CHAPTER XII
0000 HOURS, 20 JUNE 2555 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR)
EXTREME LOW ORBIT OVER PLANET REACH, EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM
"HORNET and RAGNAROK mines deployed, sir."
Theodore Weller nodded. Ten HORNET fission nuclear mines and four of the newer RAGNAROK fusion mines had been deployed in orbit over Reach- Admiral Mores' best chance of surviving the rebel fleet's onslaught long enough for reinforcements to arrive from- somewhere, hopefully. They had received word of incoming reinforcements from Earth several minutes ago- all they could do now was hold on until Admiral Pevely came.
Battle group Acheron had contributed its own nuclear weapons to the defense. On the opposite side of Reach, six Shiva warheads, four HAVOK warheads and one RAGNAROK had been positioned. Acheron had even disassembled her single NOVA bomb- since breaking Reach into pieces was not an option- and the nine fusion warheads were added to the perimeter. If the rebels came around either side of the planet, their ranks would be thinned- considerably. Weller could only imagine what the crews on board the UNSC warships were feeling. Even if the minefield worked, there was no guarantee that the odds would be tipped in their favor- there were simply too many rebel ships.
"Sir, Acheron is beaming us the codes for the battle group's warheads, and shorting out their own controls for them- we've got one hell of a fireball at our fingertips."
Weller sighed- this was the last thing he wanted- more responsibility in this battle. The survival of the UNSC ships, and by extension, Squad Seven, depended on his timing. If he detonated the mines too early, then he wouldn't accomplish anything by the blasts. If he was too late, any casualties caused wouldn't matter- Mores would be dead and her ships gone by then, and Squad Seven would have to fight thousands of rebel troops until hell froze and then thawed out again.
Minute by minute by torturous minute, the rebel fleet, numbering over one hundred, split up and inched around Reach. It hardly took a genius to figure out what the wreckage of rebel and UNSC ships meant. Captain Weller bit his lip- Pericles and Kilimanjaro had been lost with all hands- and now Admiral Mores and the rest of her fleet would be too. Weller had heard of a similar event that had happened near the end of the Human-Covenant War in the Zeta Doradus system. A human battle group led my Admiral Carl Patterson had reduced a Covenant fleet almost triple its size down to two battered and damaged destroyers, only to be vaporized by Covenant reinforcements. Mores was of the same stock as Patterson- a brilliant commander who was not afraid of breathing her last during a fight. Weller only hoped that Acheron would be luckier than UNSC Stalingrad had been.
Licking his dry lips, Weller turned to Kagabe. "Check our orbit stability- I don't want us dropping if the EMP knocks our engines out." Kagabe simply nodded.
Confirmation was given a few seconds later. "Our orbit is stable, sir."
"Good- shut down all nonessential systems and prepare to isolate computer systems after the blast is triggered."
"Rigging the computers now, sir."
"Good to hear. Inform me when you're done."
"No prob, el Capitan."
Weller rolled his eyes- cheeriness seemed out of place in situations like this.
"Systems trigger online, sir. We could turn them off right now if we had to."
"Hold that thought. Commander Kagabe, what's the position of the rebel fleet?"
"Rebel ships are approaching the distal line of minefield alpha- nothing's close to beta, sir."
"Damn. Tell the Rear Admiral to wait a little longer."
As the requested message was sent, several beads of sweat crawled down Weller's head. The ships he had been on had never participated in any major actions with one exception- Earth- and there had never been much riding on ships under his command. At one point, the corvette under his command in 2549, UNSC Terminal Velocity, had actually been assigned to wreckage cleanup. It had taken until the battle of Earth to live the indignity down.
"Sir- enemy vessels are in optimal firing position. We have two ships beyond the proximal line in the alpha field and thirty-three between the proximal and distal lines, and we have sixteen ships between the proximal and distal lines of the beta field."
"Good. Remove safety interlocks."
The crew scrambled to remove the electronic safety mechanisms on the nuclear warheads, and the red 'Fire' button on Weller's command console lit up. He then turned to the controls and entered three five-digit codes, which activated the nukes- they were now dangerous. He pushed his thumb to a biometric scanner, which unlocked one more set of scanners.
