RIS Cruiser Wendor
1416 Hours 21.12.2550
Remote sensors all over the Wendor surveyed the damage, the engines were gone, so was the main reactor, the ship was on auxiliary power, they had six weeks before they ran out of juice. McWeill returned to the bridge form Machinery Compartment Beta; the once pristine white bridge had taken some wear, the walls were pocked with small craters, luckily, the ship's structural integrity was still holding, and there was no depressurization, except for those trapped on rear sections.
The ship had a strange mix of sadness and joy, they had destroyed two enemy ships, yet their own had been disabled. With no engines, they were helplessly drifting through space.
The defunct ship still had intact passive sensors, little good it would do them, they had no power for their turbolaser batteries or point-defense lasers. If any more ships came they were as good as dead.
McWeill turned to a young Termite in a flight suit.
"Have you surveyed the area, Commander?"
"Yes sir," the young Termite replied. "617 Squadron has found no traces of enemy ships," he paused for a moment. "Has the holonet been fixed yet, Captain?"
"Negative," McWeill replied. "Sorry Pine, no luck."
Commander Pine gave the skipper a crisp salute, then turned and left the bridge. This left McWeill staring blankly into the vast void of space. His thoughts were soon disturbed however.
"Sir! Contact vector three-seven-zero, fifty klicks."
McWeill looked at the sensor panels in front of him. A large enemy warship was fast approaching.
"Scramble fighters," McWeill barked to the surviving bridge crew. "Navigation, turn us sixty degrees to our left. Vent atmosphere in Sectors six through nine, we don't want any unnecessary fires."
UNSC Cruiser Normandie
0416 Hours 29.12.2550
"Power up MAC gun, give me a firing solution to covie ship," Captain Trent ordered on the bridge of the cruiser.
"MAC gun at 40%, rising 5% every second," the WSO responded.
"You may fire when…"
Trent could hear a man's sight on his back, he turned around and saw a black man wearing a distinctive khaki hat.
"Sergeant, what are you doing here? You should be…."
"Sir with all due respect I recommend you do not open fire on that ship." The Captain was stunned at his forwardness.
"Explain yourself Johnson."
"Sir," the Sergeant started to say. "The enemy ship is disabled, its shields are down, and we are detecting no charging plasma weapons. Let me take my men to the ship, maybe we can capture it. Section Three would love it."
The Captain pondered this for a moment. He then turned to the WSO.
"Lieutenant, power down MAC. Open hangar bay doors. Okay Sarge, yer in."
"Yes Sir!"
Sergeant Johnson entered his Pelican dropship. He greeted the female pilot at the front.
"Let's roll Foehammer,"
"Roger that."
The giant dropship took of from the port hangar bay of the Normandie.
"Normandie, this is Pelican Charlie 215, we are ready for insertion."
"Roger that 215, godspeed."
"Fighters straight ahead!"
RIS Skua Starfighter "Dirt Leader"
0425 Hours 29.12.2550
"Okay boys, let's roll!"
"Roger that, Dirt Leader."
"Dirt 3, standing bye."
"Dirt 4, standing bye."
"Dirt 5, standing bye."
"Dirt 6, reporting for duty."
"Dirt 7, acknowledge."
"Dirt 8, standing bye."
"Dirt 9, standing bye."
"Dirt 10, rock'n'roll!"
Commander Willarde Pine of 617 Squadron surveyed the space immediately surounding the cruiser his squadron had launched from. He saw the enemy ship, about 50% bigger than his own mothership. He noticed a large bulbous craft exiting the ship.
"Okay people, looks like a troopship of somekind, let's move in, clear to engage."
Pine dived his Skua at the enemy shuttle, he powered up his lasers and started firing, several shots hitting the enemy, a few of his squadronmates joined in. The ship was about to blow.
"Enemy fighters!" screamed Dirt 3. "Four of them!"
Pine looked and saw four delta-winged craft, they were about twice the size of his own fighter. He dove, dodged a few projectiles, then closed in. His blasters blazed across the skin of the enemy. He diverted all his shield power to frontal projection, then snapprolled his fighter a few degrees to a vector where he would intercept in thirteen seconds. A few shots hit his craft, but his shields took the damage. He fired.
Bursts of flame sprung out of the enemy ship, he turned to see that two other enemy fighters had been destroyed, and the fourth ran. But Worm 9s voiced could be hard over the crackle of Pine's radio.
"I'm hit bad, shields gone, losing power…" A huge explosion lit up the sky. Pine shook his head in sorrow. He then refocused his gaze on the task at hand. He fired ten more shots, vaporising the delta.
UNSC Pelican Dropship "Charlie 215"
0425 Hours 29.12.2550
"Sarge, we're taking hits! I don't know if this Pelican can take much more!"
"Get this crate moving faster," Sergeant Johnson screamed at the top of his lungs. He saw the Covenant frigate ahead. He turned back.
"Get tactical, Marines!"
"Sir yes Sir!"
