Hey everyone! Azores, here with another chapter for Halo: Raider-9. This chapter is a little bit of a slow burner and an introduction to some of the main characters of the story. The next chapter will hopefully have some actual battle scenes as things take off.

Anyway, on to the chapter and I hope you enjoy.


I don't own Halo.

Bold-My Own Words

Bold & Italic-Locations, Time & Calendar

Normal-Narrative

"Normal"-Person Speaking

'Normal'-Thoughts

"Italic"-Foreign Language

'Italic'-Radio Chatter

/Italic\-AI/Computer typing


1322 Hours; December 8, 2536 (UNSC Military Calendar/Time)
15.87 Light Years from Sol
Actium, Ambracia System
UNSC Military Base Fort Basil, 27 Miles from New Mediolanum
67th Marine Division/141st Marine Battalion/Delta Company Barracks

"Mercer!" Franklin Mercer snapped out of his daze, putting the photo back into his pocket as he looked up from his bunk to see 2nd Lieutenant Song Feng standing over him. Quickly rising to his feet, he went to attention and answered, "Ma'am?"

Arching an eyebrow at him, "Took you long enough to come back to the land of the living." she said sharply, "Gather your shit and round up your squad. Whole Company's been ordered to report to Battalion HQ at 1400 hours. We got orders, finally."

"Yes, ma'am." Mercer responded, following up with, "Do we know if we're getting any replacements yet, ma'am?"

"We are. A couple dozen fresh recruits and a couple of sergeants to replace Longs and the others we lost on Eirene are arriving today. Sorry, Mercer. Looks like you're not getting your five after all." Feng responded nonchalantly, shrugging as if dismissing an insect. Nodding to him, she turned and left without saying another word to the Corporal. Not that this was anything new, either. For Feng, this was just a temporary assignment, a 2 maybe 3-year stopgap on her journey to become a general. For her, maintaining a professional distance from her soldiers and not giving a shit about them came easy. Mercer could only assume that's what happened when you came from a family of career officers with the right connections.

Mercer glanced back at the mirror in his wall locker, taking a look at the figure staring back through the mirror.

Mercer was rather average in build for a man of African descent nowadays, standing just 5'11" and weighing only 165 pounds. Mercer didn't really stand out from others except for one thing with mildly dark skin and fuzzy black hair. His piercing ocean blue eyes, a genetic rarity amongst black people, gave him a rather unique look. His skin's darker complexion and the bright blue coloring of his eyes seemed to almost contradict one another.

For the past 4 years of his life since he was drafted, Mercer's unit had been seemingly deployed from one interstellar hotspot to another. Whether it was battling the Covenant or fighting Insurrectionist holdouts, HIGHCOM never seemed to have a shortage of combat-ops to send people into. Just 2 months out of basic, he'd gotten his own baptism of fire on Vodin. So many lives lost there, and on countless other worlds in a war against an empire of genocidal monsters. For the most part, the war had been following a sort of pattern ever since it started. Humanity, forever on the defensive, forced to fight pitched battles against a technologically superior foe, occasionally winning on the ground, only to lose horrifically in space and forced to retreat as the Covenant proceeded to destroy everything from orbit. Every now and then, the Navy would win a battle against the alien juggernaut, but those were far and few in-between.

An endless, vicious cycle that consumed entire legions of men, women, and children at a time, with no end in sight.

Strapping on his M34 BDU*'s body armor, Mercer gave his helmet a quick one over before placing it on. He grabbed his service rifle, his trusty MA5B that had seen him through hell since leaving basic, his M6C sidearm, and their accompanying ammo and magazines. Under normal circumstances, soldiers wouldn't be carrying or storing ammo in their personal quarters, even on a military base. But these were anything but normal times. When your world could be invaded at any time by genocidal monsters, you needed to be ready to fight at a moment's notice. And the UNSC wanted its soldiers ready to fight whenever needed.

Mercer finished putting his gear on and started going down the bunks of his room, checking on his guys and making sure they were all here. Whatever was left of 2nd squad, anyhow. They'd had ten marines in their squad when they were deployed to Eirene, with Sergeant Cusco leading the team. By the time they were evacuated from the world, they'd been reduced to just four, including him. It wasn't hard to round everyone up.

The first was PFC Yakimov Petrovich, the squad's Anti-Armor Specialist and famously known by the company as the 'Russki-Bear,' due to his height and size. At 6'3" and 230 pounds, Petrovich was a giant of a man with scars and flash burn marks on his arms to complete the intimidating image. He even kept his head clean-shaven. He looked and behaved like a vet of several years, which was ironic as he was only 22 and was conscripted at 19. His ginger red hair had faded some, a consequence of too many close calls with plasma bolts, but his steel-grey eyes were as sharp as ever. He wasn't much of a speaker, but he was usually blunt and to the point when he did. Apparently, many people from Draco III were either like that or stubborn assholes, from Mercer's own experiences. When Mercer found him, he was on his bunk tinkering with his M90 CAWS, trigger assembly taken apart.

He noticed Mercer approaching his bunk before the Corporal could say anything, "Mercer. Can I help you, Kapral?"

"Yeah, put your shotty together and gear up, Petrovich. Company's having a meeting at 1400. Battalion HQ."

"Deed they say what for?"

"Aside from us getting fresh meat to fill the ranks? Nah, nothing."

The Russki-Bear rolled his eyes and groaned, "Grebanyy khristos. Of course not. Why wood they tell us anything?"

