1617 hours, September 16th, 2542 (UNSC military calendar)
White Forest, The Thumb peninsula, Alluvion
"This is their lair?" Samara asked the Spartan as they observed the Covenant base from atop a steep slope that overlooked the entire base.
After a two-kilometer run they had finally stumbled upon the Covenant anti-orbital weapon. It had already shot down several ships and damaged several more. It was currently silent, but that would not last long. They had to take it offline before it could claim more lives.
The Covenant and their genocidal war were an atrocity upon the galaxy, Samara reflected. They were a cancer that had to be excised in the name of the Goddess and the Code. And she would not rest until they were destroyed.
When word of the Covenant had reached the Justicar Order, a conclave of Justicars had been convened on Thessia to decide the best course of action. All Justicars in Asari space were called upon to attend. The vote was near-unanimous: for the first time since the Krogan Rebellions the Justicars were going to war. All who could be spared were asked to head to aid the Asari Expeditionary Force. Twenty of the finest Justicars in existence were sent to answer the call.
Some Justicars ventured out alone to find human worlds that would accept their aid, a few grouped up into small squads to work directly for the Citadel Expeditionary Force as special forces, while others tagged along with Commando teams or other military units.
Samara had walked into the Thessia Defense Command, sought out the Matriarch commanding the forces stationed on Thessia and demanded to be allowed to join the CEF. Her previous service record and the authority the Order wielded were a convincing enough argument, and soon afterwards she found herself on a high-speed shuttle bound for the Orion Relay, accompanied by a squad of commandos she'd been assigned to lead - a detachment from Serrice Guard, one of the most acclaimed commando units in history.
Her most recent assignment was to deploy on a colony world called Alluvion alongside a human special operations team and assist them in destroying a particularly tenacious Covenant holdout. Unfortunately, things did not go to plan - she had been discussing the particulars of the mission with her human counterpart, just minutes before launching, when she had suddenly been spaced, courtesy of the Covenant.
Now here she was, behind enemy lines, in a forest alongside a human commando who radiated pure professionalism and danger in equal measure. His every movement was economical, precise, not hindered in the slightest by the heavy suit of armor he was wearing, and he spoke with a professionalism that bordered on inhuman. Whatever he was, it was fascinating.
He was lying on his stomach, scoping out the Covenant base with what she assumed were binoculars built into his helmet. The base was located in a large clearing; at its core was a large prefabricated structure, painted green and covered with camouflage netting. It appeared to serve as the hub for the Covenant. Across a "road" that was more of a dirt track there were several smaller prefabs, presumably the storage. Further down the road, there was a large anti-orbital cannon almost fifty meters tall - a Type-38 "Tyrant" anti-air gun, according to the humans.. Ringing those core structures were several barracks, which were in turn surrounded by a thin wall. There were no vehicles in sight, although they could have been hidden in one of the larger prefabs. Hovering sniper nests with Jackals inside were deployed every forty meters or so, surrounding the base and backstopping the outer perimeter.
"This isn't right," the Spartan muttered. "I have never seen the Covenant use actual camouflage before. Either they are deviating from custom, or they are being ordered to act like this. In any case, we need to tell the Coalition about what we've seen." The Spartan went dead still for a moment. "Radio is still down, but I have an idea. Do you see that large buildingzzzzz/ Standard Covenant prefab. We'll take it, and then I can commandeer their radio to send out a message to Command."
Nodding, Samara squinted, engaging the binoculars built into her helmet. The heavy suit of armor she wore was taking some getting used to, but in a war like this one needed battle armor, not ceremonial garb, and so she had donned the heavier armor the Justicars wore in times of great need. She zoomed in, paying particular attention to the defenders posted outside, counting them. They were mostly Grunts and Jackals, with only a handful of Elites commanding them. None of them were above a Minor in rank, going by the armor.
"Shouldn't there be more Elites present in such an installation?" Samara asked, remembering her briefings, glancing at the Spartan who was calibrating his hybrid rifle for long-range fire.
"When we retook Alluvion, most of the stragglers went into hiding. It might be that they are low on officers, or it's just a minor outpost," the human shrugged. "In any case, we should take it out before we lose another ship."
"I do not see any of their dropships, nor any vehicles we can use," Samara observed. "But this base would have required time and dedicated equipment to build, which means that they have had time to establish themselves here. I am afraid that the Covenant could have fortifications like these lining the mountains of this world, and they are clearly using them to great effect while the Covenant ships keep the fleet occupied. We've lost many ships as well as a great many of our soldiers to positions like these. If we can punch a hole in their air defense network, we'll be able to create an opening for the Coalition."
