Disclaimer: HaloTM is property of Bungie Studios. Any relations in this story to the Halo game or novels are purely incidental. : )
Chapter 2 - The Plan
The team found themselves standing at the back of a large, dimly lit amphitheater. Other than seats, a large circular hologram projector, and a makeshift workstation in the back corner of the room, the place was barren. One of the Marines, who had been glancing at the workstation monitors, looked back to them. The Chief immediately recognized him as the same senior officer he had met before. The man walked up to the group of Spartans and briefly shook hands with them.
"Hello, I'm Senior-Lieutenant Wiles M. Johnson. I speak for all of my Marines in this base when I say it is an honor and a relief to have you all here. As if you haven't been able to tell already, I am the commanding officer of this installation. There's no need for introductions on your part though. I've read over your files many times and already know you are the best of the best." Suddenly turning serious, he motioned to a lit of row of seats at the front of the room. "I'm very sorry, but there's no more time for introductions. Please be seated so we can begin the review of our situation and your new mission."
One by one, the Spartans took a seat, setting his or her weapon down in front of them. Lt. Johnson walked past them and took his place in front of the projector. Keying a sequence on his handheld computer, the room fell dark and the hologram machine snapped on with a slight burst of static.
The first image Johnson brought up was a large rotating globe, representing the Earth. "Two days ago, at exactly 01:45:57 UNSC Standard Time, a fleet of nearly 30 Covenant flagships, accompanied by nearly 100 cruisers, entered the outer edge of our solar system. Within 90 minutes, all outer and inner colony defenses were summoned to protect Earth immediately. Our total forces included 592 fully armed attack cruisers, carrying thousands of smaller Longsword fighters, and nearly 5 million Marines were stationed at strategic points on the surface of the planet." At this statement, multiple blue dots appeared both on the globe's surface and in orbit.
"At first, the fighting was chaotic. Most of the enemy cruisers were destroyed quickly, but the flagships proved to be more powerful than we had anticipated. After two hours, 190 of our ships had been destroyed, another 57 practically crippled. We did however, manage to destroy 13 of their flagships, and almost three fourths of their cruiser fleet. But that," he said with a depressed look on his face, "was when we learned we had severely underestimated the vengefulness of the Covenant."
"We had expected this to be an all out space battle, with the glassing of the planet as our prize if we lost. However, three hours into the battle, the Covenant ships unexpectedly launched a ground assault force consisting of an estimated 500,000 fully loaded drop ships and nearly 1,000,000 single drop pods, housing mostly elites armed to the teeth. It seemed as if they wanted to exterminate us all personally. At this point the space battle slackened, and the real fight began planet side. We found out quickly that the Covenant had not fooled around with us. The soldiers they sent out were the best of the best." The Lieutenant tapped his data pad, transforming the land surfaces on the globe to patches of red and blue.
"Enemy controlled areas are displayed in red, while our boys are in blue. Now watch this." A holographic mission clock popped into view beside the planet. The time it showed was exactly 36 hours ago. The clock started up at an accelerated pace. The Spartans watched part in interest, part in horror as the red blobs spread out, covering up more then half of the blue areas. The remaining friendly controlled areas had been downsized considerably. They were glad to see some blue remaining as the clock hit the current time and continued normally.
Johnson began talking again. "As you can see, nearly two thirds of our forces have been eliminated, not to mention half of the Earth's current population. The Covenant have really gained a helluva' lot of ground on us in a short amount of time, which leads us to the mission at hand." The globe and clock disappeared, leaving only the Marine insignia. At Johnson's mention of the mission, the team of Spartans sat up in their seats and made sure to listen intently.
"UNSC Command ordered you be woken up, because they had formulated a plan that could possibly make victory a reality. At around this time yesterday, a communications compound in lower Africa was taken by a group of hostiles." A 3D image of the complex was brought up on the projector. "This installation was responsible for direct communications from the planet to our forces in space. Without it, our battleships are practically on their own. Command has figured that if we can re-take this compound, we will be able to form our remaining space forces into an "orbital screen" to block Covenant from reaching the surface of the planet. This alone would almost completely eliminate the enemy ground forces ability to call in reinforcements from space. Also, this would make life easier for our battleship pilots. A ship in position in the screen would be covered from both the back and sides but the Earth, and it would only have to deal with enemy assaults from directly in front of it. Yet another advantage is that this will cut off a major source of communications between Covenant ground forces."
