Chapter 19: The First Raid, Pt. 1
There was darkness, a bright white light, and a terrified face in that beam. A voice, demented, distorted, inhumane, screamed something. When the being in the light did not respond, she began to shudder. Blood appeared on her chest and splattered on the wall behind her. It was as if she was being shot but there was no sound, no muzzle flash, and no tinkling of spent cartridges falling onto the floorboards. Blood was everywhere. A figure darted into the room; he was not so much a shadow as he was made of pure darkness. Even the light emanating from the weapon he held his hands did not illuminate him anyway. Yet, he was crisp and held the distinctive outline of a man in a military uniform. A moment later, he raised the light again and another girl fell, crying out in pain as blood flew from her torso. Then, the light swept across the room several times. All three remaining women shook and spasmed violently, blood bursting from their eyes, ears, mouths, noses, and the wounds permeating their bodies. Finally, the light came to a stop and the bodies slumped to the floor.
Vivian opened her eyes and tried to draw a breath. It was impossible; her entire mouth and throat felt blocked. But she felt warm, alert, and she could breathe in slightly through her nose. Around her, she heard a steady hisssss as the Cryotube depressurized and the lid lifted. Soon, lights within the tube went from a dull yellow to a bright, but not overwhelming, stark white.
Two Cryo technicians approached from either side of the tube. Both wore white, sealed suits, blue gloves, and wore facial masks.
"Captain," they both greeted. "Ready to get out?"
Unable to speak, Vivian got up. Both took her by the arm and led her to a bench running down the center aisle between the rows of Cryotubes. She sat down and shivered. After leaving the Cryotube during its thawing process and entering the I'm Alone's neutral air temperature, a paradox between not quite warm and not quite cold, she had goosebumps all over her skin. Other tubes were being thawed and numerous technicians were helping other officers out. Save for the Cryonics Bay personnel, everyone was naked. Nobody seemed to notice or care; throughout their training they saw countless other service men and women in such states as undress. It was all part of the routine and not even Vivian, the ranking officer cared if the others saw her that way.
Another medical technician approached, holding a medical PDA in one hand. It was a small, gray pad with a connected handle on the left. Aside from a few keys on the edge and bottom, the main part of the pad was a screen. On the opposite side was a scanner, which he promptly held over her. Data was transmitted to his wrist-mounted data pad.
"Alright, Captain, let's run through the process. Sit straight, please ma'am."
Vivian nodded and sat as tall as she could. "Great. Now, please inhale as deeply as you can."
Opening her mouth was difficult enough and Vivian took a stronger breath than her first insticial one in the tube. The feeling of a blockage in her throat was a sensation, not an actuality, caused by the bronchial surfactant coating the inside of her lungs. It was a peculiar situation that would have felt distressing to anyone without any kind of training. Air collected in her mouth but struggled to travel down the throat. The discord between taking in air but the lungs refusing to fill up in a normal, timely manner made her feel empty and deflated. Eventually, the air began to make headway.
The technician, his face hidden by his mask, looked between her, his data pad, and the medical PDA. "Doing great Captain. You should be feeling the urge to cough. Cough once please."
Vivian forced it out and she felt the surfactant flood into her mouth. She coughed a little more, less forceful this time, and the rest came up. "Awesome, Captain. Now, swallow."
She gulped and felt the slimy surfactant slip down her throat. It took a few tries but she didn't mind the sensation or the taste. After she finished, she inhaled and exhaled steadily, as if a doctor was pressing a stethoscope to her chest. Her airway was clear and breathing felt more comfortable. Involuntarily, she sighed as she finished her breathing routine. Vivian looked up at the technician who continued to gaze at his device. "Heart rate, good, blood pressure, fantastic, breathing normal, temperature, nominal. Any dizziness, head pain, joint soreness, ma'am?"
"Just joint soreness."
"Yep, that's pretty normal. Once you're up and moving around, you'll work out the kinks, Captain. Standard procedure."
"Time?"
"Oh-six-hundred hours, ma'am. Expected slipspace exit is in three hours."
"Right on schedule," Vivian said as she stood up. "Thank you, Petty Officer."
The technician saluted and she returned the gesture when she stood up. He went down the line to assist another officer exiting a Cryotube. Many were already awake and were lining the benches. Some were already walking out of the bay and towards an adjacent facility. Vivian opened the locker next to the Cryotube she came out of, collecting her identification tags, uniform, and grooming kit. She fell in line with the rest and entered the shower room. Unlike the personal showers of the Marine barracks or in the private cabins for the ship's officers, it was a communal shower room like in the armory's workout room. However, whereas the armory's workout room showers could house up to two hundred personnel at a single time, the Cryonics Bay's adjacent facility seemed to go on for a mile. Bearing the same silver titanium bulkheads as the rest of the ship, the walls were lined with showerheads and thin dividers between each space. Each stall was open and four feet across and possessed a small shell for grooming materials. Similar to the Cryonics Bay, there were two parallel benches running the length of the facility.
