UNSC Dominion, Sickbay
October 11th, 2232 local time, 2552
Sickbay was always quiet, no matter the circumstances. There could be hundreds of wounded lined up outside the office of a single Medical Officer, and it would be just as quiet as if the room was full of some chatty janitors. Nathan knew from experience that if everyone in Sickbay was making noise, they were probably about to die anyway.
Apparently it wasn't always like that. His Cousins had told him harrowing stories about his ancestors, who had been some of the very first Helljumpers. Apparently Triage was a lot louder before modern painkillers were invented, along with some clever soundproofing for medical installations. Privately, Nathan was happy for the quiet, but found it a bit eerie.
Unfortunately, Elizabethy Fairfire wasn't supposed to be quiet, yet she had been deathly silent for some time. Nathan had experienced depression before, albeit under some different circumstances, and never to the same degree as her. It took him a few years of drinking and a few harsh knocks to the head to realize that brewing your brain in a toxic cesspool of self-loathing didn't actually accomplish shit.
He knew from personal experience that helping someone out of a depressed stupor was possible, but he had no idea how to go about doing that. How did you tell someone who had done something terrible to stop feeling bad about it? There was a small, undeniable part of Nathan's brain that told him "this is how you're supposed to feel after you fuck up that badly", but he did his best to ignore it.
She was reprimanded, she's paid the price for her actions. Nathan thought to himself. You aren't supposed to throw in the towel after one mistake, she's a Helljumper for god's sake!
He paused at his last thought, an idea striking his mind. "Hey Liz, I've gotta question."
She looked up at him with a dazed expression on her face. "Yeah?"
He fought the instinctual urge to ask if she was alright, well aware that she plainly wasn't and that the question wasstupid and unwelcome. "Why did you join the Helljumpers?"
A light lit up in the back of her eyes, and Nathan could tell he'd partially derailed whatever unhelpful and undoubtedly miserable train of thought she had previously had. She'd always held some pride in that legendary title, and it rubbed off on the rest of the squad long before they'd been stuck on Concord, let alone on Remnant.
Good, now I've just gotta keep her focus. Nathan thought.
"Well, I joined the Marines because I wanted revenge, especially after we lost Emerald Cove." Fairfire answered. Nathan could tell the topic was a sore one, but she answered his question firmly. "After about a year in the Corps, I found myself liking it, and I decided to throw in with the ODST applicants. I didn't actually expect to get accepted, but I did."
Nathan nodded with understanding. "Yeah mine went something like that too. I heard the selection process was really stringent, but maybe they're just desperate for recruits?"
Fairfire gave a huff of amusement. "Well there's certainly competition, but they've probably done their best to keep the standards high. There's plenty of Marines who'd rather be wearing that nice set of black armor than some standard BDU's... What about you, how'd your wise-ass end up in the Corps?"
"I signed some paperwork." Nathan replied, answering the unspoken challenge to make an ass out of himself.
She gave a somewhat inspired chuckle, which made him feel like his strategy was working. "Well now, I probably should've seen that coming. But really, why'd you enlist?"
Nathan sighed, that would inevitably bring up an awkward topic. "Uh... family pressure."
She didn't seem satisfied. "What, like finances? It ain't nothing to be ashamed of if your family had some troubles."
He gave a mental curse at himself. While he'd succeeded in getting her mind out of its depressed state, she was far too persistent for him to dodge the issue of his personal life back home. "No, more like... family pressure."
She nodded in understanding. "Ah, so you've got a bit of history to your name?"
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, he was going to have to admit some uncomfortable things, and he knew it. "Uh, yeah, sort-of."
Fairfire looked positively unamused "Nathan come on, I ain't gonna laugh, what is it?"
She spoke with her definitive no-nonsense tone of voice, and Nathan reluctantly relented. "Well, my Grandpa made General during the fight on Harvest. My dad joined the ODSTs shortly after, my mom joined the Air Force after him, my brothers all joined the Wet-Navy, so I dropped out of school and joined up to become a Marine."
"Huh, I never would have pegged you as the type for having a military family." Fairfire said. "How're they doing?"
He clenched his jaw, thinking of the best way to describe it. "We uh... didn't exactly part on the best terms. I... haven't really heard from them in a while."
Fairfire raised an eyebrow. "How long is a while?"
"Five years." Nathan admitted, somewhat reluctantly.
Fairfire whistled with sympathy. "Ouch, flamboyant departure, huh?"
"Yeah, you could say that." Nathan answered. "I don't really like talking about it, it's not really... relevant, and I like to think I've done fairly well for myself without them. I still hear from my cousins from time to time, well... I did."
"Hmmm... yeah, I'd say you've made a good career out of things." Fairfire said, clearly putting a bit of thought into it. "Except for the whole "getting stranded in another reality that wants nothing more than to kill you" bit, but I suppose that can't be helped."