The Master Chief took this moment to speak up. "So Lieutenant, you want us to go in and free up that installation, correct?" Johnson nodded back. "Do you know what kind of resistance we will be up against?" the Chief questioned, hoping the answer would be favorable,
"Recon is inconclusive, due to the fact that all attempts for recon ended in failure, but, from what we understand, the complex is under very heavy guard. Our best estimate is that the enemy has full air support and numerous ground supports. Before one Marine was eliminated, he gave us an estimate of about 100-150 hostiles guarding the perimeter, including mechanical support. Another was able to push fairly far into the complex, giving us a number of anywhere from 500-1000 guards, consisting of mainly grunts, hunters, and elites." Fox saw her chance to speak up.
"Will this, by any chance, be a stealth mission? Like, infiltrate and eliminate?"
The Lieutenant managed to force a smile. "I'm sorry Fox, but this is an all out battle. Your mission is not only to re-take the communications center, but also to destroy any and all Covenant forces at the installation. All of you, along with a squad of 50 marines, will be placed by pelican dropship exactly 3km outside of the furthest enemy patrol line." A small X appeared on the outskirts of the compound. "From there, it is up to you on how you proceed. Remember that while you and the Marines will be working together, their well being is not your problem. The last thing you need is to have to baby around a bunch of grown men because you're afraid of them dying. They are Marines, so they know what they signed up for. Is ALL of this clear, soldiers?"
The team answered with a unified and excited, "SIR YES SIR!"
"This mission must not fail. The fate of the war, and the human race for that matter, depends upon it. With that, you are dismissed. Report to the hangar by way of the hallway you came into this room by, on the double."
Another chorus went up form the Spartans. As each grabbed their weapons and jogged up the long ramp to the amphitheater doors, the Chief approached the Lieutenant. "Sir, may I please have a copy of the complex map, as well as the mission parameters?" Johnson smiled and handed the Chief a data disk he had premade, anticipating his question.
With the disk safely inserted in the data slot in his helmet, the Chief grabbed his weapons and raced to join the others. The team exited the Briefing Room and jogged down the hallway in unison. At the end was an even larger metal hatch. Rage hit the pad next to the door and it slid open.
The team was met by a blast of Antarctic air as the walked out into the hangar. Five Pelicans, large, stubby winged transports, sat on the large landing pad. A Marine standing by one of them motioned for the Chief and his crew. The Spartans hopped into the transport, which was already jammed with heavily armed Marines. As the Pelican began it's hovering U-turn, the Chief could not get over the way in which the men were staring at him and the other members of his team. The Pelican's pilot broke the silence as she keyed up the speakers in the back compartment.
"Okay people, I'm ready for takeoff. Better hold onto something." The transport shuddered, then shot out away from the base. "Hope you all brought something to read," the pilot joked. "It's gonna be a long flight." A moment later, her voice came back over the intercom. "By the way, welcome aboard, Crusaders." The soldiers in the back let up some shouts and cheers, giving the Spartans a few pats on the back.
"So," the Chief and the rest of his team thought to themselves, "I guess we're the 'Crusaders' now." He wasn't sure about what the others thought, but the Chief liked the nickname. It seemed to have more meaning to him than "Spartan". He just hoped they would be able to live up to their new name.
The soldiers in the Pelican had little time to think before the pilot hit the speakers again. This time though, her voice was riddled with fear. "Attention soldiers and pilots, my long range gear is picking up six enemy aircraft coming in at high speeds, dropships from the looks of it. I suggest we change course for now until the danger has passed." The other Pelicans sent their acknowledgements and banked hard and away to the left. The men in the soldier compartments could only watch out of the openings as the six drop ships came into view and headed towards the base they had just left. The Chief silently said a prayer for the men and women of Antarctic Cryogenic Facility 398.