"What's that, Mercer? What's going on?" Another voice called out further down the row of bunks. Mercer turned his head to see Private Madalena Gonzalez poking her head out from her bunk a couple of rows down from Petrovich's. Unlike Petrovich, Gonzalez was short and scrawny, standing 5'8" and weighing maybe 130 pounds; her blonde hair kept barely at ear-length. Unlike Petrovich's own hardy gaze, the 19-year-old Hispanic's hazel eyes seemed to retain a small amount of the innocence and naivety she once had in them when she arrived some 5 months prior. She had gotten her baptism of fire on Eirene. By all accounts, she was lucky to be alive. That crazy sword-wielding Elite should have cleaved her head clean off. Thankfully, she seemed to be a quick learner as she hadn't made any similar mistakes since that incident, which Mercer was grateful for. This war was merciless to the inattentive and inexperienced. Gonzalez was the squad's backup medic, but since Lance Corporal Andrews had bought the farm on Eirene, she was now the only soldier with medical training on the squad. Hopefully, they'd receive an actual combat medic as a replacement on their squad, because if not then god help them when somebody was hit.

Mercer told her the same thing he told the Russian Anti-tankman, which earned merely a curtly nod from the private as she went to go grab her stuff. Mercer looked around the bunks for a moment, noticing the last surviving member of their team was absent.

Glancing back to his two squadmates, Mercer called out, "Where's Bình?"

"Where do you think? Same place he's always at nowadays." Petrovich remarked nonchalantly as he put his M90 back together. Mercer scowled at him but said nothing as he walked downstairs, passing by 3rd Squad's Sergeant Sonja Povlsen as he did.

"Mercer! Lieutenant give you the news?" The Actium native asked, stopping halfway up the steps.

"Roger, Sarge. I'm gathering up my last guy right now." Mercer answered without stopping, walking out the doors.


The moment he walked out the doors and the glaring sun shined upon him, Mercer's mind was momentarily thrown back to Eirene. Flashes of light. The roar of explosions and gunfire mixed in with the whine of plasma weapons. The wailing scream of banshees flying over, strafing anything and everything. The screams of the dying. The shrieks of terrified civilians running for their lives. Another flash of light and Mercer was back under the wrecked warthog again, trapped with two Elites approaching him while his sergeant was calling out to him in the distance. The towering monsters loomed over him as they prepared to finish him off.

Then, she showed up.

"MERCER!"


The Corporal was snapped back to reality. He wasn't in the hellish landscape of a wartorn New Kona, anymore. He was here, on Actium. Surrounded by buzzing insects and fauna, the sounds of soldiers going about their day, and all manner of military hardware being used. Rows upon rows of UNSC barracks could be seen to either side of him; housing for thousands of marines. The sun was shining bright and the weather was warm and pleasant, with the scent of hundreds of blooming flowers filling his senses, along with the smell of burning hydrogen from nearby hogs driving by or the various take-out foods being eaten by nearby soldiers. This wasn't a warzone. It was peaceful here. They were safe here.

Actium wasn't like Eirene, he reminded himself. This was one of the UNSC's Fortress Worlds, one of seven in existence. Home to the veteran 5th, 8th, and 9th Marine Expeditionary Forces; the UNSC Actium Army, a military formation numbering some 175 million strong; Tens of thousands of aircraft from Pelicans to Longsword fighters; was the home port for 3 UNSC Naval Fleets, including 7th Fleet, and defended by over 100 ships, included a massive Supercarrier; And to top it all off, Actium had eleven Orbital Defense Platforms, the most powerful anti-ship weapon in humanity's arsenal, orbiting overhead. Even if the Covenant found Actium, they'd be hard-pressed to take such a heavily defended world.

But the Covenant were still a ways away from such an important world like Actium. Such an event was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Humanity had time to prepare.

Mercer cleared his thoughts and quickly focused back on the task at hand. Walking around to the side of the building, the Corporal quickly spotted his missing squadmate. He sighed knowing he should have just gone straight here, to begin with. This was the Lance Corporal's new favorite spot to hang out or hide depending on how you looked at it. And sure enough, just as he suspected, Mercer quickly saw several empty beer cans and cigarette butts lying around the lone chair in the grass, propped up against the wall of the barracks while a half-conscious man sat slumped in it. He stared blankly at the adjacent barracks wall, lazily smoking a cigarette while holding a beer can in his other.

Lance Corporal Nguyễn Kiên Bình was a man who'd seen better days. These days, he seemed more like a husk than a man. The 23-year-old's skin seemed paler than normal. His blue eyes, normally bright, were sunken in and dull, seemingly devoid of life. His black hair was greasy and unkempt, and his face had a three o'clock shadow from a lack of proper care and hygiene. He reeked of alcohol and tobacco smoke. His undershirt was messy and stained. Like Mercer, Bình had been drafted when he turned 18, and while he'd had his own fair share of encounters with the Covenant in that time, the events of Eirene had shaken him to his core. The rest of the squad had done their best to support him but to little avail. In a war that had gone on this long, everyone had their share of demons, but Bình had created a couple of his own by the time they evacuated Eirene. Demons that were impossible to get rid of. Mercer had tried to get him set up for counseling or even put him on medical leave, but Feng had shut it down before it could go anywhere, claiming that with how shorthanded they were, she needed every soldier in the platoon they could get and that Bình was overreacting.

Typical.

