"It's not something I like to remember, but it's still there whenever I lay awake at night. That's a day forever burned into my memory, one that could have meant the end of us in a way that the Covenant couldn't match. Seven million people, gone in an instant, with no trace they'd ever been there at all save for the ashes left behind. I sit and wonder some nights, when I've had a few to drink, and the thought comes to mind: What would have happened if the Master Chief hadn't been there? I've never come to terms with the possibilities, and it'll haunt me until the day I die."
- Vice Admiral Thomas Lasky (Ret.), "Infinite Choices: The Memoirs of Thomas Lasky" (Published 2573)
A slipspace portal was never made easily, whether it was an entrance or an exit. Human ships had always tore open holes in subspace to enter that multitude of dimensions that allowed faster-than-light travel, and when they exited, it was as if the titanium clad behemoths were clawing their way through. Covenant ships had repurposed Forerunner technology, and they were able to enter and exit easier, traverse their route faster, and generally had a much easier time of it.
But when the ancient Forerunner battleship Mantle's Approach emerged from slipspace in high Earth orbit, the only reason anybody knew it was even there at first was due to Infinity's sensor technician immediately slamming her hand down on an alert button on her console, her voice cracked as she realized just how large this new signature was.
"New contact just slipped in! It's massive! Captain!" She called out what she found, already forwarding her information to every other relevant station on the bridge before Lasky, standing behind the holotable, could take his first step. Alarms inside the ship were blaring, people were in motion, red combat lighting filled the bridge, and all weapons systems and shields were brought online as Infinity's reactors pushed power through her veins.
"Put it up on the main screen!" He called out to her, eyes already on the main screen as he spotted the data stream that indicated where the ship was exiting, estimated size, and the huge amount of energy that was being released by a slipspace transition that was capable of pulling such a massive ship.
Bridge techs were already talking to each other, and to the departments that they worked closely with. Navigation was plotting an intercept course to point the bow and the four Series-8 super MAC cannons at the perceived exit point. Weapons were pulling even more power from the reactors to bring the MAC cannon recharge rate up to maximum. Flight ops was giving orders to set multiple ships for CAP and immediate defense of the ship against any fighter assets that might be launched. All of these officers and more worked in close coordination, the nerve center of a single organism acting in concert in a way that let Infinity unsheathe her claws and stand ready to defend Earth, even with the ragged wound running across her gut. She and her crew were the first, and maybe last, line of defense against the former supreme commander of the Forerunner military, so many millennia ago.
Lasky was a whirlwind of motion and orders, pointing at each station as he gave the instructions. "Comm, report to Bravo-6, critical priority: Possible Didact incursion, moving to intercept, requesting Home Fleet support and ODP priority tasking synced to Infinity datalink. Flight ops, keep our birds close and don't let them get out from under our wing unless absolutely necessary. Weapons, unchain Archer missile pods and prepare for saturation bombardment, bring MACs to full charge and standby for firing, priority energy request granted. Nav, warm up emergency maneuvering thrusters in case evasive action is necessary. Everybody else, maintain crew integrity and pass information as needed." Almost as a final bit, he grabbed at the handset that was under the holotable, pulling it to his mouth and keying the mic to send his next orders through the ship's intercomm system. "All hands, general quarters. Essential personnel, stand to. Non-essential personnel to damage control stations. Security teams, stand by to repel boarders."
He released the button and replaced the handset, looking back out the viewport just as the Mantle's Approach exited slipspace, looking just as alien as the Covenant had but even more so. Where the last attack on Earth had been at the hands of bulbous ships, looking like flying whales and sharks in their form, this was different. Hard, angular features backlit by orange and red between the massive armored plates stood out just as all Forerunner architecture had done. It dwarfed anything any of them had ever seen. Lidar and radar scanners worked in time with cameras in all spectrums of light to get an immediate profile on the ship. Speed, weapons, size, and even possible shield strength based on the amount of electromagnetic energy it was throwing off in waves.
Scans came back, and the officer at the sensor station responded immediately. "Sir! She's bigger than anything we've ever seen! Sitting right at 371 kilometers tall, under half as wide and long!"
Lasky nearly froze in his tracks as he looked over, feeling that cold dread in his gut that had come with heated combat in other naval postings, but he couldn't let that take hold of him, couldn't let it be seen by the crew. He was an example, their commander, and he would lead them as best he could as his first true act in command of the ship. "Hand off to weapons! Continue scans! Any indication that it's damaged or been attacked or any sign of the Master Chief?"
It was a long shot, but he had to ask. "No sir! No hull breaches detected on the near side, ODP datalink shows the same for the far side!
A curse, and that ball of anxiety weighed heavy as his nerves took over. Had the Chief failed? Were they out of time and options? No. Even if the Chief had never made it and was still on Requiem, Infinity was still here, still ready to bring the fight to the Didact and any other enemies of Humanity, even if it cost them everything. It was their duty to protect Humanity.
Whatever the cost.
More information came surging in, a tsunami of data, scans, battle plans, and more. Lasky trusted his crew to handle it, that he didn't need to hold their hand for everything, and he turned back to the other person who had stood watching, eyes locked on to the massive ship that was encroaching on their home.
"Captain?" He started. "I don't know what you plan to do, but if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them."
Morgan frowned at the title, almost forgetting she was a Captain now. No, she didn't have any ideas. She wasn't a naval command officer, she was made for one man army style assaults on the ground, or when needed, piloting a fighter better than any non-augmented pilot in the fleet, and probably the augmented ones too. "No, I don't." She looked at him now. "What would you have me do, Captain?"