"Eh, you all did it first, figured I'd follow the trend." Nathan jokingly said. "Besides, if you look past all the dangerously racist locals, terrifying physics, and the black demon monster things that keep trying to eat us, this place ain't all that bad."
Fairfire chuckled half-heartedly. "Yeah... I guess so."
There was a moment of awkward silence, before Fairfire cautiously spoke again. "Have you heard anything about Yu?"
Nathan shook his heads, it seemed that his attempts to shake her mindset had failed. "She woke up for a little bit, but apparently she wasn't really... lucid."
"That's good." Fairfire said with a slight nod of affirmation. Her voice cracked somewhat, and she blinked ferociously, as if fighting off tears.
"Liz..." Nathan softly said. "It wasn't-"
He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? That it wasn't her fault? That she shouldn't beat herself up over it? He would be lying to her and she'd know it. They didn't know if it was her fault or not. There had been talk about a strange Semblance at play but they didn't have any confirmation yet.
She gritted her teeth. "I... I think I'd just like to think about it a little bit more, if that's alright with you."
Nathan didn't protest, well aware that he had no right to. He returned his attention to his datapad, and began brewing up his next plan to shake her out of her stupor.
UNSC Dominion, Bridge
October 12th, 0645 local time, 2552
The nerves were beginning to set in amongst the Bridge Crew as the order to prepare for combat across the ship. Quiet banter and discussion had ceased, replaced with wordless typing and the occasional relay between stations. Through the front viewport, Richard could see condensation building on the outer hull as the Dominion floated gently through the cloud layer. Beside him, Winter and Bradford stood, keeping close tabs on the situation down in Atlas.
It seemed Lieutenant Oswald had an odd sort of humor, certainly an ironic one. He'd presented the final battle-plan to Ironwood along with Winter under the working title "Operation Market Garden", apparently both of the Atlesians liked it, and they decided to keep the somewhat ironic moniker, unaware of its historical context. Privately, Richard hoped that this time around, the attackers didn't get bogged down in the occupying forces.
I'll worry about explaining that little historical event after we've won... hopefully. Richard thought.
Far below them, and some distance away, the Atlesian Airfleet had leapt into action. The Allied Army had already begun certain critical strikes, They'd started before the media had been informed of what was happening. As soon as The Council handed down declassified information proving the SDC's guilt, the media unleashed hell and vengeance on both the Company and its CEO.
Richard caught a sample of the nationwide shitshow that was rapidly unfolding, and couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction at how suddenly and violently the scales turned. The same journalists that had been ranting and raving about the UNSC only a day earlier now aimed their sights at the SDC. It seemed that Ironwood had revealed more than Richard had expected, as the media shared some pretty grizzly details, albeit with a sensory warning.
The general consensus was not one of outrage at the racial violence, but at the betrayal to Atlas. It seemed that the discriminatory nature of Atlas's population would need some time to be properly amended, but there was plenty of sympathy for those poor people who had met their untimely demise in the mines. One aspiring politician, a woman named Robyn Hill, was featured on multiple broadcasts simultaneously, taking her shot directly at Jacques Schnee with a truly inspired bombardment of criticism.
I wonder just how far censorship of the media has gone in Remnant's past... I bet that the Grimm had a pretty disproportionate effect on that. Richard thought, knowing only a tangential amount of information about Remnant's experience with Authoritarianism. Of course, censorship caused by fear is probably going to cause a lot of negative emotions anyway, so it's more than a little self-defeating.
Richard had yet to see how the UNSC would be seen, but that particular concern was very unimportant compared to the now-ongoing military operation. Through the front Viewport, Richard saw a pair of small silhouettes leave the Dominion's Starboard Hangar.
"Both Excalibur units just launched, Spellmaster Lead is reporting minor turbulence on their flight path." Ensign Gillespie announced, referring to the Dominion's complement of Sparrowhawks and Vultures respectively. "Voodoo is next in the tubes, they should be in the sky in less than a minute."
"Give them the order to launch when ready and clear their objectives as soon as they can, keep me informed." Richard relayed, taking a deep breath as he prepared to issue a multitude of critical orders. "Lieutenant Gage, Issue Gunnery Captains the standby signal. Charge Point Defense to full and unlock the safeties on our Trebuchet Missiles. When the time comes to fire I want it to be quick."
"Aye Sir." Gage replied, rapidly carrying out his orders. "I'll need a few minutes to double check the firing solution on those missiles... damn Grimm probably moved... again."
"Commander, Atlesian Air Patrols are requesting that we reroute Chakra Squadron's flightpath, apparently we're going to overlap with one of their Cruisers." Lieutenant Chen suddenly interjected. She'd officially taken on the role of the Dominion's Operations Officer, since they had little need for astronavigation, which helped Ensign Gillespie loosen up his workload.
