Earth
New Mombassa, Kenya.
The sniper in the window raised his free arm, rendering a half-assed, two-fingered salute. It was just barely respectful enough to be able to get away with it, while also sloppy enough to not truly count as an actual salute. Which was completely normal for him.
" Corporal ! Where the ***** have you been ?! ", Buck demanded. " I've been trying to reach you on comms all day ! ". Cpl. Agru was a walking commendation reel at worst and sandpaper-level abrasion at best, but this was definitely taking the cake.
" Same here, Gunny. ". The sniper of Alpha-9 was nonplussed, as usual, accompanied by a suitably relaxed shrug.
" Seems long-range radios are still down. Comms are down to line of sight- figured that out the hard way. "
It was only then, that Buck realized what'd been going on in his own head; he'd been missing the obvious. If he hadn't had his head sunk so deep into tracking down Veronica, and worrying about her well being so much, he might've actually cottoned onto that sooner. Sure, he'd been worried to a point about the rest of Alpha-9, but he hadn't exactly been quite so analytical about it.
That wasn't like him. Buck at once reprimanded himself for such a rookie slip up. It wasn't like him.
"...Right. Of course, that makes sense. ". Buck hit the side of his own helmet twice, sensing a brief flare of heat up his spine, before then pooling in the lower reaches of both legs.
Got to find a way to sweep that under the rug. I can't afford this
" Well, get your rear down here. Stat. We're behind the 8-ball enough as it is; I need to brief you on this AO. "
" Roger that, Gunny. Thought you wouldn't ask ! "
Turning away from the window, the sniper vanished into the shadows.
" Deckard...Dubbo ! ". Buck turned around, beckoning the two Marines. They'd been observing the exchange with wide-eyed expressions of surprise and diluted relief, obviously having been hoping to run into another ODST, but not hanging their hats on it, so to speak.
" Meet the rest of my team. Some of it, at least."
"This is Romeo, or Corporal Agru to both of you ". The sergeant gestured up at where the sniper had been looming over them a few moments ago. " Only two things you need to know about him: He's the best shot I've ever seen, and if we meet any ladies today, he's gonna chase after them. "
He only needed a handful of words to both sum up, and introduce, the sniper of Alpha-9. Having dropped alongside Romeo dozens of times over the years, Buck had long ago gotten acquainted with the smart-mouthed marksman. He'd learned that then, as was now, that Romeo was a certifiably smug prick with enough attitude to sink a plastic tub filled with cork. He'd also learned, in person, that Romeo was one of the rarer breed of marksmen that could realistically pull off a " Shooter "-Esque assassination, as he consistently landed center mass shots, along with a considerable number of headshots as well.
Romeo was an insufferable prick. He was also a master with a longarm, unyielding under pressure where lesser men would crumble, and none of those traits was up for debate. Keeping such a skillset on the team had helped to keep many of them alive on too many occasions to even attempt to count, as much as it had sparked as many innumerable acidic comments shot back and forth, arguments, and the random bout of fisticuffs.
"...Another trooper, at last. ", An actual smile formed on Deckard's face. It wasn't wide, not at all, but it was there. He had something to hope for again, and it was showing.
" If he's as good as you say, Sarge, then I actually like our odds now. "
Off in the distance, there was the loud hissing crash of detonating plasma- less than a mile if the noise level was anything to go by. Buck half expected Deckard to flinch-inexplicably why, he hadn't been a complete greenhorn up till now- but he did not. Out the corner of his view, though, he could've sworn he saw Dubbo...flinch?
What ?
Though he'd expect that. Hostiles are always close by around here...battle lines are fluid.
" First off, Private: He is. Second: I don't give a damn about odds. We make our own. You'd best remember that. ", Buck retorted.
ODSTs didn't care about odds. Buck knew he couldn't turn them into actual Helljumpers on his own, but if he was going to be shepparding them through this city while it was in the grip of a full-fledged Covenant invasion, he would leave an imprint of some of that commando mentality into both of them. It was the kind of thing that could keep you alive.
If you don't temper it with caution where that's needed, though, its the last thing you need. That's why I'm around.
