Author's Note: Okay, that took quite a bit longer than expected. But it's out. Enjoy, folks.
CHAPTER 24
1239 HOURS, 2 AUGUST 2537 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR)
ON BOARD CRUISER UNSC DAWN UNDER HEAVEN, HIGH ORBIT OVER GAS PLANET CIELRASI, GAMMA SIRIUS SYSTEM
OPERATION: PROMETHEUS
DAY 7
Captain Jane Trask washed her face, smiling as she let the cold water play over her skin. There was only one way to wake up, and this was it. The stimulant mixture given to crews following cryonic suspension had been diluted and modified for general use as a 'wakeup drug', but for Trask, nothing beat cold water out of a faucet.
She dried off her face with a towel, and then proceeded to don her captain's uniform, although she doubted that she'd need it. For seven days, the Dawn Under Heaven had been receiving messages from the STARS in orbit over K7-49, but not one had been serious enough that the cruiser would be needed. First, the operation had been running smoothly. Then Covenant troops on the asteroid's surface had launched a counterattack, and temporarily blunted the Spartans' progress, but it had been beaten, and now Alpha Company was finishing up with the last of their objectives on the asteroid.
"Another day of pomp and circumstance," Trask muttered to herself as she did up the final button on her uniform and pinned on her captain's insignia. Just then, her personal communicator began beeping. She picked it up and thumbed the 'Answer' control.
"Captain speaking."
"Ma'am, the XO just asked for you on the bridge. Says there's something you need to see."
"Tell him I'm on my way."
"Yes, ma'am."
Trask left her room for the elevator, her mind running through a checklist of what Hawke could need her on the bridge for. A Covenant attack would surely have sent alarm klaxons resounding through the ship, and something to do with the day-to-day running of the ship was well within Hawke's abilities to deal with. Knowing his adherence to the book, though...
Trask mentally prepared herself to walk down to the officer's mess after she was done on the bridge.
The elevator ride was curious. Trask checked her digital watch before entering. 12:40:27. As the car ascended through the bowels of the Halcyon-class cruiser, she watched the seconds tick off on her watch. Barely twenty seconds after she'd gotten into a car, she left. But in that time, she felt as though she'd aged roughly a year. As she walked through the corridors to the ship's bow, the monochromatic metal hallways seemed to stretch on forever. Every step she took seemed weighted with lead, and the crew that stopped to salute her seemed to enjoy taking their sweet time doing it. She doubled her pace.
The door to the command deck slid open, and the crew saluted Trask as she walked to where Commander Hawke stood. Most executive officers would have indulged themselves by standing by the commanding officer's viewscreen while they had command of the ship. The stricter ones might have just tried it once. Not Hawke. The Commander actually stood to the side of the commanding officer's display observing the exec's viewscreen, as if Trask had never left the bridge.
"Commanding officer on deck!" he barked at the crew as Trask strode up to him.
"At ease," she announced. "You had something to show me, Commander?"
"Yes, ma'am. At 1246 hours, one of our STARS picked up a radiation spike just off the asteroid's second Lagrange point. Roughly two seconds later, that probe shorted out. We didn't get a visual, but the other probes did detect a second radiation flare fifty-seven seconds after the initial incident."
Trask frowned. "You should get the ship's science crew up here- they'll tell you more than I can."
Hawke shook his head. "I confirmed with them before I contacted you. The energy released had a focused- by which I mean asymmetric- profile, and there are only two things a ship can do that produces asymmetrical energy profiles."
Trask blanched. "Then the first flare-"
The XO just nodded. "I can't make this call, ma'am. Regs are very fuzzy on deep Covenant space incursions, and I know my own flaws."
Trask sighed. "Charge the Slipspace capacitors- we need to retrieve the STARS and get those Spartans out of there. All crew to actions stations immediately- who knows what the Covenant did in the time they had."
"Ma'am! Captain!" exclaimed an officer at the sensor station. "We're receiving new readings from the STARS- thirteen spikes, all similar in size and radiation frequency except one. The eleventh one was big. Really big."