Goddamnit, I know every plan has flaws, but that one seems particularly avoidable. Richard grumpily thought. "Tell them that Chakra will increase altitude to stay out of their way. Inform Spark that his squadron needs to climb another two kilometers, then proceed as planned."
"Aye Sir!" She answered, before complying with his orders.
Winter seemed somewhat surprised. "Those are the Hornets, correct? Can they handle such a steep incline?"
"The Hornets are VTOLs, they can handle it." Bradford stubbornly answered. Richard considered adding his own response, but decided that Bradford had already said what he was thinking, and that it would be pointless.
"Commander, priority transmission from General Ironwood." Ensign Gillespie shouted.
Something's gone wrong. Richard immediately recognized. Winter was supposed to relay any messages from him, if he needed to call directly, that meant it was critical. "Patch him through."
Ironwood's face quickly filled one of the smaller monitors in front of him, and the man began speaking immediately. "Commander, I have a developing situation and I need a quick response!"
"What's the situation?" Richard asked.
"One of our recon elements found a herd of Megoliaths dangerously close to several of my support units. I can't say how they snuck past our lines, but I need something of yours to intercept them!" Ironwood explained, his voice reserved, but the urgency still clear in his voice. "I recognize that you'll be placing other units at risk, but this has the potential to spiral out of control if not handled properly!"
He's choosing the smaller loss, but maybe he doesn't need to... Richard thought. "We'll take care of it. Transfer all relevant data to the Dominion, and give us some time to see it through."
Ironwood let out a faint sigh of relief. "Thank you, Commander." The channel closed immediately afterwards, and immediately Richard began to ponder exactly how to respond to the unexpected setback.
"Megoliaths... you'll need something with a lot of firepower to take those down." Winter said, helpfully filling in for his still-lackluster knowledge on Grimm unit designations.
"A volley of Archer Missiles would be more than enough to put those things down, should the need arise." Bradford suggested.
Archer Missiles would certainly do the job, I can only think of a handful of Grimm that would even pose a chance at surviving one of those. Richard thought. But like Bradford said, we need to save what we can.
Winter looked at him with an expression of surprise and mild annoyance. "I would strongly encourage you to take whatever measures you can to destroy those Grimm, if they get behind our frontlines, we would risk disastrous losses."
"So would I." Bradford said, showing a rare instance of agreement with the foreign operative. "But the decision ultimately falls to the Commander."
"Sir, Incoming download from the Atlesian Airfleet, it's the info you requested!" Gillespie interjected.
"Route it over to my terminal." Richard ordered.
He quickly skimmed over the report for the relevant information, finding it quickly. It seemed that the Atlesian Troops had stumbled upon a pack of well over thirty of the massive monsters. It was easy to see why Ironwood was worried, that kind of force could probably take down an entire team of Specialists with little effort, let alone logistics or support units.
Let's not pull punches, the Sabres will do the job. Richard thought. Shielded fighters with armor-piercing missiles and coilguns should be able to get past their thick hides.
"Lieutenant Gillespie, reroute Voodoo Squadron from escort duty to kill those targets." Richard ordered.
Gillespie carried out his orders without question, relaying the instruction to the CAG. Both Winter and Bradford seemed surprised by his decision, but it was Bradford who actually spoke up. "Sir, without The Sabres, we'll be going in with no fighter cover."
"I'm well aware Lieutenant." Richard replied. "But our point-defense guns have proven their capability against the Grimm before, we should be able to defend ourselves. If we run into any serious opposition, we'll start throwing out Missiles."
Not to mention the fact that we can make more coilgun slugs by the dozen, but not long-range capital-grade guided-missiles. Richard thought. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how blunt and unsophisticated the Dominion could afford to be. He was reminded of the early days of space-warfare, with massive overly-complex dreadnoughts pounding away at each other with dozens of coilgun batteries, each trying to score that single, decisive blow.
Except in this case, the other bastards don't shoot back. He thought.
Bradford nodded, reassured by Richard's plan. Winter seemed more uncertain, but that was to be expected, she had less reason to be as confident in either the Dominion's armor or missile weapons. But Richard had seen how both stacked up to the Grimm in the past, and his confidence was assured. But confidence made for cockiness, and cockiness made dead soldiers.
"Slowing our descent now Sir, should be in our holding position in about thirty seconds." Ensign Williams shouted from the Helm.
"Gage, how are we doing with those missiles?" Richard asked, the time for launch had nearly come.
"Still working on it Sir, apparently some of the targets we were supposed to be shooting at are outright gone." Gage answered.
"What do you mean?" Richard asked. Had the Grimm simply moved, or had they already been killed by Atlesian Forces?
