++July 24nd, 0100 Hours++
I'm standing on the edge of a precipice, a platform in the center of a vast, circular room. Somehow I know I'm back on the planet of Harvest - I can just feel it. Outside I can hear the war waging, the sound of Firebase Epsilon heaving its last dying breath before it ultimately falls to the onslaught of Covenant forces. But… The fight isn't over. I stagger down a long hallway and out onto one of the many defensive platforms surrounding the interior of the perimeter walls. Above me the barrel of an M71 anti air emplacement is smoking with the collective heat of hundreds of rounds fired. Its computer is still rotating the turret to track the dozens of enemy aerial targets, and I can hear the mechanical gears grinding with machined precision. But it's ammo has long since run dry. An explosion rips through the air a hundred meters ahead of me and I see that the walls have been breached. I remember this moment; It's the final moments of Harvest. In the distance an enemy cruiser hovers in the upper atmosphere. Its scale dwarfs the smaller UNSC Destroyers harassing its flanks. Then a terrible red beam erupts from its hull. The enemy weapon smashes into the surface of Harvest with an energy and power I've never seen, turning everything it touches to glass. Hot air washes across the plains, crashing over me like a rogue tsunami. My skin burns from the heat. I can't speak, I can barely think. I hear the screams of those around me as the radiation starts to cook us alive. They never meant to take us alive, never meant to accept a surrender. Suddenly the Covenant's motives become clearer than ever before; they're here to exterminate us..
"Ginger!" Someone shouts and my eyes flutter open. I groan with displeasure. I'm soaked in sweat and my heart is racing. It takes me a few seconds to grasp where I am, then I look to see Viking standing over me. He gives me a sympathetic smile and nods. "It's time to go."
I clear my throat, nod, and push myself up out of the chair. "Where to?"
"You missed it - a call came in from the Spartan about ten minutes ago. We're going to Alexandria. Here." He says, handing me my helmet. "I got your can."
I thank him, and pull the helmet on before following him out of the room.
"The others are already on the deck." He explains.
After a short jog we're back in the staging area of Sword base. I see Naomi and Chance having a conversation in front of a Pelican, its engines in idle and prepared to take off. When they see me and Viking approach Chance gives her a nod and Naomi climbs into the back of the Pelican.
"Nice of you to join us sleeping beauty." Chance remarks.
"Sorry, Sir. Had a fight on Harvest." I reply.
"I figured." His voice is genuine and full of sympathies unspoken. "We're going to New Alexandria to track down our friend Mr. Colbert. Track down those weapons and rip this insurgency out by the roots. You ready for this?"
"Always." I say with gusto, eager to get on a mission to put my dream behind me.
"Then let's get moving." He says, climbing into the Pelican and offering me a hand. I take it, and move to sit down. I realise my normal position is taken by Naomi, whose silver visor is staring at me. I shrug, offer her a smile I know she can't see from behind my visor, and sit down beside her. It's good to see her sitting with the Squad instead of at the back or front of the transport. Maybe this will put the others at ease?
"Pilot, we're all in! Let's get this train moving!" Chance says, taking his seat. He leans over and pulls up his data pad. "Sync up. We're zero five hundred and twenty hours."
I check my chronometer. It has about two tenths of a second of drift which I correct. "Set." I reply. The others follow suit.
Chance continues. "The Spaceport is a few hours away, but don't get too comfy."
I nod, check my equipment over, and set the M7 on my lap. The Pelican starts to take off and I feel the pressure of lift momentarily glue me to my seat. Then with a roar of the twin engines the dropship is off, cruising over the temperate landscape at speed. I look out the back and watch as the intricate canyons and grassy, sub saharan vistas go passing by. Sword is further inland than the coast, and the climate reflects that. I have to admit I'd rather fight here than on the coast. The canyons and natural geography give plenty of cover from snipers and allowed for creative flanking and fast, hit and run tactics. Then again it's harder to get arial support when you're in a bunch of inter-connected ditches. I also can't deny the view is better on the coast. The green, the sparse, twisted trees eaking out an existence on the side of great mountains. The ocean. Reach always has had a beautiful ocean. I've been told it's because the water here is higher in oxygen and so it's a deeper blue. I'm honestly not sure if that's true or not.
"Kilo-Five, I have something to tell you." Naomi states.
