and firing four quick rounds, the lead smashing into the heads of Grunts. He popped up again and squeezed two more, this time aiming at an Elite, but before he could finish the task the Elite took cover so that his shields could recharge.
"Never going to take them out with raw firepower," Joyeuse commented, and the Master Chief silently agreed. All around them the bodies of Marines and even a few Spartan IVs lay half buried in the dirt, explosions furthering their dismemberment. One Marine ran ahead of the assault, kneeling to fire a rocket launcher. The rocket struck a plasma turret, obliterating the grunt inside and sending the bodies of sever Elites flying. Out of the explosion like a gift from providence a lone plasma grenade bounced down the hill, landing several meters away from John's position.
"I've been analyzing their firing patterns," Joyeuse continued. "The plasma turrets are using interlocking fields of fire, moving in a sweeping motion to keep us pinned down. The wraiths seemed to be firing in a discernible pattern as well. Almost like a grid. I can't account for the small arms fire, but there should be a break coming up where you will be able to move without getting blown to smithereens."
John eyed the fallen plasma grenade. The assault force needed to breakthrough now or they would all be dead. What was worse was that recon had reported that the main Covenant army and not drawn any strength away from their siege of Vadam. Something had to happen, sooner rather than later. "Do it," John said. "Majestic, cover me. I'm making a move."
"Understood," Thorn said over the comm, three other green lights showing the rest of the fireteam's confirmation.
Three short breaths was all John had before Joyeuse shouted in his ear, "Now!"
John broke from cover, placing his pistol back on his hip. He sprinted towards the plasma grenade, picking it up in one clean scoop. "Move right," Joyeuse advised. John followed her direction, moving diagonally up the long slope, putting himself directly in line with one of the turrets. The Grunt at the helm was moving back around, plasma fire inching ever closer towards the Master Chief.
John primed the grenade and threw it like a baseball. It flew through the air, sailing cleanly through the roll bars of the turret and hitting the Grunt on the head, sticking to him and knocking him unconscious. The grenade exploded, the top piece of the turret coming loose and rolling down the hill towards John. The Spartan gave a burst of speed to the left, the turret missing him by a few inches. In a flash of movement his hand went to his waist, pulling up a frag grenade. He pulled the pin, winding his arm back as he crested the hill.
Three Elites were there to greet him, but before they could react John threw the grenade. It landed on the ground in front of the Elites and bounced back up into the air, exploding just as it reached eye level and eliminating the targets. John reached behind him and pulled his assault rifle, quick controlled bursts leveling all opposition in front of him, an empty magazine clanging to the ground as he reloaded.
"I've breached the line. Majestic move up," he said. Thorns status light blinked red.
"Negative Chief. Banshees are back. We'll have to deal with them before we can get to you." On the heel of Thorns words several squadrons of banshees flew overhead, one of them exploding as a rocket struck its side. Instead of moving for another strafing run the banshees began to circle above the position where Majestic and the other Marines were at like purple bulbous vultures.
John would have curse, but a burst of green plasma and the sound of twin heavy footsteps put a halt to any potential vulgarity. A pair of Hunters appeared, orange worm like tendrils moving ceaselessly underneath their dark armor.
"Seem friendly enough," Joyeuse said, as one Hunter charged them, John ducking to avoid the swipe of the Hunter's shield, side stepping behind him and letting out a long burst of his assault rifle.
"Maybe if I give them you they'll leave me alone," John retorted, slamming in a new clip as he sprinted away from the first Hunter. The second Hunter fired its plasma cannon at the spot John had previously occupied. The plasma bolt struck the first hunter in the back. Orange goop flew in all directions, the first Hunter crashing to the ground. "It'll relieve me of two headaches."
John heard the sound of clapping in his ears. "Now he wants to joke around." John grunted as he sprinted towards the second Hunter, sliding in between the monster's legs. Just as he did with the first the Master Chief fired into the Hunter's back, orange blood splattering his visor. The Hunter turned around, the lumbering monstrosity raising its shield high into the air. John rolled out the way to avoid the blow. "I have an idea. Do me a favor and move him towards the crest of the hill." The Master Chief gave no response, but did as Joyeuse asked, coaxing the beast closer to the edge. She watched as John dodged yet again, the angry spikes that could slice him to shreds just missing his armor. The Hunter turned around, its plasma canon charging, when a sharp crack rippled through the air. The Hunter fell to the ground, the ghost of a vapor trail from a sniper bullet being revealed behind it. "Thank you Madsen," Joyeuse said cheerfully.
"No problem ma'am."