"Nguyễn?" Mercer called out slowly, approaching the still soldier. The Lance Corporal made no indication or acknowledgment of the Corporal, so Mercer tried again, "Bình. You hear me, buddy?" Slowly, Bình turned his head to face him. His eyes seemed to just bore into him with an empty expression. "Mercer."

"Hey, you alright, buddy? Need to lay off the drinking some-"

"What do you want?" Bình cut him off.

Licking his lips awkwardly, Mercer looked away for a moment before answering, "Get your gear together. We're reporting to Battalion HQ. Getting some reinforcements and... I don't know, I guess Captain Barelis wants to talk to all of us or something."

Bình just stared blankly at the Corporal for several moments, slowly take a lazy swig of the beer in his hands as he did so. "Whoop-de-doo for us. More lambs for the next slaughterhouse they send us to."

"Come on, man. Don't start that."

"Well... what else would you call it?" Bình retorted angrily, waving him off as he awkwardly got out of the chair. He stumbled a couple of times but managed to stay upright as he turned to face Mercer. "Relax, relax. I'm off. I'm off." Bình started stumbling off towards his bunk upstairs. Mercer stopped him momentarily, catching his arm before pleading, "Alright, alright! Look just... be cool, okay buddy? No starting shit with Feng, okay? Just... do it for me." Bình stared at him for a moment, then snapped off a sarcastic salute to the Corporal before stumbling towards the stairs. Mercer sighed, shaking his head. He didn't know what to do with Bình. Worse still, as the squad's lone SAW gunner, he needed Bình back at his A-game, which wasn't going to happen with Bình's current mental state.

With his squad now gathered up, more or less, Mercer saw a group of soldiers from his company heading down the sidewalk towards the Battalion HQ Barracks. Jogging down the sidewalk, Mercer quickly joined the group and followed suit.


31 minutes later
141st Marine Battalion HQ
Auditorium

The company's soldiers were together in a large gaggle, quietly conversing with one another as they waited for formation to be called. Many of the marines were speculating what they were being summoned for, as normally a formation wasn't called for just new leathernecks being sent to the unit. Something else had to be going on, a speculation Mercer agreed with but chose to remain silent on it. The last thing they needed was to fuel any rumors going around. There were already enough crazy ones as it was.

"Think they're sending us back into the grinder?"

"So soon? We just got back from Eirene not 2 months ago and the regiment's not even at 40% strength. No way they're sending us back out so soon."

"I don't know, man. Higher-ups have been acting weird lately. They clearly know something we don't. Maybe we're gonna be getting some new equipment to test out or something."

"Nah, dawg. We're getting sent back into the thick of it. Maybe the Outer Colonies or some Inner Colony under siege."

Mercer stayed silent, listening to his soldiers speculate as to what was going on. Off to the side, he noticed the Company Commander of Delta Company, Captain Nicolaos Barelis, speaking to a Staff Sergeant he'd never seen before. The man was clearly a Marine, judging by the BDU, but Mercer had never seen him before. Like himself, the man was of African descent, with short black hair, brown eyes, and a thin, bushy mustache that went to the corners of his mouth. He was chewing on an unlit cigar, a sweet williams in fact, as the Captain spoke to him. Mercer was little too far to outright hear what was being said, but he could make out bits and pieces over the noise in the room.

"...know why someone...ecord like yours would want to come to a mainstream unit like...nstead of being used in Tier One Ops."

"Sir, to be frank, I'm tired of all the cloak and dagger bs the...me through. Let the Helljumpers and other Spec Ops do that shit. I'd rather b...my leathernecks doing what I do best. Killing alien bastards a...ching the greenhorns how to become fellow alien killing anti-sons of bitches."

Barelis snorted, "Well, I won't turn away skilled soldiers, especially if they're half the jarhead you are, Staff Sergeant. You've been informed of what we're about to embark on? The platoon you've been assigned to and your... 'Clears throat' secret assignment by me?"

"Yes to all, sir."

"Good, Staff Sergeant. Good to hear. And regarding my personal request? I'm dead serious. Keep Feng under control. I don't care that her father is on the Security Council, I won't have some daddy's girl putting my marines in danger just so she can get some personal glory. Keep her on a tight leash, Staff Sergeant Johnson. Do you get me, leatherneck?"

Staff Sergeant Johnson grinned, rotating the cigar in his mouth, "Oh, don't worry sir. I think Lieutenant Feng and I will come to an unquestionable understanding."

Was this supposed to be their new Platoon Sergeant? Before he could investigate further, somebody suddenly spoke up behind him, "'Cuse me? Is this Delta Company, 141st?"

Mercer turned around to see a caucasian man in his mid-20s in Marine BDUs approaching the group, his brown eyes scanning the company curiously as he approached, leading a group of marines over to the company. He had a BR55 holstered onto his back with his ruck, and the visible rank of a sergeant on his vest. The nameplate on his BDU read 'Jenkins' on it. Mercer was the first to answer him, "Yes, Sergeant. You one of our new Sergeants?" Nodding, Sergeant Jenkins extended a hand to the corporal, "Yep. Wallace Jenkins. I'm supposed to be taking over 2nd Squad?"

"Frank Mercer. Acting NCO for 2nd Squad. Welcome to Delta, Sergeant." Mercer replied as he took the hand and shook it. Jenkins looked as if he'd been in combat before. He carried himself with an air of confidence and professionalism seen in most veterans. "How many do we have in the squad?"