The rest of the team, myself included, perk up from our individual thoughts and musings and stare at the Spartan.
"Spartan One Zero Four has advised I not speak to you about this, but I do not agree with his assessment." She looks sideways at me and I suddenly feel very small. Her gaze quickly passes though as she addresses the group as a whole.
"Colbert is not our target. We need the black box from his ship."
"What?" Wink cut in. "Why? He's a traitor, an innie."
"That is true, but the innie's are not the true threat. The weapons we found were newly manufactured, and the crates they were in were shielded against my scans. Without Ginger's keen eyes we wouldn't have even found them. They are being supplied."
"Supplied by who? The Covenant?" Viking gaufs at the mere suggestion. "The Covenant don't work with humans. They're savages."
"Most of the Covenant feel similarly about us." Naomi's voice is calm, soft, and totally factual. "It is clear this is a sabotage campaign. They are using the remains of insurgent cells to weaken key installations across Reach. That explains the targets selected, the manner of the attacks, and the weapons and explosives used to gain entry. Your team- Our team, is not the only one deployed on these types of missions. I admit, this is a new tactic we've not encountered before, but the Covenant are not stupid. They have brilliant commanders and not all are as fanatical as their common soldiery. If they see value in an asset, they'll exploit it the same as us."
The squad stays quiet for a moment, absorbing everything. My dream feels oddly appropriate in a way I wish it didn't. The Covenant; the old enemy the UNSC has been fighting for two decades now. After Harvest most of the UNSC and humanity as a whole thought they were defeated. We lost the planet of Harvest, but the cost in "manpower" for the alien force was gargantuan. Their entire fleet was washed by UNSC battlegroups.
"But the Covenant are almost defeated." I say with a supreme lack of confidence. "They lost most of their fleet, what could they want with Reach?"
"The victory on Harvest was greatly exaggerated by the Department of Information. It was a narrow victory. Barely even that. The enemy fleet has recovered and they're preparing."
"Preparing for what?" Scratch asks.
"Invasion…" Chance adds.
I look at the Spartan but she doesn't respond. She doesn't have to. The realisation fills my stomach like molten lead.
"They've been weakening what they can ahead of an invasion force. It's exactly what they did on Harvest, remember?" Chance looks at each of us then back at Naomi. "So that's why you weren't in any rush to secure Colbert, isn't it? You needed to report to Doctor Halsey that the Covenant are on their way here."
She nods. I don't know what the rest of Kilo-Five is feeling. I don't know what I'm feeling. I've been wanting to get back to fighting the Covenant ever since we were evacuated from Harvest. Watching those people die as Kilo-Five escaped on a Pelican… The shame I felt then. But by God we were beaten. Even when the reports came through that Harvest had been classified a victory by the UNSC, that Covenant casualties 'far outmatched even the most favorable projects' I don't think I really believed it. A chill crawls up my spine at the thought of facing that destruction again. Can I survive a second time?
"So what do we do?" Wink asks, directing the question to Chance.
Chance stays quiet for a long moment, but eventually he looks at Naomi. She's sitting as still as ever, perfect in her dark blue armor with the expressionless silver visor staring right back.
"We secure Colbert's ship. Take the black box and run it through analysis. We find out where the Covenant are meeting the Insurgent force, locate their forward base of operations here on Reach, and eliminate the threat."
"That simple, hu?" Wink muses.
"Sergeant." Naomi starts. "I am not a leader. I never have been. I am a tactician. I am a Spartan, but I have never been… good… at leading. That was always John." There is an awkward pause where no one knows what to say. "You have a good team here. I read all your files. You work together well and I do not want this to stop. If you can trust me to choose the right missions, I would trust you to lead Kilo-Five."
Chance straightens his posture slightly, he glances at the rest of Kilo-Five then clears his throat. "I'm sorry for how the team has acted… Myself included. Ma'am, I would be happy to continue doing my job, and if it's under your command I'll be honored to serve alongside a Spartan. You point, we shoot." Chance brings his hand to his helmet in a crisp, professional salute. I match his gesture, as does the rest of the team.
"Welcome to Kilo-Five!" Viking says with a chuckle. "Now… Have you ever wondered why Vikings make such good sailors?"
