Anthem: Goodbye To Romance!
SSV Normandy, Mass Translation from Serpent Nebula to Exodus Cluster, In Route To Armstrong Nebula, July 4, 2183
Author's Note: The fluff is out of the way. Now it's time for the horror. The horror, the horror.
Go grab your blankie. I'm going to make this hurt like I did in the "Revan" Arc in Where The Law Stands Tall. The lines that shouldn't be crossed will be stamped on as I hit upon several ideas that no sane person would ever want to face, and no publishing company would ever allow in a book. The safety protocols have been removed.
Ye hath been warned, gentle reader.
Because in space? No one can hear you scream.
And this chapter marks the quarter-million wordcount mark in essentially three months and two weeks.
And now back to your regularly-scheduled screams of denial and terror.
Captain Jane Catherine Shepard stood in front of the holographic representation of the galaxy map in the Combat Information Center located in the center of the Bridge, standing at the Captain's Podium that let her see anything from a map of the Milky Way, any system she chose, the surrounding space around the SSV Normandy, and the various telemetries, readings, and statuses of the Normandy itself. It was finer than any she had ever seen on an Alliance vessel, a blending of both Human and Turian concepts and hybridized into something towards efficiency. At the moment, she was looking upon the route from the Serpent Nebula to the Exodus Cluster, the representing line of their travels crossing several clusters and Relays, having to translate no less than four times through the Mass Relay Network to reach their destination in the Rimward portion of the Attican Traverse. She winced at the digital holographic display of the estimated time of arrival; thirty-seven hours and twenty-nine minutes.
A day and a half when a ship hosting four thousand souls had gone silent seven days prior.
When Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Elaine Ryder had Chirped Jannie during the Geth attack on Therum, the Lion had been full speed ahead, knowing that the attack was happening at that moment. Then? Every moment counted, and every second saved was the potential to save lives and thwart the enemy. Now, with the ACV Horizon having gone silent for a week, there was no need to jump through burning hoops, so to speak. Whatever was to happen on the ship had likely already taken place. It was captured, destroyed, held hostage, or a dozen other bad scenarios, but a week was more than enough time for it to take place. The Normandy wasn't going to take its time, not at all! No, Jannie was going to run the ship and its crew through the 'normal' paces; drills, scenario training, full briefs and FRAGOs, simulated training with the ground team, battle deployment marching orders and team compositions. Only the vessel would be working at 'normal' speed while what was inside would be put through their paces to prepare for what Shepard suspected to be a shitstorm.
She expected them to arrive in the Gagarin System to find a small Geth Fleet and the remains of a Carrier-Class cruise ship spreading space debris.
"Ma'am," Commander Mark Vanderloo spoke up from his terminal, having already uploaded everything pertaining to the Horizon with an access pass into the corporations' datasite itself. "I've got structural composition, vessel capabilities, and manifests for the latest cruise. Everything from tonnage to supplies, recent modifications, and even executive-level codes and passwords."
"Good." The redhead replied, knowing that Earth Alliance Carnival Corporation was playing ball. Their ship was silent, presumed missing/destroyed, and they weren't holding back. While Jannie didn't doubt the codes and passwords would be useless if the vessel had been under attack by the Geth and their ability to throw petaHertz of processing power into hacking anything and everything, it showed their level of cooperation. EACC wasn't fucking around when it came to their duty and responsibility for the people on their vessel. That kind of thinking had Jannie proud of the corporation, having seen the look of pleading upon the Chief Executive Officers' face, his words touching her. When he had said the word 'responsibility' , it hadn't been a bunch of letters strung together into something recognizable. He meant every syllable of it. Jannie believed him. "Download the contents into a datapad and I'll work out the OPORD and the FRAGOs for both Ops and TEAM LION. Maintain course and find ways to get that," she pointed at the countdown, "used as expeditiously as possible. I fully expect to land facefirst either into a Geth fuck-all Armada or a slaver fuckfest on the Horizon. Let's use that time as best we can to prepare ourselves for the worst, XO. I'll be in my Ready Room."
"WILCO, ma'am." Vanderloo saluted her quickly with his orders as Jannie stepped off the platform after Mark handed her a datapad with the tactical data she needed for the upcoming mission. Most of Humanity was under the impression that Special Forces warriors like N's or their predecessors, SEALs and British Commandos, would jump into a situation such as this and winged it. That shit perception was thanks to idiotic movies with brain-dead actors with magical aim and infinite ammo capacity. Shepard moved from the CIC to her Ready Room as she began reviewing the information before even entering, seeing the data package that had been sent to the Normandy. Mister Arnold Donald hadn't fucked around when he went to her for help, giving her everything she could possibly need to help the Horizon and then some. The Office of Naval Intelligence had no further information (go figure), and Shepard pursed her lips at the sight that the Carnival CEO had called the Alliance Military with his concerns… and had basically been told to 'wait while the situation was assessed'. Nothing had been done, so he had taken a leap of faith, gone to the Citadel knowing that the Lion of Elysium and Humanity's First SPECTRE was there thanks to Khalisah Al-Jilani's interview, and had waited alongside the Normandy to request her assistance knowing it was outside the chain-of-command and against regulations and rules. He had been desperate.
The Lion answered the call.
Jannie entered her Ready Room, placing the datapad near the intrinsic downloading/charging station set upon the wooden desk that dominated the Navy-heritage room as she queued up her personal terminal, a holographic screen popping over the desk as a holographic Haptic keyboard came up in a position best for optimal work and comfort. Seeing that data that Vanderloo had given her, she read over the information on the ACV Horizon, looking at the graphical display of the Carrier-Class vessel, its seven-hundred meter length, two-hundred meter width, and one hundred-and-fifty meter height meaning that the vessel was going to be a nightmare to clear at twenty-one million cubic meters. Thankfully, much of it was confined to either personal cabins, family cabins, and open bays for leisure, with corridors running though the ship in a straight forward bow-to-stern plan with little in the way of turns or choke points. Unfortunately, clearing all the rooms would be an exercise, and the crew decks at the lower two decks were less prosaic, a mess of connecting corridors, storage spaces, galleys, quarters, maintenance areas, and janitorial services. She was essentially going to have to clear a small town in space without the luxury of an open-air environment; a gigantic floating Urban Ops scenario known as Battle Drill Six. Army and Marine Infantry and N-Level Operatives trained hard on such tactics, not to mention C-SEC, Rapid Response Unit, and even the Quarian Pilgrims were given a basic idea of ship-clearing tactics. In terms of readiness, TEAM LION would perform well against a normal adversary, such as pirates or slavers.
Geth were another matter, but Jannie had prepared them for that, too.
The Captain outlined the basic OPORD and two FRAGOs quickly, filling in the broad outlines of what she wanted before calling up the Frigate's VI and requesting Lieutenant Alenko to come to her Ready Room. She downloaded her work onto a separate datapad while eying the holographic representation of the Carnival Carrier. Her minds were already formulating the training module that she was going to work upon for her ground team; a series of clearing ops and room breaches from personal cabins to gala-sized state rooms. The Cargo Bay would have to suffice for a large-scale room, raining her team how to coordinate clearing such a broad area with overlapping fields-of-fire, positions, defensive postures, and several scenarios based upon expected intelligence.
Janie was an N, and she was going to treat this like an N Operation.
The difference between Colonial Army and the Marine Corps from the N Combat Teams was that 'regular' troops had a series of Drills pertaining to situations, flexing them as needed. A defensive position could turn into a flanking maneuver given likely risks/rewards, an assault when a fortification weakened, a tactical retreat when opposition became too strong. The Infantry held the line through numbers and volumes of fire, drowning the enemy in rounds and common tactics.
