Chapter 4
Chess Match
Mago Rictus peeked from behind a large Covenant barricade. Plasma bolts sizzled out from a MG nest on the other side of the courtyard. It was nestled beneath a number of defense barriers, straddling a trench line that ran along the courtyard at the center of the outpost. The rounds struck the barricade and chipped away at the metal, slowly exposing Mago's cover. He wouldn't last much longer in his current position.
"Terrall - do it!" Mago called out as loud as he could.
Sergeant Terrall - along with several other ODSTs from the 41st Elite Brigade - went 'Over-The-Top' onto a nearby Covenant building off to Mago's left, igniting their jetpacks at maximum power for full thrust. The MG reacted just in time to catch the last trooper mid-air. Plasma rounds struck the trooper's jetpack. It erupted on his back, and the trooper crashed into the side of the building before falling more than 20 feet to the ground. But the rest of them made it onto the roof. With another team already hunkered down within that building, the ODSTs now had a multi-layered firing line to work with.
Explosions rippled the courtyard. Gunfire traded with plasma fire as Covenant troops, barricaded within their main control post near the MG nest, fought back ferociously. A distinct whoosh sounded out as a fuel-rod cannon opened up. Small yellow stars of plasma energy roiled through the air and impacted on Terrall's building, shaking its foundation and melting away precious chunks of cover. Screams could be heard.
Mago needed to move.
He rolled out of cover and scrambled forward on all fours, a hail of blue plasma bolts sizzling just over his head. After a yard, he launched himself forward with a calculated burst from his jetpack. Mere seconds later, Mago found himself lying within the trench line on his belly. There was a surprised squeal from behind, and Mago rolled over to see an alarmed grunt that'd been hunkering down out of sight. It raised a shaky plasma pistol - but Mago was faster. A quick three-round burst from his M7S Caseless dropped the alien on the spot.
Seconds passed. Mago opened his ears, listened hard. Heavy footsteps were coming from down the trench. Around the bend where the dead grunt lay. Mago posted up on his side and held his gun at the ready. Took several deep breaths. The footsteps stopped, just beyond the bend. Then a skirmisher came running full-speed. Mago dropped it with a hail of rounds, the AP ammo blowing through the alien and leaving smoking craters. Another skirmisher came flying from overhead, rather than running along the trench. It squealed like an insane rodent. A yellow plasma round smashed into the trench wall, nearly burning a hole in Mago's shoulder armor. Before he could react, the skirmisher landed atop him and they both fell to the ground.
Alone against an enraged skirmisher armed with a plasma pistol. Mago's life rode on what happened in the next few seconds.
When they hit the ground, Mago had already lost his M7S - intentionally so. It was a PDW: a personal defense weapon SMG, designed for close to mid-quarters warfare, but not for hand-to-hand combat. So Mago used his free hands to desperately fight for control of the plasma pistol. The skirmisher scrambled around on top of Mago and screamed in his visor, trying to twist it's gun hand to get a clean shot off. They warred against each other in a contest of strength that seemed to last minutes. And Mago was losing. Just before the skirmisher managed to angle the pistol at his chest - a shot that would eat through his armor and melt into his flesh - Mago snapped his head forward, the frontal part of his helmet smashing into the skirmisher's extended mouth. It shrieked and loosed for just a brief moment - long enough for Mago to wrap his legs around the beast and pin its gun hand down to one side with one hand, and used his other hand to lock the skirmisher's head down, keeping it from sitting up.
Mago was in control now.
It swatted at Mago with its free hand, but none of the blows were solid enough. Timing was everything. The skirmisher attempted another wild blow, and Mago seized on the opportunity, slipping past the blow and wrapping an arm around it's neck. Mago tightened his grip as hard as he possibly could and held it there. Held it there until he felt the skirmisher's resistance drain to nothing. Then held it even longer until it twitched one last time.
Mago kicked the body to the side and found his Caseless. There was another thud of heavy footfalls behind him, and he swiveled with his M7S ready to fire. This time, a Spartan-III slid up behind him, his armor scarred in several locations. Lieutenant Commander Rhynar. Along with a trio of ODSTs behind him.
"Their secondary shield array is down. Now we clear them out," Rhynar spoke, his voice a bulwark of calmness. "With me, Rictus!"
Rhynar didn't wait for a response, instead leading the way along the trench line hefting a MP33 light machinegun in one hand, and a rocket launcher in the other. Both weapons were the kind that Mago would've needed both hands to wield either properly. He swept in line behind the spartan, the three 41st troopers falling in on his rear. Plasma fire sailed overhead angrily. Covenant forces were trying to pin their position. It wasn't working. Due in part because Rhynar was moving fast. Faster than even Mago was used to. Where Mago had to slow down to watch his footing and his angles, Rhynar breezed along with both grace and skill. Every now and then, a burst from the MP33 would flare up, after which Mago would find himself stepping over a dead Covenant corpse - most of which were grunts and skirmishers. At one point, they made it to the plasma MG nest... Which was cleared out by Rhynar within about three seconds flat before pressing onward. Mago followed through to find dead grunts.
The big ones would be posted up inside their HQ building. Which was just beyond the rise in the trench up ahead. Rhynar brought their team to a stop, just outside the HQ's line of sight. Close enough to hear the growls and shouts of brutes, but far enough away that to push further would leave them exposed for far too long. Mago peeked over the shoulder of Rhynar and glanced at the HQ, just to see what they were dealing with.