Vivian chose one, set her uniform down, draped her tags back around her neck, and proceeded into the stall. While she waited for the water to turn hot, she hung her towel on a hook and took out her bar of soap. Steam began to billow from the water and she washed quickly. It felt good to be under the hot water; although she was unable to feel the cold of being frozen for the better part of the two-week journey, it was a great relief. To describe cryo-sleep was impossible; there was just nothingness. In sleep, one dreamed, woke up, stirred, rolled over, and dozed. None of that was possible in a Cryotube. Her dream was a result of the waking up process, when the occupant entered deeper, but otherwise normal sleep.
After rinsing and drying off, she tied her blonde hair back into a bun and donned her uniform. As she finished buttoning her blouse, she saw Frost, clad in his fatigue trousers. He was just pulled on an olive drab t-shirt when he noticed her and offered a nod. Vivian could not help but stare at him for a few moments before offering one in return.
As the crew of the I'm Alone began flooding the ship's corridors and the Marines began pounding the armory, Vivian proceeded to the bridge. When she reached it, she found the entire staff, including Uwem and Solak, already present. Even Decatur appeared on his AI pedestal.
"Captain on deck!"
Everyone stood up and saluted.
"As you were." All the main officers were at their stations, monitoring their data and running simulations. She assumed her station and reviewed the backlog of the I'm Alone's data gathered during the slipspace jump. From the reactors to the Cryonics Bay, the information was green across the board. Vivian proceeded to check in with the skeleton crew, who were relieved prior to her arrival, and learned they were in good health. Satisfied, she conferred with her officers who reported everything was functioning well. Having run through her review procedure, she opened the ship's intercom. "Immediate presence on the bridge: ODST HQ, 89th MEU HQ, Alpha Company HQ and platoon leaders."
It did not take long for the requested personnel to arrive. Colonel Hayes, imposing and tall as ever, was in full battle regalia. With him came Major Holst and Captain De Vos, wearing their ODST BDU's save for their helmets. Major Royce arrived with his company headquarters staff, as well as the platoon leaders. Royce was accompanied by Master Gunnery Sergeant Swing and Lieutenant Conroy, leader of Second Platoon, was accompanied by Frost. As they entered, Vivian stood up and led them over to one of the tactical screens. Linking her data pad to it, she changed the screen's contents. The chief intelligence officer, Lieutenant Delany, joined her as well.
She surveyed the troops in front of her. Holst and De Vos were over to her left, wearing serious expressions. Hayes was in the center, hands folded behind his back and he wore an excited grin. His BDU was polished and in perfect order; although he wore his soft cover officer's hat, under his arm was his CH252 helmet with the colonel rank insignia printed in white on it. Clean-shaven and hair trimmed, he looked exactly how one expected a battle command to look. To the Colonel's right were the Raiders; like all ready Marines, they had their weapons already. Each was slung over their shoulders and held by the strap. Royce, in typical fashion, was wearing a black balaclava underneath his CH252. Swing's sleeves were rolled up, exposing his sinewy forearms. In his set of M52B body armor, he looked even more imposing than in fatigues. Conroy was a slim man and bore himself in a professional manner. Beside him, Frost stood with his arms folded across his chest and a patient expression.
"I trust you slept well," she said to them all, offering a small smile. She motioned to the tactical display, which shifted to a barren looking world. "This is Heaven's Sent, a colony glassed in 2527. Thanks to the intel Rundstrom provided before jump-off, we have confirmation of a Covenant facility on the surface of the planet. It appears to be manufacturing heavy vehicles and the presence of a resupply facility in orbit indicates this is a frequent stop for Covenant fleets en route to the front."
She switched the display again. A series of images taken from orbit showed a bird's eye view of the facilities. A series of smooth, flowing, purple structures surrounded by cylinders indicated warehouses and production facilities. As well, there was a massive gravity lift pad and a collection of summits. Each structure was characterized by a larger, central tower and a series of tiered aerial pads on either side. More images revealed buildings still under construction.
"Our objective is twofold; to disable the planetside facilities and to disable the resupply station."
Images were minimized and new ones replaced them. "Rundstrom has reported at least four CRS-class light cruisers, ten SDV-class Corvettes, and two CAR-class frigates defending the system. After the destruction of the defense fleet, we'll form three groups: the Navy will assault the supply station. Alpha Company will land at the south end by Pelican and assault northwards. Major Holst and his ODSTs will drop on the Covenant airfield and destroy their aircraft before they can get off the ground."
She pointed at Holst. "That's also where their concentration of anti-air defenses will be greatest."
An image of a Type-27 Mantis anti-air gun appeared on the screen. Standing on a tripod, the golden-brown armor of the gun gleamed in the shot. Its massive barrel was pointed skyward. Holst stepped forward and observed the image.