It wasn't reprimanding Buck was going for; he was advising. It seemed he'd actually succeeded, because Deckard blinked for a second, then slowly nodded.
" I-ok. Ok. Got it. "
Maybe he'd been actually doubtful, or maybe not. It didn't matter much now; for now, Buck had put that behind him. Or so he hoped.
" Yeah, get your chin up ". Dubbo nudged him. " We got 2 ODSTs now. 2 ! "
" I know, I know. Its definitely good news..."
" Gunny ! "
The door of the shop that sat at street level- and, miraculously, one that hadn't been blown out or off yet- swung open, and out walked Romeo. His SRS99 was pressed tightly into his right shoulder, its muzzle pointed at the smudged ground tiles beneath his boots. His armor showed signs of having taken no visible damage.
He nodded at the two Marines. " Gents. "
Deckard raised a hand. " Welcome to the band, Corporal. "
Buck tipped his head at them, walking forward. " PFCs Deckard and Dubbo, Corporal. ". He indicated each of them with a quick jab of several fingers.
" Hm. So they're the interns, I see. "
The regular Marines could've been ticked off about it, but they saw no reason to be; ODSTs, as a rule, had the edge of experience over virtually everyone else, save for Spartans- even when it came to how much action said regular Marines were constantly involved in. Helljumpers tended to work in their own units; it wasn't off the mark to say that Troopers were looked up to as the ones who lead the pack among the overall family of UNSC leathernecks.
" Copy that. ", the Gunnery Sergeant confirmed. " Already filled them in on the situation, so now its your turn. Ears open. "
Romeo nodded subtly.
" Set security ", Buck ordered the regulars. " Watch the perimeter. "
Both of them had been well drilled. As they pivoted to comply, the noncom dropped to a knee, with Romeo doing automatically doing the same.
Buck didn't waste another second . " Ok. The situation is as follows: With the comms down, you're the only other member of the team I've linked up with. This whole AO is saturated with Covenant, and what friendly forces still combat effective are scattered in pockets. "
Again, the sniper nodded. He was absorbing all of this seamlessly. Whatever Buck may have thought of him, he knew when to get his head in the game, so to speak. Aside from his savant-like marksmanship, it was one of the few redeeming qualities Buck decided Romeo actually possesed.
" No link whatsoever with the Captain. I had comms with her, but we lost them. Before we did, she told me Tayari Plaza was her 20, but when we got here, she was gone. "
" Gone ? ". Romeo's helmeted head jerked back slightly in surprise. " As in- "
" Taken ". Buck was careful to emphasize that word. There was no point in going right to worst case scenario territory without good reason. He wasn't going to let anyone else go there, either. Not on his team.
" Didn't find enough blood there to indicate otherwise."
" Yeah. We've seen how the Brutes operate..", Romeo didn't need a reminder of how the Jiralhane tended to treat anybody they got their paws on, and they both knew it. Even with his visor polarized, Buck could tell there was a momentary grimace in the other man's expression. Romeo had seen plenty of the Jiralhane's savgery through his scopes over the years.
Draco lll. I should've been there...
Fighting off the reflexive shudder than ran up his torso at the memory, Buck continued his field briefing. " We need to get to the highest ground we can. Its our best shot to contact the rest of the squad. ".
" And then ? ". Romeo finally asked a question- definitve evidence he'd been listening. " Locate the spook, right ? "
Veronica. What did you get us dragged into...
Spooks. Always a problem, even her.
" Wherever the heck she is, yeah. Then, we wrap up her Op. Then we get out of dodge. That's the plan. "
" So we're clear: Its your plan we're going with. Not hers. "
" That's affirmative. "
Romeo didn't reply for several seconds, as he adjusted his grip on the SRS99. Buck sent a glance toward the two Marines, and found they were still on lookout duty, with their attention pointed outwards.
Hm. Good, good.