Couldn't see much. All of their fire was coming from within the building. And they didn't seem to be letting up. Which meant a breach and clear. Provided Mago and the others could close the gap.
"I'm going in," Rhynar told him. Then handed him the rocket launcher. "Soon as I leave, signal Terrall to press forward. Then once I get inside, OTT onto their roof and breach them from above. We're doing this the hard way. Clear?"
Rhynar's plan was risky, but Mago didn't see any other options. And he was still trying to understand the spartan's capabilities. Going over-the-top to attack from above was sound enough tactics... But Rhynar was going to attack them with a frontal assault? Enter the HQ on his own?
"What about your camouflage?' Mago asked. But Rhynar shook his head.
"Armor needs repairing. And I don't need it."
Ohkay.
Mago relayed the plan to the other three ODSTs. They all nodded in agreement. "We're clear. On your move."
Mago waited as Rhynar slung the MP33 onto the magmount across his back. The spartan crawled forward until he was tucked just beneath the rise, still out of sight of the HQ. Rhynar pulled out 4 frag grenades - two in each hand - then suddenly shot forward into action like being fired out a cannon. Nothing but a puff of dirt and dust remained where Rhynar had been.
Mago immediately scooted further back into the trench and waved in the direction of Terrall's team. They were still perched on top of that first building they'd secured at the start of the skirmish. One of the troopers caught Mago's eyes and signaled back. When Mago clenched his hand into a fist, then pumped his arm twice, the trooper relayed the message. A few seconds later, Sergeant Terrall appeared from behind cover. Terrall gave an acknowledgment signal. Seconds after that, his entire team leaped to the ground, making smart use of their jetpacks to carry them safely. Good.
By the time Mago returned his attention forward, explosive vibrations were unsettling the ground. He made his way back up the rise and peered out at the HQ. Spotted Rhynar - a blur of speed that darted from one spot to the next - leap through a hole that'd formed in the front side of the HQ. The firepower from the building almost immediately dissipated as the Covenant within reacted to the perimeter breach.
"Stay behind me. Let's move," Mago said to the three troopers following him. They were 41st Elite Brigade. He didn't know their names, but he trusted them all the same. Had to. And they followed him.
Once they got within 25 feet, Mago signaled for his team to OTT. His pack carried him off the ground until he hovered about 10 meters above the HQ. Safe enough distance. Mago shouldered the M41 rocket launcher Rhynar had given him, aiming for center-mass on the top of the building. This wasn't the first time he'd fired an M41 while airborne. But it wasn't easy.
He shot both rockets in succession, and by the time he managed to stabilize himself, he had just a few precious seconds left before his thrusters would automatically shut off to cool and restore energy. The internal HUD systems check gave him a red warning sign. So Mago used those few seconds to steer toward the HQ until he was directly overhead, losing altitude the entire way. And the moment he got above the HQ's rooftop edge, his thrusters finally cut off, forcing him to fall the remaining several meters. He made it by just a couple feet, hitting the roof on his ass and rolling with the impact.
It wasn't a bad landing, and the 41st ODSTs were already in position surrounding the hole he'd blown open, firing down into unseen targets. Mago took a moment, setting the M41 aside and checking to make sure his M7S was prepped to fire. Then he glanced back down toward the trench network. Darius was making good progress. At least ten troopers were with him. The rest would be providing overwatch from cover at their building. And beyond the trenches, way back from the direction their attack group had first came, he spotted three more troopers entering the battle. They were late, whoever it was. Probably some FNGs that got tired of sitting around at camp.
Otherwise, so far so good.
Satisfied, Mago made his way to the hole, where black smoke and dust was still oozing out of like inky mist. His VISR cut through it, and he spotted several dead jackal corpses in the room below. Nothing seemed alive.
Even still, this was going to be a dangerous multi-floor breach and clear. He held up his right hand and made a series of hand signs. Two of the troopers pulled out stun grenades. The third stacked up behind Mago on his right side. Mago closed his fist, then expanded his hand again. The stun grenades were thrown a second later. Soon as they detonated, Mago jumped into the hole facing the left. There was a single skirmisher backed into cover behind a small holotable in the corner of the room, its hands covering its eyes as it screeched. Mago fired two shots that struck it in the chest. When it hit the floor, he fired two more into its head. The room seemed clear after that.
The next few moments were spent double-tapping the dead jackals and securing the exit doorway. The door was Covenant design. One of their automated doors that were supposed to split open on approach. But it stayed locked.
"Can you get it open?" PFC. Tu-Seh spoke in a quiet voice. Even though he was from a whole different regiment, the man knew Mago was a rated Field Technician. The emblem was hard to miss.
As good as Mago was, he didn't have the equipment to break a Covenant system lock. Or, rather, he did. He turned to Tu-Seh and pulled out a fresh charge of I7-TD. "Yes."
Mago set to work, priming his I7-TD. Despite how frequent he seemed to be doing them these days, explosive entries weren't his favorite. In fact, they were highly dangerous. But it was his only option. And in the heat of combat, he had to capitalize on that option ASAP.
By half an hour later, the entirety of the listening post had been cleared.
Mago found himself sitting next to Darius on top of the HQ, his helmet off and a cigarette in his mouth. Darius pulled out some type of handheld blowtorch and lit it for him. Mago took a drag. Out on the ground below, ODSTs moved about like a chaotic mess. Several platoons had recently showed up, and they were busy going through the Covenant's data-feeds and other network devices leftover from the buildings. Scavenging whatever they could. They wouldn't find much. One of the brute leaders had been sensible enough to initiate a failsafe before getting killed by Rhynar. And some of the ODSTs were carrying bodies. A handful of troopers had died, and even more were wounded.
