Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading.
Another filler chapter; I wanted to flash out the back story of the Alliance and introduce a couple of supporting characters before the action picked up again.
Dear MDR: you may not agree with what I did, and that's your prerogative, but it's my story.
So stop bitching about it and move on.
Red In Tooth And Claw
Chapter 36: Semper Fidelis
"What the frak is THAT?!" Starbuck asked, pointing out of the view port at a massive ship that had come into view as the shuttle moved around the curvature of the Earth.
It was at least four kilometres long and seemed to be made up of a large slab of armour, with a series of pincer like appendages running down its length on either side. From her vantage point, she could only make out the details on one side: a forest of gantries and scaffolding covered the surface, while massively over-sized thruster assemblies sat at each corner. An equal over-sized engine could be seen at the far end, while a small, pressurised command deck protruded from what Starbuck assumed was the bow.
"That is the Newport News: part of the support element assigned to 4th Fleet for the duration of this mission." Baxter smiled, "She's a Brunel-class Mobile Dockyard, fresh from the builder's yard. But don't worry; they hand-picked the crew, so they're not all green." She pointed at a second, slightly smaller ship that looked like a slightly squashed oval with a long flight deck on the top and bottom, "That's our ride; the UNSC Hugh Dowding, the newest Super-Carrier in the fleet. Three magnetic accelerator cannons in the bow, two plasma torpedo launchers on either flank, nearly a thousand Archer missile pods and five hundred point-defence cannons. Backing that up are twenty meters of Titanium-A armour and energy shields; six squadrons of Longsword fighters and two of Shortsword bombers, along with Pelican and Albatross DropShips, among other support ships. She also carries her own battalion of Marines for planetary combat or boarding actions."
"Sounds just like home." Starbuck smiled, "Just how many ships are there in this fleet?"
"4th Fleet has a standing strength of eighteen ships: one Assault Carrier, one Super Carrier, two Battlecruisers, three Cruisers, four Frigates, five Destroyers and two Prowlers." The O.N.I. officer explained, "But for this mission we're taking along twelve supports ships of various types, including the Newport News and a number of bulk cargo ships full of food, medicine and other supplies."
Starbuck watched in awed silence as the shuttle made its way along the length of the super-carrier and came about. A pair of dark, predatory looking fighters took up position on their flanks, escorting them into the cavernous flight deck. There were dull thud as they touched down, then a slight jolt as an automated conveyor pulled them sideways into a waiting airlock. The outer hatch closed silently, the a red light started to flash outside as the bay re-pressurised before turning to a steady green.
"Welcome aboard the Hughie." Baxter gestured towards the hatch, "Let's get you settled into your quarters before we go to meet the Admiral, shall we?"
The Mgalekgolo bond-pair fell in behind as the Shock Troopers led the way. Starbuck was used to life on a Battlestar, so she knew roughly what to expect, but she was still surprised at how spacious the hallways were. Then she saw another pair of Mgalekgolo in slightly less ostentatious armour pass by, and realised that she had to adjust her preconceptions to take non-human physiology into account. Even then, she was stunned to see a human in a officer's uniform talking to a reptilian creature with four mandibles that stood taller than even a Spartan in full armour. The pair seemed deeply engrossed in their conversation and paid the pilot no heed as she passed by with her jaw agape.
"The Sangheili are another of our partners in the Alliance of Free Systems." Baxter waved it off as if humans and aliens living and working side by side was perfectly natural, "They, along with the Mgalekgolo, the Huragok and about two thirds of the Unggoy, helped us rebuild after the Covenant War. At first it was a matter of mutual defence, but the Alliance has grown into an economic and political superpower."
"I've met a few Huragok, but..." Starbuck shook her head, "If you had told me, just two years ago, that aliens were real, I'd have thought you'd gone space-happy."
"I can understand why you might feel that way, but I grew up around other species; it's all I've ever known." Baxter shrugged, "The Alliance is like an alloy; we're far stronger together than we would be alone. Some of the advances we've made since the end of the war have only been possible because we've worked together. Speaking purely as a military officer, our ships are faster, more powerful and much more durable than anything we've encountered that wasn't built by the Forerunners themselves." She stopped outside a more human-sized hatch, "The Admiral has decided that, for security reasons, you'll be bunking down with the Marines."
Starbuck looked at a sign above the hatch: it depicted an angel with a sword in one hand and a lightning bolt in the other, followed by the inscription 2nd Battalion, 125th Orbital Strike Division: The Falling Angels. Per Mare, Per Terram, Per Caelum.
Baxter spoke to the Mgalekgolo in their own language, and they nodded before marching away. The hallway on the other side was nearly identical to the ones they had already passed through, but the walls were painted a shade of drab, olive-green compared to the battleship grey they had been. The familiar sound of feet pounding on the deck in unison and voices singing out a marching song brought back memories of Starbuck's time as a flight instructor.
"DropShip rollin' on down the strip,
64 Marines on a one-way trip.
Mission top secret, destination unknown,
And we don't know if we're ever comin' home.
Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door,
Jump on out and count to four.
In case my main shouldn't open wide,
I pack a reserve 'chute by my side.
If that one should fail me too,
Then look out ground,
Cos' I'm a comin' through!"
A squad of men and women dressed in PT kit came jogging round the corner, led by a Sergeant in a campaign hat, a half-smoked cigar clenched between his teeth.