Hawke turned to Trask. "Should I give the order?"
The captain sighed and looked away from the tactical display, all the while feeling a strong urge to throw up. "No. The Covenant fleet's already been there six hours. We wouldn't last five seconds."
The commander straightened. "Then what do we do?"
"We wait- until it's over."
As she said those words, Trask's stomach churned. She could feel her prospects for getting to Heaven- if there was a Heaven- go out like a candle.
0713 HOURS, 2 AUGUST 2537 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR)
TARGET AREA BRONZE, ASTEROID K7-49, GAMMA SIRIUS SYSTEM
OPERATION: PROMETHEUS
DAY 7
Banshees swooped overhead, their multitudinous gravity thrusters all voices in a choir of never-ending wails. Their payloads, searing hot plasma and luminescent fuel rod bolts, slammed into the ground below them, scorching metal and stone alike. Dozens of Elite squads stormed through the lanes below at the head of Jackal and Type Bravo hunt-and-kill teams. The Type Bravos would often protest the Elites' meticulous searching, demanding a more direct route to their prey. But it didn't matter. Zeal burned inside the Elites, a white not fire that could not be put out. From where he sat, Cole saw an Elite Field Master skewer an insubordinate Type Bravo before the large apelike alien could even reach its own weapon. Then, as if nothing had happened, the unit moved on.
"Falcon, come in. We've lost your IFF signal. I say again, Falcon, come in. We've lost your IFF signal."
Leon responded. "This is Falcon Actual, over."
"Falcon, we need you to flank a Covenant force passing east of your position to relieve pressure on Cobra, how copy, over?"
"Solid copy, Wolf Pack. Falcon out." Leon pulled back the bolt on his rifle before turning to the rest of the team. Cole looked up.
"Come on, team. We have to get moving."
Cole nodded and moved to stand, but as he did, the whine of gravity boosters in the background suddenly grew a lot louder. Three Banshees flew directly at the fire team, spitting gouts of blue plasma at the Spartans. Before his conscious mind even understood he was being shot at, Cole had already dived to the side. Plasma smeared the metal surface he'd rested on just a minute ago, scorching the silver-purple alloy. Cole dropped a primed smoke grenade at his feet before sprinting towards the nearest ledge. His brain took a quarter second to consider his options. His choice: jump.
Cole slammed into a ledge on the far wall with his chest as his arms scrambled desperately to find purchase. Pain spread through his chest, a fire that split his tissue and screamed to his mind for attention. But Cole wouldn't focus on that- he hadn't failed Commander Ambrose and Chief Mendez yet, and he wasn't about to start. With a grunt, he pulled himself up into a standing position.
By now, the Banshees had flown off, their strafing run over. All the same, Cole left the ledge and entered the main building- no need to make himself a target. He activated a TEAMCOM channel and opened his mouth, but when only a strangled gasp came out, he closed the channel. Cole sighed in frustration for a second before switching his IFF tag's signal profile from 'Combat' to 'Search and Rescue', which was the highest power setting. He wouldn't be able to contact Leon and Eve directly, wherever they were, but he'd at least maximize their chances of detecting him.
Cole reached for his MA5K, only to find it wasn't there. His gaze turned back to the exposed ledge for a second before his training kicked in. He drew his M6 sidearm and checked the magazine. Eight rounds- he was set. Cole left through the only door in the room.
As it turned out, the entire building had been empty. Cole stepped into a seemingly deserted lane, his sidearm out and trained in front of him. Just then, he heard a grunt and a growl, followed by a series of light footsteps. Cole could feel his mind ticking like a clock. Neither Jackals nor Grunts growled, and neither the Type Bravos nor Hunters had the control to step lightly. Cole's trigger finger began to itch ever so slightly, but he calmed himself while concealing himself in the looming shadows of the two buildings that flanked the alley.