Samara did not envy those soldiers. Clearing the Covenant from fortified positions was a long and bloody affair, lasting weeks to monthsб depending on the world. Her commando unit had just come back from New Milan after clearing an underground Covenant base that had been launching brutally effective raids upon UNSC forces all over the planet. The new Covenant doctrine was testing the UNSC and the Citadel's special forces greatly. Forced into brutal close quarters engagements, many fell to the Elites. And this was just on the worlds that the Covenant had been invading when the Citadel intervened.
"Samara, is that sword a ceremonial weapon, or can you use it effectively?" the human asked. "From here, I can provide suppression fire while you get in close. On my mark you'll provide a distraction with your biotics, while I infiltrate the main building and use their radio to inform the UNSC of the situation. After that, we group up again and go for the Tyrant. If reinforcements appear, we'll regroup as fast as we can, then steal their transport."
Samara nodded. "Tell me when and I'll give you the distraction."
The human waited for a few seconds, then shouted, "Go!"
As the Spartan opened fire, Samara got to her feet, engaged her biotic amp with a mental command and leapt forward, accelerated into a blinding blue missile of biotic power. She landed amid a pack of grunts, the energy release pulverizing them. She refocused her power into a punch straight into the jaw of their leader, an Elite, breaking his neck and sending him flying, then whirled around, finishing off a wounded Grunt with a burst from her Tempest and slammed her fist into the ground, launching a shockwave into a stack of what had to be supply crates. The Jackals hiding behind it were thrown into the air, only to be hit by the human's precision shots.
A trio of Elites emerged from the base of the gun. In a smooth motion, she holstered the Tempest and drew her Carnifex, firing three warp rounds into the leader; the first one disrupted his shields long enough for the rest to turn his head into blue mist. One of his companions threw a plasma grenade, which Samara promptly threw back at his head with her biotics. He screamed and ripped off his helmet, throwing it - and the grenade attached to it - at Samara. The justicar immediately extended her barriers and bounced the helmet back, and a split second later, it exploded between them.
Burning with bright blue fire, Samara shot forward in a blur of biotic power, charging right through the dissipating plasma, using it as cover. Before the Elite could recover, she beheaded him with her blessed blade in a single biotics-enhanced strike, then hit the surviving alien in the stomach with a fully powered warp-kick, turning his torso into blue paste.
John-117 laid down suppressing fire with his hybrid rifle as he advanced, sending out a steady stream of incendiary rounds fed by the massive metal block at the heart of the weapon. Grunts died as their methane tanks ignited and exploded, their Elite superiors running or rolling around on fire. Having thinned the herd, he switched to disruptor ammo and fired at the floating platforms… or, rather their bases; the electrified rounds disabled the gravity generators, bringing the platforms and their Jackal occupants crashing to the ground. A Grunt supercharged his pistol and fired at John, who swiftly sidestepped the ball of supercharged plasma, with the follow-up normal shots splattering against his kinetic barriers; he barely even felt the heat. John's return fire shredded the culprit.
John had to admit: the MA5/Phaeston Hybrid prototype may have been an ugly unsightly abomination whose mere existence insulted all other weapons made by man, but he appreciated the sheer amount of options the weapon and the upgrades to MJOLNIR gave him. He looked at the top right of his HUD: 98% left of the ammo block, 95% omni-gel left. And he was surrounded by materials he could use to replenish both. He liked this gun, John decided.
Meanwhile, Samara was engaged in a running battle, destroying Covenant equipment and troops with blade, gun, explosives and biotics alike. John was impressed: while he had at first privately dismissed asari and their biotics as nothing special, this one was proving him wrong. He was seeing the epitome of biotic power, and he didn't doubt for a moment that Samara could match him in combat effectiveness. He also idly wondered what her sword was made of; he would ask later, He could think of a few uses for a blade that sharp.
John broke into a run and stormed down the hill, smashing through the thin outer wall of the Covenant base, as he saw a large Covenant force emerge from their barracks and head in Samara's direction. He raked them with automatic fire: the Grunts yipped and screamed as incendiary rounds set them on fire and ignited their breathing gas.
He charged forward, leaping over the dead and dying Covenant and entered the prefab that functioned as the command center.
The enemies of the goddess were paying the price for their crimes against sapient life, Samara thought as she shot a Jackal sniper in the head, knocking him off his floating perch. Her Carnifex overheated, and she holstered it, picking up a fallen Elite's plasma rifle. The weapon looked strange, but felt sturdy in her hands. She took aim at a group of Jackals using a weapons crate as cover, stomped her foot on the ground, throwing the Jackals into the air with a biotic shockwave, and sprayed them with plasma as they floated. The weapon proved just as destructive when used against its former masters.