"If I should die in some distant war zone,
Then box me up and ship me home.
And as they lay me down to rest,
Tell my mom I did my best.
Give all my back-pay to my wife,
So she'll be happy for the rest of her life.
Tell my little baby, now don't you cry,
'Cause your daddy was a Helljumper when he died!"
"These are your quarters." Baxter stopped outside a hatch marked Visiting Officer, "I'll let you get settled, then show you around a little."
The cabin was small but well adorned, with a comfortable looking bunk against the far wall. A mirror was set into the bulkhead above a small desk, but closer inspection of the instructions printed beside it showed that it also served as a communications and entertainment console. Her meagre wardrobe had already been hung up in the closet, while UNSC-issue toilettes were lined up in the head for her use. She was glad to find a still steaming jug of strong, black coffee waiting for her on a small table, along side a bowl of strange looking fruit. The beverage was a bitterer than its Colonial counterpart, but there seemed to be no end to the blends available.
After freshening up, and downing two large cups of the coffee, Starbuck opened the hatch to find her O.N.I. minder waiting for her. It was a short walk down the hallway to a large, utilitarian room that looked like it was a combination mess hall and briefing room. Right then it was full of Marines standing at ease, eyes fixed forward.
"Hurrah! We are at war! War is what Marines pray for!" A man dressed in a UNMC Major's duty uniform marched to the front of a room and started to address the assembled troops, "Word coming down from the Brass is that we've got a new enemy; some race of bio-mechanical bastards who found God out in the ass end of nowhere, and have got themselves a hard-on for killing humans. Well, we handled the Covenant, and we can handle any tick-tock toy soldiers that think they're better than the men and women of my beloved Marine Corps!"
"HURRAH!" The assembled marines shouted as one.
"Damn strait! Our orders are simple; seek out the survivors of a lot colony of humans set up by the Forerunners way-back-when, and escort them safely to Alliance space." The Major grinned from ear to ear, "And on the way, pick up some Spartans who managed to get themselves a little lost. We are Marines: we will bring our people home and kill anything that stands in our way. Fleet may think that they're God's own gift to the 'verse, but we all know that wars are really won by boots on the ground. Boots warn by Orbital Drop Shock Troopers! Semper Fi!"
"SEMPER FI! SEMPER FI!" The marines chanted, "MARINE CORPS WAY IS DO OR DIE!"
"Semper Fi?" Starbuck asked from her place at the back of the room.
"It's short for Semper Fidelis, the Marine Corps motto: it means 'Always Faithful' in an old Earth language called Latin." Baxter explained, "The UNMC was created when the United Nations amalgamated the old United States Marine Corps and the British Royal Marines after the Rainforest Wars almost five hundred years ago, and they see themselves as carrying on the traditions of both."
"Briefing in the wardroom at 1900-hours for company and platoon commanders." The Major ordered, "Battalion, DIS-MISSED!"
The assembled marines came sharply to attention, then scatted, many coalescing into small groups to discuss what they had been told. The major looked over at Baxter and nodded, crossing the distance between them with long, easy strides. Up close Starbuck could see that he was much older than he sounded, with greying hair and a faint scar on the right side of his face. For some reason, he reminded her of Admiral Adama.
"For some reason, I'm not surprised to find that you're mixed up in all of this." He looked sternly at Baxter, then his face softened, and he enveloped her in a bear hug and lifted her clear up off of the deck, "It's good to see you again, Toni my girl!"
"Good to see you too, Uncle Steve!" Baxter sounded more like a giddy school girl than an intelligence officer, "Dad sends his love, and told me to remind you that he opted into the reserve program if you ever find yourself short of a good NCO."
"He always was a crazy bastard, even back when he was my squad leader." The marine put her down and stepped back, "I can't even count the number of times he saved my ass."
"Oh, I'm sure he remembers." Baxter composed herself, "This is Captain Kara Thrace of the Colonial Fleet. Captain Thrace, this is Major Steve Smith of the United Nations Marine Corps."
"So, you're the one I've been hearing so much about on the grape vines?" Smith looked at Starbuck as he pulled a cigar with its end already cut off from his shirt pocket, "The one who's responsible for all this?"
"I'm as surprised as anyone." Starbuck admitted as she looked at the cigar longingly, "I still don't understand how I got here."
"What do you know? A pilot who's willing to admit that they don't know everything." Smith held out the cigar and offered it, "You smoke?"
"Every chance I get." Starbuck took the offering and ran her nose along it, "Bit different to what we have back home."
"They're called Sweet Williams; kind of the unofficial cigar of Space Command." The marine officer produced a book of matches from another pocket and struck one, "They cost a little more, but I think they're worth it."
Starbuck took a long drag on the cigar and her eyes rolled back in her head, "Gods, I think I'm in love..."
"Yeah, they have that affect on some people." Smith chuckled, then turned back to Baxter, "Who's running the detail? I'm sure I saw a report, but I never was too fond of paper work."
"Sergeant Raymond and Corporal Torres." She explained, "They've both worked with O.N.I. in the past, so they know what's expected of them."
"Good choice: they're both good Marines." It was a simple statement of fact, but from Smith, there was no high praise, "You'd better take our 'guest' here up to the Flag Deck; I hear the Admiral's growing impatient to get this show on the road."
To Be Continued...