Beneath a cloud of toxic fumes, amidst a long, flat, pockmarked field stood several wreckages being picked over by three lithe, jittery being under the watchful eye of a single imposing leader. A Jackal scavenge squad, their hands blackened from the fires that still raged close to them. Unbothered by the heat or smoke, they dug around in the rubble of a fallen ship, its chassis having slammed into the ground nose first, breaking into two large halves that finally came to rest near each other.
Bright light could hide as much as it could reveal, and fire hid his presence well. His helmet interior chimed in about the heat, the oxygen levels, about the heat threatening to overwhelm his shields as he sat crouched over a fire.
There was one dwindling meter his eyes followed. The cloaking device kept him concealed from the four Jackals. Now, as the meter flashed red, as the last Jackal turned its back to him, he made his move.
His cloaking failed as he reached out of the fire, the sudden shadow covering the leader caused him to turn as he predicted. The knife he carried dragged across its throat, cutting a large gash that spat blood at him with every warning the lead Jackal tried to yell. The body hitting the ground turned one of the scavengers around and it shrieked at the others in fear as a knife hurtled into its chest, piercing its collar bone and collapsing it. The other two turned to see what was happening, a seven foot tall Spartan, with fire dancing off the armor that bounded towards them. One of the two was quick enough to arm himself, and a single flash of green energy hit the Spartan as it grabbed the two of them by their throats and snapped their necks. It was over within a few seconds. One shot had been fired, a plasma pistol bolt that damaged his forearm since his shields were overwhelmed from the fire. With a cursory look he tapped the GPS device to see if it was still working only for it to melt off his forearm. He felt a burn under the layers of metal but it was manageable pain. The shields were already flickering back to life anyways, he was safe from any other attack.
With the scavengers dead he straightened up and peered into the wreckage they were digging out. There it was, the fire's light gleaming off the shattered face shield of a helmet. One Spartan, half her body still covered with slag and dirt. Just enough for the name to be read on her breast plate.
Rosenda-A344
With some eye movements he called up exfiltration in his helmet. In ninety seconds a pelican would arrive to grab him and take him away from another battlefield and whisk him to another. He started pulling the Spartan from her spot until he had her in his hands. In the distance, the Covenant mobilized, a long line of scarabs flanked by wraiths. They paid no attention to the Pelican darting in underneath the haze. No attention to the small, lonely soldier carrying another in his hands. No attention, to yet another pocket of scattered, useless, resistance. To him, the indifference was an insult far worse than any plasma fire.
The ship rose into the air, flying high above the noxious vapors of the smouldering metal skeletons which were all that remained below. It's underbody blackened and dented and its engines churned through the smoke and soot as it left. It was quiet inside the pelican, there were only two now. The pilot, sitting at his controls, eyes downcast at his viewport, scanning the scarred land for any movement, any contact, any hope. And the Spartan, his face hidden away beneath a helmet. He was fidgety, as he always was when he wasn't active. And picked at the slag on his wrist from the earlier shot. His armor, which acted as a second skin to him, was colored rust. His gear was a hodgepodge of different variants, most notably his helmet being a scout helmet permanently tinted black to protect from the intense lighting he worked with. Amid all the scuff marks and soot was a small emblem on his chest and shoulder, three little flames on top of a white circle. At his feet, tied to the floor of the pelican to prevent any movement, was the remains of the other Spartan, Rosenda. Silently, he reached for a mechanics bag in an under compartment and began wrenching a wrist navcom off the corpse to add to his own set.
Spartan III, G-015 was a Torchman, if the third generation of the super soldiers were fire and forget then the Torchmen were the fire and forgets of the fire and forgets. Individual units tasked with the more grisly, more secretive and more dangerous duties of fighting a losing war. Asset retrieval, and more common now as humanity stood on the brink of extinction, asset denial.
His latest mission was as such, reclaiming Rosenda from a botched operation. Evacuation of one of the few airfields left on Reach. The retrieval was the most difficult operation yet. Having to shadow Covenant scavenger gangs for a few days before finding where she was. The Torchman had been working around the clock since the Covenant had landed on Reach. He had been deployed for long engagements at a time, but this was different. He usually worked after the end, he was used to walking along burned out ruins, seeking long dead assets or retrieving dormant A.I.s. This was different, the battle, and subsequent retreats, had played out in front of his eyes in real time. Now he was in constant engagements, active for weeks at a time, and worst of all, the nagging belief that this was the end for him. All of this had fostered a deep, long resented thought he had tried to keep hidden in the back of his mind.
Humanity wasn't just losing this war, they had lost.
Something he was taught to ignore, that it wasn't the case, but since he had completed his training. Since he had seen the war first hand as a soldier he had known it was the truth. It was hopeless, and he had given his life for such a hopeless thing that kept him up at night. Worked like a dog, used and thrown away by his superiors. What separated him and Rosenda at his feet wasn't skill, or luck…
It was time.