Taking another breath, Weller put his mouth to a small microphone and said loudly, "Theodore Weller, captain, UNSC Nighthawk." The words 'Identity confirmed- Tier 5 Safety Interlocks Disabled' flashed in green on one of the control panels. Weller flexed his index finger, placed it to the glowing red 'Fire' button, took a final breath, and pushed. The lights illuminating the deck went out instantly and the blue-white avatar of the ship's NAV AI winked out, leaving Weller unnerved. AIs were definitely an asset for ships- it was nigh on impossible to perform Slipspace transition calculations manually. In other words, if their AI went down, they were effectively stuck.
Black space turned golden-white as a grand total of thirty-four nuclear warheads erupted into titanic blossoms of energy. Weller had forgotten to shut his eyes, and the sheer intensity of the radiance burned the image of the blast into his retinas, complete with spots in his vision where the silhouettes of rebel ships had been in the microseconds preceding the blasts. After an instant, the flames dissipated, starved of the necessary oxygen to perpetuate themselves. Weller could not believe his eyes. All over the deck, several crew members did not bother to suppress small gasps of wonder. Weller himself heard, "Whoa…" escape his lips without his being aware of it.
The rebel ships had been almost halved in numbers. Forty-nine of the one hundred-seventeen rebel ships had been destroyed. There was a total absence in rubble, even- the massive energies released by the cumulative blasts had completely and utterly vaporized and obliterated any and all traces of the ships caught in their wake. The EMP resulting from the explosions sped through the surviving ships, leaving them adrift and helpless for the moment. And a moment was all Admiral Mores would need.
Five ships shot towards the remnants of the alpha fields like comets, cannons ablaze. MAC rounds ripped through the rebel ships, followed by hundreds of Archer missiles. Explosions and blasts chained throughout the floating enemy ships, incinerating the helpless vessels with their crews on board. It was a spine-chilling sight. But- for all the effort, the battle group had destroyed barely two dozen ships before streaking past the enemy ships and back into open space. Mores broadcasted a message on an open channel- Weller had to admire the Read Admiral's nerve.
"Damn good show, Captain. I haven't seen fireworks like that since the first battle of Reach- can't say I was happier seeing those. Nicely done. Okay people; let's get set to cross into the beta zone. Prep Archer missiles for a follow-up attack."
Weller smiled to himself. Archer missiles had been either finishing moves or desperation tactics during the Covenant War, when the ships the UNSC had been facing possessed shields, but now...
By now, though, the rebel ships were recovering from the nuclear strike- many were moving in tightly-knit formations of half a dozen or more, and those had formed into two semi-coherent battle groups. Weller was pleased to see that none of the ships were without battle damage, but his satisfaction was dampened by the very fact that they were operational at all.
Weller cautiously spoke to the crew. "What's the status on electronics, people?"
"AI online, sir. Welcome back, Keiana."
The blue-white figure of a young woman smiled at the crew. "It's good to be back, everyone. Subsystems online now, captain."
"That's good to know. Lieutenant Yeats, I need a line to Acheron, and I need it ten minutes ago."
"Encrypting now, sir. And… line ready. Better do it now, sir- I can't guarantee a connection for much longer."
Weller drew himself up and tried to look calmer than he felt, an immensely difficult task. Rear Admiral Mores' face came up on the central viewscreen.
"What is this about, Weller? We've still got a job to do out here."
"Admiral, we just received a message from Squad Seven on the ground, and they need help- badly. I'm not talking about extraction just yet- they need ground support."
Mores paused momentarily. "Very well. Agamemnon will deploy its ODSTs in support of your troops. Don't worry, Captain- Major Paxton plays nice." A crooked smile worked its way across Mores' face. Weller tried to remain composed as he spoke.
"Thank you, ma'am." Weller then killed the channel.
The cruiser UNSC Agamemnon detached itself from the rest of the UNSC fleet, and within a few minutes, hundreds of tiny silver specks separated themselves from the ship's underside and streaked towards the planet's surface. Weller sighed with relief; at the very least, the mission wasn't in danger of imminent failure.
But it was in very real danger of ultimate failure- Mores had five ships to pit against the rebels' forty-eight, and even a concentrated attack by Mores wouldn't do much to even such lopsided odds.
Nighthawk stayed high and invisible above Reach, her part in the battle now over. The calm of the space around the ship betrayed the frantic activity on her bridge, though. At the eye of the storm, Theodore watched events unfold; hating the useless position his ship was in.
Agamemnon's captain, Alice Miles, soon spoke to him through FLEETCOM. "All right captain; ODSTs deployed, and Major Paxton will be deferring to the leader of your operation. You're their voice in the sky now- we're cutting contact now before the fireworks begin. Good luck."