"Rough day, brother," Darius said before hitting his own cigarette.
Indeed, it had been. And the worse part was that it'd only just begun. The sun was still creeping its way overhead. By the time it hit the horizon again, the frontlines would likely be drastically different.
"Any word from your unit, son?"
Mago pointed to a trio of ODSTs that were talking to one of the lieutenants. He recognized all three of them. Most especially Jain. The lieutenant pointed up at Mago and Jain followed his gaze. She waved.
Mago took a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. Did a small salute back at Jain.
"Came a long way for you. You and her...?"
Mago cracked a smile. "She's more of a... I don't even know. Confidant."
Darius pulled out a pair of dogtags. It took Mago a second to recognize them. Lieutenant Juarez's.
"Me 'n Antonella were..." His voice was quiet. Reticent.
Technically, it was against standard code of conduct for romantic relations to develop between officers and enlisted. Or even among people in the same unit. Someone higher-up must've read something, somewhere, about it having adverse effects on unit performance. Probably some shit about emotions interfering with judgment and decision-making. Whatever bullshit the higher-ups came up with. Mago didn't say anything though.
"Grew up together. Went way back," Darius added. Mago spotted a single tear roll down Darius's cheek. "This whole day's been shitty."
Mago looked forward again, spotting Jain beckoning him over with a wave of her arm. He stood up and stretched before extending a hand to help Darius to his feet.
"Don't dwell on it," Mago told him, still clasping his hand.
Darius nodded. Then looked down at Jain. "You're 'bout to dip?"
Mago picked up his M7S and sealed it across his back. "Yep. I hope she brought a warthog. Don't feel like walking."
"Heh. Stay strong, brother." Darius gave him a clap on the shoulder.
"Likewise," Mago told him before heading down the HQ.
By the time he made it to ground level - which took him longer than he'd predicted - Mago felt as though his legs were about to give out. Fire raged through the nerves in his legs, and it felt as though a boxer had been using his back as a punching bag. Like snakes worming their way through his body. Squeezing and biting shit. Every step felt like trying to walk along the bottom of an ocean. Part of the pain came from not having slept in well over a day's worth of time. Another part came from the events of the past 5 or so hours, ever since he touched down to Magma V. He'd been fighting almost the entire time. And it was taking its toll.
On the ground floor, a number of troopers were standing with Rhynar as they peered over a localized region map. Rhynar caught Mago's eye and gave the slightest of nods. Mago saluted him back. The spartan would be embedded with the 41st Elite Brigade for the length of the campaign. But Mago wished the spartan could transfer to the 34th. Mago had never seen such a soldier before, and the man had his respect.
Mago put his helmet back on when he made it back outside.
"Been out here having fun without me," Jain said with a grin on her face. "Coulda saved some for us."
Mago glanced past her at the other 2 troopers. Johnny Rico and Pall. Nodded to them. "Surprised to see you here, Pall."
"Not my first choice. But somebody had to bring this," Pall told him as he held up a small datapacket.
"And what's that?"
"Orders passed down from the Fleet, by way of SOEIV pod. Admirals don't want to risk the comms network on this."
"I didn't know we had comms."
"We don't. Not fully, anyway."
Mago nodded to the datapacket. "What kind of orders?"
"The black-ink, don't-ask-questions kind. You seen the Commander?"
Mago pointed back to the HQ building. He assumed Rhynar was still there. "Try the first floor."
"Thanks." Pall glanced between the four of them. "I'll catch up with you all later."
Pall headed off, so Mago walked with Jain and Rico. Hoping he could catch up on what'd happened with the company since touchdown. But first.
"Tell me you brought a warthog."
"Why? Don't feel like hoofin' it?" Jain teased him. "What kinda trooper are you?"
"Don't worry, Sarge," Rico assured him. "I finessed us one. Gonna have to get it back without the mech' guys catching us though. Lemme handle that."
"You been with these guys the whole time?" Jain asked with a note of surprise, her eyes sweeping around the site. It was almost entirely a bunch of 41st Elite Brigade troopers, intermixed with some members of the Medical Corps. Based on his memory, Mago suspected he must've dropped off-course by well over 2 kilometers.
"Never been halfway decent at orbital insertions. You know that."
"Well, you'll be happy to know," Jain started as they reached the warthog. She tossed her machine gun into the rear before hopping into the driver seat. Rico took the LAAG cannon, so Mago climbed into the passenger seat. "I personally fucked up the covvies in our drop site. No thanks to you, Magnum. And saved Captain Sparr's ass."
"Hm." Mago leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Barely cracked a smile. Then it dissipated, and his face took on that serious expression again. "How did we do?"
"Lost a lotta the new guys," Rico spoke up with a note of anger simmering through his voice. "Just means we got a lotta get-back to do."
"Hell yeah!" Jain agreed.
They spent the next few minutes in silence. Jain drove slowly, picking her way through a small and rocky canyon. Distant explosions thudded on occasion. It was screening artillery fire, from both the UNSC and the Covenant's side. Meant to dissuade each other from making any major offenses across the front line. Which was a rare thing in the War. Most ground battles were over relatively quickly - usually due to decisive fleet engagements in orbit above. The fact that this battle wasn't over yet meant two things. First, Admiral Shepard was still engaged with the Covenant fleet in a very slow-paced battle; by the fact that it had lasted this long, it was safe to assume they'd be engaging in technical fighting for at least the next few days. That's how space battles went these days. And second, it meant that the Covenant fleet commander wasn't willing to go scorched-earth on Magma V. Not yet, anyways. The Covenant wanted to hold this world. Probably busy trying to coordinate a groundside defense currently.