Special Forces trained different. As elite warriors, they emphasized in exploitation tactics and pressure operations, doing with fewer numbers than an Infantry Company, and making up for that lack of personnel with highly-trained personnel. N's trained as much as a factor of four over their common Infantry brethren, hitting a range at a much more significant level, drilling scenarios until it was rote. During such an operation as this, a unit would go in with numbers, clearing rooms and large areas with attrition. For N's, they would train for the mission beforehand, planning upon likely scenarios and formulating ideas for unlikely events. With fewer numbers, Special Forces had to make do with fewer rounds and pieces of equipment, so their weapons and supplies were of better quality as a response. They trained with such equipment as to not only to be deadly, but to be experts in their field. Jannie mentally reviewed the members into categories based upon capabilities of Special Forces.
Detective Garrus Vakarian was a great example of such, a Blackwatch Sniper with combat experience thanks to the First Contact War. Agent Zevin Raeka was technically a Special Forces Recon Scout, trained to go behind enemy lines to disrupt communications, logistical support, transportation, and troop movement with precise (and likely explosive) results, ensuring maximized casualties. Urdnot Wrex, while not to that degree, was an expert in his own right, having a long list of stunts and operations in which he faced overwhelming odds with cunning, proper planning, explosives, and heavy weaponry. Petty Officer Sara Ryder was almost at the necessary level for a N Medic, having trained herself personally to a point where the Villa would be a challenge, not a fools' chance. What she lacked was experience, but Therum showed that she certainly had the intelligence to adapt and overcome, as well as the skills to make that happen. Sergeant First Class Ashley Williams was good with weapons and common tactics, and perhaps she would make a good candidate herself, having experience at her side, as well as skills. Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko would be a great N Combat Engineer, disabling and demolishing with ease, but lacked tactical finesse and the confidence to lead men in dire situations. Marshal Sam Collins was a cop through-and-through; tough as hell against common criminals and small groups. Thankfully, the Butcher actually had experience against overwhelming odds with the Miracle of Therum and the Assault of Torfan, going against a numerically-superior enemy and coming out with a bloody victory. The Quarian Pilgrims had some extra knowledge on their side, but their true talent laid in their Q-Tech weaponry and equipment, making up for their lack of experience and basic Migrant Fleet Marine training. The five Marines themselves were the atypical Marines; they were the bloody and bloodied Infantry that held the line and riddled the enemy with rounds. Finally there was Doctor Liara T'soni, the least qualified and experienced combatant they had. Her only strong point was her Biotics, in which hers were more dangerous than the rest of the Biotics combined.
"Ma'am? Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, reporting as ordered." The Explosive Ordinance Disposal Team Member saluted as he stood at attention in front of Jannie's desk after she had let him into her Ready Room. She told him to go 'at ease' and gestured towards the chair in front of her desk, in which the Lieutenant took.
"Here's the basic OPORD and FRAGOs for our upcoming mission on the Horizon, along with intel, schematics, and the keys to the kingdom thanks to Carnival Corporation." Jannie handed of the datapad with the necessary downloads. "I want a full OPORD in three hours, and both FRAGOs two hours afterwards. I'm going to have Master Chief Gladstone get the Bosom's Mates to turn the Cargo Bay into a training exercise area, and we're going to spent several hours going over maneuvers, positions, drills, and scenarios. We'll kick off the summary brief after Mid-Watch Meal, and we'll practice until Late-Watch Meal. We'll pick up again before First Watch Meal, and then have the ground team hit the racks an hour before arriving in the Gagarin System. I imagine it might be several hours before we actually locate the Horizon while in stealth in case this is the Geth, so I want them to maximize on sleep. Clearing a Carrier is going to take time, and we've only got sixteen."
"Understood, ma'am." Kaidan replied, nodding his head, but seemed to pause for something. "No offense, ma'am, but reinforcements?"
"I sent the request to Alliance Command. Haven't heard back yet." N's usually did without, going on missions knowing that likely there would be no provided assistance. Still, she wasn't about to endanger lives out of pride. "We plan as if we aren't getting any. I hope to have an NCT flex out our direction, or perhaps some Helljumpers. Navy's on picket duty, so…" That left a lot to be desired. No one had answered the call the first time Mister Donald had asked, and the Carnival Corporation wasn't small potatoes. "We use what we got and what we have. Unless the Horizon is scuttled, we secure the vessel and clear out any hostiles. Bridge and core are the main priorities with rescue operations a second priority. Even if this is not the worst-case scenario, this will be a bad one, El-Tee."
"Yeah." The Combat Engineer replied, adjusting himself in the chair. "Why aren't we making the civilians the priority?" He had mentioned the same thing right before Eden Prime.
"First, they're likely dead or captured before we even arrive." Shepard explained, understanding the Biotic's concern. "Second, if that ship goes CritMass, everyone's dead regardless. Taking the Bridge gives us access, control, and a beachhead. The core gives us power and maneuverability, not to mention denial of any stupid motherfucker wishing to blow out an engine core and turning the next ten megameters into a small supernova." Jannie smiled, but there was no joy or warmth in it. "The hard lesson to learn, Lieutenant, is that we measure success and failure in lives lost, and civilians are always in that tally no matter what you do. They're the ones who pay the price. Always." That was just a bad fact of war.
"It's just… I would think we would put more effort into their well-being and care." Kaidan summarized.
"We shall. By taking the ship's bridge and core." The redhead responded. Kaidan was a good Combat Engineer, but he was use to disable bombs (saving thousands of lives) or demolishing some structure that was no longer needed. Eden Prime had been his first real combat action. Navy EOD just didn't get sent into firefight, having an area or position held by ground forces when he was sent in. "Wasting a trained team member would could potentially save dozens, if not hundreds, over a simple firefight to pull just one man or a few? That's bad economics. If you're going to risk the life of an effective member, it needs to be for something worthy, like that Anti-Matter bomb on Eden Prime. Saving a civilian that will be a drain to supplies and personnel, dragging him through more potential firefights just to get him to safety? Losing more members securing an area that can be assaulted later on for its tactical hostage value, further whittling your team? The Bridge gives us control and access. The core gives us power and maneuverability. If need be, we'll pilot the Horizon into Alliance Space and to the nearest colony with a Fleet over it to clear it properly and have the necessary medical personnel and supplies. We just don't have the manpower, equipment, or space."
"That's… cold." Alenko realized, looking rather dejected. Shepard knew it wasn't his fault; many Naval and Marine Officers wanted to do the 'heroic' thing. That generally got more people killed. Elysium had been that hard, bitter lesson for her.
"It'll be nine days since last communications when we arrive, Lieutenant." The SPECTRE replied, her voice hard. Even, but hard. "If the civilians have buttoned up and secured themselves, dragging them out endangers them. Taking the bridge and core is the logistical thing to do, as well as potentially saving more lives in the long run. We have sixteen men and a Carrier to secure; do the math." Kaidan sensed that he had overstepped his bounds, saying nothing else. "You have your orders, BeeDo. Get to it." An ice comet was warmer than her tone.
"Aye aye, ma'am." Alenko stood into perfect ramrod attention, saluting crisply before executing a proper right face and dismissing himself from the room. Jannie just clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and shook her head. She shouldn't have been so hard on him, a Naval Officer who wasn't Special Forces, who never had to deal with this kind of situation before.