With a last tug he ripped the navcom device off the Spartans wrist. The sound was enough to make the pilot turn and glance back out of the cockpit. The Torchman set about piecing it onto his suit. He stood up, slipping the chip into his wrist when her name blinked across the screen. He stared briefly before deleting it, clearing the data so he could use it for himself. Did he know her? Had they met? Did she realize her sacrifice was pointless? She was a Spartan III just like him, was part of the same defeat of Reach that would eventually take him too; he was so sure of it. But what difference did it make? Soon there would be nothing left, nothing to trace the history of an entire species but burn marks and shadows.
"You alright back there?" The pilot asked, staring at the Torchman who answered him by standing up quickly and looking back at him without answering. He tapped confirmation on his wrist pad, finishing the installation process and turned towards the cockpit, placing the tools he had borrowed back in its slot.
"When I was ordered to go pick up a Spartan I expected a helluva fight you know. Didn't expect it to be so quiet out here. Like there was nothing but ghosts running around that airfield y'know?" The pilot chimed in again, breaking the silence with nervous conversation.
"Why aren't we ascending?" The Torchman's voice was flat and awkward. Truthfully he hadn't spoken in weeks. He had to remember how to be 'normal'.
"There's been a change of plans, Sir! I'm going to drop you off at one of our forward bases, brass got another job for you. Then I'm breaking atmo to go take h- oh, ahh-sorry." He said, double taking to the super soldier standing close to the one lying dead in the back. "Oh, sorry about your friend, didn't think you guys could die but I gues-"
"She's not dead, just in a coma. She'll be revived." He cut him off, it was a lie of course. Spartans could die, the Torchman had retrieved plenty of Spartan casualties in worse shape than Rosanda but ONI had drilled that lie into him. It worked of course, the pilot exhaled and smiled.
"God, you guys are amazing, walking out of messes like that. Live and fight another day you know? Anyways, it's gonna be a quick landing, be careful out there Spartan, good luck!" The pilot replied, his voice was more chipper now, relaxed. It made the Torchman bottle up in contrast. He ignored him and kept his eyes straight ahead. Watching the base come into view.
The facility in question was pockmarked with debris and craters filled with bubbling acid, smoke from the convection rose steadily into the air, clouding the frenzy of coming and going craft was like a fog of afterburn. The place was in sorry shape, hanging on for dear life against a rapidly advancing Covenant line. It wouldn't last long, another day, another base had fallen, another city glassed, another commander lost. Things were desperate, tense, there were no more rookies or replacements now, everyone was experienced or dead. The world was coming to an end and there was no more help coming and if you looked close enough you could see the remains of some of the finest ships in the UNSC floating just out of atmosphere.
The Torchman ignored it all, stepping off the Pelican and into the company of a single exhausted looking commander.
"Spartan I was told to expect you an hour ago. I got better things to do than waste my time waiting for another one of you to show up in a dented tin can. Where are you coming in from?" His voice was shallow and scratchy, straining to make himself heard over the engines. It was as if the commander had spent the last couple of days screaming at people, he likely has judging by the intense crows feet maring his otherwise handsome face. The Torchman jerked his head towards the pelican.
"Postan Airfield, it's gone sir, I have a mission critical asset before I was deviated, priority two, who do I give this to?
The Torchman said, reaching up to his chest to unstrap a hard case and handing it over. It was best not to mention the Spartan casualty to anyone else. The pelican closed its hatch and rose up from the ground, screaming off into the sky where another pelican took its place on the impromptu landing pad.
"She had this on her, it's my objective. Can you send it up the chain, weapons research."
The Commander eyed the case and took it, feeling the weight in his hands.
"How anyone can think about computer drives in a time like this?" His eyes scanned the landing pad which was now a revolving door of aircraft landing to take on wounded. They'd at least be taken offworld. Many of them were covered head to toe in bandages, many more weren't moving.
But it wasn't the Torchman's job to decide what to care about, it had never been. So when the Commander looked back at him with grief and pain in his eyes. Eyes that had seen this planet torn away from him. All the Torchman could do was stare back, waiting for him to get on with things. The silence clarified where things stood for the Commander.
"Regardless…" The commander spoke, his eyes narrowing at the Spartan, an unspoken insult at the lack of an answer. "I have orders for you, come with me." He turned away, beckoning him to follow. They had to step carefully over the wounded until they came across the central command building, guarded by soldiers who regarded the Torchman with mild amusement before turning their eyes back to the scene around them. Inside the one story building was a sparse command room. Assistants darted back and forth between radiomen and computers, dispatching the newest orders. Despite the amount of people the room was only as loud as a dull hum. Their voices were excited but low, and when they saw the Commander and Torchman they got even lower. They gave the two of them as much space as the room allowed. The Commander wasted no time heading to the main fixture of the room, a small, circular flat table with a computerized screen for a top. Tapping away at the console, he was able to bring up a flurry of images for the Spartan to see.