" Sounds workable to me. ", Romeo stated. " Except that we have no flipping clue what the " Op " even is. Or if its worth chasing. "
That was ONI to a T; always giving the bare minimum of intel to anyone who was dragged into assisting them on their Ops. Buck still remembered getting lectured on their dubious modus operandi years ago, by none other than Veronica herself, back during the era of the orignal Alpha-9 . He'd gone completely against her orders during an ONI-led op back in '46, and it'd resulted in his squad getting out of that alive- not that doing so had been done according to ONI's precious rulebook. Getting the mission accomplished was well and dandy, sure, but ONI had their own priorities. Always.
Stringing along everyone who they got roped into/ recruited into their Ops was one of them, Buck had learned back then. Vernonica hadn't said so in so many words, but she was ONI. It was all about reading between the lines. It was all about understanding: ONI's agenda came first.
To them. I'll fight to accomplish any objective I get handed, but I will look after my own no matter what it takes. No matter who tells me to do what.
" I know. But we're not popping smoke on it. Yet. ". Pulling up his city map with a few blinks, Buck double chekced their own 20.
Way out somehwere past the walls surrounding the plaza, there was a barely noticable rumble- some high ammount of explosive ordinance had been used. It wasn't plasma, because that had more of a hiss-crash.
" We're rounding up the squad first, understood? "
"...Understood. " Romeo depolarized his visor then, and Buck got a look at what he'd suspected was going on in the sniper's head: Unfazed by their circumstances, but displeased with them nontheless.
It made perfect sense; Buck had been there more than a few times himself. Romeo wasn't often one to look that way- he was the guy of the squad that everyone knew was the most upbeat no matter what- but he was now. He'd been sucked into another ONI glue trap, and he knew it.
They'd all been. It was the same shtick as always, and now they had to claw their way out of it. Somehow.
Damn you, ONI. Got enough trouble with the Covies...
At that moment, more plasma detonations sounded, in a string of rippling blasts that slowly tapered off. They were roughly at the same distance as the last volley, and like them, resembled the detonations of Wraith mortars.
Except these were even closer. Only a few blocks over, it seemed, and there were a low whine and sizzle of heavy suppressive fire from energy weapons. In between, them came the rattling sound of UNSC arms, so at least someone was fighting back.
Romeo turned to glance at the rooftops lying in the vector of the explosions, with one finger coming to rest on his weapon's trigger guard. " You weren't exaggerating about the AO being hot. I saw some of those Wraiths on my way over here, and they all got escorts, too. "
" Sarge ! ", Dubbo pointed over the tops of the walls as he spoke up, with a note of slight urgency. " That artillery's going to be a problem- "
Abruptly, he stopped.
" Out with it, Private. "
What's he stopping for ?
" Oh...". Dubbo now sounded moderately sheepish, as if he was attempting to backpedal on how he'd sounded earlier. He let go of his MA5, one hand lightly clenching.
" I was...going to say we're gonna need Jackhammer launchers to take out the Wraiths lobbing all that plasma...but then I remembered you already had to know that. "
" Just...wanted to make sure we can find a day to take them out. Quickly. Those things are dangerous."
More distant mortars detonated, their echoing booms cracking like thunderclaps over the tops of the buildings, and the section walls.
Deckard stared at the other Marine, clearly somewhat puzzled. " You're talking to the choir over there, man. "
Ok...now I'm getting the impression he has something against Wraiths. Even more so than the rest of us.
That struck Buck as definitely someplace out of left field- he'd pegged Deckard as the more inexperienced of the two, and less likely to be jumpy at anything. Sure, it was healthy to be wary of Wraith tanks, given that the bulbous hovertanks' plasma mortars could instantly slag an entire squad ( or a fully intact M12 FAV ) like the wax of candle if they hit in exactly the right spot, but-
Hey. Stop overthinking it. Kid's trying to be prepared, that's all.
" I know a few tricks for handling Wraiths, don't you worry ". Buck was no stranger to battling the Covenant's mobile artillery, and he'd acquired a few ways to smoke one of them short of using a Jackhammer. The two regulars had doubtlessly been trained to do the same, but then again, anything a regular could do, an ODST could do. But, even deadlier. It was a well-known fact.
But, even so-
" What's with him ? Never run up against a Wraith before? ", Romeo asked.
Buck mentally exhaled. Once again, Romeo was being his true self; stating the obvious because he knew he was.