"Here Sir, I'll send you the reports." Chen offered, letting Gage focus on his work. Calculating a firing solution for a hundred-year-old long-range missile in the middle of a snowstorm fired out of a barely compatible launch tube made for some difficult math.
Richard examined some of the satellite images that Chen sent him, and was very surprised by what he saw. Indeed, it seemed that most of the Grimm forces had outright vanished, which was extremely bizarre, considering they apparently had a naturally-static behavior.
I thought they all sat outside the Kingdoms and waited for a good opportunity to strike, where did they all go? Richard thought. It was almost like they'd known the Dominion was coming, but that was impossible, as the Grimm only had the intelligence of wild animals, and the plans for the operation were kept under strict lock-and-key.
"Gage, cancel fire missions one through four, as well as six and eight." Richard ordered, seeing no point in firing precious missiles at nothing.
"Aye Sir!" Gage replied.
Richard scratched his head. "Where the hell did they go?"
"Perhaps they were killed by Huntsmen?" Winter suggested.
Bradford shook his head. "No way, look at Fire Mission Four. That was at least a hundred armored targets, big ones too. Even the best of your Huntsmen would need some serious backup to take that kind of force on."
"So they moved." Richard murmured to himself. "That's odd..."
"They do migrate, on occasion. Although it's odd that they would move away from the negative emotions..." Winter proposed doubtfully.
Bradford crossed his arms. "Whatever the case, we still have our lot of Grimm to kill here."
"Indeed, let's get back to it. Specialist, relay our discovery to the General." Richard said. "Gage, what's the status on our missiles?"
"Firing solution ready, the first three Trebuchets are hot and ready to launch!" The weapons officer reported.
"Fire." Richard instructed.
Typically, the larger silos on the Charon Class were meant for launching large nuclear missiles. In this case, the Dominion's three large silos revealed what appeared to be surprisingly small missiles, which quickly rocketed out of their respective tubes and adjusted themselves to strike their targets.
"Missiles away, telemetry looks good." Gage reported. "Weapons Crew is reloading the last missile into Silo One, they'll need a few seconds."
"Fire when ready. Williams, keep us in a holding pattern for the time being." Richard replied. "What's the time until impact?"
"Trebuchets One and Two will impact within a minute, Trebuchet Three will need more time." Gage answered. "Satellites don't have a visual on the targets, but Atlesian Recon should be able to get us a report when they impact."
"Impressive weapons." Winter said, with a hint of respect. "To deliver so much firepower at that long of a range."
"These things are designed for this exact purpose. Of course, this specific model is pretty old, but we'll take what we can get." Bradford said, shedding some light on the weapons. "Now if only we knew how those Covie mortars worked..."
"One problem at a time Bradford." Richard replied. "Order Point-Defense to stay spun up, and get our Drones in the air, I want to be ready for anything."
After another few moments, another missile launched from Silo One. Richard noted how the impact that the launch had on the ship was considerably lesser than a nuclear missile, and chalked it up to less fuel being needed to deliver the warhead.
That's all a missile is, a delivery system for a very special package. Richard thought, watching the display tracking the four missiles and rapidly counting down their time until they impacted. Finally, the first missile hit it's mark, and it's indicator shifted to a red background.
"Splash one, waiting for a report on effectiveness." Gage said.
"Commander, several of our birds report their targets are gone too... shall I send them to back up Voodoo?" Bradford asked, with a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Alright, something's up. Richard thought, silently agreeing with Bradford. "Order them to perform a second sweep, use Recon Packages if available. If they end up finding nothing, place them under General Ironwood's jurisdiction, he might need the help, and Voodoo's more than capable of killing some Woolly Mammoths themselves."
"Aye Sir." Bradford replied with a notable hint of doubt. Winter seemed surprised at his orders, but Richard ignored her reaction, and continued focusing on the Operation.
Next, we kill the other hard targets with the point-defense. Richard thought. Time for a good old-fashioned turkey shoot.
Meanwhile
Outskirts of Mantle, Forward Observation Post
The crack of a rifle firing echoed through the air, a bolt cycled and a spent casing fell to the floor, before the rifle fired again. Garrett repeated the process two more times, before finally making a fine hole in the skull of an unusually stubborn Manticore. He quickly blew the head off of it's Centinel friend, before snapping the spine of the final Grimm, a Sabyr, with the final shot in his magazine. The squad of Troopers he had been covering finished the downed Grimm off.
"Thanks Major, it's good to see that you've still got that magic touch." The NCO in charge of the soldiers said over the radio. Garrett fought the urge to reply harshly, stating that he wasn't an officer anymore, but stopped himself.
