Nicholas Class Dust Freighter "Demetrius", Cockpit
October 14th, 1125 local time, 2552
The older Atlesian Airship flew surprisingly handily, considering its rather ungainly appearance. It was readily apparent to all of the Marines aboard that this was a dependable vessel from a more industrial time in Remnant's history. To Fireball, it was a reassuring symbol that even if the captured freighter had been assembled by the lowest bidder, it had at least been built for function over style.
Which raises the question, why did that have to change? Fireball grumpily thought. As much as she wanted to appreciate the vessels of their new allies, Atlas's modern airships were in dire need of an upgrade to their arsenal.
Squeezing a full platoon of Marines into the cargo hold had proven to be a challenge, but it was a key part of the strategy that Lieutenant Clark and Jorge had put together. Their objective would be to sabotage the enemy defenses and cause as much chaos as possible in order to soften the enemy up for the main force. With UNSC forces running amok in their lines, the SDC wouldn't be able to properly respond.
Of course, the sophistication of groundside tactics was not Fireball's field of expertise. She and her co-pilot did their best to keep the bird flying straight, while Lieutenant Clark stood behind them, grabbing onto the handlebars built into the cabin roof for extra stability.
I do not pity those poor bastards in the cargo bay… Fireball thought, running her thumb across the old leather-coated joystick as the aging ship lurched again. I'd rather be flying a Pelican…
An indicator on the dashboard began to flash red, as a faint beep began to echo throughout the cockpit. She thought back to her crash-course instructions regarding how to pilot the captured airship and recognized that was the communications console.
"Aw hell, looks like you're up Lieutenant." Fireball said.
Her co-pilot handed Lieutenant Clark the microphone. The cord connecting the bulky microphone to the console stretched over her shoulder as Clark pulled his mask down to speak clearly.
"Still think you can do an Atlas accent?" Her co-pilot cheekily asked.
"I suppose we'll find out." He replied in his normally proper English accent, before clearing his throat and switching to his best impression of the traditional Atlesian dialect. "Either way, let's get this over with."
Goddamn, he did that well. Fireball thought. Maybe this plan will work after all...
Clark pressed the button to accept the transmission, and opened up with the line that he'd recited over and over with the Atlesians. "This is Freighter Demetrius, go ahead Control."
Fireball gave him a thumbs-up as a gravelly voice came through the speaker. "Demetrius, this is CDC Control, identify yourself and your cargo immediately."
Clark held his thumb on the transmit button as he stared out the front of the window, the confidence that the officer spoke with was astonishing. "The name's Ferdinand, Sir, and I'm carrying a load of Dust we managed to secure from the Jester Mines before they went down. We're uh, kinda running out of fuel here, and we'd appreciate it if you could clear a place for us to land, we'll be happy to tell you our story once we're on the ground."
There was a pause as the man on the other end processed what Clark said. Out of the front viewport, point Hindenburg came into view. It was completely covered in parked airships, there were probably more freighters in storage than the Dominion had people to fly them.
Good thing we don't have to worry about that, just kill the bastards holding them, and let the officers do the rest. Fireball thought. She resisted her gut instinct to line up for a strafing run, and instead continued to fly steadily onwards.
"Demetrius, this is Control. Your video feed is coming back dark, mind explaining that one for us?" The voice asked, with a notable hint of suspicion.
"Shit." Fireball's co-pilot silently mouthed to her. She stuck one finger in the air in response to shush him, which he thankfully obeyed. Just in case, she took in the surrounding landscape, looking for where she could go if she needed to avoid anti-aircraft fire. A multitude of locations stood out to her, but she doubted the Demetrius could make the dive in one piece.
I can't believe Atlas didn't even put a shock absorber on this thing… Fireball thought. The lack of a modern G-force compensator was one of Demetrius's biggest faults.
Thankfully, Clark recovered quickly. "Yeah... those broke years ago. Corporate never got us replacements, said that as long as we could still fly we didn't need em'."
There was an agonizingly long pause as the silence from the radio began to make Fireball slightly nervous. Would the Mercenaries catch on? Were they lining up a shot with their AA guns while Fireball stupidly flew into them? If she still had weapons on her aircraft, she would've gotten ready to use them.
What the hell convinced these people not to arm their logistics transports in a world covered with demons? Fireball grumpily thought, lamenting the lack of a trigger on her joystick.
"Control copies all Demetrius. You are cleared to touchdown on landing pad three, lights are blue, welcome home." The voice said.
Clark let out a genuine sigh of relief, which probably helped add to the deception that he was putting on. "It's good to be back Sir, Demetrius Out."
He placed the microphone back in the console and turned to Fireball. "I think we're clear, touch us down where they instructed. As soon as you open the ramp, close off the cockpit. Stay inconspicuous, we'll do the rest."
"Heh, that was some impressive stuff Lieutenant, it's like you speak idiot fluently." Fireball teasingly replied.
Clark chuckled as he turned to leave the cockpit. "It takes one to know one Fireball."
Both pilots gave a hearty chuckle and a wide grin as he left.
Demetrius, Cargo Bay
Scuff marks and stains marked the floor of the Demetrius's cargo bay, likely to be joined by blood and spent casings by the end of the day. Dim light from small old lights illuminated the First Platoon of Zulu Company as they ran through their final equipment checks. The shakes and jolts of the aircraft reminded them that it was never designed for passenger comfort, but the Marines were well accustomed to the stresses of atmospheric entry, making the tremors of the ship nothing more than a minor annoyance. Standing before the large ramp that opened to the outside world, Ben and the remaining handful of operational members from Onyx Team prepared to take point.
