As a SPARTAN unit, highly trained in the art of killing, it was Daren's job to protect the soldiers of the UNSC Marine Corps and the people of Earth itself. If that meant going to an orbital space station over six million miles away from the planet that he loved dearly, Daren was up for it. His strong sense of pride and want for universal justice and freedom from the Covenant's tyrannical religious ordeals ensured that he lived another day to do what he loved to do best: Frag Covenant morons stupid enough to get in his way.
Although he was raised to be a hard ass military tactician, Daren had not totally lost his touch with the human side of the military. Yes, he was very serious about his job, but he had not lost his vulnerability for being "human." He felt compassion, which kept him running, though some of his SPARTAN companions saw it as a weakness. They were cold; if the Fleet Admiral had died, they wouldn't get too upset about it. They would focus on maintaining peace and order until another Fleet Admiral had been chosen then go about their orders. Daren would panic, and he knew it. So did his comrades. But out here in the open, being the only SPARTAN, he had come to disregard his emotions when in battle; there would be plenty of time to grieve after all of the rounds had been shot from his battle rifle.
Daren entered the armory, a huge room with near a million total rounds sorted by weapon type spread throughout it. He strode to one of the many dozens of weapon dispersers, which folded out, and grabbed a battle rifle. He turned around to take several clips, and continued down the aisle, browsing the weapons selection like a child in a candy store. He picked up a pistol; not a magnum, as powerful as it was. He liked the power, but preferred the MD6's accuracy. Sometimes he wished they had integrated the optical zoom and the HUD link technology in the magnum. He grabbed a few clips for that too. Daren spotted the closest grenade rack and picked up frags and plasmas. If they were going to be assaulting the Covenant from behind, grenades would be useful allies.
The loudspeaker boomed through the room, smashing echoes around the steel walls. Everything was always steel, it was a trend. The only difference in the trend was that sometimes walls, floors, and other miscellaneous items were painted a dull army green.
"SPARTAN-102 report to Hanger 7 immediately, repeat, SPARTAN-102 report to Hanger 7 immediately," the voice said. It sounded kind of excited, like the person behind the voice expected the cybernetic warrior to win yet another battle against the Covenant with ease. Daren wasn't so sure that the battle would be easy. After he had discovered the Admiral's uneasiness about the assault, the Major's mind had kicked into tactical mode. He had thought about every move he could make before his booted feet had hit the ground. If they made an assault on a weak flank, there was the possibility of the Covenant regrouping and assaulting in a deadly force. If he attacked directly from the back, he maintained the element of surprise, but there would be stragglers that would have to be cleaned up.
He didn't have time to think, however. As he entered Hanger 7, six Marines snapped to attention; the four he was to have on his mission, and a pilot and co-pilot. In the background sat one of the toughest dogs to ever enter the Genalsus VI Orbital Defense Station's fleet of ships: The Queen Janice. The Queen as it was referred to by the flight crew, was battle-scarred and pretty beat up, but had flown over two hundred missions, over half of those based at this station. Several hundred feet behind the Queen, the flight crew helped maneuver a Longsword into the hanger's launch bay. Daren saluted half-heartedly as the noise and chatter of the hanger met his hearing sensors.
"Are you all set?" he asked, resting his battle rifle on his shoulder.
The pilot of the Queen stepped forward and smiled. "Lieutenant Ingrid Pamell reporting for duty, Sir. The Queen Janice is stocked, fueled, and ready for a ride!"
"Sir, Private First Class Aaron Chase reporting for the mission. My comrades and I are all ready to roll when you are," stated a hard-ass Marine who stepped forward.
Though they couldn't see it, the Major smiled, as he said, "Well then why the hell isn't the engine running?"
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The Pelican barely scraped past a squadron of Longsword fighters as it zoomed through space toward the hulking-yet-beautiful planet. As Lieutenant Pamell adjusted the altitude of the craft, the Major briefed his men.
"Now as you all know, we're going in on the backside of the Covenant force when we go planet side. We'll have the element of surprise, and the Covenant won't know what the hell hit them. Conserve your ammo; we might be stuck in the base for a bit after we finally get in. There, we can radio the Pelican and get out of there. Command says that after that, they're sending in three Pelicans to evacuate the facility, and we're to protect the Pelicans and the base crew if the Covenant wants more."
"So basically our mission is to secure the base and help with the evac, correct?" asked Private Chase.
The Major nodded. "It should be easy if the Covenant follows their usual tactics." The Major was good at reassuring his men, but that feeling of uneasiness still simmered in the pit of his stomach. The Pelican shuddered as it entered the atmosphere of Genalsus VI, and the Major looked forward through the open cabin door to see fire enveloping the nose of the Queen. The heat rose in the bay steadily, then fell almost instantly nearly moments later as the fire disappeared and the snowy white mountains of the northern end of the planet came slowly into view. "Everyone lock and load, I want us to be ready to jump from this bay before the Queen even touches the ground."
The familiar clicks of cartridges entering their slots and hammers being pulled back came to the ears of the warrior as he put his battle rifle down long enough to cock his pistol and put it back into it's waist holster. The Pelican slowed suddenly and began to float downward.
"We're putting down a half mile from the base," came Lieutenant Pamell's voice over the bay's comm. The bay door began to fold down and the Marines rose from their seats. The Major noticed that they were sweating; he checked their stats. None of them had ever been in more than five missions, save for Private Chase. He had been in ten. This wasn't going to be pleasant… Daren would have to baby sit instead of focusing on killing the Covenant.