You are an Officer you old coot... kind of. Garrett thought, before issuing a far more polite response to the Troopers. Ironwood had offered him a commission, which had already been pre-approved unanimously by the Council. It was clearly an attempt to manipulate him into thinking that his Country still had faith in him, and rather annoyingly Garrett had accepted, for reasons that were still beyond him.
As a result, he found himself sitting in the ruins of a three-story building that was just far enough away from the defenses of Mantle that it hadn't survived the Winter, at least, it's inhabitants hadn't. Thankfully, they weren't here to complain about Garrett commandeering it for use as his personal Observation Post. The roof might've been torn off, but until the Grimm started pouring through it, Garrett had other concerns. He topped off his magazine, before placing it back into his weapon and drawing his Laser Designator.
Originally Garrett had decided to bring it because they had a built in rangefinder, an invaluable trait for a man who fought like he did. But he found himself calling in more and more requests for Air support than he expected. Whatever the Brass had just told the Press, it must've had the city in a stir. The Grimm were acting wildly and ferociously, even more than usual.
I bet they said something about what the SDC is really doing, that'll do it. Garrett thought. For all of his misgivings with the UNSC, he hated the SDC more, and having two potential enemies beat the shit out of each other was a good strategy. Huh, maybe I oughta give General Ironwood a bit more credit, that's actually pretty smart...
He swept his rangefinders along the hillside in the distance, before his vision came to rest on another target, which was peeking over the ridge, seemingly looking at him and his men. This Grimm was an ugly bastard, something he hadn't seen before. It looked like what would happen if you covered a giant gecko in the same armor that had some of the same scaling as a Centinel.
It scanned it's tiny eyes across his frontline, before it's head unexpectedly folded open in a rather disgusting manner, revealing a singular, large eye. At least, Garrett assumed it was an eye, it kind of looked like a big shiny gemstone had been shoved inside its head. His suspicion was proven correct when it swiveled to look directly at him, sending a brief shiver down his spine as he felt himself under the creature's gaze. But instinct and training snapped him out of his fear quickly, he was done being afraid. He swapped his Laser Designator for his rifle and took aim.
"You stalked the wrong guy today buddy..." Garrett murmured, before pushing his Semblance as far as it could go and firing.
The round flew true, and hit the Grimm directly in its eye. Apparently they were susceptible to that, as the Grimm rapidly disintegrated as soon as it was done thrashing and screaming. Garrett made a mental note to report that, if the Grimm had new abilities, they apparently also had a new weakness.
To be fair, I think most things have a weakness to bullets. Garrett slyly thought, before a panicked cry over the radio snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Nevermores!" One of his soldiers shouted, before a giant shadow quickly passed over Garrett's position... followed by another.
"Agh, you rat bastards, I'd just gotten comfortable!" Garrett protested to nobody in particular, climbing up from his prone position and taking better cover from the sky.
Through the mostly-open roof, Garrett saw three of the ice-coated birds fly through the air, and immediately his gut sank. A normal swarm of nevermores he and his men could handle, but these were clearly not normal Nevermores. Their armor was well-layered, and their feathers were dense and long, two signs that they were Elder Nevermores, the older and far scarier versions of the normal Grimm.
Garrett lowered his rifle and reached for his radio, nothing short of a missile launcher would even scratch those things. "General, this is Major Garrett, come in!"
"I read you Garrett." General Ironwood calmly responded. Technically he probably should've contacted the Regimental Commander first, but they probably wouldn't have access to the firepower or Specialists to take down a swarm of Elder Nevermores.
"I've got a swarm of Nevermores breathing down my neck, and nothing to kill them with!" Garrett said, hearing one of his men scream in the distance. "Whatever you have, I need it now!"
"You're in luck Major, I've got a flight of some very special support craft available for tasking." Ironwood answered, much to Garrett's relief. "You're still holed up in Grid Five-Zero-Zero Four-Five-Eight, right?"
"Negative, current Gridref is as follows. Five-Zero-One Four-Five-Four, how copy?" Garrett replied. The floor he was standing on became momentarily darker as something large flew over his building, despite his instincts telling him to run and hide, Garrett focused solely on radioing for help.
"I copy Major, hang tight, help is on the way." Ironwood said. "And Garrett, check your fire. Do not fire upon any friendly forces."
Although he didn't understand the sudden patronization, Garrett voiced his compliance and stowed his radio. He quickly returned his rifle to his hands, before the floor, walls, and what was left of the ceiling shook ferociously as something gigantic landed on his building. Debris and accumulated dust fell from the sudden force, and Garrett was marked to one knee.
Immediately realizing what had happened, he quickly returned to lying prone, and did his best to suppress his fear. If one of the Elder Nevermores sensed his fear, he was going to die, there was no question about it. The building shook again as he gripped his rifle's grip with whitened knuckles, knowing that an infantry weapon would be meaningless against such a massive target, even with his Semblance in play.