The four ODSTs, Peggy, Kerry, Kowalski, and Nathan, were barely enough to constitute a fireteam, let alone a squad. Were it not for Ben and Jorge, the whole group would barely have counted as an organizational unit at all. But Onyx Team was packing some special hardware specifically selected to alleviate their low numbers, and offer a meaningful degree of fire support for Lieutenant Clark and his Marines.
Each ODST carried a jackal shield gauntlet, which, in addition to their new Auras, offered a level of defense that your average Helljumper could never have counted on. Plasma rifles and repeaters took the place of their normal rifles, while Nathan specifically carried one of the precious four beam rifles found in the Dominion's contraband hideaway. Curie had specifically pointed out their unique potential to drain a person's Aura and kill them in only a pair of shots, a far cry from the normally exorbitant amount of bullets it took to bring down an Aura-armed combatant.
Aura rarely deflects projectiles due to it following the shape of the user, and humans are hardly ballistically ideal. For this reason, an Aura to most frequently absorb them entirely and dispel the energy accordingly. Her voice rang out in Ben's head. For this reason, the particle beam rifles of the Covenant snipers are particularly devastating, as their inherent ability to subvert deflection means that almost every shot will deliver its full kinetic potential.
Sadly it was only theoretical, they couldn't exactly test it out on somebody, and so would have to hope the real world lined up with the scientific analysis Curie had done. She was probably right, but physics weren't exactly normal on Remnant. Any number of things could go wrong.
But if what Nathan was holding was a precious weapon, what Ben was holding was downright irreplaceable. Out of the entire arsenal of Covenant weapons that they had with them, only a single Type-52 plasma cannon had managed to find its way into their hands. It was comparable in many ways to Jorge's heavy machine gun, but the projectiles it fired would likely prove especially devastating against unarmored targets. Even still, the plasma cannon would inevitably run dry, so he also had his assault rifle as a backup.
It felt odd holding such a blatantly alien weapon, almost unsettling, even. Knowing that the very same weapon that he now held in his hands had likely burned its way through many of his brothers-in-arms did not do his mental state any favors. Still, he gripped it tightly in his gauntlets, being entrusted with such a valuable asset was an honor that he would not squander.
"Is everything alright Ben?" Curie asked, her familiar voice offering a degree of reassurance to his troubled thoughts.
"It feels wrong, using Covenant weapons against our own like this..." Ben admitted.
If they had been disturbed by what a MAC gun could do to a capital ship, he couldn't imagine how they would react to something like a capital-grade plasma torpedo. It was one thing to punch a hole through a warship, it was quite another to melt it away into a faint vapor in a matter of minutes. Millions of UNSC servicemen had met that grizzly end, and it seemed that the humans on Remnant would not be spared the same fate.
"A weapon is a tool, just like any other. No matter how it operates, the purpose remains the same, to kill the enemy." Curie said. "You should not trouble yourself with the morality of war, our enemies have made a mockery of the concept of human rights, they are no better than the Covenant."
Just think of them like they're Covies… Ben thought. It was easier to kill an enemy that you hated, which was something that he had learned even before he had become a Spartan. He focused on the mental images of the terrible things he had seen and resolved himself not to hesitate when it came to pulling the trigger.
Ben gave a firm nod, having her as his voice of reason was something he could always depend on. "Thanks Curie."
"It is not a problem." She said, although she seemed somewhat distracted. Although with their landing now only moments away, there were dozens of things that she could be doing.
"Is everything good on your end, Sergeant?" Jorge asked. Even as he spoke, he ran his own inspections on Etilka's ammunition belt.
"Yes Sir." Ben replied.
"Good." The elder Spartan said, taking his stance and raising his weapon. "Curie, as soon as we make contact, you have free reign to attack whatever is left of their network."
"Do not worry monsieur, by the time this battle is done, they will have no battle-net left to speak of." Curie said. Even though she didn't have her hologram deployed, Ben could imagine the sinister glare behind her normally innocent eyes.
It's always the quiet ones… He thought, adjusting his stance and reading his weapon as everyone felt the airship shift and lurch as it came in for a landing. Although the plasma cannon wasn't made to be held by human hands, it was still more ergonomic than some other Covenant designs.
"All callsigns, this is Fireball. First Platoon and Onyx Team are touching down in twenty seconds, standby for the all-clear." Fireball's voice rang out over the radio. "Give em' hell Boys."
"Good luck to you too ma'am." Another voice on the radio replied, which the indicator on Ben's HUD identified as belonging to Spellmaster One, the leader of the squadron of Vulture gunships that would cover the advance team.
Unlike with modern airframes, the freighter apparently had very poor shock absorbers for landing, if it had any at all. As such, many of the Marines were thrown off balance by the sudden stop, but everyone rapidly recovered as they turned their attention towards the door. The tightly packed soldiers all kept dead silent as the critical moment approached.
Moments later, the door was raised, and the ramp to the ground lowered. Mercifully, no immediate hostile force was there to greet them, although it would likely be only a short time before their ruse was discovered. Outside of the airship, their view was obstructed by a similar-looking parked airship, effectively reducing the Marine's immediate view to only the small alleyways that were formed by the parked vessels.
The actual layout of the logistical base had been studied extensively by the entire assault force, although from the ground, it was hard to line up what they knew with what they saw. Row upon row of parked airships and drab grey warehouses created an environment that proved exceptionally difficult to navigate, even as Onyx Team and the Marines slowly advanced and more of their surroundings became visible.
It's like a damn maze… Ben thought.