A planetary map of Reach, then narrowed to continent, then region. Several markings dotted the landscape depicting cities. The Commander swiped over to one on the coastal dots and opened up a city layout in front of them.
"You been to New Alexandria?"
"No."
"The crown jewel of Reach. The city's taken one helluva pummeling, there isn't a lot left of it, Spartan. Yesterday was the last of the evacuations. We haven't been able to get anything out of the city since then. The Covenant got the whole place under lock and key." He said, tapping away at the console, the Torchman watched as it zoomed in, bringing up the inlet city in greater detail.
"I don't have to tell you what to expect there, do I, Spartan?" He turned to look at him expectantly but he said nothing. Silently urging him to continue, to get to the point.
The Commander typed in something and the map pixelated, reforming itself into a small area the length of a square mile. A facility was shown in detail. Several large wings centered around a tall tower in the middle. The Commander looked up expectantly at the Torchman.
"You know the drill, Covenant haven't destroyed everything and now brass is getting jumpy at what they might find. This is Reach, Spartan, just about every company here was working for us in some capacity. R&D labs, testing grounds, repair facilities…" The Commander shook his head before continuing. "This time the companies named Prometheus Products, they've been working with us on ship development since before the war. To be honest Spartan it would have been better if the Covenant turned the whole place into a crater but they haven't yet so now we have a decision on our hands." He explained while bringing up another panel, a recording, only audio, played out loud.
"Carson? This is Doctor Teller, I know you can hear me you miserable coward. I'm still alive, we're trapped in here after the bombing run. I still have the schematics. I'm not leaving here without ten years of my life's work. But that didn't matter to you did it? You left me, you left us! Did you think I'd lay down and die Carson? I'm not leaving this work behind! If you don't have the balls to come get me, send someone who does!"
The audio was fraught with static but the woman's anger was clear. The Torchman was curious, turning to gauge the Commander.
"As you can tell, our leading Doctor is one Misses Teller. The head researcher at Prometheus. The man she's scorning is Carson, a UNSC representative. When the evacuation order came down he lost his nerve and fled without following Cole protocol. A mistake we tried to correct by leveling the facility, burying the secrets, but the Covenant made that difficult for us and when they found out we were trying to bomb our own. Well, they got interested." He turned to the super soldier with a sigh. "It's one big fuck up, Spartan. This whole planets been one big fuck up." He waved off his frustration before continuing. Pointing at the facility as he talked.
"You'll have two objectives for this operation. We'll be flying you in on one of our last Falcon detachments, flying you low, dropping you off at the courtyard here." He magnified the section he was speaking of. "Anything bigger, or higher will get picked up on Covie radar and blasted out of the sky before you even get close. Once inside you're to secure Doctor Teller. Then you are to deny the enemy any assets from inside the facility. Now this means destruction, Spartan. I want that whole place gone. When you've secured both you'll radio us for exfiltration." The Commander paused for a moment, to collect his thoughts on what he was going to say next.
"Spartan…" He began "Whatever she was working on is the main priority. Everything else in that building, including all personnel, is secondary to that objective. Should she come under capture, or should she be unwilling to follow you. You are to terminate her immediately and seize the work. Do I make myself clear?" He asked.
The Torchman nodded.
"Good." The Commander relaxed a bit, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"Do you have any questions?"
"How can I take it down?"
"The place is weak from the bombings. We can give you the rest of our demo packs. Drop them off in the courtyard, after that it's on you to plant them."
"What do you know about enemy presence?" The Torchman asked, going down a mental checklist he had before any operation.
"The whole city is overrun, Spartan. You should expect anything and everything. There could still be small groups of UNSC, police, even civilians but don't expect it. You'll be working on your own, thought you liked that?"
The Spartan gave no response. Outside, a few thwump sounds could be heard as Wraith shots pounded the ground nearby. Inside the building the aides nervously looked at each other and then set about finishing their work. Packing and securing as they went.
"We're running out of time, Spartan. We can't hold this region much longer. By the time you finish this op there may not be a human left on this continent. We'll transmit new rally point coordinates when we get them."
"Will you be there?"
The officer concealed a smirk. "My numbers come up, I'm getting off this rock. Next time you'll hear me it'll be from high orbit."
"And me?"
This time the officer did nothing to conceal his smile.
"This is Reach, Spartan. You shouldn't have to ask."
Hi, I wrote another story that unfortunately was just too much for what I wanted to do. This is a different tale but will hopefully be completed in a concise manager. So this is basically my first attempt. Please leave a review of what you think don't be shy.