"We can handle that," he said confidently after a moment.
"I'm glad to hear it. Once that gun is knocked out, I can detach Determined Guardian and Lion's Den for in-atmosphere support. Securing the airfield is a primary objective, Major; it will serve as the primary exfil point for ground forces. Once the Pelicans and the frigates are in orbit, a Shortsword strike will carpet bomb the facility for good measure."
She held her data pad with both hands and stepped in front of the screen. "Remember, this is about maximizing damage and speed. We don't have to necessarily destroy the targets in their entirety, but deliver a crippling blow. Getting bogged down in a firefight is not an option. With combined arms and superior firepower, we should be able to avoid this factor. Lieutenant Delaney will send you a more detailed file of the plan to your personal data pads. Begin briefing your men. Thank you."
Salutes were exchanged and the groups began filing out. Holst and De Vos left quickly while it took a few minutes for the Marine Raiders to leave in their entirety. Colonel Hayes remained where he stood. "Colonel, I know the 89th isn't slated for deployment on this operation but I would ask you to place them in standby."
"In case the ground battle becomes protracted," he said with a nod. "I understand. We'll be ready to jump at a moment's notice."
"I promise your men won't be sidelined in the coming operations."
He smiled slowly.
"I appreciate that, Captain. I'll take my leave."
Vivian nodded and the pair saluted. She warily watched him go. The information Rundstrom showed her in the ONI database was still fresh in her mind, even after several intense months. As the Colonel strutted off, she sensed a disguised but nonetheless smugness about him. He knew things she didn't and Vivian couldn't abide by that. Even Frost, his star Marine, was unaware of such documents. Recalling First Lieutenant Lombar, the jumpy staff officer in the 89th MEU's headquarters, and what he showed her, she felt she could not trust Hayes entirely. Still a point of contention, at least for her, was the drawing of weapons on one another during the Adley affair. Like a dream she was struggling to remember, it all came back to her. Within, the urge to discover what was hidden bubbled up.
Yet, her gaze fell and she turned back to her console. Perhaps it was just the dream getting to her. She made her peace with their loss and what Frost did. He was a Marine, and more than that, a killer. She could not judge him for what he did, both on Skopje and beyond: she violated a number of laws within the UNSC Constitution as well. Was she just looking for another mystery to fill the hole in her chest, the one demanding justice over an affair from her youth, or hoping to make the nightmares stop?
Looking out the bridge viewing glass and observing the golden-blue streams of slipspace light, she decided to put it to rest. Not for good; that was an impossibility and she knew it. But the I'm Alone's commanding officer couldn't be delving into the past and ruminating on all the wrongs and lies she perceived. Ahead lied the mission, the Covenant, and she knew in her heart of hearts, to engage with them was what she wanted most.
Taking her seat, she rested her elbows on the console's edge and folded her hands in front of her lips.
"Decatur?"
The AI turned to face her. He clicked his heels together.
"Yes, ma'am!?"
"Set a timer for slipspace exit and send it to all available displays across the I'm Alone."
"Straightaway, ma'am!"
A moment later, the countdown timer appeared on the upper right hand corner of her screen. Two hours and thirty-seven minutes, with a steadily declining second mark. She sat back and waited.
In the hangar, Alpha Company was gathered up. Major Royce was conferring with his headquarters staff and the platoons were organized into four columns of troops. Everyone was sitting and leaning back against their rucksacks. Directly ahead of them were the Pelicans, their landing gear extended and rear compartment hatches open. Flight crews were conducting last minute inspections on the aircraft. On the other side of the hangar, Shortswords and Longswords were being inspected as well. Deck crews gave hand signals to the pilots, who in turn made gestures of their own.
Frost was with his squad. Everyone was quiet and stone-faced. It felt like ages since they were in battle even though it was a few months. The air was tense as each Marine grappled with the swiftly approaching operation. Almost everyone was holding something and was turning it over in their hands. Knight clutched a traditional photograph of his wife, Jane, and his son, Nicky; both were smiling very wide at the camera. One of his gloved fingers touched the photo, following the outline of their faces. Maddox was holding one as well, but Frost couldn't see it from where he sat. He could only assume it was of his own sweetheart. Langley reached into her BDU blouse and took out her dog tags. Also on the chainsaw as a small cross and she held it tightly in her hand. Once she closed her eyes, her mouth moved slowly, her lips barely parting. When she finished, she tilted her head back and sighed. Moser was doing the same, but he was staring up at the ceiling. Bishop clutched his M90, holding it between his legs; one of his hands rested on the barrel and the other below the trigger guard. Although his trigger hand was still, the fingers on his other steadily drummed on the side.