It was her responsibility to teach him, train him, and guide him. She was the Commanding Officer of a vessel, and all Officers were under her command, as well as her guidance and tutelage. She knew that Commander Mark Vanderloo and Lieutenant Charles Pressley would understand her decisions; both Veterans of the Skyllian Blitz, both with actions concerning ship-boarding, if only on the Ops Alley end. Yet they knew the score; one didn't 'rescue' a ship by grabbing everyone out of it. No, secure the important parts and get it into friendly territory to deny it from the enemy, and maximize on friendly assets. Common Forces would waste lives trying to pull everyone out of a boat, potentially losing unit effectiveness and getting civilians potentially more injured or killed. Being told that she was being 'cold' had pissed her off, especially when her plan was developed with civilian considerations in mind. What did Alenko expect? For TEAM LION to escort civilians back onto the Normandy? To have Frigate attached to a potentially-overrun vessel, risking boarding actions on a state-of-the-art Alliance vessel? No, her plan was the best because she knew better.
That's what N7's were trained to be; the very best.
TEAM LION assembled in the Cargo Bay of the SSV Normandy for a pre-mission brief. TEAM LION was more-or-less allowed to stand or sit where they wanted, the brief a formal thing, but done informally. Auntie was like that. Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Elaine Ryder sat on a small cargo container in the semi-circular formation where fifteen people of various species faced their Commanding Officer, the Lion of Elysium and Humanity's First SPECTRE. They had spent almost two full weeks training together on the Arc to become more proficient, to work as a team, to royally fuck up the Geth and their asshole Turian master the next time the call came.
Sara had a pretty good idea that the OmniTool just rang, so to speak.
"Alright, folks, listen up!" Auntie spoke up, her voice strong and clear, holding everyone's attention easily as she stood in front of them, dressed in her Alliance Blues, standing in a manner that suggested suppressed aggression. The Corpsman knew that stance; someone was going to die courtesy of tech toys or a Saber round, and likely on fire, to boot. Auntie was pissed in a way that only an N7 could pull off; a monster caged, held in check until ready to be unleashed. And hell would follow, then. "Right before we departed the Cit," Auntie began, "I was approached by a gentleman by the name of Arnold Donald. He is the Chief Executive Officer of the Earth Alliance Carnival Corporation." Oh… oh shit. Sara had a bad feeling about this, easily recognizing the name. "For those of you who don't recognize the name, the Carnival Cruise Line is the premiere Human cruise line, with fifteen luxury cruise ships that float passengers to scenic space vistas and pretty planets for vacations and whatnot. They're expensive, have a great rep, and their CEO went to the Cit and stood by the Normandy to meet yours truly to ask for help."
"Fuck." Sergeant First Class Ashley Madeline Williams intoned, the Colonial Soldiers' voice dark. Requesting aid from a SPECTRE usually meant something went horribly, horribly wrong somewhere. Especially since the general public generally wasn't allowed to accost a Council Agent at all. Mister Donald risked potential imprisonment for something he felt that important.
"The ACV Horizon has been out of contact for a week."
"Oh shit, that's their largest ship." Private First Class Louis 'Brassiere' Broussard popped up, leaning against the Bell Aerospaces' UT-47 Kodiak Utility Transportation Shuttle they had gotten from the Arc, sequestered on the opposite side of the cargo bay from the General Dynamics' M-35 MAKO Armored Personnel Vehicle.
"That's correct, Marine." Jannie nodded, looking to everyone. "I pulled up everything as well as information that Mister Donald gave me pertaining to the Horizon; it's route, destination, crew compliment, passenger manifest, defenses, communication protocols… the works. Carnival isn't stupid; their reputation is built on the fact that you can take a luxury cruise in Alliance Space or the Attican Traverse and come back safely. The crew is all former Sailors, security is former Marines and Master-at-Arms, they have three separate forms of communications to include a dedicated deployable comms buoy, and even a shark."
"Shark?" Tali'Zorah nar Reyya asked, raising a polite three-fingered hand, her purpled visor looking around.
"It's a Corvette-Class missile boat that trails for defense in case slavers, pirates, kidnappers, or anyone else wishes to try to take a bite." Sara replied, looking to the suited Quarian, who nodded her head, understanding the concept if not the aquatic animal. "It's usually within an AU of the cruise, and can also call for help as well as defend the boat in question. Half the reason Carnival is so popular in the tourist trade is because they take security and defense so professionally. Remember that incident back during the Blitz?" That question was aimed at Auntie.
"Was the Carnival Disney not the one that aerosailed a gas giant?" Detective Garrus Kaaldor Vakarian asked. There had been a situation when a cruise had to perform an emergency maneuver known as 'aerosailing'; it had entered a planetary stratosphere to prevent unwanted docking procedures.
"Yes, it was. To prevent Batarian slavers from docking with the ship." Auntie supplied with a nod of her head. "Not one Carnival ship has ever lost a person. Not even from natural causes, having a professional medical staff on every ship. So when one of their ships goes missing for a week…"
"…Geth." That was Niki'Raan nar Tombay, the Migrant Fleet Marine-hopeful filling in what everyone else was thinking. "That many lines of communications without a distress call? Even its own dedicated comms buoy? That requires sophisticated hacking. A boarding attempt wouldn't silence all of that in time." MFM's were evidently premiere ship-boarders, according to the Quarians. As Sara understood it, even Garrus gave credence to that belief. "They would have had to hack the communications of three separate objects to complete that phase; the Horizon, the 'shark', and then the systems comm buoy. And that's just the minimum. How the Geth could get close enough without raising an alarm or someone sending something resembling some sort of notification? If they're not using stealth…"
"Trojan Horse." Ryder interrupted, looking to Auntie. "If they can hack our communications, then all they need is a look-alike vessel. Perhaps one that looks Navy; Carnival wouldn't question that."
"That would make sense. Scary thought." Auntie wasn't pleased with that line of thought. "Gets within range of both vessels, takes down their communications, and gives them boarding access. Classic Trojan Horse. For now, what we know is that the last reported position of the Horizon was in the Gagarin System of the Armstrong Nebula. Tour was give a great view of Rayingri, a planet that's going to get cracked by a rogue planet in a couple of centuries. We don't know if it's still in-system or not, so we'll be running silent in the Gagarin System while searching for the Horizon, the shark, or anything else that might be considered an anomaly. We got some of the best sensors the Alliance can buy or make, but searching a system takes time. And it's already going to take us nearly forty hours just to arrive at the Gagarin Relay before the search even commences. When we reach the Horizon, it might be as long as ten days since incident to response."
None of the Humans needed a reminder that ten days was the length of time for someone to reach the colonial city of Mindoir on Amarestu in response to its belated distress signal.
"Now," Auntie continued, "I've downloaded the schematics of the ship onto your personal datapads for reviews. But those are just wireframe diagrams." The redhead smiled. "We just so happen to have someone who's been on the Horizon to give us a brief. Sara?"
"Dammit." The Petty Officer knew this would come up. "Auntie, that was ten years ago. This isn't exactly its inaugural flight. Things could have changed since then."
"Wait… you were on the Horizon's inaugural flight?" Sergeant First Class Ashley Madeline Williams asked around her lit cigar, her tone surprised. Brassiere whistled appreciatively. "Damn. Aren't coach tickets like… ten kiloCredits each?"
