Continuing the Razor story-ark, so there will be spoilers.
Also, respect due to the guys at Rooster Teeth; hope you like the joke and don't sue...

Red In Tooth And Claw
Chapter 11: The Road To War

"This is a BR55HB SR Battle Rifles. It is the standard issue automatic-rifle for all UNSC forces." The Master Chief stood in front of Shaw, Starbuck, Sargent Mathias and the other Marines selected for the mission. He knew that his armour intimidated them, but it allowed him to keep Cortana in the loop, and the AI had a knack for picking up on things he missed. His well trained, experienced hands quickly disassembled the rifle into its component parts, "It carries 36 9.5x40mm M634 Experimental High-Powered Semi-Armour-Piercing rounds in a bullpup magazine located in the stock. It has a muzzle velocity of 600 m/s, with a fire rate of 900 rounds-per-minute in 3-round bursts." He reassembled the weapon, "Major Shaw, if you would like to go first?"

"Okay." The Pegasus' XO took the offered weapon and walked up to the firing line, aiming the rifle down the range before slipping the magazine into place and pulling back the bold, chambering the first round. Pulling the stock tight against her shoulder, she looked through the scope at the targets set up at the far end of the range. Chief Tyrol had managed to put together a number of replica Centurions of the type they were expecting to face during the rescue mission. Placing the illuminated cross-hairs over the plate of armour that made up the mock-Centurions chest, she flicked off the safety catch with her thumb then gently squeezed back on the trigger.

The Battle Rifle let out a dull rattle as it fired a three-round burst that left one large dent in the armour plate, the middle of which showed a single breach through to the brightly coloured marker beyond.

"I somehow expected something..." Starbuck shrugged, "I don't know, more impressive?"

Not sawing a word, the Chief pulled his MAC5 Assault Rifle and took up position in the next lane to Shaw. Pulling the rifle into his shoulder, but not as far as the Major had, he let the floating targeting radical on his HUD fall over the same spot on the next target and pulled the trigger. This time the sound of gunfire filled the air in one long, drawn out rattle as the Spartan fired a full 32-round magazine at the Centurion, peppering it with holes. It fell over backwards, it's head rolling across the floor until it reached the far wall and stopped.

"Better?" He asked, his voice as cold as liquid nitrogen.

"Much." Starbuck nodded, her eyes locked on the shattered remains of the target.

"Major Shaw, if you'd care to fire again." The Spartan took a step back, reloading his rifle, "Aiming for the same point as last time."

Shaw looked at the other Colonials and shrugged. Reaming the rifle, she pulled the trigger a second time, and all three rounds penetrated the target, widening the hole left by the first three.

"This is why I have recommended the BR55." The Chief explained, "Given the limitations on how much ammunition you can carry, and the probably close confines you will be fighting in, it makes a much better choice of weapon."

"Sounds good to me." Shaw stood, rifle pointed at the ceiling "We'll take 'um."

"What about the rest of the equipment?" Mathias asked, "Body armour? Communications?"

"The supply pods contain several crates of M52B body armour, standard issue for all UNSC ground forces." The Chief pointed at a humanoid dummy set up at the end of the firing range next to the Centurions; it was dressed in a full set of BDU's and a helmet. He picked up a side-arms recovered from one of the destroyed Centurions and pointed it down range. The gun barked three times, each round hitting dead centre on the armour, rocking the dummy back on its stand. "The central ceramic trauma plate is designed to withstand the sort of damage you'll be facing, but it has its limitations; multiple his can weaken it to the point of failure. The CH252 combat helmet likewise offers some protection, and contains integrated encrypted digital communications equipment. Given that the Cylons have, to the best of our knowledge, never encountered UNSC encryption before, it is unlikely that they will be able to brake it."

"All very well and good, but this is still a fools mission." Shaw walked over to the Spartan and looked up at his helmets mirrored visor, "You want to prove you're not a Cylon? Come with us."

"That might not be a bad idea." Cortana suggested, "We need to keep on their good side if we want to keep hitching a ride, and I would like a chance to look around a Cylon main-frame. If nothing else, it'll give us the other side to the story."

"If I go with you, there are rules." The Chief warned, "I need to know I can trust you at my back with a loaded weapon."

"Funny, I was thinking exactly the same thing." Shaw's gaze seemed to carry through the mirrored surface of the visor, "You see, you may have the Admiral and Captain Thrace over there convinced, but me? I'm still keeping an eye on you, because I know your hiding something. I don't know what, and I don't know why, but I know you're hiding something. So I am going to be watching you like a hawk, and if you do anything that puts my team in danger, then I guess we'll find out just how tough you really are."

The Chief stood motionless; he had to admire her courage in standing up to him like she was. Very few people had the nerve to get so close to a Spartan with a hostile manor, and it was obvious that if she felt he had betrayed or endangered them, she would do everything in her power to carry out her threat.

"I like this one." Cortana sounded impressed, "She has spirit."