Carris was clad in her armor from head to toe. Across her lap, she held not her assault rifle but an M739 Squad Automatic Weapon. The long, slender weapon was freshly polished and she was cleaning the barrel with a kit. When she finished, she took one of the large drum magazines fastened to her armor's webbing and loaded it. She checked the safety, ensuring it was on, and then put the weapon over her shoulder. With a metallic thwap, the magnets took hold of the weapon. Her helmet moved slightly and Frost could tell she was looking at him. He looked away.
There was nothing in his hands. He possessed no momentos of home and his equipment was squared away. His hands remained folded together on his stomach.
"Twenty minutes until slipspace exit, people!" Royce called.
Frost breathed in deeply. He felt uneasy, as if his feet were unsure on unlevel ground. Something was off and he couldn't quite place it. Perhaps it was Steele's absence, or how they hadn't shared anything but the harsh words he belted out in the barracks. Even if he was still angry, he still would have preferred that the scout sniper was with him. Not only was he an incredible asset to the squad and the platoon as a whole, Louis-Henry Steele possessed a wonderful presence on the battlefield. His humor didn't dissolve under fire and even when the situation grew dire, he just kept fighting. Steele was undisciplined, aloof, uncaring, and prone to behavior unbecoming of a Marine. He was the worst one out of the lot; Frost believed that thoroughly and would not recant such a statement. But he was a fighter and he loved his fellow warriors. Perhaps, that all he could ask of him.
When another call denoting the time rang out, Frost found himself wringing his hands together. Parting them, he smoothed out his BDU trousers just to occupy them.
"Nate?"
Frost looked around, and saw a pair of legs beside him. He looked up and saw it was Jasmine. She smiled at him. Immediately, he stood up; under his BDU, it was difficult. But he managed and saluted. Jasmine returned it.
"Jas," he said in a quiet tone, casting a quick glance towards the Marine officers at the front of the platoons. "Is everything okay?"
"I just wanted to tell you that the stowaway is stable and resting in the medical bay."
Jasmine spoke loud enough for the squad to hear. As soon as she finished, her smile faded and her hardset gaze rested on Carris. "Where he will remain, correct Petty Officer Carris?"
"Yes, Lieutenant Commander," came the neutral reply.
"Good," said Jasmine, nearly seething. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and turned back to Frost. After taking a quick glance around, she stepped closer to him. "Are you ready?"
"Read as we'll ever be."
"No, I mean you. Are you okay?" Jasmine lowered her head, looking up at him past her glasses. Frost lowered his head a little bit.
"Uneasy. Once we start throwing lead I'll be tip-top."
"I know." Jasmine reached up and touched his cheek with her slender fingers. "I know. You'll be great. You're the best Marine I've ever met. But you're more than that. You're the best man I've ever met."
Frost couldn't help but smile as his heart swelled. Her words wove into him, gave him courage, and reinvigorated his spirit. He felt electrified, as if new life was being breathed into him. At that moment, he cursed the presence of his superior officers; he wanted to kiss her so badly and hold her.
Then, there was a glimmer in her eyes. She smiled almost sadly. "So don't...just..." Jasmine sighed heavily and her smile grew again. "Just don't do anything stupid, how about I say that?"
"Since when I do anything stupid?" Frost asked, throwing in an exaggerated, defensive shrug. Jasmine tapped him on the shoulder.
"Do you want me to draw up the list?"
They parted, Jasmine walking backwards towards the aft entrance to the hangar. Both were still smiling and chuckling a little. Frost didn't want to look away and he knew neither did she. But she did. Sliding her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat, she trundled back to the staircase leading up to the platform exit. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
"Ten minutes! On your feet, Marines!" Major Royce shouted loudly. "You're not paid to lie around like bunch of fucking Airmen!"
There was a great rustle and bustle as men rose to their feet. Rucksacks were jostled, cartridge belts and pouches shifted, and armor plating clanked. Men grunted, groaned, and swore. Some began quick breathing exercises, adjusting their necks, and shaking their hands. Everyone was warming up, getting ready in their own way.
Royce jumped up onto a supply crate and looked at Alpha Company. "We're the second wave, people. The Albatrosses will lead the way and drop the Warthogs. We'll be right behind them. The Warthogs walk us into the compound; First Platoon, left flank, Second Platoon, center, Third Platoon, right flank. We are not stopping gentlemen. The only time you stop is to pick up a wounded man. Anybody who gets wounded is getting tossed in a Warthog."
He surveyed them from behind his goggles and balaclava. Royce was not the tallest man in the 89th MEU by any means. In fact, he was a shade shorter than Frost. As well, he was not a man of profound strength or breadth. By Marine Corps standards, he was quite thin. Nobody doubted his skill; he was a career man from the days of the Insurrection. A buck private worked his way all the way to Master Sergeant before receiving a Battlefield Appointment to Second Lieutenant. From there, he continued working up the chain. Modern Marines called the veterans like Hayes, Royce, and Swing, 'bush fighters,' due to the counter-insurgency nature of the Insurrection. They came up in the Recon section, going on long patrols with little support, fighting what could be described as a guerilla war rather than conventional battles. One could pick out such warriors; they were slim, alert, and there was a darkness about them. Royce knew this as his face was almost nearly covered and then he made himself scarce when garrisoned.