"Yeah." Sara knew where this was going to go. "My mother was the premier Biotic researcher, creating the Biotics Research Division after First Contact. She spearheaded the first Biotic apparatuses, implants, and amplifiers. She's responsible for the L1 and L3 Implant, as well as the Bastion Biotic Amplifier produced by Conatix Industries. And then Dad was the Pathfinder, first man to walk on an extrasolar planet on the Excelsior Expedition for the Charon Mission."
"So… you're rich?" 1st Lieutenant Kaidan Raphael Alenko asked, uncertain.
"I did go the the premiere school in the galaxy for five years. There aren't exactly scholarships for the Presidium Academy." The Corpsman replied. This conversation she could do without. For some reason, people assumed that the rich were suppose to be snobby, spoiled sycophants. "Anyhow, the Horizon is a Carrier-Class vessel designed as a luxury tourist transport. It has six full decks and four half-decks, two at the top and two at the bottom.
"The bottom two full decks are coach accommodations." Ryder continued, describing the vessel she had been on when she was ten. "The upper two full decks are designed for the higher-end passengers, along with a full-service Galley that's rated as a five-star restaurant. The two upper half-decks are activity decks, with pools, courts, and even a casino. The lower two half-decks are mostly for the permanent crew, supply and storage, culinary, crew quarters and the like. The bridge is in the bow…" Sara was trying to remember the details of the ship, and not the details of her trip. "It's got full service aid stations, former Navy and Marines for crew, surveillance, code-locks for guest quarters, a zero-g court, Kiggs fields for the open quarter deck on Deck Three for celestial observations along with a pool, full service bars, and enough hospitality staff that makes up for like ten percent of the passengers in population. The Horizon can accommodate… forty-five hundred? Maybe more." Ryder shrugged her shoulders. "I saw the Bridge once. Fifteen people at any given time, all former Ops Deck Sailors; astronavigation, telemetry assessors, LADAR specialists, communication specialists, two Helmsmen, and an Officer-in-Charge at all times. There's a security station, too, ran by a former Marine Sergeant Major. I think there were about a hundred Incident Response Personnel for that tour, which might be less now. But you're still looking at dozens and dozens of former Marines and Army who are all trained in basic first aid, fire arms, general tactics, and crisis management."
"The Horizon is a Carrier-Class vessel." Auntie picked up where Sara ended. "We're talking twenty-one million cubic meters of interior. Realistically, we'll never clear it with sixteen people. Our primary objective is two-fold; to insert the vessel by means of an improvised entry point through demolitions to gain entry and control of the Horizons' Bridge. A small team will be left on the bridge to control access and monitor security feeds while initiating a vessel-wide lockdown, scrambling access codes and giving us executive-level control. With that objective achieved, the rest of the team will infiltrate the Horizon to gain control of the vessel's engine room, engaging any hostiles that might be on our way to the core. With the bridge and the core secured, we will initiate retrieval operations and take the Horizon out-of-system and towards the nearest Alliance colony that has a Fleet available for rescue and medical operations. We don't have the personnel, resources, or space to rescue civilians at this time, so we get the Horizon to a friendly location where we have numbers and safety on our side."
"So the civilians…?" Doctor Liara T'soni asked, looked a little dubious. "We are closing the doors and leaving them be?"
"It keeps them safe if they're still alive." Marshal Samantha Collins replied, her arms folded across her chest, looking to the Asari Protheantologist. "It denies the enemy the ability to move or gathering forces, and it keeps people from wandering into firefights. It's the best-case option in a scenario such as this. If they've survived this long, a few more hours locked in their rooms won't make a difference as oppose to pulling them through hostile territory where they can get shot."
"I see. Thank you, Marshal." Ryder understood why that particular plan. It wasn't a fun one to exercise, but it was the best one with the best options to engage the enemy and protect the innocent. Yes, she wanted to pull people out and get them out of danger, but that wasn't realistic. She could end up with hundreds of patients, and there were only three Health Care Providers and a Surgeon on the Normandy. As well as their finite medical supplies. Sam's explanation had everyone in understanding of the plan and reason behind it. "I understand what to do if there is an enemy to engage, but what do you wish us to do if there are persons in an unsecured area?"
"With control of the bridge, we can put them into the nearest safe location and lock the door behind them to maximize our assets while keeping them protected." The Captain answered, pleased with the question. It was a good one for someone with no military experience, and likely would have been brought up later on. "Tali'Zorah? Since you are our dataware specialist, you will be in charge of the Bridge Team. I will flex two Security team members to keep the bridge locked down while you control the vessels' access and security, feeding us updates and monitoring feeds. When we gain control of the engine room, I will send several members back to the Bridge to hold it down, keeping one-half of the team on the bridge, and the other half in the engine room. Unless someone has managed to smuggle in a bomb that can crack a ship that size in half, we do not flex out for anything. I know that you are concerned for the people on the vessel, which is a good thing. But we can't afford to lose members of this team over a hostage or terrorist scenario with little in the way of gain, and we certainly cannot afford to have the ship return to the hands of the enemy.
"Make no mistake; this will likely be a ghost ship with hundreds if not thousands of casualties or the fettered, and we might likely have to watch people die returning the Horizon back into Alliance Space." The Lion pointed out for all their sakes.
"Any questions?"
SSV Normandy, Gagarin System, Armstrong Nebula, July 5, 2183
"All hands," the SSV Normandy's ship-wide VI broadcaster called out, "now arriving in Gagarin System heliosphere. Ship Status is set at DEFCON TWO. All active Watches, please attire into REDCON FOUR status. All off-duty Watches, please assemble into assign quarters and initiate pressurization procedures. Captain Shepard, please report to the Bridge."
Captain Jane Shepard arrived on the Bridge of the Normandy a few minutes later after fully suiting up in her brand-new HMWA MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. IV Armor, sealed in its environment as she entered the CIC, a Petty Officer standing Watch bellowing out Captain on Deck! Everyone went to the position of attention for a fraction of a second before returning to their duties, whether sitting or standing, and Commander Mark Vanderloo looked from his position at the Captain's Podium where he was monitoring everything, seeing his ex-wife in a SPECTRE's armor, and he had to admit that his breath caught in his throat at the sight. He wasn't the only one looking, seeing helmeted heads turning slightly to see the sight of a Human SPECTRE, fully-geared and upon the deck. The Armor was, for the most part, the exact replica of what a SPECTRE's Armor should look like, seen thanks to movies featuring SPECTREs as protagonists, such as Blasto! The Hanar SPECTRE or An Act Of Valor. There were a few modifications to it that Mark could see, though thankfully Jane hadn't decided to make her SPECTRE Armor look like… the Predator or something else cheesy. Yet despite its unique color scheme of reflective ultrablack with deep maroon blood-red underpanelling, she had modified it from what he had seen on vids and the news. The helmet was different, there were physical additions to the ribs and torso for more protection, like thin metal bars. Actually, they were on the arms and thighs as well. And the helmet.
Waitaminute… he recognized it. It looked like a RIG suit!
"Dead Space?" Vanderloo asked as Shepard stood on the podium alongside him, looking at the holographic images that were in front of him, the trigraphic imagery displaying the Gagarin System, the approximate locations of the planets and objects known for the system, and the beginnings of sensor readouts in real-time. One of Jane's first modified armors when she became an N was based upon an old Sci-Fi/Horror video game where the protagonist was an engineer. Actually, he came to actually look at it, and he had to admit that… it looked more like Jane had selected it due to protective concepts. She had blended her love for cosplay with reality and made something realistic.