The Pelican soon entered the unshielded hangar of the frigate, it was unusually decorated, it donned a light blue livery instead of the usual Covenant purple. No enemy contacts were in site. The dropship touched down and 14 marines including Sarge raced out, each covering the man in front. They all cocked their MA5B assault rifles.
"Second squad, move it up!"
The Marines cautiously crept forward in a delta formation. It was quiet, too quiet.
"Contacts, lots of contacts!"
Sarge looked up and saw two doors open, out of each came six slimy brown aliens. They all carried blasters unknown to any of the UNSC personnel.
"Open fire!" Sarge yelled. "Give'em hell!"
14 assault rifles started blazing, a few seconds later and the first two aliens were down, they crouched and opened fire, red streaks of light raced towards the human marines. Two men in front of Sarge fell to the floor after serious wounds. A third was killed by three bolts in the neck. Two more enemies fell like their slimy comrades.
"Behind us!" Sarge quckly snapped his head to the rear of the formation, where the dropship had inserted them. A crystine white ship, with upside down gull-wings above the fuesalage, was hovering. It then fired two large missiles into the hangar bay.
"Incoming!" Sarge screamed to his men. "Take cover or you'll all fry!" A huge fireball engulfed the rear of Sergeant Johnson's team, all but half a dozen men were lost in the gigantic esxplosion, most more were injured by shrapnel. Sarge could feel a sting in his leg. He looked and saw a pencil-sized piece of jagged metal in him, blood oozed from the wound. Then all went black.
RIS Skua Starfighter "Dirt Leader"
0428 Hours 29.12.2550
"Enemy shuttle has entered the ship, repeat, enemy shuttle has entered the ship. Yer being boarded Wendor."
"Roger that Dirt Leader."
Commander Pine knew this was trouble, no RIS or Worm Republic ship had been boarded since the battle of Carditta eleven years earlier. There was nothing more he could do in this fight, unless…
"Dirt Leader to Wendor, Repeat, Dirt Leader to Captain McWeill." Another voiced filled the airwaves into Pine's radio, just over the static caused by EMP interference.
"Copy. Yes Pine?"
"Sir, I think I've found a way to stop the enemy boarding party."
"How so?"
"Sir," Pine gave a deep breath. "They used a hole caused by a previous engagement to acess the hangar, no shields covering, all I need is a few shots into the hangar and they're history."
"Permission denied," the Captain responded. "Too much chance for friendly casualtes."
"Sir, with all due respect Fire Team Alpa can't win. They're being overwhelmed, we can still save the ship, sir."
"Well, it's a longshot, but, permission granted."
"Thank you sir."
Pine concentrated all available power to his engines and targeting computer, if he aimed right, he could hit dead-on. He flew his craft and hovered a few meters from the hangar entrance. After a few calculations, he fired a single missile. It had the desired effect.
The hangar was engulfed by flame and burning flesh, he attackers were vaporised. Only a few injured foes survived, and with no friendly casualties, the combat teams could clean up from here.
RIS Cruiser Wendor
0430 Hours 29.12.2550
When Staff Sergeant Johnson awoke, he was in a different room of the Covenant ship. He saw he was on some kind of medical bed, probably in an infirmary. But normally he'd be in a holding cell, something was wrong. The Covenant did not treat their prisoners this well.
"How are you feeling?" Sarge looked up and saw one of the brown, wormy creatures he had seen earlier. This one was wearing a khaki uniform, with lots of campaign ribbons and medals. He was obviously in charge. He was surrounded by medics and a few officers, probably some sort of interrogation detail.
The high creature turned to another one in a similar uniform.
"Endsign, how bad was the damage to the hangar bay?"
"Severe sir, but still usable; Commander Pine's torpedo incinerated most of the boarding party. This one," he pointed to Johnson. "Received some shrapnel in his left leg, we removed everything and we've stopped the bleeding sir."
"Very well then." The Captain then spoke to Johnson. "Welcome to the Wendor." He continued. "I suppose you could explain what the hell happened here?" Sarge snarled at him.
"I thought you bastards knew what happened, what you did to us, at Harvest, Draco III, Jericho VII. I've spent my entire life fighting your "Covenant." You know well what you've done for your "Prophets."
"Harvest, Jericho? What the hell are you talking about, son?" What have we done to you…"
"Humans."
"Humans? Well, I don't who this "Covenant" is or who the hell they are. Now then. We've been attacked by two ships in the last ten days before yours. The first, was purple, talked about…" He paused. "These prophets."
Sergeant Johnson was now confused. The alien went on.
"They fired at us with some sort of energy weapon, somewhat like the plasma in a ship's reactors. Then a gray ship, fired large projectiles at us, knocked out the rear of our cruiser.
"The purple were Covenant, your ships."
"I don't know what you are talking about." We are not "Covenant." I am Captain Jake McWeill of the Republic of Independent States Cruiser Wendor. And you are…"
"Captain!" A cry came from far away. "They're firing!"
"Estimated time to impact."
"Fourteen seconds, sir."