I'll deal with what history has with Wraiths on the road. We're done sticking around here.
There was still considerable amounts of adrenaline in Buck's veins, and that didn't seem at all likely to dissipate anytime soon. It was nearly like he was still falling toward that skyscraper in his SOIEV.
" Marines ! "
Buck pivoted, raising an arm and beckoning the two regulars, as they turned toward the noncom calling them.
He beckoned again, standing. The squad had lingered long enough in one place; they had to get back on the move, and keep putting the plan in practice. An AO chock full of Covenant wasn't somewhere you wanted to remain stationary in if you were a badly understrength unit.
" Regroup ! ". He pumped some steel into his tone. There would be, and couldn't be, any delays now.
Responding with fitting speed, Deckard and Dubbo hustled over, coming to a stop alongside the two ODSTs.
" Reporting as ordered, Gunnery Sergeant. ", announced Deckard. Dubbo reinforced that with a quick nod of his own.
" Ready for action ". The private lifted a hand, and tugged at the strap securing his helmet around his chin. " Awaiting orders. "
Buck spared a millisecond to remind himself to pay more attention to Dubbo, and what wariness he had of Wraiths, before going on.
" We're moving out, squad. ", He informed them. " Destination is the NMPD's HQ Building. Its one of the tallest ones in the city, so its our best shot at establishing clear comms with other friendlies. "
" Keep your heads on swivels, and stay loose. Let's get going. "
Tayari Plaza
8 standard hours later
The rain hadn't let up.
It wasn't coming down with the impact of a monsoon, but it wasn't at all a drizzle. Still, it was hard and fast enough to be forming gurgling rivers that ran along the sidewalks and vanished into the drains. The random piece of litter dropped and discarded by the city's resident's during their hasty exit, was drifting along in it, either/ getting stuck in the grates, or disappearing into the sewers below.
Striding through it, The Rookie held his M7 SMG in a firm two-handed grip, with water streaming off it and dripping endlessly to the ground. It'd made the weapon look like it'd emerged from a wax mold.
Aside from the pattering rain, all he could hear was the huffing of his own breathing. It was surprisingly loud inside his own helmet.
He came to a stop behind a parked car, took a knee behind its rear bumper, used it as cover. With a few blinks, he brought up the overhead view map of the city he'd downloaded onto his VISR.
Tayari Plaza. Ok, ok, least I have my bearings...
At least said helmet was definitely a godsend,. With its HUD's VISR mode lighting up his surroundings, the Rookie could navigate. Most of the street lights were gone, and none of the buildings that lined them had fully illuminated exteriors, aside from the odd billboard- and most of those had been used as carnival shooting practice by the Covenant. Covered in spidery cracks, they flickered drunkenly, throwing lights of all colors out into the chilly night air.
Scanning with the muzzle of the M7, the Rookie saw everything was exactly as the map display said it was: a deep sunken area directly ahead of him, but to the right, across the street.
But, what neither the scant lighting nor VISR mode was showing, was the Covenant. They'd been here- he'd spotted a large blast mark decorating a stretch of the sidewalk ahead of him, undeniably the result of an energy-based detonation- but now the whole area was deserted. There was nobody in sight, hostile or otherwise.
Where are they?
Even as the question was formed, the Rookie knew it could mean two things: Where was his squad?
Where's Alpha-9 ?!
He was an ODST. Being separated from all friendlies, while deep in enemy territory, was exactly what he had been cultivated to do by the ODST training pipeline. He was born to be surrounded by hostiles on all sides of him, with next to 0 knowledge of the overall situation, and having to extract himself from it on his own.
At least, that was the gist of all his training, that was coming back to him right now...he still got the sense he was absolutely alone. He hadn't encountered anyone.
" Any call signs this net, any call signs this net...", he whispered. The comms hadn't been doing anything, but they were worth trying again. Or so he had to hope.
Broadcasting on all encrypted freqs, The Rookie called out on the airwaves again. " Any UNSC personnel hearing this transmission, this is Lance Corporal J.D. I've been separated from my unit: ODST squad Alpa-9. If you can hear this, and you can help, my current 20 is Tayari Plaza. Repeat, Tayari Plaza. Over. "
' Over '. Nobody responded before.