The Chief looked up and saw that the banshees were gone, cleared out the skies by the plethora of rocket fire. He was just about to reissue the order to advance when Joyeuse said, "Uh Chief you might want to turn around." John did, dreading what he was about to see. Several squads of Elites and Grunts trained their weapons on him, reinforcements having poured into to secure the gap in the line while John had tangled with the Hunters. They fired, the Chief's shields draining quickly even as he dropped several targets. With no other choice he withdrew back down the hill, sliding down the gravel and firing upwards with his pistol.
The enemy fire continued to follow him as he reached his original position. "We're getting nowhere," he said.
"Chief?" Romanov asked, the Captain appearing on a screen in his HUD. "I need a Sit. Rep."
"Advance has stalled sir," John responded. "We require additional reinforcements if we are going to break through."
"Negative," Romanov said. "I'm ordering a full retreat. Fall back to the main line."
John gritted his teeth. "Sir, we can break through."
"That's an order Chief," Romanov said. "Pull back your men and make sure it's as disorderly as possible."
Now John was completely confused. "Sir?"
"Know thy enemy," Romanov muttered. "Make it every man for himself. You need to trust me on this."
John's eyes wandered back to the crest of the hill, fresh hot fire pouring down on them. "Yes sir."
Romanov nodded. "When you get back to the main line hold your position and wait for my signal. I'll see you when the dust clears."
Romanov's screen disappeared, replaced by Joyeuse. "I'm sure you can guess what Victor is thinking."
"I can," John said. "I hope it works."
…
Romanov watched within the safety of his mammoth on the holographic tactical display as his forces retreated down the hill, men and Spartans alike running seemingly in a panic as they raced towards the safety of their own lines. For a moment he thought that his ruse had failed, but a frightful smile formed as he saw Elites pouring down the hill with energy swords drawn, eager to cut down the human cowards who had so dishonored themselves in the heat of battle. The wraiths followed soon after, firing near point blank into the retreating mass.
He watched as the Marines and Spartans reached the safety of their own lines. The hill that they had began its climb at the edge of a basin, three smaller hills lining the perimeter. The main line was on one of the small hills directly opposite the one the dry dock was on. The two other ones facing north and south were covered in dense alien foliage, concealing their true contents.
The Covenant advance slowed as they entered the basin, machine gun and scorpion fire giving them pause. With a sharp command Romanov gave the signal, and from the two flanking hills a several columns of tanks appeared, catching the Covenant in a deadly crossfire. Another series of orders, more springs in the trap, and hornets began to harass the Covenant from above, tangling with the banshees with had so far maintained air superiority. The ground shook as the artillery opened fire, the shells landing on the Covenant fixed positions. The ones that had been foolish enough to advance in order to follow the UNSC retreat, which had been most of the proud Elites, were now trapped.
Romanov watched in grim satisfaction as the Covenant force became completely surrounded. When the last of the red dots was extinguished the Captain said, "All units forward. Take the dry dock."
There were a series of yes sirs and a green flashing light from the Master Chief. At the very least he knows now that I'm not an idiot, Romanov thought.
"Sir," a young noncom who was manning the communications behind him said. "I'm getting a report from the Infinity." The young soldier's face suddenly became very pale, the color draining from it as if he a vampire latched onto his neck. "Sir, Admiral Laskey is dead."
All those within earshot suddenly stopped, similar looks passing along their faces. The soldier cleared his through, stammering as he spoke. "L..Lieutenant Burnet requests that you rendezvous with the Infinity and take command of the fleet."
Romanov sighed and turned back to the holo display. "Joyeuse is this true?"
"I intercepted the transmission and confirmed it as authentic," Joyeuse said. In a much lower voice she added, "I broke the news to the Chief. He's not taking it very well."
"Alright," Romanov said. "Prepare a pelican. I'm leaving immediately." He gave one last cursory glance at the holo display, and was glad that he did. On there was a message from Durendal in text. It said simply.
(Vadam Keep is being overrun.)
Another piece falls into place, Romanov thought. Now was the moment of truth, the riskiest part in the whole venture.
It was a given fact that the Spartan IIs and IIIs would be replaced, and Romanov knew that better than anybody. He held no animosity towards the Spartans, but he realized that eventually old age or death would come to claim them. However, unlike some he did not hold much faith in the Spartan IV program. They were good soldiers, he did not contest that, but they were nowhere near as effective as their predecessors. No, only a program like the original Spartan II that Halsey had created would produce the same results. But Romanov was not merely content with recreating what Halsey had done, he wanted to surpass her.
This was a plan years in the making, and though Romanov's secret soldiers which had covertly made the trip to Sangheilios were not the finished product, they had proved themselves highly dangerous and effective in past missions. Every bit as deadly as a Spartan II.
He reached out a single hand and tapped his response.
Send in the Praetorians.