"Damn! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"
The entire ship shook as the massive shell hit amidships. The lights flickered and died. Everything was quiet.
"Damage report," the strange Captain said calmly.
"Sir, auxiliary power offline."
"How much juice do we have?"
"If I keep lights off we have ten minutes before life support fails."
"How long with short-range transmitter?"
"Eight."
Captain McWeill pulled out his sidearm and pointed it at Sergeant Johnson's head.
"Okay, radio your superiors, and tell them to start shooting at us. We are Worms, not Covenant."
UNSC Cruiser Normandire
0455 Hours 29.12.2550
"Sir, no contact with Fire Team Echo, Sergeant Johnson's CNI transponder is still transmitting, all vital signs normal."
"Load another MAC round Endsign," Captain Trent ordered. "Let's finish off those slimy bastards."
"Yes sir, MAC gun at 30%, ready to fire in three minutes."
"Good, fire at will."
A new voice was soon heard, barely audible over the static.
"Sir…Staff Sergeant…Johnson…(inaudible) duty."
"Johnson! What the hell happened there?"
"Squad…causalties…they're not Covenant…Worms…Termites…life (inaudible) failing. Reguest EVAC…ASAP…Johnson…"
"Johnson! Damn it, Foehammer, ingress to LZ. Exract our guys."
The Captain spoke over the PA.
"All personnel, this is the Captain speaking. Contact is not, I repeat, is not Covenant." He turned to First Officer Meyer. "I'm going in with the rest of our marines."
RIS Cruiser Wendor
0436 Hours 29.12.2550
Foehammer landed the dropship in the unknown ship, sorrounded by the charred reamains of Sergeant Johnson's squad. It was pitch black. The Marines all turned on their flashlights. They were aghast at what they saw.
"Holy shit…FRED!"
"Hold yerself together Marine."
They proceeded toward an open door, by the door were five bodies, they resembled giant Worms, there was also what appeared to be a giant termite. Beyond the door was a hallway roughly two meters high. It contained a similar blue livery. They then saw a second door.
"Parkins, Mendoza, flank the door." The soldiers acknowlegdged and flanked the door. They then opened them. Standing right in front of them was Sergeant Johnson.
"Sir!" Johnson snapped to attention. He saw his commander noticing his wounds. "The Worms fixed me up, sir."
"Johnson," Trent replied. "Who's thi…"
"Captain Jake McWeill of the Republic of Independent States Cruiser Wendor." One of the Worms replied as he aproached the human captain.
"Captain Henry Trent, United Nations Space Command." The Worm nodded.
"Well Captain, if it is not to much trouble I formally request transport for my men onto your sip, we come in peace. As it is we have a liitle over two minutes before we run out of air.
"Of course, we'll moblilize a few dropships."
"Do you have room for a few starfighters and an Assault Shuttle?"
"A wha…"
"You seem to call them "dropships."
"Of course.
A few minutes later, Captain Trent, Captain McWeill, Commander Pine, and the rest of the Wendor's surviving crew, were onboard the UNSC Marathon-Class cruiser Normandie.
UNSC FleetComm , Planet Reach
0940 Hours 30.12.2550
Admiral Preston Cole, hero of Harvest, and 55-year veteran of the service, strolled down the corridors of ONI's Castle Base on Reach. His aging features and spotty gray hair did nothing to diminish his high stature. After passing through no less than 10 security checkoints, he arrived at ONI Director "O's" office. O was waiting for him there.
"Ah, Admiral Cole, please sit down." Cole promply sat down on the chair offered. "This better be important O, the Covenant glassed New Maine a few hours ago; you probably already know this, right?"
"I do Admiral, now then," he paused. "He received an er-disturbing report from a ship under your command. Cole raised an eyelid in interest.
"It," the Director continued. "Reports contact with an alien race previously unknown to us. We believe it was one of their ships which had destroyed the Sheffield.
Admiral Cole remembered the Sheffield; it had dissapeared several days earlier without a trace, of course no one outside FleetComm and ONI knew about it, Section Two made sure of that. It's dissapearance had puzzled the UNSC. It had been very embarrasing for Cole and his staff.
"And this new race," Cole inquired. "What are they like, where do they live? Are they friendly?" Cole could think of a thousand questions to ask.
"Well, it's hard to put this…they're Worms."
Cole blinked. "What?"
"They're Worms Admiral, and Termites, apparently its some kind of alliance. They call themselves the "Republic of Independent States."
"They are highly advanced; their ship had singlehandidly destroyed a Covenant cruiser, and the Sheffield. The Sheffielddid put a few MAC rounds into their ship. The Normadie boarded with no success, but the Worms hailed us, and the Normandie has their ship in tow. They should be here in about a month, towing slows everything down in slipspace apparently.
"Oh my god," Cole muttered under his breath. "This changes everything." He raised his voice to it's normal level and turned to the director. "Thank you O, I should be getting back to FleetComm, Admiral Hood needs to hear about this. And the Assembly."
The ONI Director waved his hand. "Of course, just keep it in government channels. Nice talking with you, Admiral."