The faceplate of the helmet had metal shields with only thin horizontal gaps in between, in which she could switch from an Augmented Reality Overlay, an Augmented Reality View while completely covering the transparent viewer, or just the plain Mark One eyeball while keeping her face and visor more protected. He wasn't really surprised to see that there was, in fact, an on-board terminal that stuck out slightly from the chestplate of the armor, centered above the breastbone, just like the game. Knowing Jane, it likely linked to her drones, Ghost and Bastila. Hardened plates and strips had been added to the chestpiece and back, and along the outer upper arms, ribcage, and upper thighs. He briefly wondered if there were four 'lights' on the back to indicate power status that had been meant for the player to know how much life… Issac Clarke had. Mark looked… yep, there they were, though they looked to be Universal Power Cells connected in tandem along the spine. Extra power requirements, or extra juice when needed?
"You know me too well." The Captain said, turning her helmeted head to him as she stood by his side, letting him work as she observed. "Bring me up to speed, XO." Jane had been sleeping during the translation from the Attican Beta Cluster to the Armstrong Nebula, using the almost two-and-a-half hour translation and the hour FTL burn from the Tereshkova System to the Gagarin System to get some shuteye before things came to a head. Just because N's were trained to do without a full-night's rest didn't mean they forewent without sleep unnecessarily.
"Moreau has slipped us into Gagarin's heliosphere, and we are now coasting at Mark Nine with Internal Heat Sinks active and all systems running at full passive." Vanderloo indicated, pointing out the ships' position relative to the Gagarin System. "Lieutenant Yevseyenkov has dropped off a passive Comms Buoy just on this side of the Heliopause, releasing it instead of firing it. I don't know if we're looking at Geth or not, so I decided to act as if we were." That had the Captain nodding. "Since we don't actually know their capabilities, I'm limiting our functionalities towards stealth and as much pre-tech concepts as possible. Launches using air pressure instead of electromagnetic rails, analog scans and readings to collate with digital and optronic, and visual lensing in case they have something similar in concept to a stealth vessel."
"Their ships would run less hot, not needing so many life support systems." Shepard concluded, obviously seeing what Mark was alluding to. He might have been a better Ops Alley Officer than Jane was due to his experience and time working deck and bridge, but Jane Shepard was fully trained-and-capable in her own right, and nobody's fool. She had selected him to be her XO because she knew how skilled he was. It took a degree of intelligence and commitment to admit that someone was better than once self and allowing them to perform to that capability. The N7 knew that the Normandy was going to be at the very front of risk and danger, and had ignored pride for the sake of duty and accomplishment when picking the best for the Frigate, and then making sure that they would be as well-trained as possible. It hadn't been just words. "How long until we get a full map of the system?"
"With light-lag and staying in position? Almost a full day." The Commander replied, distance still being the bar for all things astronautical. Despite being able to travel at faster-than-light speeds, all sensors worked at lightspeed only… and light only traveled so fast. While a ship could travel FTL inside a system, it was incredibly stupid to do so. One could plow into debris, space junk, a damaged vessel, or even a comet blindly if one didn't map and update a systems' current telemetry. The Normandy was currently drifting at Mark Nine; ninety percent lightspeed. Even at that velocity, traversing a quarter of the system would still take a portion of the day. "We're aimed for Rayingri/Vahtz Space, and we have several sensors and sweeps pointed in that direction for advanced warning. Since it's been more than a week since last contact with the Horizon, and its exact location wasn't known for ten hours before Carnival declared it lost, it could literally be anywhere in the system. Or even out of it."
"So we start with the obvious possible location and work our way from there." The N7 nodded, understanding the plan. "Be double-safe when we enter into Rayingri space, XO. I don't doubt that debris, atmospherics, and whatever else is happening between those two planets is going to scramble our sensors. A perfect trap for pirates, slavers, and Geth." To that, Mark had nothing to add. Jane was right, after all. She toggled the 1MC after entering her passcode on the podium to open up the address channel. "All members of TEAM LION, report to State Room for pre-mission meal and brief." Shepard closed the Number One Main Circuit and looked to him. "How long until we start getting semi-accurate readings from Rayingri?"
"Four hours until we get within an AU of the planet." Vanderloo answered. "We'll start picking up ghost readings and anomalous signals about an hour prior."
"Let me know when that happens." The CO ordered as she turned from the podium, letting her ex-husband do his job as she left the Bridge. He turned his attention back to the podium, where the Normandy was shown holographically in relation to the Gagarin System. Mark had been reviewing everything that he knew about the potential enemy, the details of the Horizon, all information about the Gagarin System itself, and the capabilities of the SSV Normandy. Frigates usually boasted some of the best sensors and scanners in the Alliance, the normal forces used to flush out an enemy. In a Fleet, there would be four squadrons of four Frigates, known as Wolf Packs, spreading out through the system to fill in the gaps and detect as many anomalies as quickly as they could. There were always 'hiding places' in a system; LaGrange points, moons, asteroids, comets, debris, natural gravitational distortions, Oort Clouds, and odd occurrences that were so normal in space.
"Lieutenant Yevseyenkov? I want our primary focus to be high-gain radiation scans, thermalization scans, and radio telemetry." Commander Vanderloo told his subordinate, First Lieutenant Nicolai Yevseyenkov, the Normandy's Ops Chief. It was his job to make sure that telemetry data and scans were as thorough as possible, and he was to inspect any 'hit' along with the technician to determine if it were an accurate hit or just echoes or ghost findings that were so common.
The issue, of course, was time.
The best sensors in any fleet worked on the principle of light; one could only receive data at the speed of light. Yes, communications could be sent at faster-than-light thanks to the Li-Fi Network of Comms Buoys; a Salarian invention some few centuries before. But readings came in real-time.
And space was huge.
Humanity worked off the principle of the AU; the Astronomical Unit. It was the distance from Sol to Earth, set at one-hundred and fifty million kilometers, in which light crossed in eight minutes and twenty seconds. If something happened an AU away from the Normandy, it would take them over eight minutes to realize it if the vessel were holding positions. Sooner if they were heading towards that direction, and never if they were heading away from it. Frigates, as the main reconnaissance and detection unit of a Naval Fleet, had the best sensors and best options for 'long-range' scanning at one point five AU's, meaning that they could verify accuracy at ninety-five percent of a scan or a reading at two hundred and twenty-five kilometers… on a reading twelve and a half minutes old.
Despite the vastness of space, the best option for anything Naval was to get closer.
"Commander Pressley? I want to plot a course for the maelstrom line in between Rayingri and Vahtz." Vanderloo continued, seeing the holographic representation of both planets. A tag indicated that the distance between both planets was no less than a hundred thousand kilometers, a forth of the distance between Terra and Luna. "It's the best hiding spot for both ourselves and enemy forces. That wake will play havoc with our sensors, so I want visual scans of the terminator line where their atmospheres are rubbing."
"What distance are we talking about?" Pressley asked, his helmeted head looking towards Mark. His own prevented Charles from seeing his smile.
"We're going to 'Round the Horn', Navigation." That had all four heads at Tac Alley in CIC look up at the XO at his order. "Plot course for the depths and passage through the other side."
"Our pilot is just going to love this." The Navigator groused through his suits' vox, already working through the math of the known telemetry of the terminator line of Rayingri/Vahtz. "Fifty Creds say at least half the Ops Alley fills their helmets with puke."
"Two-thirds. Plus all of the Weapons Division." There was an audible snort from Lieutenant (junior grade) Vanessa Steele, the Weapons Chief looking to her counterpart, Chief Petty Officer Robert Felawa.