Sure enough, nobody did. Again. J.D was greeted with nothing but silence on the other end of the line.
" Damn it. Damn..."
The adrenaline in his blood rose momentarily, as he glanced around the empty square. There was nothing and nobody here, but detritus, burn marks, and other remains of a firefight. Except, no actual remains.
No bodies, at all. Guess I should take that as more a chance that the squad's still alive- or at least they didn't die here...
Along with faith in the lord and confidence in his own skills, that was all he had to hold onto. He was on his own in an enemy town.
Standing, J.D took a deep breath, and exhaled, taking one more panning visual sweep of the area. Staying put wasn't an option; if nobody had received his call, he had no choice but to move on. He needed a plan, though; wandering about the city, calling out over and over again in the hope somebody would/could receive his transmissions didn't strike him as a viable plan.
Not anymore, at least. Over an hour of trekking through the streets, and he hadn't run into anybody. Nobody alive, at least; J.D had walked past more than a few corpses on his way to get here. Jiralhane, Jackals, Drones...along with locals, and some NMPD officers and UNSC personnel as well. Coming across the last one had sent a shiver up this spine the second he first saw them, until he got close enough to confirm that that weren't anybody from Alpha-9.
He'd said a prayer for them anyway, and pressed on.
No matter what, though, needed a new plan--
" TIRED? STRESSED? PLEASE REMAIN CALM "
Out of the blue, a highly digitized voice sounded from off to the right.
What the-?!
Pivoting right instantly, J.D was greeted by a brightly lit signboard that was one of the kind that rose up from out of the sidewalk. He'd seen it earlier, but it'd been completely blacked out.
Not anymore, though.
Now, it suddenly was brightly lit with a blazing shade of orange- and on the front, was an icon of a green circle with two white dots. As faces went, it was pretty crude, but the resemblance was near enough.
J.D was past the point of getting jumpy at the unexpected, but he still hadn't anticipated this. All of the bill and signboards he'd seen up till now had been offline-blacked out and dead. Now, all of a sudden, this one was talking. It had a...curious accent: very digital, but bizarrely lifelike as well. Slightly high pitched, too.
Oh. Seems the-
" CONTROL CIRCUITS NOW OPEN. WITH PRIDE. "
Yeah. Those are on the fritz, it seems...
" RESPECT PUBLIC PROPERTY ", the signboard insisted.
A half-second later, the same voice sounded again, but now from the opposite side of the street.
" PLEASE WALK ", it requested. " PLEASE WALK. "
What ?!
Turning toward the second point of the voice, J.D found that another signboard protruding from the sidewalk on that side was now illuminated as well- except instead of a pair of white dots, it was displaying a set of burnt orange chevrons that were pointing toward the front door of what appeared to be an...aprtment block, of some kind. An automatic power door was sealed tightly shut a few yards behind the signboard, with the light said board gave off glinting sharply against it.
Lowering the M7 a tad, J.D stayed put, but his mind was racing. He knew from the briefings he'd gotten prior to drops on other major cities across the colonies that major cities like New Mombassa had tremendously powerful AIs that were responsible for running municipal functions, like traffic lights and camera, the city gates, and of course the signboards.
But, said AIs weren't the smart ones; they didn't have personalities, or the ability to interact with you in a full conversation. Not completely, anyway- best they could do was stick to their preprogrammed phrases and subroutines. Which could get pretty clunky sometimes.
Or, surprisingly innovative. Like this one.
You want to tell me something?
" PLEASE WALK ", the signboard requested. The orange chevrons flashed again, rippling in shades as they pointed at the shut doors.
Ok, it seems that you do. Not vague at all.
This AI...was it trying to tell him to go inside this particular building?
What? How can- its a dumb AI. It can't actually do that.
...Can it ?
" PLEASE WALK "
Standing, J.D took another sweep of the area, letting one finger slip into the trigger well. Still nothing presented itself, even with VISR engaged.
It was decision time: Keep going along the way he'd been- essentially wandering around town making periodic calls on general frequencies in the hope that he made contact with someone/ actually running into them...or-
Or he could take this AI up on its directions. Taking a leap, figuratively.