It started to rain about halfway through the flight to New Alexandria, and now as I stare out from the rear of the Pelican it looks more like a monsoon than a thunderstorm. The onboard targeting computer inside my helmet will prevent it from being too much of a bother for target acquisition, but the sound is really what concerns me. The ODST combat suite has an audio scrubber since there is no sense in everyone in the squad going deaf from friendly artillery fire behind enemy lines. Its main function is to mute or diminish extraneous noises. Some kind of smart program that's supposed to match audio profiles or something. A side effect of this "smart program" is that in heavy rain the scrubber can get confused and start muting sounds it shouldn't. Footsteps chief among them. Makes for poor situational awareness. I decide turning it off would be the best approach considering we're going to be CQB inside a spacecraft. Suddenly the engines of the Pelican become the dominant feature of the soundscape.
"Sergeant, I've made contact with Alexandira's superintendent and made it aware of the mission. We've got full clearance to approach the spaceport. You want the bird grounded?" Wink questioned.
Most of the larger cities across UNSC space have an AI installation that runs services, they have names but typically we just call them the "superintendent." They run stuff like water, power, sewage, traffic. Almost everything. Provides data, statistic calculations, risk assessment, and alerts emergency services as well. They're incredibly useful and almost every founding city from the UNSC comes equipped with some kind of AI. Some are more advanced than others, but generally speaking humanity would not have been nearly as prosperous without them. It's a great resource but expensive for the UNSC to employ. New Alexandria is one of a handful of cities on Reach with one.
"Confirm. Keep her on the ground, but don't inform the crew unless they try to take off. Have local security ready to move in to secure the area in case things get ugly."
"Roger that." Wink said and went back to her data pad, relaying the orders.
"James." Despite its softness Naomi's voice cuts through the rain and engine noises like a knife. I turn to look at the Spartan. "I read your file."
I double check the channel and see that Naomi has chosen to keep the link private. "Of course." I reply.
"Most of it is secured under ONI's Tier One clearance."
I shrug.
"My file is also Tier One."
"All Spartans are." I add.
She nods. "What did you do before you joined Kilo-Five?"
I am surprised by the question. Not surprised she wanted to ask, but surprised she did. "You know I can't answer that. Besides- if you really wanted to know I'm sure you of all people could clear it through Highcom?"
Naomi stays quiet for a moment. "I could but I wanted to ask you first."
Suddenly I second guess myself and consider telling her the truth, but before I can say anything there is a loud thud and the Pelican lands on the deck of the spaceport. Naomi rises smoothly from her seat and strikes off, and I scramble to catch up as the squad deploys. On the tarmac are dozens, if not hundreds of cargo ships of various makes and models parked in neat, organized rows. At the main terminal some three harden yards off, a large B-Class cruiser is preparing to take off, each of its four engines the size of our entire dropship.
"Viking, you got the nav?" Chance asks.
"Roger that Sir, the ship is this way."
It doesn't take long to reach our destination and soon we're crouched under the wing strut of the neighboring aircraft observing our target. The 'Another Try' is an older model "Seagull" class cargo ship made by the CAA. It's a standard 'H' construction, named so because… well it looks like an H. Two long pods attached to a center strut contain all of the cargo, with a center strut being the foundation for most of the ship itself, including crew quarters, captains quarters, pilot and nav suites… Everything you need to fly inter-system supply runs. This particular model was popular about a decade ago for its modularity as the cargo pods themselves could be designed around the ship's particular purpose, be it raw goods, heavy machinery, deep space mining, or even passenger transportation.
"He's registered for the typical five man crew." Wink adds. "I'm sending through their files now. According to reports the crew and the Captain haven't left the spaceport so it's likely they're still onboard."
"Then they're waiting for their contact, or they've been waiting for new orders." Viking adds.
"Good guess." Chance nods. "Pretty soon it won't matter which. We hit the rear door, open her up, and secure. Remember; these are probably innie's but if they show you hands we put them on the floor and secure them. The more left for questioning the better. Scratch, you're on point - move out!"
"Roger." Scratch says and pumps the action on his shotgun before taking off into the rain towards the target.