"You puke in your helmet, you're cleaning it with your tongue." Steele told her subordinate. "XO needs to pay for fleecing us for guessing the Butcher."
The Horn, July 5, 2183
"Captain, we've entered the Horn. ETA is ten mikes." Commander Mark Vanderloo's voice came over the PA in the Normandy's Cargo Bay. The announcement was unnecessary as the Frigate shook and shimmied in chop of the narrow corridor that separated Rayingri from Vahtz, a corridor that was nine hundred and eight kilometers wide… and only a kilometer deep. Sergeant First Class Ashley Madeline Williams had just been briefed that the Bridge crew had found the ACV Horizon in the terminator line, a Carrier vessel skirting between two planets, hovering in the deadly pull of two gravitational sources threatening to pull it to the depths of two planets that would cause it to have what the Navy liked to call 'uncontrolled descent maneuvers' and everyone else with a brain called 'crash landing'. Even the Colonial Soldier knew a Carrier couldn't pull out of a gravity well once too far it; too much mass. The fact that the Cruise was sitting in such a precarious position did not bode well. A particularly large shift in the ship to the left/port had everyone in the Cargo Bay jerk and attempt to keep to their feet. A couple of the Marines and Doctor Liara T'soni lost that battle, going to the deck.
"Acknowledged, XO." The Skipper replied out loud, her armored visor looking up to the ceiling where the PA was situated, and then back to TEAM LION. "Chief Holloway! Ready shuttle and disembark when we get close." Chief Warrant Officer-2 Patricia Holloway, the Normandy's lone Colonial Air Force member and Personal Vehicle Pilot, nodded as the woman dressed in Aldrin Labs' Onyx Medium Armor boarded the UT-47 Kodiak Utility Transport Vessel "Rey Kenobi". Why the Skipper felt the need to name the shuttle after the female protagonist of the third Star Wars Trilogy, Ash had no idea. No, wait… Captain Shepard was a nerd. That was it. Well, it wasn't like Williams hadn't named her Kassa Fabrications' M76 Reverent Light Machine Gun 'Puff the Magic Dragon' because it sounded awesome. Everyone had their thing. It was only weird if it didn't work.
"Army." Ash looked to the Skipper, decked out in her brand-new (and awesome-looking!) SPECTRE Armor, looking like a SPECTRE should; that they ate this kind of shit for breakfast. "I need you to take this medium sustainment bag and haul it for the mission. It's a SAM Node."
"Okay. Got it." Williams grabbed the hardcase sustainment bag and magnetically locked it on her back after moving her Kassa Fabrications' M-92 Mantis Platform that Detective Garrus Vakarian had bored out and pimped out. Before, it had been a nail driver. But after an hour or so on the Normandy's mock weapons range in the Cargo Bay, Ash had been pleasantly impressed to see that it was now twenty percent more powerful without risking damaging the shaver or the heatsink. She might not like Turians, but the RRU Sniper had earned himself an exception in her book. He had agreed to teaching her a little more on modding weapons to expand her own knowledge and abilities, and she was no slouch herself. Ash wasn't sure what a SAM Node was, but by the name, she guessed that she had just become the Radioman. Well, 'shoot, move, and communicate' was more than just an Army cadence, after all. She replaced the Mantis on her back, attaching it to a magnetic hardpoint on the side of the sustainment bag. "I'm the walkie-talkie?"
"It's a portable Quantum Entanglement Device that'll keep us in communique without fear of hacking, jamming, or being listened into. It's ten megaCredits." That had Ash almost drop her Reverent. She was carrying a ten million Credit device on her back! "That's why you instead of one of the Marines." The Skipper told her, obviously sensing her facial reaction without being able to see it through her Rosenkov Materials' Titan Heavy Combat Armor's helmet, where only a thin band for the visor for her eyes could be seen. Ash somewhat knew what Quantum Entanglement meant; a Quantum polycule had been crafted and divided to ensure seamless communications between two points… regardless of distance. She didn't know the mechanics of it, but just suspected it was a goodie that the Lion picked up from the SPECTRE Home Office. She could see the others going through Pre-Combat Inspections and Pre-Combat Checks, having already done so twenty minutes prior but just doing last-minute checks.
Ash noted that Petty Officer Sara Ryder had a large sustainment hardcase bag on her back, obviously the AidBag, with several attachments on the side and on her own typical-looking SPECTRE Armor. The attachments were color-coded for other species' medical paraphernalia based on blood color; cobalt for Turians, indigo for Quarians, lime for Salarians, orange for Krogan, and lavender for Asari. The Corpsman was going without builds and packages for her weapons and armor in lieu of having more medical supplies for TEAM LION. Well, Medics were armed as a necessity, not as a means for them to get into the fight. Still, she had that personally-crafted M-37 Falcon Duel-Purpose Objective Weapon attached to her chestplate, the Smith and Wesson Model 696 MA Revolver on her left hip, and a HMWSM MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. I Submachine Gun on her right. She could slug it out if she needed to, being a SPECTRE's Second.
Marshal Samantha Collins was decked out in HMWA MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. I Armor like Sara was, though her weapons were different. Her primary weapon was a Nexus Engagement Reliable Firearms' ECS-10 Modulus Assault Rifle, a fairly-standard lethal armament for Law Enforcement personnel. She also had a pair of pistols on each hip; one being her own infamous Smith and Wesson Model 696 that she absconded from her traitorous boss, Marshal Bart Weathers, the Frontier Marshal of Therum before her, and the other being a Springfield Arms XD Seven-Five Combat Pistol. As Ash understood it, Sam Collins had never actually worn SPECTRE Armor before, due to the fact that she was pretty much an undercover SPECTRE. That explained the Human-manufactured weapons instead of ones from the Office of Special Tactics. Still, the Marshal had a HMWSG MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. I Shotgun clipped behind her hips, and a HMWSM Submachine Gun attached just forward of her left hip. The only nod to her identity was the Silver Star over her heart, the six-pointed badge of a Federal Marshal. Well, Sara had the Blue Cross with the Rod of Asclepius inside of it; the symbol of the Human Emergency Medical Technician over her heart. Just like the Skipper had the 'N7' designation over her heart as well.
Ash double-checked her weapons and her packages and builds, having opted to taking an Ammo Mod package in case they were facing either pirates or Geth, and then another for what she had tricked out her Reverent with by adding a small portable bottle of Liquid Helium that could be inserted alongside the upper receiver. The idea was that she could max out how many rounds she could fire between cooldowns and even up her rate-of-fire with the Heavy Machine Gun by having a system where microbursts of refrigerated coolant were spurted into the weapons' cyclic system to keep the heat down and let the weapons' software suite overclock without damaging the weapon. She called it 'Overkill' as a joke. She saw everyone else doing the same, going over their weapons and builds, making sure that everything was in order and fully accessible.
"ETA to SP, sixty seconds." Vanderloo's voice came up on the PA again.
"Saddle up, folks!" The Skipper announced as she spun her left forefinger in the air in a hand-and-arm signal meaning to round up. The sixteen members of TEAM LION boarded the shuttle meant for fifteen, being a bit of a tight fit considering how big Urdnot Wrex was. Still, they made it work as the Skipper went into the co-pilots' seat of the Rey Kenobi and everyone else secured themselves into a deployment seat as a klaxon alarm wailed in the Cargo Bay, indicating that the deployment door to the Normandy was opening. A Kiggs atmospheric barrier kept the air in as Ash stood stag in the middle of the shuttle, opting to be the lone man out without a seat as she grabbed onto an 'Oh Shit' bar installed on the ceiling of the shuttle, bending down to see through the cockpit windows of the UT-47, seeing space in front of them. Well, not really.