"Before you showed up? Four including myself, Sergeant." Mercer answered, "As for how many replacements we're getting? No clue. Nobody's said shit to me."

"Figures. They never do tell us anything until they feel like it." Jenkins sighed, glancing at the small squad assembled before him. As he slowly went about introducing himself to the others, Mercer glanced back to see where Captain Barelis went, but he couldn't see either him or the Sergeant he was talking to. The two seemed to have disappeared from view. He could see Lieutenant Feng stomping back towards the group, a scowl on her face and looking ready to kill someone. 'Ah, shit. Who pissed in her cereal?' Mercer thought bitterly, as Feng immediately marched over to her platoon once she spotted them. But before she could call to the group, someone beat her to it. A deep, thunderous voice roared out, "DELTA COMPANY! GET YOUR ASSES IN FORMATION! NOW MARINES!" This caused all the Marines in 2nd Platoon, the survivors and replacements, and the rest of the company to immediately quit whatever they were doing and rush into their respective squads within the formation. As Mercer fell into his squad, he could see the other companies of the battalion were doing the same, meaning that whatever was going on, they were about to be told. He could see the African Staff Sergeant from early, in front of the formation with the unlit cigar still in his mouth being chewed on. He had his arms crossed as he stared down the platoon, scanning each and every one of them.

"What a sorry looking sack. This is what passes for Jarheads, nowadays?" The Staff Sergeant commented to no one, "If this were back in my day, none of you jive-ass greenhorns would have been allowed in. Aside from a cook, maybe." Walking back and forth in front of the platoon, he stopped when he made eye contact with Jenkins, narrowing his eyes as Johnson slowly approached the Sergeant. Jenkins stood firm as Johnson stood over him, looking him over. Mercer looked at the situation suspiciously, wondering something. Johnson, fiddling with the cigar in his mouth, slowly said, "Well, well, well. What do we have here? They just let anyone be a sergeant nowadays, do they?"

Jenkins, surprisingly, was unfazed, staring straight back up at the Staff Sergeant, "You still listening to that shitty flip music, old man?"

The two continued staring at one another intently before slowly they both broke out into big shit-eating grins that quickly turned into laughs and friendly name-calling as the two embraced one another. Mercer's suspicion was right. These two knew each other and were clearly old friends. The two men were clasping each other on the back as Johnson spoke to his old friend, "Been a long time, Jenkins. About what? Four years now since you got transferred out of my unit? Finally made a Sergeant, huh?"

"Just got promoted four months ago. Still raising hell and terrorizing the FNGs, Sarge?" Jenkins happily answered back.

"Heh, you know it." Johnson grinned, "Only room for one Avery Johnson in the Corps."

Jenkins nodded, knowing of his old Staff Sergeant's antics, before slowly removing the smile from his face as he got serious, "You got any knowledge on what's going on? Normally, we're going to be sent to some colony under attack when we're mobilized like this, but nobody's saying anything."

The Staff Sergeant sighed, "Nothing good for us grunts. On the plus side, it won't be any good for the Covenant, either. The Lieutenant Colonel will fill us all in in a second." Almost as if summoned, Mercer saw Lieutenant Colonel Turkhel come walking into the auditorium, with every single company commander calling their units to attention as she slowly walked to the front of the Battalion. The Earth-born Pakistani looked over the whole Battalion once, whispered something to another officer next to her, then called out, "At ease, Marines."

"I know you're all wondering why you've summoned out of the blue, especially after we were promised some R&R after doing 25 days of field exercises. Luckily, it's not because we're doing another field exercise... or because someone lost another PAS-17 Scope* on the ranges." Turkhel started, earning a small chorus of chuckles from the Marines before continuing, "Today's reasoning is much more serious. More serious than anything we could ever be called up for, save for an invasion of Reach or, god forbid, Earth by the Covenant." Nodding to one of the officers next to her, the officer quickly typed away on a datapad and a holographic display of a planet was suddenly shown. Mercer was mesmerized by the planet being shown. It was a beautiful world, with vast teal-colored oceans and a mirage of different colors dotting the four continents on its surface, from dense green forests to amber-colored grasslands, vast mountain ranges, and a large desert in the central continent. It also had a large number of islands and archipelagoes dotting its surface and numerous orbital installations visible in orbit. But he also noticed something about the planet. The installations orbiting it didn't look man-made, and it wasn't listed as a UEG world.

Instead, it had another designation over it. /Target 1-Bravo; Covenant Designation: 'Winds of Divinity'\

Mercer, realizing what he was looking at, paled slightly as a realization set in. As if to give voice to his thoughts, Lieutenant Colonel Turkhel pointed at the display and spoke, "This is Target World 1-Bravo or Winds of Divinity as the Covenant like to call it. What you are looking at is not an illusion nor is it a joke. This is a Covenant colony world and a fairly big one at that. Population estimates put it at somewhere around 250 to 400 million inhabitants, with vast amounts of military installations and facilities dotting the planet. This planet is only some 49 Light Years from Earth, making it a priority target that must be eliminated." Images displaying at least 70 Covenant Warships were suddenly show orbiting the planet, from Battlecruisers and Destroyers to a pair of Carriers, each one three kilometers long. "And that's exactly what HIGHCOM is expecting us to do." Many ears and eyes perked up at this realization, with the Lieutenant Colonel smiling softly as she confirmed their suspicions, "That's right, Leathernecks. We're not staying on the defensive anymore. HIGHCOM wants the fight taken to the Covenant for a change, and the Marines are gonna lead the charge." At first, the room was silent as the Battalion digested this sudden announcement. Then, slowly, the room erupted into cheers. The Marines revelled in the news that for once, they were going to take the fight to the Covenant. Invade their worlds. Burn them. Make them fear invasion for a change.