Without warning, four massive talons tore a sizable chunk out of the third floor across from him, before pulling half the building off of it's foundation and exposing Garrett to the Elder Nevermore now staring him down. The sound of the collapsing building and massive flapping wings was deafening, so much so that he couldn't even hear the ferocious gunfire all around him. Knowing that the end was near, Garrett took aim with one last shot, and fired it into the Elder Nevermore's head. He might've screamed, and as far as he was concerned, it didn't matter if he did.
For a split second, it almost seemed... stunned, but his comparatively paltry attack. A split second later, the hovering Nevermore was obliterated from existence by a barrage of gunfire so ferocious and so powerful, that it was well on it's way to disintegrating even before it was dead.
What? Garrett thought, before a squadron of six of the strangest aircraft he had ever seen flew past the remnants of his building. They had two sets of wings, one at the top holding some kind of engine, and another set underneath holding what looked like some kind of missile. Garrett watched as they turned around at a speed that should've been impossible, before proceeding to use heavy rotary-cannons and missiles to rip the entire swarm of Elder Nevermores to ribbons.
He was utterly stunned even as his soldiers let out a hearty cheer and joined into the fighting. Garrett watched as the remaining Grimm tried to flee, and were ruthlessly pursued by the bizarre aircraft. A small part of Garrett's mind guessed that it was the aliens who were flying the strike-craft, but his mind was still recovering from being stunned to notice. It was only once they and the Grimm were both flying away that Garrett noticed his radio beeping at him incessantly. "Yes, yes, hello?!"
"Good to hear from you Major, what's the status of those Nevermores?" General Ironwood asked.
Garrett took a quick glance at the final Nevermore being bisected by what were almost certainly alien attack fighters, and gave a sigh of relief. "Dead or well on their way to being dead, Sir."
"Excellent, rally your men and clean up any Grimm who survived. It seems like most of the main assault is over, but be ready for any stragglers, out." Ironwood ordered, before ending the transmission.
Still somewhat stunned by the display, Garrett stowed his radio and looked at the other half of the building he was standing in. It had been utterly thrashed, and there was no sign of the Elder Nevermore that had been only moments away from lunging at him and ending his life. He took one last look at the Aliens flying away in the distance, their cannons still ferociously roaring as they tore Grimm apart wherever they were going.
Alright, maybe they ain't all bad. Garrett begrudgingly thought. Now, let's see how many of the recruits wet themselves.
Beacon Academy, Cliffside Firing Range
October 12th, 0822 local time, 2552
"Ok, preparing to test the Mark Fourteen." Ben said, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
He, Curie and Ruby had spent all of yesterday testing, with a little bit of help from Beacon's various professors from time to time. Ruby proved to be surprisingly invaluable, her knowledge of Remnant's unusual elements assisting greatly in getting the Dust component of their new propellant working.
Unfortunately, He and Curie had been up all night trying to solve their issues, with little to show in the way of successes. The biggest problem they had was that the Dust actually tended to burn away faster than the powder did, which led to very inconsistent pressure output. This latest mixture was proving to have equally unpredictable consequences, but for different reasons.
He wiped the morning dew off of his prototype round and inserted it into an empty magazine, which he loaded into his M6G. Personally, Ben preferred the M6I select-fire variant of the magnum, but it was in very short supply, and replacement pistols were determined to be a low-priority for the foundry operators. Still, the M6G was a very capable sidearm, and a useful example for testing his rounds. It seemed that the students adhered to a strict schedule, so he was free to use the range while Curie monitored everything that happened via high-speed camera.
"Please give one of the intermediate targets a shot, I believe this mixture might perform suitably for such a shot." Curie requested. She did a good job of hiding it, but Ben could tell she was also tiring due to the lack of progress.
"Affirmative, going hot." Ben confirmed, disabling the safety on his weapon. He took aim at a target around fifty meters out, activated the two-times zoom module on the weapon, and fired. Rather perplexingly, the round failed to fire, something that hadn't happened before.
"Stay on target, I believe that is a hangfire." Curie stated, noticing Ben's predicament.
Sure enough, the round fired less than a second after she was done speaking. The magnum delivered the shot on target, but it was at noticeably sub-par velocity. It was odd seeing a magnum fail to function properly, as they were considered a reliable and dependable firearm by practically every man or woman who had ever held one.
Maybe if we stopped playing around with this alien crap and just gave people smokeless powder it would end up working better. Ben grumpily thought, but stifled that line of thinking. Still, the tactical opportunities Dust offers are... extensive, to say the least. Maybe it's not worth discounting quite yet.
"What do you think happened that time?" Ben asked, cocking his helmet to look at his A.I companion.
Curie pondered it for a moment. "I believe we simply didn't mix the compounds properly. Perhaps we should modify one of Beacon's Centrifuges for use as a mixer?"