The rest of us follow in short order, Wink and myself taking up the rear. Once at the aircraft it takes no time at all for Naomi's to hack through the civilian grade algorithms, and the cargo door lights up green and then starts to open. First the hissing of the hermetic seals and then it lowers with the squeak of well used metal bearings. Inside is darkness, the ship is clearly in standby mode to conserve power. I switch over to night vision and immediately see the boxes, same as the ones we found before, covered with cargo netting. They're stacked to the ship's ceiling and I give a rough count and there are over twenty just in this container.
"Are these…?" I ask.
"Shielded, yes." Naomi confirms.
"Proceed on a two-one-six. Keep it tight people." Chance says, pushing past the cargo bay and towards the center door that leads to the interior of the ship.
That's when I hear it, the tell-tale sound of heavy work boots on metal flooring. Two, maybe three contacts and rushing around the interior of the ship. "Movement inside." I radio.
"Stack up to breach." Chance orders.
I hit the door with Viking, our shoulders hitting the frame of the door and both of us raise our weapons, ready for the worst. With a press of a button the door to the interior opens and I'm first through, ducking low and going forwards. We're in the center of the 'H' now, it's a long corridor with rooms on either side, six in total. At the end of the hallway is a stairwell upwards that leads to the cockpit. Out target. Just then my NV's pick up a glimmer of light reflecting off the barrel of a gun.
"Con-" I start to shout, but a fraction of a second too late.
The shotgun goes off and I hear it impact Viking behind me. I glance back and see it's sparks rain down from his helmet. A headshot.
"Viking's hit!" Scratch roars, taking his place and firing down the hallway.
I'm already firing at the man who took down Viking, but the hallway corridor is a lightshow of muzzle flashes as the crew really opens up. They're firing blind in the dark, but the volume of what they're throwing inside the tight space means accuracy hardly matters. A round impacts my leg, then another one my chest. I focus on dropping the first target who has the shotgun, crouched low in one of the doorways. My first shot hits him in the shoulder, and he cries out in pain. He falls forward, exposing him to the three follow up shots I put center mass until he's still.
Scratch marches forwards, taking point and dropping another insurgent to the left with a blast from his shotgun. I can see bullets bouncing off his armor and helmet, and suddenly I'm damn thankful for this new ballistic weave. I push up, taking cover in the doorway I had just cleared. There are three more targets to deal with and I get ready to toss a frag when Naomi's voice cuts across the coms.
"No explosives, we can't risk setting off the cargo or damaging the flight computer. I've got the center."
As soon as she's finished talking I see the Spartan charge down the corridor. Her armor and shield is more than a match for the innie's assault and I hear the angry bark of her assault rifle as she drops the remaining three insurgents one after the other. She's fast - incredibly fast. I'm just about to break cover when a blinding green light erupts from the cockpit stairwell.
I cry out in pain as my eyes are burned by the flare from my nightvision. It tries to compensate for the intensity of the blast, automatically dimming, and I see the projectile miss Naomi's head by mere inches. It hits the side of the ship and ricochets before expanding mid-flight. The now primed mass of green plasma rockets past the squad and through the door we'd arrived by, then slams into one of the equipment crates. The resulting explosion is all encompassing. I try to grab my ears reflexively, dropping my M7 as the rear cargo bay erupts into chaos. I'm thrown back into one of the recently deceased crewmember's cabins, hitting the floor hard. My helmet cracks against the bed frame and my HUD flickers. The noise is deafening then goes quiet. I worry I actually might be deaf now but as the moments pass I start to hear ringing and the world slowly filters back in. Emergency lights have come on, bathing the interior with bright red light. I think it might be over until I feel the floor drop out from under me as part of the ship collapses. It slams down onto the tarmac with one final, bone-jarring jolt.
I struggle to my feet, joints aching and head pounding. The sound of flames crackling and electronics sparking echo through the corpse of the ship. I groan and turn the noise filtering function of my helmet back on. The shipboard alarm is ringing and I look up to see the FSS kick on, spraying the interior, myself included, with a gel-based fire retardant. I bend down and collect my weapon.
"Sound off!" Chance orders through the chaos.
"Ginger, I'm alright." I reply.
"Wink - I'm fine."
"Viking is up."
"Naomi, in pursuit of target."
"Scratch?" Chance shouts. "Scratch, report position!"
I stumble from the cabin to see Scratch laying on the floor, apparently unconscious, a nearby pipe having split from the ceiling and colliding with his helmet. "I found Scratch, he's in the hallways." I report. I crouch next to him and look at his data pad to see if he's still breathing. His system report shows a compromised seal, but everything else is green.