Mercer... was not one of those soldiers excited at the prospect.

Glancing over to his new squad leader, Jenkins, and noticing the look of grimace on his face, they both had come to the same conclusion. This was going to be a bloodbath. If the UNSC thought the Covenant was fanatical beforehand, how fanatical would they be defending one of their worlds? Their homes? Their families? No wonder they got so many reinforcements. Many of these poor bastards wouldn't be alive by the time the battle was over. Mercer looked around to other members in his platoon. The new Staff Sergeant, Johnson, had a neutral expression on his face as he studied the planet, while Lieutenant Feng beside him looked satisfied, likely excited at the prospect to earn herself an early promotion through combat. Glancing down his squad, he noticed most of the newcomers were excited and celebratory, while the more seasoned veterans were silent or grim in their appearance. Petrovich was muttering a curse in his native tongue but nonetheless looked optimistic at the prospects. Gonzalez was pale, looking like she would faint any moment at the thought of invading one of the Covenant's worlds. Binh was... unexpressive. His face was stonewall in expression, staring blankly at the planet being displayed.

Mercer didn't know what to think himself. One side was thrilled at the idea of making the Covenant defend for a change while the UNSC went and burned their worlds, but another side of him was mortified at the prospect of how many soldiers were going to die achieving this. But what choice did they have? They couldn't just stay on the defensive forever, hoping to wear the Covenant out through attrition. Something needed to change. Humanity had to do something, or they were going to be facing extinction within the next decade or two.

As the Lieutenant Colonel continued explaining the Operation and their role within it, Mercer pulled out the photo in his pocket again and stared at it. How many years had it been since he died? 6 years, now? Franklin had never quite gotten over his death, even if it had been years now since he'd even thought about him. It was time to move on, right? Andrei was dead, and nothing was going to change that. But in the coming months, how many more marines were about to join him in the afterlife? Was he going to be one of them? Mercer had thousands of thoughts running through his head as the briefing went on. All the while, the picture of his older brother, dressed sharply in his graduation uniform with his family all around him, hung loosely in his hand as Mercer was lost in his thoughts, halfheartedly listening to the briefing of what would likely be the last op for many of the soldiers gathered here.


Same time...
Actium Low Orbit
7th Expeditionary Fleet; 4th Carrier Squadron/"Battlegroup Gulf"
Orion-Class Assault Carrier UNSC Leyte Gulf, docked with Thermopylae ODP Station
Bridge

"Ladies and gentlemen. This is Operation: OLYMPUS. The UNSC's counterattack against the Covenant. We're going to be attacking their own worlds for a change." Rear Admiral (Lower) James McClellan introduced as he displayed a hologram of Target 1-Bravo or 'Winds of Divinity' as the Covenant called it, to the rest of the bridge crew and the holographic representatives of the various naval commanders within Battlegroup Gulf. The 48-year-old Rear Admiral eyed the room, his green eyes sharp as ever as he observed the expressions of everyone present. "It's located in the 31 Aquilae System, some 49 Light Years from Sol, and has been identified along with several other targets as a significant staging area and logistical center for the Covenant in their invasion of the Inner Colonies. If we can take it and these other staging areas out, we'll significantly slow the Covenant's march into the Colonies and buy ourselves time to fortify them."

McClellan wondered if this plan of HIGHCOM's was actually feasible. On paper, it was. 420 UNSC Warships against 72 Covenant Warships and 7 Orbital Stations should be the grounds for a victory by the UNSC, especially when they outnumbered the Covenant Navy nearly 6-to-1. But this was the Covenant they were talking about. Nothing could be taken for granted, and even worse, the Covenant would be defending what they'll consider home turf. An invading army always tended to suffer heavier casualties than a defending one. (Unless said attackers had starships light-years ahead of what the defenders had, which the UNSC didn't.) And this would be merely on the first world they were assaulting, not counting the dozen or so other identified Covenant worlds they would need to neutralize in order to stall the Covenant's invasion of the Inner Colonies.

"1-Bravo will be the first on this list of Covenant Worlds that we will be targeting. 420* UNSC Warships, the largest invasion fleet ever assembled in human history and a 10th of our entire navy's arsenal of warships, will be used to assault this first target world with two million marines and several thousand ODST providing support for Ground Ops on the target." The holotable displayed a UNSC Fleet, labeled /3rd Expeditionary Fleet; VADM COLE\ with its 197 warships assaulting the Covenant world first, engaging the Covenant Defense Fleet in orbit. Battling and quickly neutralizing them, 3rd Fleet was then shown setting up a blockade around the planet and bombarding Covenant positions while the rest of the invasion force exited Slipspace, and quickly launched its assault on the planet. This Fleet, labeled /7th Expeditionary Fleet; VADM Steinz\ and with 175 warships of its own, was shown quickly deploying into several Carrier Battlegroups and setting up position over key identified targets and settlements on 1-Bravo. "Once 7th Fleet arrives in-system and orbital supremacy has been achieved, Battlegroup Gulf will be assisting in the planetary assault of the Southernmost continent, here. We'll be tasked with transporting the 67th Marine Division and the rest of the 9th MEF to the surface of 1-Bravo, providing heavy air and fire support when needed as they attempt to destroy infrastructure, eliminate enemy logistics, and secure any technology that can be reversed-engineered or intel on other Covie worlds we can hit. ONI will be detaching a small team of consultants and experts to help us figure out what we can snatch. Nuclear and MAC rounds have been authorized for use planetside. We're sending a message to the Covenant, people. They're not the only ones who will go around burning worlds to the ground."