As Onyx Team crept down the path laid before them, a single enemy technician walked around the corner only to be greeted by the raised rifles of two Spartans and half a platoon of Marines. Rather than try to run or warn his friends, the unarmed man elected to raise his hands into the air in silent surrender. Just as a pair of Marines moved to detain him however, the UNSC's good fortune came to an end.
A four-man patrol of armed hostiles followed him around the corner and quickly recognized what was going on. None of them ever got to fire their rifles, as being under the coordinated fire of nearly twenty trained people with modern weapons took them to the ground with ruthless efficiency. Ben didn't even bother wasting his plasma cannon's valuable reserve, as the Marines alone threw enough plasma downrange that the enemy soldiers were reduced to nothing more than flaming piles of charcoal and vapor.
At least it was quick… Ben thought. Even if the enemy they faced were nothing more than war criminals and scoundrels, it was still a brutal display.
"Squad Leads, disperse and make for your objectives, let's get this done!" Clark called out over the radio as the gunfire ceased. The alarms began to blare as the base came to alert.
All four teams had a task that needed to be accomplished before the main force arrived. The First Squad of Marines would defend the captured freighter and secure any additional airships they could, while the Second Squad supported them. Third squad would neutralize enemy strongpoints with reserve anti-aircraft guns, while Fourth squad and Onyx Team would join forces to target the primary battery of the cannons.
Curie silently placed a navpoint on the HUD of every Marine, ODST, and Spartan on the field, directing them to their objectives. Ben and Jorge led the way as the gunfire began to erupt all around them. A dozen Marines and ODSTs followed suit, checking any nook and cranny that the two Spartans failed to clear. It seemed that the enemy was slow to mobilize to the unexpected strike, but that changed with every passing second.
"All units, make your way to the eastern landing pads!" A gruff voice said over the base intercom. "Hostile forces have entered the base, kill on sight!"
"He knows we can hear him, right?" Nathan asked, gesturing towards one of the large wooden poles that held up the intercom speakers with the tip of his rifle.
"I do not believe that stealth was his primary concern." Curie answered.
The squad got out of the narrow passageways that ran between the parked airships and reached one of the larger dirt roads that ran through the compound. However, in between them and their nav-point was a large barricade in the road, formed out of parked trucks, large crates, and sandbags.
From behind the makeshift fortification, several enemy soldiers opened fire on the UNSC forces, who returned fire as they ducked back into cover. A beam from a pulse laser managed to scrape Ben's shields, but the damage was minimal.
They might not be powerful, but they're still fast. Ben realized. Under combined fire, his shields would likely be quickly overwhelmed.
"What's the plan Lieutenant?" Ben asked, looking to Jorge for instructions.
With only a moment's thought, Jorge had already put together a solution. "Leave the heavy weapon and come with me, we'll clear this with plasma grenades."
"Yes Sir." Ben gave a firm nod as he and Jorge left their weapons in the care of the Marines, before making their way to the edge of the airship that they hid behind. From this position, they would be ready to make the long throw to the enemy position.
"Prime and throw, on my mark… mark!" Jorge shouted. The two Spartans both tossed their glowing blue spheres through the air, both of which landed on the enemy's barricade and fused themselves in place, before detonating moments later.
The explosion was magnificent, blue fire and a massive shockwave erupted from the enemy fortification. Bolts of plasma shot out from the blast like lightning, scarring the nearby warehouse. Although Ben could hear faint screaming, a secondary explosion, probably from one of the parked trucks, quickly silenced any survivors.
"God damn…" Nathan murmured as he watched the fires begin to die down, leaving only a charred stain in the snow, complete with a large amount of scrap metal.
Ok, maybe these things aren't so bad after all. Ben thought as he retrieved his weapon.
"We're clear, let's go!" Jorge instructed.
The Spartans led the way forwards, pushing through the ruins of the enemy fighting position. By now, the sounds of the skirmishing around them had blossomed into a constant, deafening cacophony of gunfire, roaring explosions, and panicked screaming.
The concrete buildings and parked airships they passed barely even muffled the noise, with the odd smoke trail or flame pillar reaching into the sky making themselves visible. The base intercom continued to sporadically spout off orders, and it was readily apparent that the SDC had been caught completely off-guard.
I guess fighting nothing but Grimm would make you complacent, lazy even. Ben thought. I suppose they also fought the Faunus, but killing civilians doesn't make you strong or prepare your forces for a real battle.
With most of the enemy forces out of position, Onyx was able to continue relatively unopposed for some time, before finding themselves obstructed by a large warehouse. The front door to the warehouse apparently had some kind of electronic lock, which Ben approached.
"Curie, can you get this door open?" He asked.
"Certainly, just a moment." She answered.
There was an awkward pause for around ten seconds as the squad stacked up around the unopening door. Bizarrely, the door remained locked and closed, despite Curie having said that she would open it.
"Uh… Curie?" Clark asked. "We uh, haven't got all day here."
"My apologies." Her irritated voice came over the radio. "This lock is… different, I may need more-"
"No need." Jorge interrupted. He gently placed his weapon on the ground before using his sheer brute strength to tear the massive reinforced door off of it's hinges, before throwing it aside.
"Fuck, why didn't we just start off by doing that?" Nathan asked, admiring the now bent and twisted door as the Marines passed into the warehouse.
Jorge picked up Etilka as he responded. "Well Private, you're more than welcome to get the next one."
Nathan gave an awkward chuckle as the Spartans entered the warehouse. "I'll uh… pass, thanks."