Chance appears next to me, grabbing me by the shoulder. "Get the black box! I'll get Scratch out of here. Be fucking quick, we don't know if the rest of those crates are going to cook off!" With that he shoves me towards the cockpit.
I jog past Wink and Viking who are already moving to help Chance drag Scratch from the wreckage. Up the stairs and into the cockpit I get my first sight of the control console. It's a wreck, and looks to have been sabotaged by whoever fired the fuel rod cannon and took off. I hope Naomi gets that bastard. I duck down and look under the console. I can see the flight recorder behind a mess of wires. I hastily grab a bunch and start yanking. Finally I get a hold of the box and pull.
"Are you kidding me!?" I shout angrily. "The fucking box is stuck!" I radio Chance.
"Then UN-stick it, Ginger! We're clear of the wreck. Hurry the hell up!"
"Roger that." I reply, standing up. I take a breath and start planting several kicks into the top-side of the console. The metal squeals in protest, while gages and sensitive electronics crack and fall apart under my assault. Soon enough though the corner of the control console bends down, the screws holding it together finally snapping. Panting I reach down and grab the corner, pulling away the top layer of the console and reaching inside. From this angle I feel my fingers wrap around the flight recorder's handle and when I yank, it comes free.
A second explosion rips through the ship as more of the crates detonate. I'm thrown forward into the console, which hurts like hell, and my helmet is once again brutalized as I smash into the cockpit glass. Luckily nothing seems broken yet. I stumble down the stairwell and through the corridor which is now under threat of being engulfed by plasma-fueled fire. The entire rear of the ship has been reduced to a pile of scrap, and I walk out through a cargo truck-sized hole.
Chance and the rest of the squad have drug Scratch some thirty yards away and EMS are arriving on scene. I walk over, drop to my knees, and take a moment to catch my breath. Scratch is already sitting up, having been coaxed from his unconscious state. He looks groggy as hell and I guess he probably has a bad concussion.
"Viking, how's your helmet?" Wink asks.
"Intact. I nearly shit myself." He admits.
"I thought you were a goner." Wink confesses.
"Too bad, so sad." He replies with a smirk.
"Naomi, report position." I say over the radio but receive no reply.
An ambulance pulls up next to us and two men dressed in white and blue hop out then rush to our position. Chance directs them to Scratch and they start going over his vitals, slowly walking him to the back of the ambulance a few moments later.
"Naomi, report position." Chance repeats. Again nothing. "You two, go look for our Spartan." Chance points towards me and Wink, and we both nod.
"Yes, Sir." Wink says. "Come on, we'll take one of the security Warthogs, she can't have gotten far."
After borrowing the warthog from a confused looking security officer we're tearing ass down the runway as fast as the heavy vehicle will go.
"I've got her transponder," Wink says as she shifts the Warthog into fifth gear. "She's at the South end of the airfield."
"Then step on it." I reply, and shift myself up in my seat so I can aim over top of the front windshield. The rain is still coming down hard so visibility is difficult but soon enough I see a hole in the perimeter fence.
"There!" I say, pointing to the breach.
"I see it." Wink replies. "Looks like someone crashed right through."
As we draw closer what we see makes my heart drop. Naomi is laying on the ground on her back right at the entrance of the breach.
"There she is!" I cry out.
Wink doesn't reply, and I know she's already seen the Spartan. We pull up a few seconds later, heavy rubber wheels screeching on wet concrete. I bail instantly, almost losing my footing as I do so and then rush to Naomi's position.
"She's hit." I radio as soon as I notice the small pool of rich, red blood under Naomi's body. I look around and see that Wink is still with the Warthog, set up to cover my approach. I realize how reckless I was and curse under my breath. What if they had been waiting for you?
"Chance, this is Wink, we've located Naomi. She's down. Southern end of the field."
I grab hold of Naomi's collar and start to drag her towards the Warthog, but the Spartan must weigh three hundred pounds or more. She won't budge. "I can't move her!" I roar with sheer frustration.
"Be advised we can't move her." Wink adds to the call.
"Roger that, Wink, I've got EMS on the way. Hold tight." Chance radios back.