Much like how Admiral Shepard would be initiating the Marine landings right about now.
0700 Hours - UNSC Military Standard Time
March 12, 2551 (Military Calendar)/
GH-5 Star System. Magma V
'Combined Fleet' flagship Punic-class supercarrier UNSC Despair's Light. Far orbit above Magma V.
Bren J. Shepard took a shot of liquor. Didn't even know what it was, but it hit good and at the right time.
"They're not gonna take the bait."
Bren glanced over at his Chief Weapons Officer, Ensign Kurtis Perkins. The bald man always had his doubts. Always had the second guess. Made him good to bounce tactics off of. But not that good for morale.
Everyone's eyes were on the primary viewport. Blips indicated a small handful of frigates heading on a trajectory that'd put them in geosynchronous orbit with the outer regions of the Covenant city on Magma V. In low-orbit just above the mesosphere. They were from his own fleet, but he'd re-assigned them to the 3rd Galactic Fleet of System Admiral Vaeto. And there was no way Vaeto could hide those frigates... But then again, stealth in space was a myth without specialized vessels like prowlers. And the goal wasn't to get there unseen, anyway.
The frigates slowed their acceleration to 50% power. Which meant that they were in range of the Covenant vessels.
Prow cannons along several of the Covenant ships began heating up. But they didn't fire. Not yet, anyway.
"Commence the longsword sortie," Bren commanded, his eyes still glued to the viewport.
Ahead of his own ship, several dozen longswords burst forth like an insect swarm. They disappeared into the blackness of space and became a series of light-blue holographic blips. All of them arced on a trajectory toward Magma V's upper stratosphere, where they would likely be met with seraph fighters. Their goal was to provide security for the dropships that would be ferrying the marine invasion force down to Magma V.
Other vessels in his fleet began spacing apart in a staggered formation - just enough movement to catch the Covenant's attention... But not enough to look like a reinforcing attack. Not enough to guard Vaeto's frigates.
But that was the point. Those frigates weren't supposed to be guarded.
Although the ships along the Covenant's first line were charging weapons, none of them had so much as fired yet. And they'd had ample opportunity to do so.
Which wasn't exactly ideal.
Beyond the Covenant fleet, past the shipyard, was some sort of massive structure, the likes of which Bren hadn't seen before - not even in the data he'd gotten from Alexander Gree. It was connected to the shipyard and the surface of Magma V by rods, connecting tubes and grav-lifts. Roxet had ran a saha-equation earlier upon detecting unusually large fluctuations in ionization energy relative to high degrees of electrons. Which meant plasma. And that meant one thing in particular: the megastructure was likely some kind of superweapon. Roxet couldn't discern it's capabilities. So Bren had been hoping to draw it's fire. See what it could do. Because it's capabilities, if sufficient enough, were likely to end this entire battle on its own if Bren mistakenly maneuvered his fleet into a compromising position.
"They're not gonna take it, Admiral," Perkins added again.
Bren frowned.
The frigates weren't manned by anyone, and instead contained large amounts of Type-9 Condensed hard-case detonite payloads within secured core sections - the same explosives Bren had used earlier on in the battle as a bluff first invasion wave. Upon destruction, the frigates would collapse to Magma V carrying thousands of pounds of the explosives with hard-case wreckage. Enough to level a country. They couldn't be detonated remotely, but a planetary collision from orbit would carry just enough kinetic force to tip them over the edge and cause detonation. The type of detonation that would effectively dismantle most of the Covenant's defensive network.
Just then, a pair of small corvettes broke off from the Covenant formation, heading on an intercept trajectory with the frigates.
"Get me a link with Vaeto," Bren commanded, heading for his command dais. Things were about to heat up. "Tell Dennett and Vette to begin the invasion waves. Remaining ships are to begin powering weapons and moving to claw formation, bullseye-reference Hope Swiftly Dispelled heading 268 minimum-speed, 10-4. All units hold fire."
He sat down with the calm authority of a veteran admiral. Picked at his left eyebrow as he studied the system-map. Tried to deduce the best course of action. Things were still moving slow. So that was good. But the last thing Bren wanted was to miss an opportunity.
"Should we screen the scout frigates?" Roxet asked, their frame appearing on the pedestal near the weapons stations.
Bren heard the question, but didn't process it. Instead, he leaned forward. "Why would they break off two corvettes?"
"They could be trying to match us," offered Lieutenant Aylexx Jonesyn. She'd been unusually quiet ever since the battle had started. Maybe her nerves were getting shot. Things had been tense, even by Shepard's standards.
Her suggestion was possible, but unlikely. There was no point for the Covenant to go fisticuffs when they could just blast the frigates from a safe distance.
Before anyone could formulate another hypothesis, System Admiral Julius Vaeto's bridge appeared on the primary holo-screen.
"Looks like they're going for the close-and-personal kill, Bren J. I'm going to hold position until they open fire. Then force them to pay attention to us." Vaeto's bridge was abuzz with activity, but he stood as still as statue in the midst of it. Taller than anyone else from what Bren could see, and with more hair than standard UNSC regulation. Vaeto looked like more of a professional gravball blitzer than a naval officer.
"Something's not right," Bren warned. "They should've opened fire by now."