The inside of the warehouse was filled to the brim with large crates and shipping containers of spare parts, Dust, large metal plates, and effectively anything the SDC apparently built things with. However, it seemed that the UNSC was not alone, as a squad of enemy soldiers had apparently been moving through the building from the other end.
The two opposing forces unexpectedly met one another in a loud and spectacular manner. The first enemy soldier that came into view was blown to pieces by Jorge, while the follow up fell victim to Ben's plasma cannon. His motion tracker showed at least a dozen more hostile contacts in the warehouse with them, meaning that they were equal in number to the Marines.
There was little strategy in the ensuing slugfest, both sides advanced and traded shots as they dispersed their formation. Jorge and Ben used their heavy weapons to suppress the enemy and stop their advance, which proved extremely successful. At one point, Nathan used his beam rifle to drill a superheated hole directly through an enemy's Aura, helmet, and head, then back out the other end, all with a single shot, which inspired a great deal of fear in the remaining enemies, who attempted to retreat.
"They're running, should we pursue?" Ben asked.
"Negative, the objective takes priority!" Clark answered.
With the warehouse cleared, Onyx Team and the Marines were able to exit out of the other side in much the same way they had entered, revealing another long dirt road, which Ben recognized as being located near the main AA position.
"We're close, keep moving!" Jorge instructed. "The sooner we get our birds overhead, the sooner these bastards will give up the fight!"
But it seemed like the SDC had at least one more trick up its sleeve, as Curie shouted in a panicked transmission over TEAMCOM. "Enemy mech incoming, take cover!"
Her rapid interruption proved just a second too late, as a truly goliath combat walker charged straight through the wall of another warehouse, emerging in the middle of the UNSC formation with a deafening crash. Concrete and snow flew into the air as the sheer force of the mech's arrival sent every single Marine, ODST, and Spartan flying away in different directions. Ben and Jorge managed to not get thrown too far, but the Marines were scattered and their organization gone.
With Onyx Team and the Marines scattered, the mech turned to face the obvious threat of the two Spartans. Although the UNSC employed cargo walkers and even used hasty armament conversion kits to create their own combat mechs, the Atlesian giant that stood before them was a totally different beast. Furnished in black and white armor plating, it's skeletal structure was impressively bulky, and it's weapon systems were extensive. Unfortunately, Ben did not have time to admire the surprisingly advanced robotics as it brought it's weapons to bear.
"Go for the legs!" Jorge ordered.
Heavy Machine gun and plasma cannon alike picked away at the armor around the walker's hips as it brought a pair of arm-mounted autocannons to bear. Ben's plasma cannon proved invaluable, as the scoring of dozens of hits rapidly reduced the mech's mobility and dispersed a multitude of EMPs throughout the systems of the mech.
Both Spartans were forced to discard their heavy weapons and break into a harsh sprint to either flank as the heavy weapons opened fire, immediately becoming a harsh drain of the energy shields of both supersoldiers. Autocannons were the bane of any infantry force, even the advanced defenses the Mjolnir offered could not stand against the weapons for long.
"The Paladin's blind-spot is underneath it!" Curie advised over TEAMCOM. Faced with little other alternative, the two Spartans charged the mech head-on, seemingly taking the pilot off guard. Jorge took the momentary opportunity presented to roll a smoke grenade under the mech, which quickly bloomed into a blinding cloud that covered the walker.
As the two Spartans reached the relative safety of the mech's underside, the Marines regained their footing and unleashed a barrage of armor-piercing bullets and plasma at the Mech. Sparks from ricocheting rounds and the smoke of smoldering plasma only added further to the chaos of the battle. The distinctive sound of a particle beam rifle echoed throughout the air, and a purple beam of ionized hydrogen severed one of the mech's shoulder-mounted rocket launchers before it could even fire a shot.
The Paladin retaliated to the Marines bombardment with a suppressive barrage of laser weaponry, fire from it's autocannons, and a salvo of rockets directed towards the Marines. As the munitions came crashing down on Marine and ODST alike, Lieutenant Clark exited cover and for a brief moment, it almost appeared as if he was about to be blown to pieces. The missiles screamed towards him, only for a wall of transparent light to stop them in their tracks.
As the smoke cleared, the Marines watched in awe as Lieutenant Clark lowered his hands, causing the transparent barrier to disappear. Even Ben couldn't help but be impressed by the display, he had known that Lieutenant Clark's Semblance was something related to defense, but he hadn't seen it in action before.
Magical Marines… you really can't make this up. Ben thought as he watched through the growing smokescreen.
"Cease fire, stay behind my barriers!" Clark shouted out to his men, who obeyed his Command. "Let the Spartans take it down!"
By now, the smoke from Jorge's grenade and the plasma scoring across the Paladin's armor was starting to obstruct the vision of just about everyone in the fight. Even the thermal optics of the Spartans and ODSTs proved useless due to the degree of heat that radiated off of the mech and it's smoking wounds.
The Paladin itself must not have been equipped with infrared vision, and whoever was operating the vehicle elected to correct the obstruction by walking back out of the smoke, but thanks to the damage that it had sustained, it was now slow and easy to board. Ben and Jorge both grabbed onto the Paladin's legs, and with the help of their magnetic boots and the many fresh holes in the walker's armor, began to climb.
"Mind the joints!" Curie advised, breaking the tense silence over TEAMCOM. The mechanical whirring of the complex mechanisms that allowed the mech to walk were extremely dangerous, especially as neither Spartan had yet to recharge their shields.