"What happened?" Wink asks. She's trying to get me to use my head, to force me to calm down. She's right.
I take a deep breath and look over Naomi's armor. It's pitted with heavy impacts around the chest and helmet. I see there is a puncture wound in her suit on the right side of her abdomen.
"I'm not sure. Looks like an ambush or something. Heavy rounds. Maybe an armed warthog? Would explain the hole in the fence." I talk as I remove a canister of biofoam and shove the applicator nozzle into the breach of Naomi's suit. Just as I'm about to crack the seal her hand comes to my wrist.
"I'm alright." She says. "The suit got overloaded, it's fine now."
"You're hit." I say and crack the seal before she can protest. Immediately the foam floods the suit, plugs the breach and gets to work healing whatever damage was hidden underneath. I hear Naomi laughing.
"I was already starting to heal, James." She confesses. She wastes no time in turning over and pushing herself up onto her feet. "The target escaped."
"I figured." Wink replies.
"Some kind of ambush?" I ask.
"Yes. An insurgent warthog. They must have been close by, and the target radioed them as soon as our assault began."
"I'll feed it through to the superintendent. Maybe he'll have a bead on their progress."
"Did you retrieve the flight recorder?" Naomi asks.
"Yeah. I've got it right here." I say, detaching the box from my thigh and offering it to her.
"No, I trust you to look after it till we get to a console."
I think that maybe, just maybe I detect a faint smile in the tone of her voice. "Yes, ma'am." I reply and secure it back in its place.
On the drive back we get word from Chance that Scratch is fine, or as fine as can be expected from getting hit in the head. He has a minor concussion the doctor's gave him some meds for, but he's alert and aware, in other words fit for duty. It doesn't take long for us all to be back onboard the Pelican. Naomi tells us we're heading for the New Alexandria Security Intelligence offices, where they should have the equipment to get a read on the flight recorder. From the back of the Pelican I can see the cargo ship that almost took my left engulfed in multicolored flames.
"Kilo-Five," a cold and synthetic voice breaks over our comms channel. "I am Alice, the superintendent. I have detected your attacker's vehicle. It has been abandoned on the Y-A1 exit offramp and is causing a traffic disturbance. I have alerted the authorities to converge on the area."
"Any read on where the occupants are headed?" Chance asks.
"Negative Sergeant. The occupants abandoned the vehicle and then purposefully entered a secondary unknown vehicle outside of my camera coverage. I am currently undergoing statistical analysis of which car in the area is most likely to house our suspects, but the margins are too close for executive action. I will keep you updated."
"What about the Warthog?" Chance looks at Naomi for a moment, and I think he's surveying the damage to her armor.
"It looks worse than it is." Naomi states with the cool, collected tone that has become so characteristic to her.
"The Warthog is a UNSC registered vehicle reported missing from New Alexandria outpost 'Guardian' two months ago. I have been unable to locate its point of origin." Alice's voice cuts off with the unnatural abruptness typical of most AI systems.
"Roger that, keep us informed."
"I will do so, Sergeant."
"I hate the idea of letting these fuckers go." Scratch growls.
"We all do." Wink adds.
"I apologise," Naomi starts. "I did not understand the extent to which the insurgents were being supplied."
Vikings snorts. "Not your fault, Naomi. We had no reason to suspect anything was that jacked up. The previous crates just had plasma rifles in 'em. Who would have guessed that crazy bitch had a fuel rod cannon?"
"Who would have guessed she'd fire it inside the corridor of a spacecraft loaded with explosives? That was just as dangerous for her as it was for us!" Wink shakes her head in disbelief.
"Desperation." Scratch says. "They're losing, and they know it. We're dealing with only the most committed, most desperate fighters the insurgency has left. These are the ones who faced with an alien extermination of their species decided allying with the aliens over setting aside their political squabbles was a better idea." He sighs.
I frown. He's right, and it was something I think the entire squad needed to hear. Over the past two months on Reach our missions had rarely been stand up firefights, but even so had become increasingly dangerous. The insurgency had always relied on guerrilla tactics, but now they were more like terrorists, instead of enemy combatants. They were bombing whatever targets they could find, be it civilian or otherwise. Anything was game as long as it hurt the UNSC in terms of resources - even if that resource was human lives.