"Or just put the propellant in first and the Dust second." Ben countered. "Using the Dust as a propellant along with the powder doesn't seem to be working."
"Well-" Curie began, but was cut off by the arrival of their unusually-chipper local assistant.
"Hey Curie, what's up with you guys?" Ruby asked. "Still testing those new bullets?"
"Well, in a manner of speaking." Ben answered as he holstered his sidearm. "We're having problems with the Dust, it's very... unpredictable."
"If I didn't know any better, I would compare it to a more unstable form of Black Powder. It explodes violently, and it leads to unpredictable pressure loads." Curie added, before noticing Ruby's curious expression. "For context, Black Powder was the first type of ballistic propellant employed by humanity on Earth."
Ruby seemed perplexed. "Well, maybe the Dust just isn't working well with the stuff you're using. The... Smokeless Powder, right?"
"That appears to be the case." Curie reluctantly answered. "But we need to find a way to force it to work."
"Well... why not just change materials?" Ruby asked, as if the solution was obvious. "Yesterday you were talking about all the different kinds of Gunpowder you had, why not use one of those?"
"Cost." Ben bluntly answered. "We expressly chose an early form of Smokeless Powder because it will be easy to produce on Remnant. Our goal is to get better bullets into the hands of your people, we can't do that if they're too expensive to make."
Ruby carefully considered his words, before making her conclusion. "Hang on just a moment, I think I know someone who can help."
She dashed off in a burst of rose petals, once again inspiring a small headache as Ben tried to comprehend how exactly she did that. Eventually, he dismissed it as the same magic that most of Remnant seemed to run off of. He returned his attention to Curie and the handful of prototype rounds he still had to test.
"Don't worry Ben, her abilities confuse me too." Curie offered. "I tried tracking her with the thermals on your helmet yesterday, and believe it or not, her heat signature outruns the rose petals."
"Impressive, I'd love to see her and Kelly go head to head." Ben said, referring to the legendarily fast Spartan II he had learned about in class. The fastest Spartan versus a blisteringly fast Huntress in training, I genuinely don't know who would win, but my money's on the Spartan.
"I... also find myself deeply curious as to who would win that." Curie said, with a hint of deeper thought. "It seems however, that her reaction time is still around the normal human average."
Ben nodded to show that he was listening, but forced himself to focus on the task at hand, they had work to do. "Which round are we testing next?"
Curie pondered it for a moment. "Try the round labeled as Eleven, that should be our Ice Dust round. Try a closer target, I am less confident in the accuracy of this prototype."
Ben complied, loading the designated round into his weapon and taking aim once again. "Going hot."
He tried for the target at twenty-five meters, and scored a hit on the third ring from the bullseye. A handful of ice shards splintered away from the impact site, leaving nothing in the way of the immobilizing iceberg they had been aiming for. Compared to the amount of Ice Dust the round had been loaded with, the resulting amount of ice was very lackluster.
"Well, that's certainly disappointing." Curie said, seemingly more surprised than frustrated. "I wonder why that happened?"
"I don't know, maybe-" Ben said, before being cut off by someone else.
"I might have an answer." Another voice interjected. Ben turned and saw that Ruby had returned with Headmaster Ozpin.
I suppose he might have some idea of what we're doing wrong here. Ben thought.
"Depending on the temperature of your materials, you may have nullified the effects of the Ice Dust." Ozpin offered. "Ice Dust is resistant to external forces, but not immune. A hot enough blast will inevitably reduce its effectiveness."
Curie seemed to digest the information. It certainly made sense that the material based around freezing things in place would be vulnerable to thawing. "Hmm, that could very well be causing the issue. Thank you, Headmaster, I'm afraid that we've been having extreme difficulty getting the Dust to behave."
"Dust isn't like most elements." Ozpin said, in a statement that came across as rather a substantial understatement. But he, as well as Ruby, kept their mouths closed and listened to what the man had to say. "Dust is an element that is more malleable, more manipulatable than any other element, which is what makes it so useful. But it is also fickle, and requires a great deal of care in it's application."
"I'm afraid that's our problem." Curie said, now showing a bit of frustration. "It seems that we cannot blend it with the powder, or else we encounter a number of incredibly difficult problems."
Ozpin seemed to digest that bit of information for a moment. "Well, why don't we ask Miss Rose? What do you think would be the best solution to this problem?"
Ben turned to face her, and it seemed that she was caught somewhat off-guard with being handed the spotlight. While there was a fair amount of doubt in Ben's mind as to whether or not she would actually propose a viable answer, he elected to reserve his judgement. She had proven her prowess with weaponry yesterday, so maybe she could actually come up with a solution.
"Well... did you try just using the propellant with a solid Dust bullet?" Ruby proposed.