"Think they know our game?"
Bren looked over at Perkins. Their eyes locked. Perkins gave a knowing tilt with his head. The infamous I told you so tilt.
"I think they're not going for it," Bren admitted.
He still had no real idea of who the Covenant Supreme Commander was. But it had to be some very high-ranking elite. Whoever it was, the bastard was proving himself to be quite skilled and experienced.
"The ball's still in their court. We'll let them make the next move," he said.
Fleetmaster Gedo Nar 'Kululee wasn't a gambling sangheili. He didn't find enjoyment in betting odds and rolling stihr. But he'd been forced to do so this time. Forced to roll the stihr. And it tentatively appeared as though he'd won.
The UNSC frigates - six of them in total - sailed along nearing the mesosphere above Magma V. Nearing the overhead of Ghalossus City's outskirts. Strangely so. Gedo's first intuition had been the obvious one; that the frigates were a screening force in preparation for a larger offensive maneuver. But that didn't make sense. It was too... Simple. Obvious. And there was no world in which a human commander would willingly throw away six whole frigates for naught. Because those vessels stood no chance, and both Gedo and the human commander knew that they could be destroyed well before entering their effective weapons range.
And why drop so deep into Magma V's gravity well, where it became considerably more difficult to perform evasive maneuvers? Not even a fool would do that, and the enemy fleetmaster was no fool.
So the play was some type of bluff. As if their fleetmaster was playing a game of stihr. Gedo only hoped that it wasn't a double bluff. He had the sneaking suspicion that the enemy wanted him to risk firing toward the surface. That would explain why their frigates were so close to Magma V. They were willing to trade the 6 ships if it meant even a handful of torpedoes missing and potentially striking the city. Firing down into a planetary atmosphere was dangerous - a fact well-known to the Covenant navy - and that's essentially what Gedo would be doing. And they knew Gedo wasn't going to go for that. So they were trying to force Gedo's hand; tie up his options and draw him into a close-range, gritty broadside fight where he'd be out of position at a disadvantage. Easy pickings for their fleet, where maneuverability and speed would be most difficult.
Impressive...
Is what Gedo would have said, had he not seen through it.
"Commence the boarding operation," Gedo commanded. "Then immediately pull back the Sidious Seafare and the Ignoble Contention."
"At that range? They'll be exposed to the enemy point-defense guns for extended time," Repa 'Antamee suggested. He and his brother Hugo bore worried expressions.
"And we lose our window to strike," a new voice cut in. This was Shipmaster Ori 'Sumai, his voice coming in over the intercom system link with the super-destroyer Furious Vengeance. "A dire mistake, fleetmaster. We should end this posturing and attack swiftly. Crush the humans beneath our fire."
Gedo could not concur. He respected Ori's veterancy and experience, but the sangheili did not have a head for strategy or tactics. Worse yet, Ori consistently underestimated the humans. A trait that'd seen the demise of many within the Covenant.
"They wish to draw us in close. We will not take the bait." Still, Gedo understood their concern. The boarding action would cost a lot of lives. But that was why he sent 2 corvettes. For overwhelming numbers. At least half of them were bound to make it. It was his best move. Regardless of what happened, the humans' intentions would be made clear.
Gedo watched his viewports eagerly. Dozens of hieroglyphic runes spread outward from the twin corvettes, all of them arcing directly toward the frigate squadron. The corvettes peeled off then, leaving the boarding craft guarded by nothing more than a few seraph fighters. Plasma cannon rounds arced ahead of the boarding boats to screen their advance, but they were otherwise left alone.
Gedo spread his mandibles. He couldn't do anything about their invasion deployment, but he could still wipe out their fleet piece by piece. Starting with this little game their fleetmaster was trying to play.
So why weren't the frigates opening fire?
Gedo's smile dissipated.
"Put me in contact with Spec-Ops Officer 'Netalee."
Hugo piped up. "One minute."
Gedo marched to his command throne and resisted the urge to slam his fist down on the armrest. There was likely only one explanation for why the human frigates weren't opening fire on the boarding craft. Perhaps the ships were traps. Likely set to detonate. A trick similar to one the human commander had already employed once.
Hmm.
"What is their fleet doing?"
"A formation change," Hugo reported. "Detecting deuterium buildup. They're readying weapons. But otherwise maintaining position."
"So they're prepping for a fight... They want us to go on the offensive."
"And we should," Ori jumped in. "I tire of these games."
Ori's constant 'tactical suggestions' were beginning to border on complaint and second-guessing. Gedo held respect for the sangheili, but he could not harbor such actions within his ranks. Could not harbor someone undercutting him. Advice was one thing. But pesky whining was another.
Repa turned in his seat. "Shall we? Status reports are green across the board."
"No. We have no reason to leave our position. So long as we maintain formation, they shall never strike the Triumphant Fist. We win by default once its weapons systems come online."
"We do not even know if it will fire," Ori complained. Gedo was just about to retort angrily when -
- "Communications established, Fleetmaster!"
Seconds later, they heard the voice of 'Netalee.
"We have infiltrated their ship," 'Netalee said. "No contact. I repeat, no contact. The vessel appears devoid of life."
Out the main viewport, the human frigates slowed down further deep within Magma V's gravity well...