"I think we understand each other." The Chief nodded, "From what I understand of your plan, we'll be in EVA for part of the mission. There should be some replacement parts for my armour in one of the supply pods, including a thruster-pack for zero-gravity operations."

"That can be arranged." Shaw nodded as she headed for the hatch, followed by Mathias and the other Marines, "He's all yours, Thrace."

"Okay then." Starbuck smiled, "The Admiral has assigned me as your liaison officer, so I guess you should follow me."

The two of them made their way through the Battlestar, the Chief's heavy foot-falls shaking the deck as they went. While the ships rumour mill had spread word of his presence, very few people had actually seen him, and a Spartan in full armour was still an awe inspiring sight. Officers and crew alike would stop what they were doing and watch has he marched past them without a glance, conversations dying as he came into sight. He was use to the reaction, even among seasoned combat veterans: even though the public on Earth and her colonies had been aware of the existence of Spartans for more than two decades, there were few photos and they were almost never seen outside of a combat zone. This lent them an almost mythical air, making them appear even larger than life.

Fortunately, the starboard flight pod was still almost completely deserted, and they were able to make good time to the disused repair bay that had been pressed into service to hold the cargo pods.

"May I introduce, our new Light-Reconnaissance vehicle." A Marine with Gunnery-Sargent's strips stood in front of the Warthog that had been inside of of the supply pods, "It has 4-inch Armour Plating; mag-bumper suspension, a mounted machine gunner position and total seating for three. Gentlemen, this is the M12 LRV, otherwise known as the Warthog."

"Why 'Warthog,' Sir?" One of the Marines asked.

"Because 'M12 LRV' is too hard to say in conversation, son." The NCO explained.

"No, but, why 'Warthog'?" The Marine asked again, "I mean, it doesn't look like a pig..."

"Say that again?" The Sargent blinked, confused.

"I think it looks more like a Puma."

"What in Sam Hell is a 'Puma'?"

"It's a big cat, like a lion."

"You're making that up!"

"I'm telling you, it's a real animal!"

"Simmons!" The Sargent turned to a third Marine, "I want you to poison Grif's next meal!"

"Yes, Sir!" Simmons saluted.

"How those guys made it trough basic, I have no idea." Starbuck shook her head in amazement and continued on to the next supply crate, "Your gear should still be in here."

The Chief nodded and stepped through the open hatch into the crate; replacement parts and repair equipment filled every available space, leaving very little room to move, especially for someone wearing a full suit of MJOLNIR battle armour. Still, it didn't take long to locate a large metal box marked 'V-variant'. Taking hold of it with both hands, he lifted it up and swung it onto one shoulder, then turned to face an impressed Starbuck.

"The rest of this will have to be moved to my workshop." He stated with a neutral tone, "You're my liaison officer; liaise."

"I'll get Chief Tyrol's people on it." The pilot nodded as they made their way back outside, "Anything else you need while we're here?"

"No, I'm good." The Spartan walked away with the box balanced over his shoulder, "I'll be ready in an hour."

Shaw looked at her strike team; the Marines looked grim-faced but determined, while Starbuck was her regular cocky-self, her devil-may-care attitude even more annoying than usual. The big difference was the towering presence of the Master Chief, who somehow managed to look more intimidating than normal. His armour had undergone some major changes, most noticeable of which was the large visor without the brim, and the bulky chest plate with built in RCS thrusters to facilitate ease of movement in weightless conditions. She had already asked him about potential loss of mobility once they boarded the target Basestar, but he had reassured her that it was not the first time he had undertaken such an operation.

"Make no mistake people, the mission we are about to embark upon is extremely dangerous, but we do not leave people behind." She addressed the ad-hoc team, "We have two objectives. First, locate and recover our people, secondly, destroy the Basestar by detonating a nuclear warhead on a time-delay fuse. If any of you, for any reason, feel that you are not able to carry out this mission, now is the time to step down. Because once we start, there is no turning back."

No one moved, and Shaw nodded as she secured her helmet and led the way over to the waiting Raptor. She counted them aboard, Starbuck taking the pilots seat. The Master Chief was last, having to move to one side to let the Major past before closing the hatch. The presence of his armour made the inside of the scout craft more claustrophobic than normal, but the Marines accepted it without complaining.

"This mission is so fracked up it's not funny." One of them commented as the hydraulic lift raised the Raptor up onto the flight deck, "We're all dead," He cocked his head towards the Master Chief, "Even the Jolly Green Giant there."

"Spartans' never die." The Chief repeated the old lie used to hide losses from a public that badly needed to believe in its heroes, then remembered something Sargent Johnson had once said on the subject, "They just go to hell and regroup."

"Stow your bitching, Tucker." Mathias snapped, "You had your chance to be scared before you joined my beloved Corps."

"Nice to know you still have your sence of humour." Cortana added dryly as the Raptor took to the air with a lurch, "And it stated out as such a nice suicide mission..."

To Be Continued...

If you've not seen Red vs Blue, then you can't call yourself a Halo fan...