Two Elites, armed with plasma rifles, moved into the street. One wore orange armor, and its ornate helmet was adorned with a crest. Cole's breathing eased- he could take on a Major. The other Elite, though, wore white armor, and its elongated white headdress had only slits for the Elite to see through. In fact, its helmet's facial design was somewhat reminiscent of the Corinthian helmets that the ancient Greeks wore. What was more, a lurid orange concussion rifle was attached to the back of this Elite's armor. This was an Ultra- they answered directly to Zealot officers, and no-one else.
Cole crouched, ready to pounce if the two Elites showed any sign of recognizing him. After scanning the area from the entrance, the pair ventured down, alternating firing positions as they went. First the Major would cover the Ultra as its superior advanced, then the Major would move up, and the Ultra would protect it. It was tactically sound.
After they had moved around halfway up the alley, the Major began to move, but the Ultra barked out a command. The orange-armored Elite froze and trained its rifle on the Ultra's area. In the shadow, the huge Ultra's white armor appeared dull gray, and it strode over to Cole's vicinity. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the Elite peered back and forth, looking for something, something... SPI armor did have passive camo patterns as well as the energy-consuming active version, but it had never been that effective by comparison. After about five seconds, the Ultra stepped back, apparently content that no enemy was nearby. Cole sighed in relief, and his shoulders dropped just slightly.
The blue slits in the Ultra's helmet couldn't have gotten wider if someone had pried them apart.
Cole's legs snapped straight, launching him towards his opponent. With his left hand, he grabbed onto the Elite's helmet. His right hand punched out, forcing the M6 pistol in it into the facial slits on the Ultra's helmet. He felt the muzzle press against flesh.
No shields to stop the shell.
Cole squeezed the trigger, and as the pistol kicked back against his hand, the enormous Elite froze for a second before going limp. It sank to its knees and began to careen forward as its still-living comrade called out. A torrent of shimmering plasma began to flow Cole's way as he clambered over the Elite's shoulders and back. Grasping its concussion rifle, he fired off a shot, one-handed, at the Major.
The Elite's eyes widened in shock, and its legs coiled as if to jump, but the shining ball of purple energy connected before it could make its escape. True to its name, the shot from the concussion rifle didn't kill. Instead, the Elite was flung back several meters before slamming into the ground on its back. Before Cole even started towards it, though, the Major was twitching and attempting to get back on its feet. Cole didn't waste a moment. As the Elite rose, he sprinted over to it, aimed his pistol directly between the sockets at point-blank range, and fired.
The Elite Major's arm, which had been on its way up in an attempt to slap the pistol away, fell even as its momentum carried it forward, and it ended up delivering a slight impact on Cole's arm. The hit would have been jarring for a Marine, but it was barely a tap for him.
He didn't stand right away, even after he took the Major's plasma rifle and slapped the Ultra's concussion rifle onto his back. His pistol rested, once again, on his thigh armor panel, ready at a moment's notice. But Cole felt as though his head was filled with titanium. It was difficult to think with everything going on. But he had to keep going. Find Leon and Eve. Stop the Covenant counterattack. Get off the asteroid. He stood, accepting his personal mission.
Cole set off further down the alley- on his own, the less exposed he was, the better. He spotted four IFF tags on his TACMAP in a nearby building, and placed a NAV beacon on the building for Leon and Naomi to follow. After a second look, he saw the IFF tags belonged to Team Cobra, and the knots in his muscles eased slightly. He pinged their TEAMCOM channel and waited for a response.
One. Two. Three seconds, and still no response. Cole's stolen plasma rifle rose to eye level as he entered the building marked in his heads-up display. He cleared the bottom floor, room by room. He moved as silently as a whisper, his feet barely impacting the metal floor, but Cole could hear every step as if his feet were striking a gong. At length, he entered an elevator to the upper floors.
When the doors opened, Cole's breathing caught in his throat. Next to the bodies of an Elite and two Grunts lay a figure in SPI armor. The plates of the suit were cracked and scorched, and a matching helmet, its transparent visor shattered, lay half a meter away. Lily-A305 stared, motionless, at her last victims.