She was looking at hell.
"Holy fuck, we're flying through that?" Williams gawked as the Normandy took a particularly hard hit to the right/starboard, damn near throwing her into Niki'Raan nar Tombay's lap, the 'Oh Shit' bar saving her from getting too cuddly with the Quarian Pilgrim in the blue-and-white EnviroSuit. Her attention was still upon what she was seeing, where a planetary game of tug-of-war was going on right in front of her. The atmospheres of Rayingri and Vahtz were at war with one another, broiling and on fire, two different atmospheric pressures and compositions fighting for dominance in a pre-apocalyptic battle. Ash had heard of the sky being on fire as a reference to sunsets and volcanic explosions, but nothing matched the fact that there was something like a billion cubic meter Class Fifteen hurricane burning in front of them as an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere fought against a nitrogen-argon one. It looked like they were about to fly into a constantly detonating explosion.
"Temperature's rated at ninety-four degrees Celsius, Army." The Skipper informed her from the co-pilot's seat, looking ahead. "Not even hot enough to make soup. Shields and hull can take it easily, as can our suits. Be glad we got good MagLoc Boots."
"Yeah, I heard that." The UT-47 powered up and hovered over the Cargo Bay's deck as Chief Holloway flew them into the storm of fire, the Rey shaking and jostling as it flew forward into the maelstrom. How the hell the Chief even knew where to go was beyond her, probably electronic telemetry waypoints on the navigation systems of the Utility Transport Vessel as it was buffeted port and starboard, bouncing and quaking with the force. Williams grabbed the 'Oh Shit' bar tighter as they traveled the ten kilometer distance to the ACV Horizon. How anyone spotted it in this burning mess was beyond her. She couldn't even see it, and she was looking out a window!
"Vector set, on approach to Deck One hull." The Air Force Warrant Officer called out, her voice announcing though her suits' vox. "Ship's still got juice. Don't know if it's on autopilot or a VI is making auto-corrections, but it's keeping to well enough for a hull clamp, Captain."
"Set the Rey just behind the Bridge, Chief." The Level Three SPECTRE informed the shuttle pilot, the Kodiak taking a few shifts and bangs through the fiery atmosphere before…
…holy fuck, there it was.
The Colonial Sergeant had never really seen many Naval vessels up close before. Yes, she had seen ones docked on the Arc, but the bigger ones had been docked in the Arc Shipyards. The same was true for the Cit, where only Fourth-Rate vessels and lower could dock with the station, others having to launch shuttles and pinnacles to gain access. Seeing a seven-hundred and twenty-three meter vessel right in front of her eyes, less than a kilometer away? Ash was shocked with how big it was. Carriers were really just shy of being Dreadnoughts; all they generally lacked was the spinal-mounted, ship-killing main cannon. She remembered what the Skipper had told them; the vessel was twenty-one million cubic meters in area. Seeing it in front of her made Ash realize that it was really just a small town crammed into a hull and floating in space.
"Ten seconds to RP." The Air Force Chief called out as the Rey maneuvered over the hull of the craft, the pilot skimming over the top of the ship (whatever the Navy term for that was) where there were no port windows to observe the approach. The Skipper and the XO had foregone any attempt to send communications to the Carrier-Class vessel when they had found it. No one in their damn mind wanted to sightsee inside a constant burning lake of exploding fire. "Found a good spot, latching on in five, four, three, two…"
There was a powerful thud as the shuttle connected to the ship magnetically, and Ash winced at the slight pins-and-needles feeling in her feet from the force.
"El-tee, Agent Zevin and myself, prep for EVA. Everyone else… enjoy the spectacle." The Captain's joke fell flat as First Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, Agent Zevin Raeka, and herself moved over to the shuttles' deployment door, Shepard activating a Kiggs field before disengaging the lock. Ash winced at the sight of what looked to be the very image of hell wreathing over the hull of the Horizon, low-temperature fire setting everything ablaze as the three armored personnel exited the Rey and stepped onto the hull, catching on fire. The sight had Williams queasy, though she knew intellectually that combat armor could survive temperatures much worse than ninety-four degrees Celsius.
"That's a sight you don't see everyday." The Sergeant shook her helmeted head, watching as Lieutenant Alenko took a frame that was approximately one-and-a-half meters squared and installed it onto the hull. It was an object that he had crafted on the Normandy, a specialty shaped charge that would melt the hull with precision by means of low-yield thermite, penetrating the thick hull for access. All the while that was going on, the top of the frame would emit a Kiggs atmospheric barrier to keep the ships' alarm from reacting to a hull breech. It was an EOD trick crafted by some N Engineer and taught to others for VBSS missions where going through an airlock was a terrible idea. Alenko affixed the frame to the hull, activating the barrier field before igniting the thermite, indicating that the process would take twenty seconds. Despite being on fire, Kaidan worked as a professional should. Agent Zevin stood right by him with a magnetic grappling tool that was obviously meant to grab the section of hull to keep it from dropping into the ship. Almost half a minute later, the Salarian Not-Dalatrass was pulling out a meter-and-a-half squared piece of hull that was several centimeters thick, Captain Shepard helping the STG Agent out. The piece of hull was magnetically connected beside the breech hole as Alenko pulled from his back an extendable breeching ladder.
"Williams, Vakarian? Make us a beachhead." The Captain called out as Williams pulled her M-76 Reverent Light Machine Gun from her chestplate, the weapon extending into combat operations as she made sure her MagLocs were on before stepping into the inferno outside the shuttle. Thankfully, the constant fire was like fog; it was more like wisps of fire up-close as oppose to being embalmed with fire as the Colonial Soldier made her way to the ladder that Alenko had finished setting up. The Skipper gave her a nod as Williams took to the ladder, skirting down the contraption Navy-style with the inside of her boots and her left hand to keep her from falling to fast or off as she landed upon the deck with a thud, stepping away to clear the fatal funnel as she took position at the easiest approach to her, aiming her Reverent down a short corridor where no doors were opened and no people were present. A thud behind her told her that Detective Garrus Vakarian had landed as well, taking the opposite position of her, aiming his weapon down the opposite end of the corridor.
"Clear." The both of them announced almost on top of one another.
"Infill and secure perimeter." The Captain called out as Ash stepped forward several paces, keeping her Reverent trained down the corridor as she spotted three side doors and a terminating door at the end of the corridor. She noted that the corridor was lit with emergency lighting, illuminated at perhaps half-normal as she queued up the VISR overlay on her helmets' visor to augment the luminosity without destroying her vision with too many lumes. She could hear the ladder being used as TEAM LION infilled from outside and began to fill the three-meter wide corridor with their presence. Ash noted details of the vessel, never having been on a VBSS Op before, being Colonial Army. The walls were some white duraplast, and the floor was… carpeted? It was most certainly a civilian-oriented vessel. But there were no people, no noises, and thankfully no breach alarms.
"Think I'm looking at the Bridge, Skipper. Or at least the Helm Room." Williams called out, looking at the door at her end of the corridor. There wasn't a label or any placard to identify it, but the entrance mechanism only had one button, indicating access instead of a turbolift mechanism having two buttons. "Sorry if I can't tell North on a ship."