Gedo could tell that something was at hand. But he couldn't decipher what. His only intuition was that the ships were somehow set to detonate. But there was no way the human fleetmaster could've predicted that Gedo would commence a boarding action. Nobody could have predicted that with any degree of confidence. How could he? But a detonation would not do much harm to Gedo's fleet, even if he surrounded all five frigates at close-range. At most, he could potentially lose his corvettes. A trade that Gedo, for his own part, wouldn't be willing to make were he in command of the human fleet. So he assumed the enemy wouldn't make that trade as well. And the only bombs the humans had that could tank Gedo's fleet were of such a scale that they would also destroy the humans, and most of Magma V. So, what then?
"There are no humans on the ship?"
"Reports are still coming in. But it seems as if all frigates are unmanned. Orders?"
Gedo growled in anger. The last thing he hated was to be at a loss of understanding. Perhaps his best move would be to aggressively attack the humans. Obliterate them with fury and rage. If only it were that easy.
He relaxed in his seat. "Investigate. Search for neotronic-density readings - the frigates may be armed with their tactical nukes. Report back once you've finished."
1030 Hours - UNSC Military Standard Time :: 0824 Hours - Magma V Central Standard Time
March 12, 2551 (Military Calendar)/
GH-5 Star System. Magma V
Forward Operating Base Juniper. Sector 5.
First Lieutenant Jane Shepard sat on top of an ammunitions crate within the FOB HQ, her hands mindlessly loading M634 rounds into a magazine for her BR55. She watched the holotable at the center of the room. Scanned the 3-dimensional map that portrayed the terrain surrounding the FOB, highlighting the positions of friendly units and suspected enemy locations. The frontlines. And it spanned several kilometers from north to south, linking together two other FOBs and the entirety of the ODST-TSC joint task force. Down on that southern end was where it ended at some type of sea that ran even further south by more than a few dozen kilometers, where it connected to a strait that led down to where the primary marine invasion force had landed.
Anything at that sea and beyond was of little importance to the joint task force though. The only thing that mattered was the Covenant in front of them. Beyond the forest.
"Recon birds from Air Combat Command have confirmed at least two spires here and here," General Shesty gestured to 2 distinct locations on the holomap, placing light-green markers to highlight the spires. He stood at the holotable alone, sporting a hat and a mixed set of PTRN V[B] ODST armor plating fitted on top of basic green field-issue clothing. Like someone that didn't know if they wanted to be an office desk-jockey or a marine. And a fat cigar poked out the corner of his mouth. Everyone else in the room - all officers of other detachments in the joint task force, as well as several Spartan-IIIs - were seated and listening attentively. Including the TSC officers.
"And they're larger than what we've seen before. Major Miyazaki can't get in close overhead, but suspects the spires to be some sort of Covenant training facilities."
High Force-Captain Aketai leaned forward on his seat. He was perched high off the ground, sitting on top of a large stack of spare mortar munitions equipment. The lights casting down gave him a special kind of glow. It bounced off the dark-red armor worn by the Tactical Strike Commandos with a cool metallic sheen. Aketai scratched at a stubble of hair on his chin when he spoke.
"And the defenses? I imagine they must be quite considerable."
"That's what I suspect... But we won't know until we take a look ourselves," Shesty said as he looked at the three Spartan-IIIs. Jane followed his gaze. The spartans were seated at the row of chairs closest to the holotable. All of them fully-armored from head to toe. Tyshawn-B214, Abdul-B002, and one that Jane could recognize with or without armor - Lieutenant Nyxa-B310.
"That's where you spartans come in."
The spartans all glanced at each other then stood at the same time. Like an unspoken telepathic communication ability. Nyxa stepped forward from the three. Jane didn't know much about the other two spartans, but could only assume Nyxa maintained some sort of leadership role among them.
"Based on the environment and terrain that stretches across here," Nyxa started, her hand pointing toward the end of the forest separating the FOBs from the spires. "To here," she finished, this time highlighting a region of the map beyond the spires. The terrain appeared much more rocky and broken in that zone she marked out. As though earthquakes were fairly frequent. "We can expect them to have limited ground vehicle support. The ground is highly uneven, which makes the use of anti-gravity technology - the kind they like to employ - disadvantageous. That's good. Because even if they have a strong mechanized force, they're easy targets. But it makes a close approach more difficult."
Shesty seemed to mull over her words. "True," he agreed.
"As for numbers," Lieutenant Nyxa continued. "Based on these projections, the radius of these spires within their shields allows for at least a moderate defensive force per each. Maximum effectiveness would be somewhere around three thousand infantry a piece, assuming they have at least minor vehicle support. That's six thousand in total. At most, it can't be much more than that. So we have a numbers advantage, but that's obviously mitigated given they're barricaded, and behind shields.
So, like you say, we have to recon for further analysis." Nyxa gestured toward the two spartans behind her. "We're suited for that... But we'd be stretched thin trying to cover so much area on our own. The forest separating us from the spires is likely to contain advance Covenant scouts, patrols and more listening posts. And we know for certain that an airbase is within range of us, because their dropships had to have come from somewhere. Given the fact that Air Combat Command hasn't discovered it yet, we should assume it's hidden. So we need to locate it."
"Where would you hide an airbase?" Shesty asked incredulously as he studied the map.
"If you're the Covenant? On your own turf? You don't hide it. Not the base itself, at least. But you have advanced cloaking technology - the kind that can be activated in case of an emergency."
"Like an invasion force... Ohkay," Shesty nodded as he glanced down at the the map. "We'll assign each of you a team to work with from our ranks. I'll get Colonel Bricks to do the same with Lieutenant Commander Rhynar and the others. What would you need?"
