Chapter 6: Caracas
Stars suddenly appeared in the windows of the C709 Longsword Interceptor, replacing the dark blue sky that had been there just a few seconds before. Will felt his body become weightless and began floating in whatever direction his weight had been shifted towards before the loss of gravity. Out of the front window he saw the Super MAC station they were headed to, the Caracas, and hovering all around it were the remaining UNSC Marathon-class cruiser. Standing out, though, was the UNSC Tiberius, officially the largest UNSC vessel aside from the refitting and Super MAC stations. The other Spartans floated over to a wall full of weapon racks and began pulling out all of their equipment. Backpacks loaded with munitions, thigh pistol holders, load bearing vests maxed out with BR55 clips, and almost a dozen grenades; top brass wasn't interested in having a group of captured Elites tear through their brand new uniforms in front of their soldiers.
"This is Juliet-Eight requesting final approach coordinates."
"Bearing niner-five, Juliet-Eight," the station replied back to the Longsword pilot. Will cinched the last straps on his backpack and loaded a round into his chamber but keeping the safety switched on. Gracefully dipping the wings of the craft back and forth to avoid the behemoths that surrounded the station, they finally saw an open hangar and came in on a final approach. Yellow lights led them in and the engines warmed the metal floor to a dark orange color before they shut off and the doors closed behind them. Gravity once again overtook the Humans inside and they settled to the ground to wait for the atmosphere to be returned to the hangar. This took a little over thirty seconds but once it had finished they rushed out and headed towards the bridge.
"Remember, there will be more of them then us but we've got a company of ODSTs there as well. Keep your fingers around those triggers and watch their movements, you'll know when they're going to do something."It surprised Will how easily he could slip into the role of a leader but at the same time be a normal soldier. This feeling wasn't lost on his three comrades. Marines hurried back and forth through the hallways of the station and the concentration steadily increased as they came closer and closer to the bridge. They finally arrived at a short flight of stairs that was jam packed with UNSC personnel holding datapads in their hands and talking quickly to each other. Spotting the heavily armed Spartans they squeezed up against the railings and let them make their way through. Holding back the crowd of people was a squad of ODSTs. One of them walked over to Will and popped his helmet, rubbing his gloved hand through his short brown hair.
"It'd be idiotic for them to try anything with all of our men in there but you never know with those crazy bastards. The Admiral wanted you to take these in," he said pointing to four eight-gauge M90 shotguns leaning up against an olive drab crate.
"Sweet!"Chris said excitedly over their personal comm channel as they walked over and picked up the brand new weapons. Will hooked his BR55 onto a magnetic clip on the side of his backpack and pumped a shell into the chamber. Two Helljumpers unlocked the main door into the bridge and let the four go through before locking it again. Instead of humming with activity or filled with naval officers in their dress whites, the bridge was filled with ODST troops snugly fit into the space obviously not designed around supporting a firefight. Perfectly positioned out of the main window was the Tiberius, it's heavy guns glistening in the sunlight. Standing up on the slightly raised platform at the front of the room was Lord Krakeur, Lead Counselor on the UNSC's High Command. A few other lower ranking officers stood behind him, their sidearms uncharacteristically visible. The four Spartans stood on the overlooking walkway and stood rigid before being acknowledged by the Lord.
"Please come down here," he said; his voice raspy and cracking. They walked past more ODSTs and stood facing a small door underneath the bleacher-like complex of computers that monitored the system. Sliding open silently, all of the Marines leveled their weapons at it as a squad of Elites walked out with guards surrounding them. The Elite in the front of the group was looking at the ground like the rest before he glanced upwards and saw the Spartans. His head whipped upwards and his mandibles opened wide. Lord Krakeur slowly looked over at the Spartans who also noticed this.
"What is your name and rank?" he asked, ignoring the Elites' response.
"My name is Minor Fleet Master Husa' Mallamee and I am captain of the Sanctimonious Trinity."
"Why have you come to Earth?"