This earned a look of approval, albeit controlled and silent, from the crewmen and officers present. This was a role he and his ship had been performing for many years, and one his ship was perfect for. At 2,220 meters in length, 27 million metric tons, and with 2 Mark III Heavy Coil 43L5D5 MAC* guns and 210 cm of Titanium-A armor, the Orion-Class Assault Carrier is one of the most powerful and versatile warships in the UNSC's arsenal. They filled the role of a planetary assault ship and dedicated flagship used to typically ferry massive numbers of troops and equipment to a contested world. They can carry an entire marine division, 20,000 troops and all their equipment, plus a whole regiment as backup, a squadron of 24 GA-TL1 C712 Longsword Strike Fighters, and 100 dropships into any combat zone. The only ships in service that could possibly carry more troops into battle were the Punic Supercarriers, the Phoenix-Class, and the Titan-Class*. However, despite their impressive firepower and armor, McClellan knew that having the carriers engage in direct combat with Covenant warships was an absolute last resort, as the Covenant had shown time and again that their weapons could easily destroy even a heavily armored carrier with ease if said-ship wasn't careful.

The 4th Carrier Squadron was unique within the 7th Fleet, as it was the only carrier squadron that was set up for dedicated planetary assault rather than ship-to-ship combat support, though it had several warships capable of holding their own against a Covenant formation. With his Orion-Class Assault Carrier, 2 Salamis-Class Heavy Carriers*, 5 Halberd-Class Destroyers, and 9 Charon-Class Light Frigates, the squadron packed some significant firepower that would allow it to go toe-to-toe with a Covenant Battlegroup (In theory, as history had shown time and again that the Covenant's warships were vastly superior to their human counterparts and humanity needed overwhelming numbers just to beat them.). In this case, 4th Squadron would be assisted by the Task Force Anvil, another element of 7th Fleet specializing in planetary assault but instead comprised of ten Charon-Class light frigates, four Tours-Class* light cruisers, and two Salamis-class carriers, who would link up with 4th Squadron and jointly assist in assaulting a number of settlements and fortifications on the Southern Continent that was believed to be of strategic importance.

Unfortunately, said continent was also believed to be the most heavily defended, as ONI prowlers had identified numerous anti-air and anti-ship cannons set up to repel any kind of assault. to McClellan, several of the 'forts' looked almost like some strange alien attempts at a feudal castle, with high rising walls, trenches, and barricades, except on massive scales ranging to nearly 5 square kilometers on average. There was one massive fortress that was nearly 17 square kilometers and must have been the largest military fortress on the planet. It rivaled the size of some UNSC bases back on Reach. And that base was one of their primary targets according to HIGHCOM. The number of weapons and equipment stored inside would be a massive boon to R&D, and hopefully, give humanity some breakthrough technologies to help level the playing field in this war. Still, even with that said...

"I just want to remind everyone that we are not holding this world indefinitely." McClellan quickly stated, addressing everyone sternly, "Given how little we know about just how extensive and vast the Covenant Empire is, we'd have no hope of holding one of their worlds for any significant period of time. Therefore, the mission is to secure the planet, gather up as much equipment, tech, and info we can then haul ass off-world to the next planet on our list, destroying everything we can't take with us in the process." The UNSC simply didn't have the resources, manpower, or fleets available to try and hold onto one of the Covenant worlds. No doubt once word got out, the Covenant would send every fleet available to retake the planet. So the UNSC would simply not hold the planet, instead seize whatever they could then strategically deny anything they couldn't take. This meant nuking an entire planet and its inhabitants. Killing hundreds of millions of aliens, and scorching vast sections of a planet to make it strategically worthless to the Covenant.

Good. McClellan hoped the bastards all burned. It wasn't even a fraction of what they deserved after years of glassing and killing billions of humans. And if god-willing, they'd be able to do it to a number of Covenant Colonies and give humanity time to fortify its defenses.

"Everyone here will be expected to go above and beyond in these coming months. Years, even, however long this operation takes. But if we succeed, not only will we deal a serious blow to the Covenant, we'll also have given humanity precious time to consolidate and regroup. Something which is quickly becoming a luxury nowadays." McClellan spoke, trying to finish up the meeting. 'Goddamn, I hate giving these speeches. I've never been any good at them.'

"Alright, meeting adjourned. Go spend what little shore leave you still have. But I wanted everyone back here and ready for combat ops by 0900 hours on the 10th. After that, we'll be deploying any moment when the rest of the fleet mobilizes." McClellan saluted everyone on the bridge, then watched silently as they all shuffled out to go about their day. He would go himself, but his family all lived on Tribute and there really wasn't anywhere he cared to go on Actium, so there wouldn't really be a point. He had served in the navy for almost 30 years now, joining back when he was just 22 to escape the mundane life of working in the factories of Tribute. The 48-year-old was one of the younger officers in service to hold an Admiral's rank, even if it was the lowest one. Though only with 3 years under his belt at his position, McClellan had served with distinction at his post and had earned high praise for both his resourcefulness and courage in combat against the Covenant, his battlegroup having been instrumental in a number of marine combat deployments and colony evacuations. For James, however, he felt most of it was more attributed to luck than anything else. There were a lot of good men and women, officers far better than him and deserved his rank and command far more than him, that had died in this horrid war. But by sheer luck, he had survived while others hadn't.