Both Spartans gave a silent green status signal of acknowledgement as they carefully dodged around the moving hips and torso of the mech, allowing them to climb aboard it's main compartment. Ben briefly pondered whether lodging something into the joint would be able to stop the Paladin from walking altogether, but he had nothing that he was willing to spare to test the theory. As he climbed a step further up the mech's body, he found what must've been some kind of camera or optical sensor and took the extra moment to rip it out of its socket before continuing.
He and Jorge continued until they stood atop the Paladin, their magnetic boots stopping them from falling off, even as it jolted around erratically in a vain effort to shake them off. Ben readied his assault rifle while Jorge reached down and pulled the armored hatch off of its mounting, exposing the surprisingly unarmored pilot within. Although it took nearly the whole magazine to bring the man down, Ben killed the pilot without further incident.
"All units, the Paladin's operator is down!" Jorge exclaimed over TEAMCOM as he pulled the corpse from the cabin. "You don't suppose you can operate this, can you Curie?"
"I can certainly try!" Curie confirmed, a notably hint of giddiness in her voice.
Jorge gestured towards the open access hatch. "See to it, I'll go check on the Marines."
Ben took the operator's seat and examined the control set. It was surprisingly well laid-out for a mech, opting for a full panoramic view composed of multiple exterior optical sensors, although most of them were either broken or distorted. "Hmm, it doesn't have a remote access toolset..."
"Will that be a problem?" Ben asked, noticing that the consoles meant to control the mech had suffered just about as much trauma as the armor. "This thing seems to be pretty spent…"
"I can handle this." Curie insisted. "Stay put Ben, I am going to need you here while I do this."
For an awkward minute, Ben sat in the control chair and waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Outside of the mech, he could hear Jorge and Clark rallying up the squad.
"Curie, any luck?" Jorge asked over the radio, apparently becoming just as impatient as Ben was.
"I'm afraid not." Curie reluctantly admitted. "The EMP from our plasma weaponry has rendered many of the electronics disabled, this Paladin is no longer operational."
"Eh, I suppose it was too good to be true." Ben said.
Once he ensured that Curie had severed all connections to the mech, he climbed back outside and leapt down to the rest of the squad. Jorge returned his plasma cannon to him as Clark and the Marines admired the trashed Paladin.
"Hot damn, why don't we get these?" Nathan asked.
"Practically any anti-tank weapon would destroy this thing completely." Ben answered as he ran a quick inspection of his weapon, it was thankfully undamaged. "We didn't even have any, and we still disabled it."
"Eh… still cool." Nathan replied with a faint shrug.
"Eyes up men, we still have to take out those guns so the Vultures can back us up!" Clark shouted, getting everyone back onto the task at hand. "Move it out, double time!"
"Second Platoon is ready to deploy as soon as we clear the way for them." Curie added.
It wasn't much of a run at all until the array of anti-aircraft guns came into view, as they stood in a fortified position, defended by a litany of enemy soldiers. The Warehouses and airships around them prevented Onyx Team from executing a flanking strike, which left them with only one angle of attack, straight forward.
This is going to be difficult. Ben recognized. "Sir, we're going to need to think this through."
"Agreed." Clark said, seemingly posed with the same realization that Ben had come to. "I can use my semblance to cover us for a short time, and your shield can cover us in a pinch, but I still don't think we'd be able to close the distance."
"I have a suggestion." Curie interjected. "If you can destroy the Radar array that the guns are using for guidance, their range will be lowered sufficiently enough that the Vultures could engage them at no risk to themselves."
"Where is the Radar array?" Jorge asked, only for another navpoint to appear on the squad's HUDs behind them, around two-hundred meters away.
"It is marked, I would advise that we hurry, the other units are encountering heavy resistance." Curie said.
The squad hastily doubled back, heading down an intersection in the dirt roads as the sounds of battle escalated around them. A handful of SDC soldiers stood in their way, but they were eliminated without much incident. Even with the ease of their minor victory, Ben couldn't help but feel an uncomfortable feeling of foreboding.
Something's going to try to stop us. He thought. Even with the whole squad on alert, they didn't spot any further enemy forces on their way to the Radar station. It was certainly a primitive system, but admittedly a fairly robust-looking one. Maybe Atlas has some decent tech after all…
Just as Ben lowered his hands over the console to let Curie tear the systems of the equipment apart, a voice shouted at them from behind him. "Halt!"
Appropriately, Jorge and the Marines responded by opening fire at what Ben could only assume was a hostile. He focused on the mission at hand, and let Curie work away at erasing everything that made the Radar station function. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that there was a battle going on behind him, but it seemed to take considerably longer than it should have.
"Done!" Curie announced, just as the Radar station stopped moving. Just for good measure, Ben put his armored fist through the control console, before turning to face the enemy.
The sight that Ben turned to face was something he could scarcely believe, and one that immediately inspired a great deal of concern. The Marines were facing off against at least four different Specialists, who were rapidly overwhelming the entire UNSC force with a barrage of nonsensical strikes.
Two of the enemy specialists had engaged Jorge in a hand-to-hand fight with a pair of daggers and a billhook. But it seemed that even while outnumbered and without weaponry, the Spartan had them both on their back foot. The other two Specialists engaged the Marines, one of whom was armed with a set of grenades, while the other Specialist fired at the Marines with some kind of unique missile launcher, solidifying themselves as Ben's first target. Clark protected his men with his Semblance, but he found it difficult to cover both approaches at once.
He deployed his drop shield to cover the outmatched Marines, which offered them a moment's respite as he continued onwards through the blue barrier, plasma cannon in hand. He caught the Specialist with the launcher in the middle of their reload, and unleashed a merciless barrage of plasma at them, scoring several direct hits before they performed an impossible leap backwards to avoid further strikes. Ben could see that much of the plasma was now stuck to the enemy Specialist, continuing to burn away at their Aura even as they retreated.