Thinking quickly, Samara levitated a trio of plasma coils that stood nearby and threw them into the barrel assembly of the Tyrant, followed by a plasma canister. The superheated gas erupted from the breached containers, fusing the metal in place and blocking the barrel, thus rendering the gun useless. She followed up by spraying a squad of Grunts with her Tempest, then biotically launched herself at the survivors, cutting them down with quick strikes of her sword. To cap this off, she pulled two grenades from the bandolier and threw one into a sniper nest each.
She had to fight the urge to enjoy the raw destructive power at her command. This was a mission in the name of the Goddess, and she was here to bring justice to the monstrous Covenant, not to revel in her own deadliness.
Something came at her from the right, something fast and incredibly hairy, swinging a hammer towards her. Reflexively, she concentrated her biotic power into a barrier and was sent flying when the hammer hit her barrier. Samara hit a stack of crates, feeling something inside her break. Her helmet was crumpled, visor cracked to the point of uselessness, so she tore it off in order to clear her field of vision. Standing before her was a hulking hairy humanoid in ornate and heavy golden armor, wielding a massive hammer - a Brute.
The creature was accompanied by six more like it, but unarmored and armed with crude-looking pistols with blades on the end. They had emerged from what Intelligence had called a "Type-29 Shadow Troop Carrier", a large hover transport that could hold a squad of Elites or Brutes.
The creature did not charge immediately... instead it beat its chest and proudly declared in the human tongue, albeit crudely, "I am Gatrinox, Chieftain of the Faithful. Face me, witch! You and me!" The other creatures formed a half circle, beating their chests and chanting in their own language. "I will drive you back to whatever dark hell you crawled out of!" it roared and charged forward far faster than a creature its size had any right to.
Samara pushed herself to her feet, shaking the blood from her sword. The creature wanted a duel? It would get it. She charged as well, closing the gap with her biotics. One hand holding a concentrated ball of biotic might, she thrust her blade towards the creature's chest with the other. The creature swung its hammer, she intercepted the strike with her biotically-empowered off-hand jab, and everything went blue as the two gravitational anomalies collided.
Master Chief ran through the Covenant command center, trying to locate the communications terminal as quickly as he could. He heard a muffled explosion in the distance, but ignored it, assuming it was the Justicar's work. Consulting the mental map he'd built in his head over the years of operations like this, he headed towards where the comm center would most likely be in a prefab of this particular design.
Cutting through the sleeping quarters, he ran across a Grunt in the process of putting on his armor and triple-tapped it. He then swept the room with his hybrid rifle, mowing down half-dressed Grunts reaching for their methane tanks and plasma pistols. The methane tanks exploded, fire washing over him and the surviving Grunts. He was fine thanks to the re-engaged suit seals and overcharged kinetic barriers; the aliens weren't so fortunate Taking a moment to recover, John advanced through the room at a brisk pace, shooting any bodies that still moved. All of this took fourteen seconds.
Exiting into the central corridor, he hung a left and came across the door to the comm center, which was locked as expected, and activated the omni-tool's plasma torch in order to cut through.
However, before he could do that, the door opened suddenly. An Elite in grey armor - most certainly a Spec Ops Elite - barreled through the doorway, shoulder-checking John into the wall behind him with enough force to dent it. The Spartan rolled aside and got to his feet; the enemy being too close to fire, he swung his rifle at the Elite with enough force to kill a grown man in a single strike.
The Spec Ops stepped back, then ignited his energy sword and slashed forward, cutting through the hybrid rifle in one stroke and missing John's hand by millimeters, then thrust at his chest. John could barely sidestep the attack in time as the blade parted the metal of the wall. The Elite pulled the blade out in a smooth motion, leaving a molten gash in the wall as he did so. A split second later, John had to dodge two more strikes, the second cutting a gash across his chestpiece.
John pulled out his pistol and opened fire. The alien's shields flickered, but before John could break through, the Spec Ops reached for his hand and pushed the Magnum upwards, making him shoot into the ceiling. The Elite then proceeded to step inside John's reach and trip him up and attempted to stab him on the way down. Twisting to avoid the energy blade, John stopped the fall with his hands before proceeding to launch himself from the floor, staggering the alien and forcing him down. Drawing his knife, the Spartan thrust at the Spec Ops Elite's throat. However, the knife missed its mark and embedded itself in the Elite's chest as he felt something hot lance into his side - the Elite had stabbed him with an energy dagger mounted on his left hand. John retaliated by ripping his knife out and crushing the offending limb in a single mighty squeeze, disabling the energy dagger. The Elite roared in pain and jabbed John in the throat so hard that he felt it through his armor.