Nyxa leaned forward on the holotable and looked around the room. Her visor stopped on Jane for a moment. Then she glanced over her shoulder at one of the other spartans.
"Your best," Lieutenant Tyshawn-214 spoke, his voice rumbling deep, quiet and clear all at once. "Scouts, trackers, reliable under pressure, quick-thinking, and so on. Anyone that can work being separated and alone behind enemy lines. We'll need to do a lot of reconnaissance before we can think about attacking those spires."
"Hang on," Aketai said suddenly. He hopped down from his perch and approached the holotable, standing next to Shesty. Aketai was at least two decades younger, but had a thick mane of silver hair that rivaled Shesty's nonetheless. "I'm not sure I agree with this."
Shesty took a step back. Gave Aketai the floor. "What are you thinking?"
"It'll take at least a week before we can comb the forest, assuming we don't run into major setbacks. And a week still before we can get in a position to launch an offensive. That's two whole weeks, and time isn't on our side. And when the Covenant launch a counter-strike, it'll set our timetable back even further."
"You have an alternative strategy?" Nyxa asked.
"Make use of the 9th," Aketai suggested, referencing the 9th Mechanized Raiders. They were the sole mechanized unit deployed alongside the joint task force. A relatively small number of standard ODST infantry fireteams. But a sizable force of tanks, APCs, warthogs and at least a handful of self-propelled artillery vehicles. "We have enough artillery and tanks to destroy this forest! Blow through and force our way to their spires. And that can be done within two days' time." Aketai's fist was clenched.
There was a brief pause. Nyxa was about to counter him, but before she did, Shesty put a hand up. "I think we should hear everyone's perspectives first before we make a final decision. If anyone has something to say, now's the time to speak."
Jane finished loading her third magazine. When she did, she raised her hand. Part of her felt as though she were back on Reach. Back in the Officer Candidate School. Back when things were just theories and simple basics. Way back when a hot shower and a hot meal was practically guaranteed.
Shesty pointed to her with his cigar and signaled for her to stand. "First Lieutenant Shepard, Fox Company, 34th Jump-Jet legionnaires. Go ahead."
Nice introduction. Jane wasn't used to higher-ups that could identify anyone beneath a Major. Maybe it was her dad that made her recognizable. Or maybe she was getting famous. Jane hoped it was neither of those. Didn't like attention, but she did like a commander that cared enough to know his subordinates. And Shesty had that kind of rugged, elderly handsomeness that Jane found appealing.
"Captain Aketai's correct that time is against us. But taking out the forest doesn't help. Not when it leaves us even more exposed on our approach, especially considering the lieutenant's suggestion," Jane gestured toward Nyxa as she approached the holotable. The spartan didn't say anything, but she cocked her head to the side. "If a Covenant airbase is out there, we'll be easy targets for them without that forest. And we can't rely on Air Combat Command; so long as ACC has no staging ground down here, they'll have to refit and refuel on the First Salient March."
Which was a problem that needed to be solved. The First Salient March was the lone Orion-class carrier in the Combined Fleet. And while it could act as an aerospace command and control station, it could only do so for brief periods of time before returning to its formation in space.
"So I think that airbase should be priority. We need to find it and take it. That'll give us the window to achieve air superiority."
"How do we get that done within a week's time?" Aketai asked impatiently. "Every second we wait is another second we risk losing this entire campaign because Covenant reinforcements arrive in-system. Or worse, because our fleet loses."
"Draw them out. Track them."
"We'd still need to do reconnaissance either way," Nyxa said. "But if we can locate that airbase, taking those spires will be much easier. We could get set up to launch an offensive a lot quicker and easier. It'll save a lot of lives."
Aketai leaned on his back foot. Crossed his arms. But otherwise didn't say anything. Everything went quiet for a moment as everyone calculated their options. Ultimately, they'd be at a massive disadvantage regardless. They had to push forward. Had to gain ground. And Aketai was correct in one important aspect - the longer they took, the worse their chances at victory got. The Combined Fleet couldn't hold out forever... And all it'd take was for a moderate reinforcement fleet to arrive to spell doom for the UNSC.
"We'll go with our original plan," Shesty declared, stepping back up to the holotable. "I'm sure you've all noticed: morale is in a critical state currently. We can't afford to push too hard. So we'll trust our admirals and our fleet, take our time and pick our way through this forest, using the spartans and their teams as advanced scouts. If you see an opportunity to locate the Covenant airbase, take it. Lieutenant," Shesty nodded toward Nyxa. "You'll coordinate with company commanders to set up your teams and whatever else you'll need."
The lieutenant nodded once.
"Baker?" Shesty looked around over his shoulders until he spotted one NCO jogging up from the far end of the room. Sergeant Baker - the lone NCO in the room - sported the mediumweight PTRN-III ODST armor and a non-standard-issue helmet. "Relay our strategy to the other FOBs. Take this," Shesty took a datadrive from the holotable and handed it to Baker. "In the meantime, everyone else continue establishing our perimeters and keep your units sharp. Dismissed."
The room broke down as everyone dispersed; chairs were left sitting out, ammo crates were shoved back into corners, cigar and cigarette butts were tossed to the floor, and animated discussion broke out among some of the officers. Lieutenant Nyxa-B310 made it to a dark corner of the room, where she was in close conference with the other two spartans. Even despite their armor and build, they all managed to blend well into the background din of commotion. As if it were some kind of unnatural skill they possessed. A level of subtlety and quietness that belied their vicious combat prowess. Jane had first witnessed it months ago, back when she'd worked alongside Nyxa to bring down a non-aligned rebel military chain of command. Nyxa hadn't so much as been discovered during the operation despite taking apart critical elements of the rebels' command structure.