How many more tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands were about to die, in order to give billions time to prepare for the coming storm? Would he be one of them? Would his own luck finally run out? No one could predict the future, but he was certain the next few months would see the UNSC pushed to its limits like never before, all in the name of survival.

He walked down to the end of his bridge, looking out the windows to obverse the beautiful blue and green planet below that had been his home port for nearly 10 years. Alongside being a fortress world, Actium was also a beautiful world as well. Vast ocean-blue seas surrounded the five continents, which were a mirage of green vibrant forest to towering grey mountain ranges and sandy yellow deserts. Nearly 1 Billion people lived here, providing vast amounts of material, men, and industrial might to the UNSC war effort. A world such as this couldn't be allowed to fall to the Covenant, along with the hundreds of Inner Colony worlds that were providing desperately needed equipment and manpower for the war effort. Staying on the defensive forever would only see these worlds destroyed like the hundreds before them.

There was no doubt in McClellan's mind. If humanity wanted a shred of hope surviving this war, they must attack. Go on the offensive and buy as much time as possible to bolster their defenses and stall the Covenant's inevitable offensive. The real question, though, was would the coming cost be worth it all in the end. McClellan certainly hoped so, otherwise, humanity's only other option... would be to run.


*M34 BDU= The unofficial name I've given for a set of BDUs the marines use for combat. If you're wanting to know which one I'm talking about, it's the BDU used by the Marines in Halo 2 and Halo 2 Anniversary, which is listed as the Insurrection/Human-Covenant War-Era BDU. Officially it and the various other BDUs used by the UNSC Armed Forces don't typically have a military designation on Halopedia, so I gave this set an official one for this fictional universe I've created.

*PAS-17 Scope= A fan-made Thermal/Night Vision Scope used for many of the heavier machine guns used by the UNSC, namely the M247 series of Machine Guns. Loosely based on the AN/PAS-13 Scope used by the US Armed Forces.

*420 Warships= According to Halopedia and Halo Lore, Battlegroup India and its 212 ships was the largest UNSC Fleet ever assembled for a single engagement. (At the time of its occurrence.) I decided I was gonna try and stay true to this lore by both A) Have the upcoming battle be multi-prong, with Cole's 3rd Fleet being the first wave in the assault and tasked with achieving orbital supremacy over 1-Bravo, and B) having the 3rd Expeditionary Fleet be comprised of 197 ships instead, albeit being comprised of far more cruisers and battleships than Battlegroup India did. My logic behind this was that as the war dragged on, humanity was losing more ships than it could replace en masse, and the 2530s and early 40s were a time where the UNSC lost many of its larger more powerful warships trying to slow down the Covenant onslaught, including many of their precious heavy cruisers and battleships. Also, Cruisers and Battleships weren't easy to replace either, taking a lot of resources and time to build, hence why according to Halo: the Fall of Reach, that's why the Navy had been whittled down to just 20 or so Cruisers left in service by the time of the Fall of Reach. (Though this has largely been retconned by later media and for the sake of this story, the other stories of mine connected to the same universe as it, and logic, I'm going to retcon that slightly for my fan universe I'm creating, and stating that this was only referring to the Marathon-Class Heavy Cruisers, being it was the most numerous and popular heavy cruiser used by the UNSC, and that this wasn't including a number of Marathons being built in Mars' shipyards, which were only brought online and launched just after the Fall of Reach.)

*Mark III Heavy Coil 43L5D5 MAC= A fictional MAC cannon I've created for the purpose of this story and the others connected to it. (There's a number of them described in Halopedia, but are limited in the explanation of what makes them all different from one another.) In my universe, it serves as the standard 'Heavy' MAC gun used by a number of UNSC Capital Ships, such as the Orion, Salamis, Marathon, and Valiant-Classes; firing an 800-ton slug at 42 km/s. The Vindication-Class Light Battleship, along with its bigger brother the Conviction-Class Battleship, uses the much more powerful Mark IV Heavy Coil MAC, an upgraded version of the Mark VI which fires a 1,000-ton slug at 42km/s.