Ben turned his attention to the grenadier, who paused their merciless bombardment on Clark's shield in order to engage him. Ben turned to fire another salvo of plasma, only to realize that his weapon was still at a dangerously high temperature. The Specialist took the opportunity to throw a Dust grenade that he knew he would be unable to avoid, so instead he braced for the inevitable impact.
Surprisingly, it landed with nothing more than a dull thud and a soft gust of air that didn't even trigger his shields. At first, he wondered if there had been some sort of malfunction in the Specialists Grenade, but his curiosity was shortly answered as the world flipped upside down and he became immediately disoriented. At first, he thought it might be some kind of chemical weapon, but his shields and atmospheric seal had yet to be breached.
Gravity Dust. Ben realized, as he began to slowly glide away from Remnant's surface. His perspective was horribly disoriented, but he could still see that he was slowly falling upwards. It seemed that whatever he'd been hit with, it was enough to not only overpower Remnant's gravity, but to reverse his own completely. His weapons and equipment seemed to be affected as well, as well as bits of snow and some rocks that he had been standing near.
"Hang on Ben, I'll try to get us down!" Curie shouted. Ben pinged his status light green, he would focus on the fight.
As the Grenadier moved to throw another grenade at him, Ben intervened by lining up his plasma cannon and unleashing a series of powerful shots. But as soon as he finished firing, Ben recognized his mistake. By firing the weapon towards Remnant's surface even while he was floating haphazardly away from it, he had accelerated his rate of ascension rapidly, and was now far further above the battlefield than would be practical.
The worst thing however, was that he hadn't been firing parallel to his center of mass, which left him in an uncontrollable horizontal spin. His mind rushed as he struggled to think of a solution to his rapidly worsening predicament.
"Ben, shoot over your shoulder!" Curie suggested. With no real alternative in sight, Ben did as Curie said, and fired a series of shots to counteract his thrust, leaving him floating effectively in place and no longer spinning.
With a far more stable view of the battlefield, Ben could see that the grenadier and the Specialist with the missile launcher were once again focusing their efforts against the Marines, who were still protected from harm by Clark using his shield.
Meanwhile, Jorge had managed to capture the billhook operated by one of the Specialists he was fighting, and was using it to try to fight off multiple transparent copies of the other Specialist. Ben cleared his head and forced himself not to think about it, Jorge could handle the Specialists, but the Marines would need his help.
WIth only a moment to think of a proper strategy, and his gravitational situation seemingly unchanging, he was left with only a single, less than optimal idea.
When faced with the impossible, think impossibly. The voice of Franklin Mendez spoke once more in Ben's mind as he slung his plasma cannon to his back.
"Curie, adjust the fuse of this grenade, leave it at one second." Ben instructed as he withdrew a high-explosive grenade from his belt.
"...Done, what is your plan?" Curie asked, a notable hint of worry in her voice.
"Nothing intelligent..." Ben answered, as he ignited the grenade and threw it into the air behind him.
The grenade exploded almost immediately, draining a considerable amount of his shields, but that was not the most significant consequence of his action. The shockwave of the grenade thrust him back down to Remnant like a giant armored cannonball, and inadvertently, directly into the face of the grenadier Specialist who had caused him this trouble in the first place.
As he smashed into the enemy soldier, he grabbed their right arm with his own, and began ruthlessly punching away at the Specialist's face, causing his Aura to crackle with the impacts. Even as Ben's legs and plasma cannon floated carelessly upwards, he was able to keep himself in relatively the same position with his firm grip on his enemies limb, as the Specialist swore and spat, struggling to fight him off. The Marines around them stopped firing and watched in awe as the levitating Spartan fought to keep his grip and beat his opponent's face in.
"Hold him steady Ben!" Nathan shouted as he raised his beam rifle, but he was interrupted by the arrival of a squad of enemy reinforcements. "Aw hell, sorry Ben!"
"I can take him." Ben replied over TEAMCOM, only for gravity to return to normal, and for both him and the enemy Specialist to collapse onto the ground unceremoniously.
Both Ben and the grenadier scrambled away from one another as they returned to their feet and reached for their weapons. Ben was a split second faster, and unleashed a firestorm of plasma into the Specialist that drained his Aura considerably. Even as he screamed and melted away, he dropped a single live grenade onto the grounds.
His shields finally popped out of existence as the blast sent red-hot shards of metal towards him at impressive speeds, and his Mjolnir undersuit was torn in several parts, exposing bloody flesh beneath. Regardless of his fresh wounds, Ben turned to face the second Specialist armed with the missile launcher, and saw that they had just prepared a perfect shot with their bulky weapon aimed directly at him. With no shields, Ben knew that he would not be able to react fast enough to avoid the strike. Curie started to shout something, but she would never be able to finish speaking before Ben was already dead.
Moments before the Specialist could fire however, a series of forty millimeter shells exploded at their feet. The Specialist's already largely-depleted Aura could not withstand the intense barrage, and was blown apart as Ben's savior came into view.
An AC-220 Vulture flew low over the battlefield as it's four massive autocannons spoke once again, tearing the SDC Mercenaries that were fighting with the Marines apart. Curie commented something softly in French at the display of carnage, while Ben watched as Jorge finished off the last Specialist with his captured billhook. In the blink of an eye, the battle had been completely stomped out by the intervention of the aircraft.
"Regroup on the Lieutenant!" Jorge ordered, although the scattered UNSC forces had already begun to do so.