Royce folded his hands behind his back. "You're Marine Raiders, now. In your hearts, you want action. Today will be a glorious day for the Marine Corps. Now get on those Pelicans."
As the columns began to shuffle towards the aircraft, Frost took a last look to see if Jasmine was still there. He was surprised and relieved to see she had stopped at the top of the staircase. One hand was on the railing while the other resting on her side. From where he stood, he could not make out the expression on her face or her eyes. But he knew she was looking at him and when he set his eyes on her, he couldn't look away.
"Gunny, hey Gunny, where you think you're going?" came Lieutenant Conroy's voice. Frost wasn't listening. "Gunny!" Breaking into a trot and letting his MA5B hang by the strap, he hurried over to the staircase. Grabbing the rail and turning sharply, he pounded up the steps. At the top, Jasmine already turned to face him. She didn't say a word as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her so tightly he took her off her feet for a moment. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her hands rested on the back of his head. As she dug her fingers into his hair, Jasmine knocked off his helmet. It clattered onto the platform before tumbling down the stairs.
When they finally parted, Frost kissed her like he never did before. Only pulling away slightly, he touched her cheek with his gloved hand.
"I don't care what anyone else thinks, not even my squad," he said. Jasmine wasn't crying but her eyes were watery and her voice was thick.
"What on Earth are you talking about?" she asked.
"I love you," he said. The first tears rolled down Jasmine's face.
"I love you too," she said as she buried her face into his neck and clutched his webbing. They let go of one another and gazed into each other's eyes.
"I'll be okay," he assured her. Frost then realized how thick his own voice was and struggled to hold back the tears in his eyes.
"I know," she said, sniffing and wiping her face. With that quick movement, she was once against Lieutenant Commander Ebrahimi, Naval officer and doctor. "I know."
Frost spun on his heel, bounced back down the steps, scooped up his helmet on the turn, and hurried back to his squad. Running back into the midst and putting his helmet on, he merely sighed as they continued to shuffle forward. A few moments later, he finally noticed their bemused stares.
"What the hell was that?" Bishop asked.
"Life's a little too short these days. I'm not leaving without saying what needed saying."
Almost everyone looked at him quizzically. But Knight smiled very wide, lighting up his oval face, and he reached over to tap Frost on his shoulder pauldron.
"Too right, mate."
Frost, grinning, cast one last look to Jasmine, then gazed into the dark compartment of the Pelican ahead of him. He felt readier than he ever had before.
"Exiting slipspace in ten, nine, eight..." Sosa counted down. "...seven...six...five..."
Vivian was leaning forward in her seat, her fingers pressing down so tightly on the console's dashboard her knuckles were white. Her own breathing was increased and her heart pounded inside her chest. Although her gaze was fixated on the bridge view finder, she could tell everyone else was bracing. Bassot's fiery haired head was trembling as he was so excited. Even Decatur, standing atop his pedestal, was poised to dash forward. In his hand he clutched his officer's saber and in his left a flintlock pistol.
Exchanging a glance with the hologram, she grinned. The AI tipped his hat forward in a cocksure way.
"Oh, how I long for a time when I could board the prize!"
"Maybe one day, Decatur," Vivian assured him.
"Three...two...one!"
The golden-blue lights flurried and trembled, then swirled together like a whirlpool. Suddenly, the I'm Alone was in the darkness of space. In the distance was a gray dot, and a strange mushroomed shaped object hovering beside it. Around it were little purple blots. Sosa's hands danced across her terminal. "Slipspace jump successful!"
"Koroma, establish a communication link with the other ships and have them report in!" Vivian ordered, standing up instinctively. "Bassot, beginning charging both MAC cannons. Decatur, reroute as much power as you can to charge the guns."
Within minutes, voices began filling the bridge communication network.
"Batavia reporting in!"
"Best of the Best, jump successful!"
"Determined Guardian, ready!"
"Lion's Den, let's take it to them!"
"All slipspace jumps successful," Koroma reported.
"Ma'am, the Covenant fleet is moving to engage. We have two formations of six ships in V-formation. Two CRS-class light cruisers and two CAR-class frigates are in diamond formation acting as a reserve."
"Get it up on the screen, Tsang."
A moment later, the port side tactical screen flashed to another screen. Real time imaging focused on the enemy ships. Each of the V-formations was steaming towards her ships. Each was led by a CRS-light cruiser, with two corvettes to its starboard and three to its port. The forward formation was above the other. Behind them, the diamond formation proceeded at a slower speed.