Ben, Curie, and even Ozpin all raised an eyebrow. Ruby gave an awkward chuckle as everyone kept looking at her in surprise. "What uh... did I say something wrong?"
"Miss Rose, I believe you may have just solved our problem." Curie said. "Although, I question if solid Dust could detonate reliably, and it would certainly not offer the same armor-piercing capabilities we were anticipating."
Finally, Ben had a meaningful idea to contribute. "Well, maybe not every round needs to be made from Dust. We could have Dust rounds for the elemental effects, and normal rounds made from other materials to offer meaningful penetration and fragmentation capabilities."
"Hmm, while posing some logistical challenges, it could work." Curie said.
"Yeah, that way you would get the best of both options!" Ruby enthusiastically added.
"Well, good answer, Miss Rose." Ozpin said. "Sergeant, if you and Curie would like, I can give Miss Rose an excuse from her classes for the day to help you put those ideas into action."
"Oh!" Ruby enthusiastically said and she hopped into the air repeatedly, obviously on-board with the idea. "I can help, please please please-"
How does someone with so much knowledge and technical prowess lack basic discipline? Ben thought, looking past Ruby's words of excitement and turning to Curie's hologram on the table, who it seemed was ironically looking to Ben for his input.
"What? Don't look at me, It's your project, I'm just here to help you." Ben pointed out, placing the decision on Curie's shoulders, she would be more qualified to make it.
"Well in that case, we would be happy to have you, Miss Rose." Curie said after a moment of deliberation. Curiously, it seemed like she was changing her expressions extremely rapidly, between a teasing look at Ben and a frustrated expression. But she quickly settled on one of cautious acceptance as she offered her answer.
"Yay!" Ruby said.
"Alright Miss Rose, we'll consider this an extra-credit assignment." Ozpin said, snapping her out of her excitement and instilling a bit of calm into her attitude. "And remember, don't be afraid to rely on your team for help. I believe that at least one member of your team has ample experience with Dust."
Ruby gained an expression like Ozpin had just pointed out the obvious, but Ben's attention was firmly focused on what Ozpin had said.
"Don't be afraid to rely on your team for help..." Ben recited in his mind, immediately thinking back to his own training. He looked at Ruby again, and something clicked within his mind.
All of the sudden, Ben realized exactly what it was about Beacon that rubbed him the wrong way. The Huntsmen were like Remnant's own bizarre version of Spartans, and Beacon was like their version of Camp Currahee. They both served as humanities defenders, dedicating their lives to learning how to fight, but that was where the similarities ended, and where Ben's unease began.
In the one day Ben had to explore it, Beacon was very clearly a far more forgiving environment than Currahee was. Discipline was practically nonexistent, Drill Instructors were replaced with professors, and like Curie had said, the whole environment wasn't dissimilar to a community college. With their bizarre methods and lackluster technology, Ben began to wonder just how effective the Huntsmen truly were.
Are they just held up by their supernatural abilities? Ben thought. None of these kids went through basic, none of them went through augmentations, they don't even have a formal chain of command.
"Sergeant, are you alright?" Ozpin asked, snapping Ben back into the present.
He forced his mind to clear itself of his thoughts. "Yes Headmaster, I'm alright. I was just... thinking about something, back home."
Not quite the truth, not a lie. Ben thought, confident in his false answer.
"I understand. And for what it's worth, I hope you do end up finding a way home... I would love to see what the rest of humanity has accomplished." Ozpin said, his demeanor seemingly genuine. "Now, I'm afraid I have my own duties to attend to, but I'm certain that Miss Rose will be able to answer any of your concerns."
"I'll do my best, Professor!" Ruby said enthusiastically, before the Headmaster made his exit. "So uh... what do we do now?"
"Simple, we go back to the drawing board, and we reinvent the cartridge." Curie said. "On that note, do you have any Remnant made bullets we could compare to our own."
"I've got more than bullets!" Ruby enthusiastically said, before proceeding to do what was easily the most ridiculous thing Ben had seen all day.
In one fluid, clearly well practiced motion, Ruby deployed a weapon that had to be seen to be believed. It was an expertly forged red and black Scythe, clearly constructed to serve multiple functions. The tip of the scythe's blade impacted the ground with such force that it dug into the dirt Ruby withdrew a small red box from the mid-point of the weapon's long shaft, before cycling what Ben now recognized as the bolt of a rifle, and holding up the high-caliber round that popped up.
"This is my weapon, Crescent Rose!" Ruby eagerly said. "She's a customisable high-caliber Sniper Scythe."
Ben was so utterly stunned by the display it took him a few seconds to respond, and even then, it wasn't exactly an intellectual statement. "Holy shit..."
Curie gave an excited but awkward laugh. "Miss Rose, I have never been more excited to discuss weaponry with someone!"