In the distance above, Ben spotted the other three Vultures of Spellmaster Squadron tearing away at their targets on the ground. He could only imagine what thoughts of terror ran throughout the hired soldiers of the Schnee Dust Company as the flying tanks tore their elaborate defenses apart with ease.
"I almost forgot how scary those things are…" Ben commented, watching with admiration as the ruthlessly pounded away at unseen targets.
"They are certainly impressive." Curie said, her voice giving away her own sense of awe and wonder. "Come on, we should link up with the others."
Ben silently retrieved his plasma cannon and jogged over to the rest of Onyx Team, where some of the Marines were treating one another's wounds with Biofoam. It seemed however, like most of them had only suffered superficial wounds. The Marines had managed to take a single prisoner, who watched as the Vultures worked with a stare of dread and terror.
"God, I thought the Specialists were a bit more colorful than the average mook…" Clark commented as he picked bits of shrapnel out of the gaps in his armor. "Those guys were just pricks."
"They're not Huntsmen, just soldiers with some unusual abilities." Jorge pointed out, gesturing pointedly with his stolen weapon.
"I suppose that explains the dreary-looking armor…" Nathan added. "At least Mags and Winter have a style to their outfits, these guys just look like high-budget Innies."
"They are high budget Innies…" Ben pointed out.
Ben treated his own minor wounds as he took a look at Jorge's captured weapon. It seemed almost unusually normal for a weapon from Remnant, which made Ben wonder if it had some hidden feature that he wasn't seeing.
I bet there's a grenade launcher in the grip, or a flamethrower built into the blade, so you can light things on fire while you chop away at them. He sardonically though as he inserted the stinging biofoam into his cuts and gashes.
"You got that on your own Sergeant?" Jorge asked as he examined Ben's wounds.
"Yeah, it's just skin, I'm good." Ben answered. "What's next?"
"Pull security, I'll get orders from up high." Jorge instructed.
"Yes Sir." Ben said.
Although as the only sounds in the distance were the steady thumping of the Vulture's autocannons, he was reasonably confident that they had won. Still, he did not let his guard down until the final holdout of SDC troops surrendered.
UNSC Dominion, Bridge
October 14th, 1441 local time, 2552
Word from General Ironwood reached the Dominion shortly after the news from the Central Distribution Center, reporting a resounding success from Winter's assault team. The footage that had been captured from the CCTV systems of the Schnee Manor was truly satisfying to watch, especially when Winter and the top-notch special forces group, the "Ace-Ops", breached Jacques Schnee's office with a pair of complementary flashbangs, gifted from the Dominion's armory.
I could genuinely watch this all day. Or anything where we bag all the bad guys, and then we get to have a clear victory. Richard thought as he finally closed the video, he'd rewatched it enough that it was starting to lose its entertainment value.
Operation Hindenburg had been a textbook success, marred only by a handful of wounds and a single Marine casualty. The Freighters, as well as a considerable amount of Dust and other raw materials, had been safely secured, thus providing the UNSC with the tools needed to alleviate the damage to Remnant's economy while the Dust Industry rebuilt itself. It would be years before things were truly back to normal for the people of Atlas, but the war was over, and the future looked bright. All things considered, Richard was happy with the results.
Still, even as the bridge officers around him celebrated in a professional and reserved demeanor, he couldn't help but feel a shred of doubt as he read over the actual reports.
This should've been avoided. Richard thought. He was convinced now, that there was some better way he could have handled the situation. His mind unhelpfully suggested a million things that he could've done differently, but it was too late for any of that to be useful. Hindsight isn't useful, but maybe I can do something to prevent something like this from happening again.
He reached for his earpiece and sent a quick message to Lieutenant Thomas, instructing him to head to the War Room for a brief meeting. Richard handed the Bridge over to Bradford, who was left with the task of securing the CDC and the assets that the UNSC had captured.
Ironwood's going to want all of that back, once he's done cleaning house in Atlas. The nagging voice in the back of his mind pointed out, but Richard shoved it away. He was happy with what he and his crew had accomplished, and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.
Onyx Team in particular had distinguished themselves, taking on a Paladin and four rogue Specialists, and emerging without a single death. Although most of them had sustained minor wounds, including Ben, none of them had been knocked out of action. It seemed that working in conjunction with Lieutenant Clark's Marines, as well as the introduction of Aura to the Leathernecks and Helljumpers, had managed to create a force that they could reliably count on to deal with difficult situations.
Jorge also seems to have taken to a leadership position very well. Richard thought, equally pleased with the results that the older Spartan had achieved. It's good to see that the Spartans are still at the top of the food chain down there.
He'd been thinking a lot about Ben recently, and how the green Spartan had handled his introduction to live combat. Being one of his instructors for several years had left him unashamedly attached to both Ben and Curie, making him curious about just how effective all of the simulations and training scenarios had been. Having him be wounded for the first time in a live combat environment left him more worried than he had expected to be, which made him wonder if he'd become too attached to the boy.
That will not influence any of my decisions or his missions. I can care about my crew, but I still need to be prepared to lose them. Richard stubbornly thought as he arrived at the bulkhead to the war room. He shook his head clear, he needed to keep his focus on the big picture, especially for what he had planned.
Lieutenant Thomas already stood by the holotable, with a scowl on his face and a half-empty mug of coffee in his hand. "Not taking part in the celebrations, Commander? Haven't you heard, the war's over!"
"The war's over when the bastards responsible are rotting in a cell, not before." Richard replied as he shut the bulkhead behind him. "I need to know what the latest news from the Councils are, Menagerie and Vacuo too."