Vivian only needed a moment to sit and began typing commands onto her console. "Lieutenant Tsang, dispatch these coordinates to the rest of the battlegroup. Double column, with I'm Alone at the head of the port column with Batavia and Best of the Best heading the starboard column. Determined Guardian and Lion's Den will follow behind in that order."
Her fingers tapped madly across her keyboard but her eyes were fastened to the orbital battlefield projector on her left hand screen. "Dispatching coordinates for followup formation: each of the lead ships will exhaust their MAC cannons and then peel off to their respective direction, I'm Alone to port, Best of the Best to starboard, and move to their NAV point. Next ship will move forward, fire, and repeat the maneuver to their own NAV point."
Upon completion, the battlegroup would find itself in a line formation. Vivian ordered that ships would fire Archer missile pods, the number left to their discretion of each commanding officer, while waiting for their MAC guns to recharge. She selected the coordinates with the assurance there would be plenty of room for ships to maneuver without fear of collison. She two sets of targeting vectors for each of the ships, passed them along to Tsang, who in turn dispatched them to the rest of the battlegroup. On the starboard tactical screen, she could see an outline of each ship under her command, their statistics beside them, and an empty notification circle. After Tsang sent the coordinates, each one flashed green, indicating the plan was understood.
Vivian finished sending the coordinates. "Bassot, update."
"Already to a sixty percent charge, ma'am!"
"Prep Archer missile pods, one through three."
"Aye, ma'am!"
She looked back at the bridge viewing glass, sweat glistening on her forehead. The Covenant formations were growing larger by the second. Suddenly, there was a series of flashes among the enemy ships. Bright white light appeared followed by an orange shockwave. When the light and dust dissipated, the CRS-light cruiser in the leading formation was on fire and secondary explosions were rocking its hull. Moments later, there was a massive detonation and the ship snapped in two. Purple, red, and white plasma fires burst out from the exposed hull. The first corvette in the starboard wing was out of control and moving out of formation. Much of its bow was on fire and there were smaller detonations billowing aftwards. On the port side, the leading corvette was already breaking apart. The withdrawn formation suffered less damage; the light cruiser's shields were flickering on and off, one corvette was destroyed, and one was heavily damaged.
Tsang looked over his shoulder, calm as could be.
"Ma'am, those were M441 Hornet Mines."
Before Vivian could say a word, Koroma turned.
"Ma'am, Captain Rundstrom is requesting to be patched into the ship net. He's also requesting a secure link direct from his station."
"Proceed."
A moment later, the heavy accented voice of the ONI Prowler Captain chimed intot he bridge.
"Captain Waters, it's been some time," he said gleefully. "I left the Covenant a little present. Did you like the lightshow?"
Vivian grinned a little and shook her head.
"Captain Rundstrom, if your transmission isn't mission critical you best close this comm link immediately," she said, doing her best to hide her enthusiasm.
"Straightaway, ma'am."
"Link closed, ma'am."
"Keep River Styx on the net. Tsang, I'm sending you new vectors, send them along, if you please."
"Aye, ma'am!"
"Ma'am, we're approaching extreme firing range," Bassot reported, "we've got eighty percent charge for the MAC guns."
Vivian looked at the battlefleet projection screen again. All ships, save for the Batavia, were ready to fire. She looked back at her console and typed in a code that linked her station to Bassot's. By this manner, one of the screens on her console mirrored the weapons terminal. "We're in range, ninety-five percent!"
"All ships, hold for my command," Vivian said through the fleet network link. Batavia's displayed indicated it was ready to fire.
"Charged!" Bassot shouted.
"All ships, fire!"
The I'm Alone shuddered marvelously and a golden streak emanated from the bow. The first round knocked out the remaining Covenant corvette's shield on the starboard wing of the leading V-formation. Best of the Best's first MAC round did the same to light cruiser leading the withdrawn formation. Both ships' shields were eliminated.
The I'm Alone's second MAC round struck its first target. Corvettes lacked shields and the projectile hit the bow directly. Unlike a bullet fired from an infantryman's individual weapon system, which had an unpredictable trajectory upon entering a body, the MAC round was so heavy it could pierced a lightly armored target and keep moving. This round in particular entered the corvette's bow and exited its stern, plummeting right through its engines. The engine exploded and caused a chain reaction. In tandem, the remaining four engines exploded, destroying the stern section of the ship. It began drifting away, still afire. Best of the Best's second round struck the light cruiser, blowing off its bow and causing secondary explosions along its hull.
With their lead ship and starboard wing knocked out, the two remaining corvettes moved first into a column, and then a line formation. The two ships, on their own, seemed conspicuously doomed among the wreckage of the previous ships. The corvette that was out of control seemed to be righting itself, but there were fires from numerous locations across its smooth purple hull. Suddenly, there appeared to be molten cracks appearing on the hull, which gave way to more fires. A moment later and the ship disappeared in a massive explosion. Much of the debris field was set askew by the detonation.