Cole scanned the room, noting as he did so the trail of plasma scoring, shell cases and blood that led into the next room. Being careful not to make any noise, Cole crossed the room, knelt at Lily's side, and closed the young Spartan's eyes. He sighed. If her face hadn't been screwed up in concentration and pain, Lily could have been sleeping. Cole left the room through the only other door.
As the door slid open and Cole stepped into the room, his foot hit the ground with a thump, and he glanced down. He'd stepped onto Keiran-A118's back. Keiran's MA5K assault rifle lay a meter away, and his body was splayed out on the floor- he'd been hit while running. There were not other access points into this room, and Cole knew what he'd find. He did not, however, quite expect what he actually saw.
Covenant corpses in the dozens, from lowly Grunt Minors all the way through a Hunter pair, were littered throughout the room, usually in multiple pieces. The charred and blackened remnants of Covenant plasma containers told a chilling story, and innumerable bullet holes, burn marks, and corpses spoke to Cole as plainly as if someone had been giving him a moment-by-moment account of the firefight.
Isabelle-A258's limp form was propped against a support column, pistol in hand. One of her legs stuck out at an angle, a horizontal slice mark ran across her upper chest, and a web of cracks radiated across her chestplate.
Sean and Lizzie took me back here- I wanted to keep fighting, and they understood that. It's surprisingly easy to land shots on Grunts' heads, but Elites are a different story. One came up to me and stepped onto my chest. I tried to shoot, but it knocked my arm aside. It raised its energy sword, and...
The only indicator that Elizabeth-A010 had ever existed was an M7 submachine gun and two light boot-shaped imprints against the coal-black floor.
Taking out one Hunter isn't too much trouble- it's not a cakewalk, but it's doable. I'd finished on one with my combat knife, but I lost it somewhere in the first Hunter's guts. I was wearing its bond brother down with my M7, and I was fairly certain that it would bleed out. But a Jackal got my attention for just the second it took to snap its neck. I turned my back to a Hunter for a single second.
Sean-A121's chest had been completely ripped open. If a single scrap of muscle hadn't been torn, it had been scorched black. His armor lay in a hundred pieces for meters around him, and there were multiple perforations in his helmet's visor. His neck was bent back impossibly far, as were two of his limbs. His injuries were eerily similar to those of an Elite Major that lay seven meters away.
Lizzie, Isabelle and I had kept the Covenant at a distance for some time, but when the Ultra commanding them charged our line, that was the end of it. He killed Isabelle before I could detonate the plasma cells, and while I was distracted a Major got in close. I couldn't wrestle with an officer- they were stronger, faster and more experienced than any of us. I got my hand free for just long enough to prime a grenade.
"His IFF is still broadcasting, and his vitals are stable. Through here, Eve!"
Cole turned around to see Leon enter the room. Falcon's leader hung his head once he took full stock of the room's contents, but after a second, he moved to Cole's side as Eve caught up with the two of them.
"Looks like you found Cobra. Were there any Covenant alive when you entered?"
Cole shook his head. Leon nodded, and as much as Cole wanted to, he couldn't help but hear the awful words that came from his leader's mouth. It was as though someone had sprayed all his nerves in acid.
"This is Falcon-Actual to all points, Fire Team Cobra is confirmed KIA. I repeat, Fire Team Cobra is confirmed KIA. This is Falcon-Actual, over and out."
Seconds later, text began to appear in Cole's heads-up display.
"LOSSES CONFIRMED. ALPHA COMPANY IS INADEQUATELY MANNED TO RESPOND TO FULL COVENANT COUNTEROFFENSIVE. ALL FIRE TEAMS: INITIATE ORDER OMEGA-2. BEGIN IMMEDIATE TACTICAL DISENGAGEMENT AND WITHDRAWAL TO ESCAPE VESSELS. RE-PRIORITIZATION OF ANY AND ALL ATTACKING HOSTILE FORCES AS LOW. REACTOR INSTALLATIONS REMAIN HIGH-VALUE CONTACTS."
In spite of himself, Cole was surprised that the plasma rifle's grip wasn't cracking in his hands.