Heck of a choice...
J.D didn't like it, but making risky calls was something every ODST always did; as in, choosing to become one in the first place definitely counted. Now he found this was one of those moments...
" PLEASE WALK ".
Exhaling, the Rookie realized that he didn't' have as much of a choice as he thought: He'd have to take a risk here. He didn't entirely like it- in fact, he had more than few misgivings- but Gunnery Sergeant Buck had led by example, and his example was to go with the course of action that made the most sense- even if it did have more than a few risks.
Here goes, then
Well, he'd finally found some Marines.
None of them were alive, though. Fresh through the threshold of the doors, J.D found himself in what was evidently a lobby- decorated by several dead UNSC leathernecks. Two of them were sprawled facedown roughly in the center of the room. Another was slumped against the front of some kind of counter on the left, head hanging forward.
Plasma burn wounds marked all of the deceased- and lying on the other side of the space, at the base of a flight of stairs, was the corpse of a Jiralhane. The beefy alien's fanged mouth was open in a grimace of pain/anger, and his muscle-laden body was pockmarked with bullet holes.
It was a scene that J.D had encountered more than a few times as he'd made his way through the city- dead friendlies and hostiles, but no living ones. It was somewhat beginning to seem like he was like last man alive in the whole city...
He hoped to God that wasn't so, needless to say.
For what its worth, guys...I'll get as many as I can for you.
Slowly coming up to each of the dead Marines, J.D dropped to a knee, and gently removed their dog tags, doing his best not to be as gentle as possible. He placed them into one of his belt pouches, having committed himself already to sorting through them as soon he could afford to.
Always remembered guys...always remembered.
Fighting off the surge of cold rage that trickled through his veins like ice water, J.D crossed the lobby floor, stepping over the dead Jiralhane ( who's own blood was spattered all around the deceased alien like a full clip of an MA5 had been used ), the ODST began to make his way up the stairs.
He'd had to keep VISR mode on, given that the lights in here were completely offline. With the stock of hi M7 pressed to his shoulder, he climbed the staircase, methodically but not plodding. He didn't want to rush, but he didn't want to drag his heels, either.
His breathing came at a slower pace, as he reached the top of the flight. Now, he was at the end of a long corridor. Unlike the ground floor, though, this level was actually partially lit up- albeit with flickering lights that weren't burning at full strength.
Casting cones of light at irregular intervals, they were at least better than nothing as the Rookie walked the length of the corridor. Even here, he found evidence of combat having taken place- the long tungsten spines that were fired out of Jiralhane Spiker rifles were embedded into the walls at random points, along with the divots produced by bullet impacts.
And, again as with the lobby, he found more dead Marines and Jiralhane, lying in various poses and spots, sporting corresponding sets of wounds.
Again, he stopped, carefully and solemnly removing the fallen UNSC's tags, while getting another surge of cold anger. They'd done their due to defend the city, and its residents- and the planet Earth herself.
He would not allow their demise to be for nothing. If anything, he was grateful that they'd lived at all.
Only in death does duty end...
They lived well. That's what matters.
Carrying on, as much for them as for himself, J.D walked past the dual rows of doors on either side of the corridor. Some of them were open, others were sealed shut with the red lights on the outside locks indicating they were sealed. Even for the ones that were open, though, there was nobody within, needless to say.
Nonetheless, J.D kept going. That AI had clearly been prompting him to go inside this place for some reason. He had nothing else to give him a real sense of direction, so this lead, however tenuous, was worth pursuing. He simply had to find some system in this building that was linked to the AI-
" RESPECT PUBLIC PROPERTY "
As he entered a squared-off room at the end of the hallway, said AI spoke again, from off to the left.
Oh, so you're back.
Turning that way, J.D was greeted by-
God. Can it be- ?
It is. It absolutely is...!
There was no denying it.
Lodged firmly into the surface of a display monitor on the left-hand side of the room ( which was clearly the source of where the AI had been speaking from ), was an ODST helmet.
But, not any helmet. J.D immediately recognized who it belonged to:
Captain Veronica Dare