Vivian ordered Bassot to fire the second MAC gun. The first round struck the weak shield of the port corvette first, eliminating it, then knocked out the shield of the one to starboard. Best of the Best's next shot crippled the light cruiser.
"Sosa, execute one-hundred forty degree turn to port! Half-speed, maintain control!"
"Aye, Captain! One-hundred forty degree turn, port, half-speed: execute!"
"Bassot, reroute as much power as you can into those guns!"
"Aye, ma'am!"
The I'm Alone began turning and soon Vivian could no longer see the battlefield through the bridge glass.
"Decatur, give me starboard cameras!"
Both of the corvettes, now without their shields, executed a turn to their starboard, thus bringing them abreast of the I'm Alone. Then, they increased their speed, running ahead but still parallel to the I'm Alone. Suddenly, purple-white plasma flared amidships on both ships. Golden-purple streaks began to barrel not towards the I'm Alone, but where she was heading.
"Ma'am, enemy plasma bolts incoming!"
"Sosa?" Vivian stood up, looking at the navigation officer.
"Captain, turn complete."
"Full speed ahead!"
The I'm Alone shuddered and thrust forward. Vivian looked down and monitored the starboard cameras. The golden-purple lights came closer and closer, but soon began to fall out of view. She held her breath and waited. Everyone was silent.
"Enemy projectiles missed," Decator reported. Vivian ordered the port side cameras to be activated. She watched as bolts dwindled into the black void before turning back to the starboard cameras. Both enemy ships' guns were beginning to flare again. Then, Captain Kelly's voice flooded the bridge.
"Batavia, firing!"
Vivian watched a golden streak strike the leading corvette. It hit amidships, almost directly where the plasma cannon block was located. Immediately, the ship's speed slowed. Batavia fired again and the MAC struck its stern. A fiery explosion billowed out and secondaries rippled towards the bow. The ship began cracking apart. But the second ship managed to fire and a trio of golden-purple plasma bolts shot towards the Batavia. Vivian switched to aft cameras and watched as two of the bolts hit the carrier's bow. Orange-red explosions permeated the silver titanium battleplate.
"Batavia, I'm Alone, report!" Koroma cried.
"This is Batavia," Kelly replied, his voice thick but firm, "the battleplate held. We're firing again!"
Its third MAC round hit the corvette amidships as well, but caused a large explosion. Minutes later, the ship began breaking up. "Ship destroyed," Kelly reported, "I'm Alone, we're falling in behind you."
"Determined Guardian reporting, one ship destroyed!" came Commander Alastair's confident tone. "We're running behind Best of the Best."
No more did three minutes pass before Commander Kolchak's heavily accented voice came through the link.
"That's one for Lion's Den!" he cried.
The line formation spread and soon all five ships were facing forward again. I'm Alone was on the extreme port side while Best of the Best was on the extreme starboard. Vivian ordered new firing vectors and sent them to the fleet. By this time, the I'm Alone's and Best of the Best's primary weapons had recharged. The remaining four corvettes of the now single V-formation were attempting to form a line of their own.
"Tsang, give me River Styx's location."
"Ma'am, she's falling in on to Best of the Best's starboard."
"Koroma, dispatch: have River Styx prep an M947."
"Aye."
Vivian gave one last looked to the tactical display, saw the ships were ready, and turned back towards the bow.
"Fire Archer missile pods! Hit their shields!" Vivian ordered. Across the entire line, oversized pods exploded and a horde of missiles streamed towards the enemy fleet. From her perspective, they appeared like little brown-gray clouds getting smaller and smaller. A series of purple streaks began to appear sporadically around the corvettes. Around them were hundreds upon hundreds of little explosions as the Covenant point-defense systems destroyed the missiles. But a large number of Archer missiles survived the journey and soon the corvettes' shields rippled with fiery detonations. Their shields flickered but did not die.
It was exactly what Vivian wanted. She had bought time.
"Ma'am, one hundred percent!" Bassot cried. She checked the tactical display and saw all the ships were ready. Ahead, the Covenant ships' armaments were beginning to flare.
"All ships, fire!"
"Shot!"
Five separate golden streaks streamed towards the corvettes. Massive, explosive clouds washed over the shields. All four ships' shields flicked, sparked, and died.
"Fire at will!"
The attack was devastating. Each MAC round pummeled the four corvettes, breaking apart their hulls, sending secondaries rippling forward and aft, exploding their engines, and fracturing the ships. Mere moments ago, the Covenant formation consisted of four ships: now, it was a field of dust and blackened, scorched twisted metal.
"Ma'am, remaining Covenant formation approaching," Tsang reported.
Vivian looked past the debris field and saw the diamond formation splitting into a line. She heard Decatur scoff and turned to look at him. The AI flashed a cocky grin at her.