Staggered for a split second by the recoil of his own punch, the Spec Ops then dropped his energy sword and pulled free the plasma pistol hanging from his belt, firing into John's chest from within the protective envelope of his kinetic barriers. Armor ablating and skin blistering, he pushed the plasma pistol aside with his left hand and reached with his right for the Elite's face, using his left mandibles as a handhold of sorts with which to force the alien's head down and pulping them as a side effect. He pulled back his left hand and ignited the omni-blade, ready to deliver a killing blow...
Plasma impacted his barriers: a second Elite had joined the fray, firing his plasma rifle at the Spartan. John, his position becoming increasingly disadvantageous, let go of his quarry and threw himself behind cover, recovering his knife and pistol on the way out. The wounded Elite was trying to flee, but John wasn't about to let that happen. He fired into the Elite's back, breaking the weakened shield and cracking the armor. Before he could finish the alien off, however, the Elite who had intervened threw himself between his wounded comrade and the Spartan, absorbing the next two shots.
The pistol clicked, the magazine empty.
John ducked back into cover, searching for a magazine that hadn't been lost in the melee, while the two Elites retreated, pouring suppressing fire down the corridor. Fishing a spare magazine from a pouch, he noted that the wound in his side had been torn open by the exertion. He really wanted some biofoam right about now, but the biofoam container, unfortunately, didn't survive his impromptu orbital drop. Hearing the door slam shut; John stood up, reloading his pistol and moving for the doorway, only to see the door heating up and glowing at the seams. The Elites were welding the door shut with their plasma rifles, evidently trying to box him in. It was time to get what he came for and leave before Covenant reinforcements arrived.
Entering the comm center, John-117 headed towards the communications console and searched for the button he knew would start a broadcast on all channels. The Covenant already knew he was here, so he didn't have much to lose by broadcasting in the clear, and he had little time. He opened a channel and began to beat a signal in Morse code on a nearby table.
"UNSC forces stranded behind enemy lines. Using enemy COM.. Requesting evac."
Before he could add anything else, the power cut out. Not seeing any point to remaining here, he set out to regroup with Samara. He sprinted towards the other exit and shoulder-checked the door. Fortunately, it was lighter, and it hadn't been welded shut yet, which meant that he crashed through without issue, flattening a Jackal in the process. Before its compatriot could react, John lashed out with a fist, crushing the creature's trachea. Picking up its carbine, the Spartan shot both Jackals in the head for good measure, then continued through the doorway.
Samara went flying, slamming into a prefab. The Brute was launched back as well, his body slamming into the troop carrier with enough force to actually push it back. Somehow still alive and not daunted in the slightest, he just got to his feet and charged the Justicar again, holding his hammer high. In response, Samara pulled out her Tempest and fired into the Brute's chest at full auto. His shields absorbed thirty shots before collapsing. She pulled back her hand and launched a biotic bolt at the Brute, but this merely staggered him. Still, she used this opportunity to stand up and fire at the Brute's right leg, and just before her gun overheated the armor gave way and the beast went down on one knee.
Samara charged forward, channeling a mass effect field through her sword to cut the haft of the hammer in half, then threw an uppercut, her left arm surrounded by rapidly shifting mass effect fields, to a catastrophic effect. As the now-headless Brute chieftain slumped, Samara turned to face his unarmored underlings, drawing her Disciple shotgun.
Suddenly her human companion burst through the wall of the Covenant command center and opened fire at the Brutes, going for headshots and In response they roared and returned fire, their weapons launching large superheated metal spikes at the human; in doing so, they ignored Samara. With three Brutes down and another wounded, the Justicar gathered her strength and opened fire with her shotgun, triple-tapping one of the Brutes, then shooting a second in the stomach just as the Spartan shifted his aim and finished it.
The battlefield went quiet. The armored human walked up to her, offering a hand to pull her back onto her feet. Favoring her left side, the justicar called up a medical program on her omni-tool; according to the diagnostics readout, she had suffered some internal bleeding as well as two broken ribs.
The human glanced up at the Tyrant's mangled barrel assembly just as the overstressed construction broke off.
"Well done, Justicar," he said after a few seconds, glancing at the transport the Brutes had arrived in. "Not a dropship, but it will do. Get into the cargo compartment. There should be a blue box built into the wall - a first aid kit. Inside you'll find tubes filled with what looks like a gel. Put it in your wound to disinfect and close it up. It will hurt worse than a plasma burn, but it's better than nothing. Before you ask, it works on any species - we've checked."
Samara nodded and did as the human said; she noted that he also took another tube for himself and slathered some of the gel in a blackened gash on his side. They still had a long way to go before they reached friendly lines, but at least they would remain combat-effective, and they now had transport and supplies.