"Our fleet was ambushed and destroyed as well as the rest of the other Covenant fleets." People began talking loudly to each other, some disbelievingly and while others were optimistic.
"Who ambushed your fleet?"
"I do not know, but I can assure you that it was no inf- Human," he quickly said, correcting himself, "ship, or at least no classification that I am aware of at this point in time."
"So you came here expecting your fleet to be waiting here?"
"No, a retreat order had been issued by High Charity. It is standard protocol to affirm any new orders. This order was never responded to."
"Then you came here looking for mercy that you have never shown us?" Will noticed the Elites tense up and Mallamee seemed visibly agitated. He gripped his hand around the handle of the shotgun.
"The Holy Ones have shown mercy to one of your own, the Demon, and he has destroyed our divine Covenant!" ODSTs started cheering but quickly stopped when they noticed that the officers were not happy at this news.
"What do you know about Spartan One-One-Seven?"
"I do not know of this Spartan One-One-Seven."
"The Demon, as you call him."
"He was captured on a planet in the Hydrocordatus system a little over two months ago. Shortly afterwards he intercepted a Human craft in Slipspace that contained one more Demon and a female Human like the others that we normally encounter. The Holy Ones tried to exert their influences over the Demons but the male, this, One-One-Seven, turned on us during a mission on a planet in the Trinity system, Coral I believe it was referred as over the Human communications. He was to retrieve an artifact but instead used himself and released the Gods from their slumber. This was all unbeknownst to the Holy Ones who tasked him with leading the assault on Earth and taking command of one of our Planet Killers. During the battle, there was a short communication sent out that stated four Demons had boarded the ship and were threatening to commandeer the craft. Before anyone was able to respond, though, it jumped back to High Charity with the Demons aboard. I have no more knowledge of what transpired between then and now, but you may want to ask them," he stated, pointing towards the four Spartans, "Because they were the ones aboard the craft." Lord Krakeur turned to the Spartans who were still rigidly facing the Elites.
"Why weren't we informed of this?" he snapped. Will turned to face the Lord and replied.
"Sir, immediately after returning we were ordered to the surface to help with the defenses. There was no time." This answer seemed to suffice and he turned back to the Elites.
"You must attack before the demon can build his fleet and bolster his ranks, you have the upper hand." This sudden outburst shocked the Humans gathered in the bridge and many leveled their rifles at the alien. "I'm sorry, but the more time that is spent doing nothing is time that is being lost."
"If you haven't seemed to notice, our fleets aren't exactly in fighting condition no thanks to your comrades." Lord Krakeur suddenly seemed tired and beat down and Will could see that this set of bad news was already getting to him. "We have no choice but to wait, if we attack now, he'll destroy us and then counter-strike a defenseless Earth." The Lord walked away from the platform and all of the soldiers in the room saluted as he exited through a door at the side of the bridge.
"Are we supposed to just sit here and wait around until John decides to do something?" Linda asked almost rhetorically. She set her helmet down onto a small metal table in their room and stood looking out a circular window.
"We're not exactly in a position to just order around the UNSC Linda," Will replied, trying to keep her reasonable. He saw her shoulders droop ever so slightly and he knew she had already seen his reasoning.
"It's just…the longer we wait the less chance there is of saving him, that's all."
"There is no chance, you've seen what he did, there's no hope for him, no matter how much you want to believe it." He sat down on his bunk, the metal creaking under his heavy weight but luckily holding him. The emotions he felt toward John were ever changing. One moment he would like to put a bullet through his head while the next he hoped that they would reunite and put everything behind them. Will knew none of this could ever happen; the UNSC would put their greatest savior to death and hope they will learn from their mistakes.
"Don't try and convince me of something you don't believe yourself," Linda said, catching him off guard. She turned around and leaned up against the window wall. "How long do you think we'll have to wait? We're not exactly getting any younger here." Will had noticed that Linda's once perfect skin had begun to look a little more creased and small lines were forming around her mouth.
"That's for them to decide because unfortunately we're at their mercy, but that's not new."