*Titan-Class= A fictional Heavy Carrier of mine that is based upon the Athens-Class Carrier from Sins of the Prophets, developed by Halifax Spacewerx. However, unlike the SotP Athens-Class, the Titan does not have any MAC guns, being a dedicated aircraft carrier/military transport. At 3 km in length, it's one of the biggest carriers in service, serving as one of the mainstays of the UNSC Navy during the Insurrection years and the years leading up to it, capable of transporting 25,000 personnel to a combat theater. Removed from service as ships like the Orion and Epoch slowly came into service in the 2500s and 2510s, they were quickly brought back when the Human-Covenant War began. However, their armor is considered subpar compared to other carriers of similar size and lacking a MAC gun due to a unique superstructure layout that would make installing one nearly impossible (And extremely costly), they've shown to be utterly useless in the war against the Covenant except as a dedicated troop transport or aircraft carrier/anti-air platform. (The Salamis is considered a replacement for this ship and a competitor of the Epoch-Class.) By this point in the war, the Titan-Class' numbers have been decimated over the course of the war, with only 25 of the original 105 still in service, a third of which are controlled by various Insurrection Factions that managed to capture them when they were sitting in various scrapyards or storage, and the ones under UNSC-control all being donated to the UNSC Air Force to bolster the defenses of Inner Colonies, such as Actium, Ballast, and New Carthage. By the war's conclusion, all but three of the UNSC's Titan-Class were destroyed, which were repurposed for recolonization efforts, while the only other users of the Titan-Class were small independent colonies with little in the way of military equipment/production and were using whatever they could acquire, or both the Commonwealth of Kalmar and the Confederacy of Colonial Systems (or CCS), who both maintain a small production line of the carriers in absence of more advanced or superior models being available. (Though their versions of the Titans were refitted with a pair of cruiser-grade MAC guns for extra firepower, at the cost of transport capacity.)

*Salamis-Class= A fictional Heavy Carrier of mine, developed by Aerofabrique SA. Aesthetically, they have design similarities to that of both the Epoch-Class and Orion-Class, but at a cheaper cost and shorter production time, without sacrificing performance. 2,140 meters in length, capable of carrying some 14,000 troops within its hold and some 92 space fighters (if said fighters were the C712-variant Longsword or F41 Broadsword), and equipped with the same two Mark III MAC guns the Orion has as well as several Point-Defense Guns/Coilguns and some 54 missile pods, it is a powerful carrier capable of holding its own in a fight. However, to save on weight and cost, it only has as much armor as a Marathon Cruiser, leaving it rather lacking in protection in comparison to other carriers of its size. Nevertheless, it served as the backbone of the UNSC's carrier corps, with over 200 examples produced from 2512 to 2547, when its main shipyard and construction point of Skopje was glassed by the Covenant. (The only other production facilities were Alluvion and Meridian, which were glassed in 2544 and 2551, respectively.) By the war's end, all but eleven were destroyed or scrapped in the war, and a small production line was set up on Mars' shipyards to restore the Navy's carrier numbers, serving as the navy's sole carrier (Except for the Poseidon-Class Light Carrier) until the Jutland-Class Heavy Carrier was introduced in 2565, replacing the Salamis and all other Heavy Carriers that proceeded it. Very few if any ever managed to fall into the hands of any Innie or independent colonies, and as of 2565, the UNSC is not aware of any still being in control of said factions. Interestingly enough, Combat records show that the Salamis, despite having thinner armor, performed better against Covenant warships than its counterparts due to its armor scheme taking inspiration from the Halcyon-Class' honeycombed armor layout, allowing it to absorb more damage than its contemporaries.

*Tours-Class= A fictional Light Cruiser of mine, designed as a wartime replacement for the Halcyon-Class. While also 1,170 meters in length, as the Halcyons were, the Tours-Class shares a structural design and aesthetic more similar to the Marathon and Valiant Heavy Cruisers. Having been stuck in development hell for nearly a decade due to political infighting within the navy and backwater dealings, the cruiser finally launched in September of 2528. The Tours-Class was designed with what few lessons had been learned about the Covenant in that time. Armor was sacrificed for speed and firepower, having only 144 cm of Titanium-A Armor, but its superstructure is partially honeycombed (a concept inspired by the Halcyon-Class it replaced), giving it some degree of survivability. Its armament consists of two Mark III 14B11R2 MACs, the same ones used by the Halberd-Class Destroyer (Which would actually give it four MAC guns, an unheard-of feature on a cruiser.), 32 missile pods containing 25 missiles each, and 14 point-defense guns, making it a formidable warship. It also serves well as a light transport, capable of transporting two whole battalions of marines (2,000 personnel), 200 drop pods, and 12 Pelican Dropships. (It was not designed to carry fighters, but can carry eight Wombat fighter drones for personal defense or ground support.) The Tours-Class served throughout the war as the backbone of the UNSC's Cruiser Corps, with more Tours-Class produced than any other cruiser. Some 540 examples were produced throughout the war, though the number of losses this class suffered meant that the UNSC never managed to have more than 300 at any point in the war. (During some points in the war, the UNSC Navy actually found itself having more Marathons than Tours.) By the final two years of the war, the navy had less than 100 in service, and by the time of the Fall of Reach, only 70 were still in service. Many of these survivors were destroyed in the battles of Tribute, Ballast, and ultimately Earth and Mars, even with fresh batches being produced and launched on Mars' shipyards just in time for the Battle of Earth. Barely some 35 were still in serviceable condition at the war's conclusion. Following the end of the war, the Tours-Class continued to be produced and fielded, upgraded with new technologies, more ablative armor, two new cruiser-grade MAC guns to replace the old 14B11R2s, and energy shielding to improve survivability and performance. As of 2565, the UNSC Navy has no intention of replacing the Tours-Class for the foreseeable future. A number of these vessels have found themselves in the service of independent colonies, as well as being produced and in-service (Despite a cease and desist order from Halifax Spacewerx, the Tours-Class' creator and manufacturer.) by both Kalmar and the CCS, while one independent faction, the United Dominion, has redesigned and refitted their stock of Tours-Class Cruisers, creating a new class of Light Cruiser they call the Austerlitz-Class Light Cruiser.

That's all for this chapter, thanks for reading! Let me know how I'm doing in the reviews and I'll see you next time!

-Azores