"You must admire their courage."
"Don't mistake idiocy for courage; a smart enemy would know he's beat by this point," Vivian replied confidently. "River Styx, do you copy?"
"Roger, I'm Alone."
"Fire when ready."
"Firing!"
A few minutes later, there was a white explosion among the four remaining ships. For a moment, they seemed to disappear. When they returned, their shields were dead and there were fires across the hulls. All but one appeared to be drifting aimlessly, no doubt their crews shocked by the Shive nuclear warhead and the ships' systems damaged.
Vivian typed another set of attack vectors and passed them along.
"Bassot, arm Archer missile pods four and five and fire immediately."
"Aye, firing!"
A second wave of Archer missiles flooded from the UNSC ships, soared towards the Covenant ships, and this time there was little interference from point defense weapons. The missiles ripped and tore large sections of the ships' hull away. One of the cruisers steadily burst into flames. The frigate which was able to hold course before was now out of control and appeared to be sinking below their level.
"Best of the Best, Batavia, finished off those ships. Determined Guardian, Lion's Den, prepared for in-atmosphere action. Sosa, take us over Heaven's Sent," Vivian said, sitting back in her chair and folding her hands on her dashboard. She pressed the ship's intercom. "Now hear this: Alpha Company, deploy!"
Words: 6,893
Pages (Google Docs): 17
Original Font: PT Serif
Original Fone Size: 11
Original Line Spacing: 1.5
Author's Note: Well, not quite on time seeing as it's after midnight and technically Monday. But hey, it's done, and I'm still basically on schedule. That's two weeks, that's a promising start. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; writing space battles presents two interesting factors and one annoying one. One, I have to go to extra lengths to describe the fleet maneuvers and actions of the ships so as to deliver not only an action-packed scene, but also one that is fluid and makes sense.
Two, it makes me think of the space battles depicted in the games and lore; to me, most of the UNSC tactics seemed really...dumb. Like, ships were just sitting there taking fire. Naval warfare is a maneuver game, and that's what I've always tried to show with Vivian's strategy. Her ships move efficiently and quickly, and she knows when it's time to deliver a straight up, knockout blow. It's not so much superior tactics as logical tactics. It actually bothers me a bit, and makes me wonder if the writers for the games/books just wanted to emphasize how devastating the Covenant technology was. It already is, but making the UNSC Navy 'catch a case of the stupid,' as my dear friend Fail4Fun likes to put it in these circumstances, isn't a good way to do it.
Three, there's only so many ways I can describe a ship blowing up. Believe me, I've made a study of how ships sink. I earned my bachelor's degree basically through that study. My concentration was maritime history and maritime disasters. There are many different ways a ship on the ocean sinks, but there's only so many ways to describe a spaceship's destruction. They catch on fire, have little explosions, and blow up. They either blow up or break up, like most relationships HEY-O! So I apologize if that department was lacking.
Anyways, comment responses and I'm out of here, because I have to be up doing manual labor in six and a half hours.
Comment Responses:
TheCarlosInferno: I can't give you a guarantee there'll be some kind of dialogue exchange like that, but you'll definitely see some more interaction between the two, not just regarding events but their ever-evolving friendship/relationship. Wouldn't that be something, to see Carris in a stereotypical nurse's outfit. Steele would be like, "Wow, love, you're doing things to me I can't quite explain." Carris would probably just end up seething silently before walking away.
Ctrl-Dalt-Delete: That's one heck of a story, I'm surprised that fellow didn't suffer even more severe consequences other than being threatened with a discharge. And hey, thank you, I appreciate that a lot man!
Qrs-jg: Yes, that's something I've been meaning to correct. As the story's matured and looking back in the editing process of the original I'm Alone, I felt I strayed too far from a...let's safely say realistic aspect of the story. Granted, it's fanfiction, and it's Halo, realism isn't really supposed to be a core trait of those games or even this story. Heck, this story's founding conflict is a result of magical realism. Still, I felt I went too far from how the military is depicted, so I went to greater lengths to enhance my knowledge of the U.S. military, seeing as how the UNSC is primarily based on that military, from its ranks to decorations. I could now probably arrange a ribbon rack by memory at this point, that's how closely I've studied, but I digress. My goal is to utilize the military-ethos and depictions that have always characterized a large portion of Halo's themes, plots, characters, and setting, and do them a bit more justice here. Granted, it will never take the foreground. My other, new Halo fanfiction, To Be Brave, will have a stricter usage of that, to the point that the starring unit, a UNSC Ranger company (because apparently the UNSC Army has Rangers, who knew it, not me until about a month ago!) will basically be its own character.
And hey, you hit the nail on the head, there was a space battle! It's been a while since I got to write one so from the moment I finished Chapter 18, I knew the first real battle of Exalt was going to a naval engagement. Hope you enjoyed it!