Jane walked over to the spartans. Nyxa signaled for the other two - Tyshawn-B214, and Abdul-B002 - to leave. Then she faced Jane and de-polarized her helmet, revealing her face behind the visor. It'd been a long time since Jane had last seen Nyxa's face; the spartan seemingly wore her armor at all times. Nyxa looked slightly older than what Jane remembered. And there was a small scar running along her left cheek, splitting her otherwise smooth caramel skin. Despite that, Nyxa was still disarmingly attractive - far more so than what one would imagine of a spartan.
"Lieutenant Shepard," Nyxa started with a slight bow. "Still sharp as ever."
"Eh. Just a suggestion."
"An apt one. Follow me," Nyxa said before heading off without further word. Jane had to jog to catch up to her.
They emerged from the HQ into a dull early morning sun. Rain was still pouring, albeit not as heavily as it had been earlier. Murky clouds swirled overhead like a floating soup. The system's O-type star managed to pierce through the clouds, giving everything a light-bluish hue that reminded Jane of cotton candy. And the temperature was still too cold for Jane's liking. It was annoying to Jane - she'd never really grown up on a world and so natural weather was something she simply found quite uncomfortable. Irritating. Things were miserable enough already without bad weather. As though the skies were crying over the losses of last night.
Forward Operating Base Juniper was a massive facility that'd taken more than a few hours to construct following the destruction of the Covenant artillery cannons. It served as a central command base for the 34th Jump-Jet Legion, as well as 2nd Battalion and several other units of the task force. Prefab structures and tents were erected across the crest of a hilltop not far from one of the disabled cannons. Barracks billeting tents were set up in multiple locations, and an overcrowded medical infirmary was situated within the center of Juniper.
And there was a temporary BFS - Battlefield Funeral Site - cordoned off along the western end of the FOB. Bodies were still being found, recorded, and buried with ad hoc emergency funeral services there. Some of them couldn't be identified. It dragged on base morale. Despite last night's victory, there was very little to be celebrated. Sober realities of war were ever-present: winning was about more than beating enemy forces on the battlefield. War was as much psychological as it was physical.
"We're going to the armory?" Jane asked as she recognized the trail Nyxa blazed. Despite the armor she wore, Nyxa was more deft at weaving around everyone than Jane could ever hope to be.
The armory served a dual-role, also operating as a temporary motor pool until a proper one could be set up. The 9th Mechanized Raiders hadn't yet fully deployed their entire force - there were still very limited windows in which the Combined Fleet could risk approaching close overhead orbit. Of what they had deployed, it was spread out among all three FOBs. Mostly tanks, close-combat IFVs like MIC-97 'Growlerbats', and of course warthogs.
"Affirmative."
When they made it to the armory, a pair of guards held them up at the gate for a moment. One of them produced a datapad.
"Just a second," the guard said, her face hidden behind her polarized visor. "You guys taking anything from here?"
"No," Nyxa told her.
The trooper tapped away on the datapad for a few more seconds, then stepped aside. "If you do take something, make sure you check in with us. Major Pivotkin's installed a lockdown. Some 9th guys are freakin' out 'cause somebody commandeered a warthog without authorization and we don't know where it is."
Nyxa met Jane's eyes. Jane shrugged. In truth, Jane had a good idea of who'd taken the warthog. But she wasn't about to say anything. If the 9th found out who, and had a problem with it, they could come talk to her face to face.
Inside the armory, they passed by multiple sets of weapons and equipment lockers. Passed by the large chamber housing some of the 9th's spare vehicles. And passed a spare number of troopers milling about checking registries and such. Then, after about a minute of walking, they arrived at a secured room sitting toward the far end of the armory. Nyxa punched in a code and a moment later, the doorway parted. Once inside, Nyxa shut the door behind them.
The room was relatively large but mostly empty, containing only two shelves, both of which were lined with items Jane couldn't identify.
"Experimental field-ops tactical force multipliers," Nyxa said as she grabbed one off a shelf. "AKA, prototype combat equipment. Courtesy of Materials Group." Nyxa tossed the device to Jane.
It was heavy and oblong-shaped. One side contained numerous connection ports, while the other was smooth and contained a battery pack.
"Uh... Never seen this before," Jane said as she studied the object.
"This allows us to tap into Covenant communication nodes. It contains a rudimentary 'dumb' AI that's been outfitted with a number of pre-composited Covenant signals, allowing us to do basic mimicking of common Covenant battlefield alerts and messages."
"They'll go for that?" Jane asked incredulously.
"Covenant have always been lax with their comms security. And they don't seem to have sophisticated counter-intrusion AI. At least, not any that's better than ours. It's more than worth a shot."
Jane nodded. Things were starting to formulate in her mind. "So, I'm guessing this can be used to to find their airbase?"
Nyxa shook her head. Took the device and shelved it again. "Not directly. But we can lure the Covenant into a skirmish. Provided we locate a listening outpost, which we know for certain there are bound to be multiple between us and the spires."
"Didn't the 41st already capture one?"
"True. But the Lieutenant Commander reports the enemy initiated a failsafe; we can't use anything there."
Jane leaned up against the wall. Bit her lower lip. Crossed her arms. "Lieutenant Tyshawn said you'd need the best for your scouting teams."
"You have anyone in mind?"
"A few."