Weller sighed as the channel crackled and the signal died out. Beaming information from space was better than asking as a way to get Nighthawk blasted out of orbit. He turned to Lieutenant Yeats.
"Set up a single-beam relay with our STARS probe, and bounce the signal down to Reach. Tell Major Paxton to find Castle Base- that's where the squad is. Once they've regrouped, have them send a reply."
"Sir!"
As Yeats did the dirty work, Weller turned to the front viewscreens, unable to keep his mind from the one-sided battle Rear Admiral Mores seemed intent on fighting.
The five ships Acheron, Agamemnon, Eight Lives Left, Buenos Aires, and Ticonderoga streaked towards their adversaries, who were bearing down on them from two directions in a massive pincer movement. The image of a pack of sharks bearing down on a small school of minnows came to Weller's mind. This was suicide.
At a signal Weller did not see or receive, the UNSC fleet struck. A small cloud of silvery projectiles flew from the outnumbered ships under Mores' charge, and with each second, it seemed to grow. Weller would have smiled if the situation had been less hopeless for Mores and her ships.
The two fleets streaked towards each other, and Mores was outnumbered almost ten to one. If Weller didn't know any better, he'd have said that this was the Covenant war all over again.
The cloud of silver-white dust projectiles led a cluster of orange flame trails towards the rebel fleet, growing less and less visible as the individual missiles dispersed amongst the rebel ships.
And then, it happened. The entire rebel ship formation was shrouded in a sea of fire as the Archer missiles detonated. The fire did not last long, though, and eventually extinguished itself in the vacuum. Weller was impressed, in spite of himself.
A dozen rebel ships had been completely destroyed; their armor melted by the explosives and promptly crushed by the cumulative pressure waves of the missiles. After fighting so long against enemy ships that could take dozens of Archer missile impacts without suffering a scratch, the damage the UNSC battle group could do to Insurrectionist ships seemed almost appalling.
The remainder of the rebel ships looked more menacing than ever, though- and if Weller's assumptions were right, Rear Admiral Mores was running low on munitions. One more attack would doom the UNSC battle group. Weller stood up- in that moment, he might or might not have been sane, but he knew what he had to do- Nighthawk's crew of one hundred and four Navy personnel was a worthwhile sacrifice for the thousands on board the ships under Mores' command. He keyed his authorization code into the SHIPCOM channel, and cleared his throat.
"Attention, Nighthawk personnel, this is your Captain speaking. The time has come where we make our choice. Thousands of our kin are out there putting their lives on the line, and now it is time for us to do the same. What we do next will save or damn Admiral Mores and the crews of the ships under her command, and I for one am willing to ensure that they leave this broken world, whether or not I leave with them."
He coughed- something seemed to be stuck in his throat. After several seconds, he started again.
"Those who wish to stay behind, remain on the ship. All those who do not wish to do so, report to the nearest escape pod, and I will tell Admiral Mores' ships to pick you up. There will be no recriminations or accusations, because what I ask of you is completely unreasonable. I have asked you to lead this ship into combat in what was supposed to be a simple insertion; I have asked you to put your lives on the line in what is supposed to be a time of peace. Odds are very good that we will not survive the next few minutes. To those who wish to leave- do not let us stop you. Remember what we did here, and do not wish that you had died with us. Live well, and our ghosts will be content. To those who are staying- report to your action stations immediately. It's been an honor." He squelched the channel.
Sitting back down in his chair, he looked around at his crew. Not one of them moved, with the exception of Commander Kagabe, who shifted to wipe a solitary tear from his eye. Weller nodded towards his old friend.
"I thank you- each and every one of you. Know that I would rather fly into combat with you than head the Home Fleet itself. We've got one shot to save Admiral Mores and her ships, so we have to make this run count. Prepare weapons."
After a minute of solemn silence, Kagabe turned to Weller.
"Archer missiles ready, sir. And no-one has left their posts. None of the escape pods have been jettisoned."
Weller was overwhelmed for a moment by the nobility of his crew, and then choked when he realized that he had consigned them all to their deaths. He recovered and stood- sentiment would only be a detriment from here on out.
"Get me a line to Admiral Mores," he ordered, "we have to tell her the plan."
Kagabe nodded.
Weller turned to the central viewscreen and drank in the vista offered. It had never really occurred to him just how beautiful the stars looked.