"Nice one, Army." Petty Officer Sara Ryder snorted, her tone sly. "You're facing the bow of the ship, Sergeant. If I remember correctly, that door should be the Bridge. The two doors to your port are the Captain's Cabin and the Communications room, and the one to starboard is the Security Office."
"Last man in." Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko called out as he lowered the deployment ladder slightly and dropped the hull piece back into its original spot, using his OmniTool to slather WonderGel onto the seam he had made. "Give me a moment to reattach the hull to the breach."
"Vakarian, Williams, Collins,, and myself, stack on door." The Skipper called out, the N7 getting into the second position by rote as Williams took the lead position, switching out her M-76 Reverent for her Kassa Fabrications' Armageddon Objective Shotgun. She was just to the left of the door with a SPECTRE at her back, the Turian Detective right behind Shepard with his tricked-out ERCS M-15 Vindicator Battle Rifle while Marshal Sam Collins moved to the right of the door, where the access panel was. Collins looked at the Solider, nodding in readiness as Williams gave the go command, and the Level Two SPECTRE punched the access lock.
"Breach! Breach! Breach!"
Author's Note: The Carnival Horizon is in fact a real ship of the Carnival Corporation. It is the largest, which is why I picked it.
I actually explain out Special Forces work. No, they don't just jump on a helicopter, fast rope into the shit, and blast everything silly. Major operations are trained upon in near-likeness conditions based upon intelligence, drilling it to perfection and covering any scenarios that might occur. Raiding a house/compound one can do with grunts like I was. Raiding a High Value Target that's well defended, has spotters, several lines of communications, and fall back plans? That's when you send the specialists. The movie Black Hawk Down does a decent job of showing, though they don't go into the fact that the Rangers and Special Operations Detachment (Delta) practiced for that scenario for weeks on the possibility to capture one of several HVT Somali Warlords when the occasion came up.
Operation Order (OPORD) - Situation. Mission. Execution. Service and Support. Command and Communication. An OPORD controls a units' mission, be it a singular operation or a deployment, outlining and highlighting the expectations and requirements to carry out a mission. Patrols and raids generally don't get their own OPORDs, but a major operation or a push might/would. OPORDS can be huge, hundreds of pages depending on the unit and mission, and can last weeks to even a year depending on the expectations and requirements. A deployment would get its own OPORD. Garrison Operations do as well. Major operations such as the Battle of the Black Sea/Battle of Mog (what most people think of when they think of the book/movie Black Hawk Down) would get its own OPORD. National Training Center and Joint Readiness Training Center 'deployments' would. A standard patrol would not. A training exercise would not. A full Artillery Table… yes? Don't know, would have to ask someone stationed in Germany in the 90's who did one of those major events.
Fragmentary Order (FRAGO) - An Addendum to an OPORD, FRAGOs go in conjunction to a mission, such as a training event, an operation that is concurrent to the current one, an additional phase, or even a multi-unit cooperational phase. These are much smaller in nature, and usually last hours to days. Again, normal patrols don't get these. A Field Training Exercise or a less-than-normal module would. A joint exercise with multiple units that runs with the mission intent, or a planned raid upon intelligence gathered would as well.
Mindoir… nothing states if that is the name of the planet, colonial effort, town, etc. It seems weird to call it the 'Raid of an Entire Planet'. So Mindoir is the name of the city/town raided, and Amarestu (a canon Human colony) the planet it was on.
I mention 'civilian considerations' in a military operation; which is true in real life. That doesn't mean we necessarily take actions that promote long lives. In WWII, American Forces bombarded the shit out of French villages held by the Nazis with artillery and planes while French villagers hid in their basements and prayed as hard as fucking possible. I have knocked out civilians who didn't seem to get that dropping to the floor during a raid was the best option for their survival despite having to elbow them in the temple. You think this is wrong? Raid a house and have some random fucker come at you with bare hands in a high-stress combat situation. They were lucky it was an elbow.
HMWA MasterGear SPECTRE Armor, Mark I, IV, VIII, X - In the first game, each 'advancement' had a cute little Roman numeral to identify that it was an improvement to previous editions. I did away with this for the weapons and armors, but will have it for the SPECTRE Armor. Sara Ryder and Sam Collins will have 'Mk. I' Armor meant for Level Two SPECTREs and a SPECTRE's Second. Level Threes will have 'Mk. IV'. Veteran SPECTREs (like Nihlus and Tela Vasir) will have 'Mk. VII' armors. Saren Arterius, having been identified as having the best, will have 'Mk. X'.
SPECTRE Movies? - Well, there are a ton of movies featuring military personnel, and more than a few showing Special Forces components. It would make sense that there would be fictitious movies featuring fictitious SPECTREs doing fictitious missions. Like Blasto! I picked Act Of Valor as another movie as, IRL, that is a movie featuring Active-Duty Navy Seals on a somewhat-based real mission. Thanks to fanfic follower and Infantry-Cousin 'The Astartes' for the suggestion.
Sensors and Technology - Thanks to Memory Alpha (the official Star Trek Wiki) for ship-born technology and ideas, since their mission is exploration, discovery, intervention, and interspecies relations (sometimes with torpedoes). I will touch more on my philosophy on Mass Effect Navy, as I went deep into it in the unpublished ARC: The Third Unification War that was suppose to be part of 'A Fox Amongst The Wolves' when the Hierarchy defends Palaven against a Separatist coup d'force involving what Sam Collins coined 'a Death Star'.
'Round The Horn' - You're not a Sailor until you've sailed Cape Horn (ask any Sailor in the United State or British Navy). This act, known as 'going around the horn', has been a feat since the 1500's, where sailors brave where the Atlantic and Pacific meet just at the tip of Chile and bordered by Antarctica, known for its choppy seas, high winds, rocks, and wreckages of those who tried and failed. The Albatross Statue is at the point, dedicated to those brave souls lost to the depths; the largest sea-borne carrion bird that plucks the unfortunate from Poseidon's grasp. Gold hoop earrings came from this feat, sailors who sailed the Horn; a left one for those going east-to-west, and a right one for west-to-east (Pacific-to-Atlantic was way worse, going 'into' the breeze, or prevailing winds). The Panama Canal was created to cut down on the travel time (literally months!) as well as negating the dangers of lost cargo, lives, and vessels. Drake's Passage, made by Sir Francis Drake, the famous English Privateer (legal pirate for the Crown) marked the 50 degree South (Atlantic) to 50 degree South (Pacific) passage that was the 'safe' route, going around Nassau Bay and the Hermite Island Group (significantly wider for maneuver when been battered with wind and sea). No commercial vessel brave these waters, and only the brave (and stupid) test their skills and souls in the Furious Fifties, Screaming Sixties (the winds at such latitudes), rogue waves measuring a hundred feet tall, choppy seas that can knock a ship on its side, and fucking icebergs as if that wasn't enough. This is the most dangerous sailing waters in the world, and Davy Jones' Locker is filled with men who proved wanting in the Sailor's Bane.
Rey Kenobi? - Yes, I'm under the impression that Rey (Daisy Ridley) is in fact the grandchild of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Considering they're the only one with British accents in the series of trilogies minus Finn.
I made a realistic version of the Overkill/Turbocharge ability. 'Dumping' heat into armor would burn the user, I would think. Instead, Ash uses a coolant system.
VBSS - Visit, Board, Search, Seizure. Explained back in Dig Site Alpha, I
VISR Overlay - Virtual Image, Surveillance/Reconnaissance. Seen in both Halo 3: ODST and Mass Effect vs. Aliens: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope. Highlights details and adds gain to luminosity without blinding the user.