After a short flight full of grim thoughts the Pelican sets down at NASI and we are shown to a nearby terminal. I give Naomi the flight recorder and she takes the lead, plugging it in and sorting through the data as fast as she could, which incidentally was faster than most of us could even keep up with.
"Why couldn't you do this with your suit?" Wink asks.
"I could, but I wanted to be absolutely sure I didn't trigger any kind of failsafe. We don't know what precautions the enemy has taken."
"Here." She says after ten minutes. "Every two weeks they make a stop at this communications outpost. The Visegrád Relay. This must be where they're meeting their contact."
"I'll call it in." Chance says.
Naomi nods, not moving from the console, still looking at streams of data. "Thank you, Sergeant."
"Major Horn, come in this is Kilo-Five, over."
It takes a few minutes of silence before we get a response, and in that time Naomi wraps up her analysis and disconnects the flight recorder.
"Might as well leave it." Wink says. "We've got what we came for."
"There might be data on it I missed." Naomi admits.
"Somehow I doubt that." I say.
"Kilo-Five, this is Major Horn, what've you got?"
"Major, we've determined a site of potentially significant insurgent activity. The Visegrád Relay has been a major supply point for our friends. Be advised, the shipment we just uncovered included heavy, anti-armor, and demolition ordinance. Over."
"Roger that and confirmed, Kilo-Five. Get airborne and wait for further orders from command. Over."
I grab my stuff and head for the door, Viking and Scratch do the same. I see Naomi wrapping up and falling in behind us while Wink and Chance bring up the rear. Soon enough we're all back on board the Pelican and anxiously awaiting further orders from Major Horn. Then I start to wonder if we should be reporting to Doctor Halsey instead, or some kind of ONI official representative. Or is that Naomi? I decide to bring it up. It wouldn't hurt for the team to know where we stand.
"Hey, shouldn't we be reporting to Doctor Halsey?" I ask.
Chance pauses and I see his helmet turn to look at Naomi with the rest of the group.
Naomi shakes her head. "No. You all work for ONI but you still report to the UNSC. Doctor Halsey is… uniquely important, but she is not a military officer. She is still a civilian technically."
"Works for me." Viking concludes. Before I can follow up with another question the radio comes alive again.
"Kilo-Five come in, this is Colonel Holland, respond."
"A Colonel?" Wink asks with suspicion in her voice. I exchange looks with Scratch, who shifts in his seat uneasily.
Chance answers. "This is Kilo-Five, reading you loud and clear Colonel, go ahead."
"Contact with Visegrád Relay was lost five hours ago and the team we sent in to investigate has been no contact for two. They've been declared MIA. A Spartan team, callsign Noble has already been dispatched to the area ETA twenty mikes. With the information you've provided ONI analysts believe this to be the work of an Insurgent cell. Kilo-Five is being ordered to redeploy to Visegrád Relay and rendezvous with Noble, secure the relay, and eliminate the suspected Insurgent threat. Confirm your orders." Colonel Holland's voice is steady, calm, and authoritative. He has that old-timey speech giving cadance, the kind the UNSC loves to record giving big declarations at the end of battles. He's an inspiring presence by voice alone.
"Enroute to Visegrád Relay, rendezvous with Noble, and eliminate the threat. Orders confirmed, Colonel. We'll get it done."
"Good work with the spaceport, Kilo-Five, keeping those weapons out of Insurgent hands is another victory for the UNSC. Keep it up. Colonel Holland out."
"Pilot, you get all that?" Chance asks.
"Roger that, we're preparing for takeoff."
"An entire Spartan fireteam?" Wink asks.
"Must be a pretty major attack if they've taken the whole damn relay offline." Viking suggests.
"Naomi," I ask, "Do you know anything about Noble team?"
"Not much. One of my brothers is part of it though, Spartan Zero-Five-Two."
"I thought he said it was an entire fireteam of Spartans?" Scratch asks.
"From a different program." Naomi corrects.
"Oh… Like different models of a car?" I interject.
"Partially." Naomi hesitantly adds.
"With how you fight, I can't imagine there being more than one of you in the same place." I chuckle. Viking and Wink join me, nodding in agreement. Naomi doesn't take part though. She seems hesitant to acknowledge her own skills. The Pelican finally jolts into takeoff and the pilot guns the engines to full. We're well on our way.