"You're really going to make me get out of my chair for that? I could've just sent you a report..." Thomas said, somewhat jokingly.
Richard shot him a glare to let him know that he was not in the mood for jokes. Thomas awkwardly cleared his throat and straightened up his posture, rapidly changing his mood. "Right, well, our plan to save Remnant's economy is going quite well. Everyone but Vacuo has volunteered to pitch in, and frankly, I don't expect much from them, considering their Council is little more than a formality, and the Headmaster for the Huntsmen Academy is a paranoid nutcase. We do have enough in our own cash reserves to cover the rest of the budget, but that would leave us dangerously low."
"Do it, we've muscled enough out of the Kingdoms already." Richard reluctantly said, earning a sharp nod from Thomas as he jotted down Richard's answer. "What about our prisoners, have we reached an acceptable compromise with Atlas?"
Atlas had, of course, wanted the prisoners that the UNSC had taken to be tried in Atlesian Courts, which was a complete non-starter in Richard's eyes. He would not leave war criminals to be tried by their sympathetic peers, nor would he give them a pedestal from which to spout their xenophobic beliefs. Richard had been hoping that Remnant had some sort of international court for war criminals, but a global peace for the last eighty years had apparently negated the need for such a system.
And I'm not just going to flush them all out the airlock, not after we've finally convinced the people in Atlas that maybe we don't want them all dead. Richard thought, well aware that half of the admiralty back home would've done that exact thing.
"We have, thanks to Vale." Thomas simply answered. "Vacuo and Menagerie just don't have enough courthouses to handle such a large influx of cases, and Mistral is more crime-ridden than Gao, so we'll just have them tried in Vale's civil courts on counts of treason and terrorism, as apparently Remnant lacks proper legislation against war crimes. General Ironwood and the Council of Vale have already signed off on it, but it'll be at least another week before we can get the proceedings underway."
"Good." Richard said, happy that at least one of the larger Kingdoms was willing to help out. It seemed like Vale's Council, as well as their citizens, recognized the strategic value of having the UNSC on their side, and they'd been far friendlier than Atlas as a result. Still, there was one part of Thomas's statement that didn't sit well with him. "Hold on a moment, Remnant doesn't have any definition for a war crime?"
"Well, kind of, it's complicated." Thomas answered, a notable hint of confusion even on his face. "Apparently they do, but they lack any actual written laws regarding what actually constitutes a war crime. There are a handful of regulations regarding the usage of certain kinds of Dust in large amounts around civilians, but it's practically a footnote. Most, if not all, their laws focus around the use of Huntsmen-level combatants, and how they interact with civilian populations."
Richard let out a hefty sigh, he genuinely didn't give a damn if Thomas heard him. His earlier smile had been replaced with a frustrated scowl. Every damn time we fix something, something else on this planet turns out to be broken…
"Well, maybe we should have a proper peace conference then." Richard said. "Obviously the Schnee Dust Company is getting nothing more than an unconditional surrender, but it would be a good opportunity to raise some critical issues."
"So, a meeting with the councils then, and presumably Menagerie?" Thomas asked as he looked up from his datapad with a raised eyebrow.
"Especially Menagerie." Richard said. "Chief Belladonna's been telling me about how they're practically a second rate nation, that's going to change."
Thomas frowned. "Are you certain? That seems like a problem for another conference, if you don't mind my saying so."
Richard took a deep breath, apparently Thomas didn't understand what he intended. "You're familiar with the treaty of Vytal, right?"
"I kind of have to be, given my job description." Thomas answered, with a hint of sass, which Richard reluctantly tolerated.
If he wasn't so useful, I'd have him cleaning toilets. Richard thought as he continued. "The Faunus were lifted from their position as slaves during that treaty, although it took a second war for them to get true civil rights."
Thomas nodded. "Yeah, and we know how well that's been turning out…"
"Clearly, Remnant hasn't learned its lesson." Richard said. "The Schnee Dust Company was doing this crap for years before we came here, and I do not want to think about how many bodies they've got buried in the snow down there."
Thomas slowly nodded. "So we introduce some more robust laws of war, and reaffirm human rights planetwide? That's uh, going to cause some issues."
"We'll just have to live with the consequences." Richard said, well aware that some more traditional hardliners on Remnant would probably drag their heels. "We'll give up some civil advancements as well, better radios, satellites, basic rocketry, the kind of thing that they're gonna have difficulty killing us with, while also making this into more of a treaty and less of a shakedown."
"Oooh, that's clever." Thomas said, making another note on his datapad. "Then we can get them using an actual goddamn waypoint, instead of whatever the hell they have now."
"Exactly, we don't want the planet to go radio silent because some intern dropped their coffee in a server room." Richard said. "We're also going to insist that Menagerie gets the same status as a proper Kingdom, and I'll talk to Ghira about getting a council installed."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Is Chieftain Belladonna going to be entirely pleased with being removed from his seat of power? I'm fully aware that he's a generally charitable man, but..."
Richard took a deep breath, it would be a difficult conversation to have, without a doubt. "He wants what's best for his people, he'll see the value in a representative system, no matter how primitive it may be."
"...If you say so, Commander." Thomas said. "So, we summon all of the Councils out to the middle of nowhere, and we'll bribe them into not murdering each other anymore with all of our shiny goodies?"
Richard scowled. "That's… not how I would have worded it."
"No, but I feel like it's a pretty accurate summary." Thomas said. "Well, unless you had anything else to add, I'll try to assemble a plan with this."
"That was all, see to it." Richard answered.