Lasky's brain went into overdrive as he tried to think of what was going on, and how best to employ so many people on such a large ship. "Get your Spartans ready, have them armed and armored up, in case we need to deploy them to the ground or, god forbid, that monster of a ship. Any further orders come through for you, you'll know almost immediately."
She nodded, already turning on her heel to leave, a comms channel opening with Crown and the three company commanders. Green lights lit up next to their names as they were tuned in and listening. When all of them were green, she started. "Get your armor on, draw weapons, get the rest of the Spartans moving likewise. Prep for either ground defensive deployment to HVT sites or boarding actions."
Palmer was the first to respond. "Ma'am? This about what I think it is?"
"Yes, Palmer. Confirmed massive enemy vessel currently in orbit over Earth, and I doubt very much it's friendly."
There was silence for a few moments, before she heard Palmer curse under her breath. "We'll be ready for whatever you need of us, ma'am. Are we expecting to leave any forces behind for counterboarding?"
"If we have to leave the ship, all available Spartan fireteams are expected to be going. We're the tip of the spear. We have shielding, heavy armor, and we can take a hit and give one right back better than any other combatant force on this ship. Marine and ODST forces will remain here, and any additional firepower needed on the ground can be deployed from their bases as fast, if not faster, than deploying an equivalent sized force from Infinity, especially if she's engaged." She stopped to lick her lips, stepping into one of the elevators that would take her down to S Deck. "Pack heavy. Standard kit won't cut it if we have to punch into a Forerunner battleship. Assign one person to rocket duty, have another wearing load bearing gear to put reloads in. At least one medium machine gun per squad, with double standard ammo load. If we go in there, I'll be damned if we get surprised by another one of those big bastards that nearly broke into the bridge on Requiem, and who knows what else they have."
Several status lights winked before going back to solid green. They were relaying orders even while she gave them, likely having their squadmates patched in to transmit the orders down to their individual squads while the commanders dealt with the big picture.
Charlie Company's commander, Spartan James Holter, broke in then. "What about the aviation squads?"
She paused for a moment. All Spartans were capable ground combatants, with the ability to outdo even the best of the Marines and ODSTs regardless of specialization, but some were assigned specific duties. Helen Castille, in her own squad, was a powerful force in close combat, but her medical background meant she was able to easily shift gears and become a rapid reaction combat medic capable of fighting her way to downed allies and begin treatment, no matter how heavy the fire was. Just as much, all Spartans were trained in the operation of every vehicle in the UNSC arsenal, up to light frigates in a pinch. This meant that several Spartan squads were assigned individual Broadsword fighters to allow a Spartan presence to take to the skies and let their augmented bodies fill the roles of aces when things were a little too hot for the rest of the UNSC's birds.
"Break them away, have them pre-flight their birds themselves, heavy anti-fighter ordnance. If we have to go external, I want the best we have escorting. If it comes to that, I'll be taking overall squadron lead. August will have control of Crown and overall ground command while establishing a foothold, and once I've returned to the ground, I'll move in and take over again."
"Understood."
She bit the inside of her cheek. Everything was happening so fast, and the odds were so far skewed against them that she wondered if it would make a difference. "Anything else, keep it close at hand, make whatever preparations you need in particular, and release weapons authority to individual fireteam leaders. I have a feeling we'll need every one of us on the ground before it's all over."
With the elevator opening, she broke into a run, wanting to get to the rigging area to ensure that there were no problems. The different commanders cut out of the channel and starting preparing themselves and their squads, while Crown stayed active. August broke the new silence. "Orders, ma'am?"
She broke into the rigging area, taking the stairs up to her office two or three at a time, the door to the main balcony area and overwatch room opening and revealing Crown was already in place. August looked back at her, his helmet off with an eyebrow raised. "You made good time."
She let the faintest of smiles show through, before she squashed it and took her helmet off, hooking it on her belt. "I always do. Orders are the same as what I just gave. Get weapons and ammo, be ready for combat at any moment between now and whatever conclusion this whole thing has." Even as she spoke, the ship rumbled beneath her boots, and they all looked down at the floor. Infinity had just fired the opening salvo of whatever this battle was. "Get to it, Spartans." Even while her four squadmates started moving, she put her helmet back on quickly to call to Lasky. "Captain, what just happened?"
She heard an alarm blaring on the other end of the channel. "Near miss, looked like a scaled up version of those rifles their infantry have. Shields are holding. We lobbed a few of the mini-MAC rounds at them but it didn't do a damn thing. We're remaining at stand-off distances for now."
"Understood, any change in situation?"
"Unconfirmed, but we're reading multiple radar pings from the other ship, sized to be something like single ship fighters, possibly transports. Some of them are vectoring towards us, others are heading for the planet. Whatever they're doing, I don't like it."
"We're still arming up. Is the CAP flight engaging?"
"Negative, they're- Weapons! Push more power to point defense, ready anti-fighter volley cannons! Get Battlegroup Dakota to move into formation around us!" He cursed as he came back to her. "They're about to step into the fight. Whatever gets through the point defense and the hurricane of frag-shot we're sending at them, the air wing will try and stop the rest, then additional ships will add their firepower to the mix."
She bit her cheek, even as August came back into the room, a shotgun in one hand and two boxes of shells in the other. He set them on the table. "She's loaded."
Morgan nodded at him in thanks. "Anything else?"
On the other end, Lasky paused. "You'll know in a minute. We're about to hit them with one of our Series-8 shots. If that manages to break the shields and get through the hull, then we'll vector for boarding ops. If not, you'll go to ground and intercept whatever makes it down. No other Spartan contingent in range has the numbers we do, and the ones that do are too far to respond in time."
"Yes, sir. I'll be ready whenever you call."
"You won't be waiting long. Lasky out."
She turned back to her squad, all of them loading weapons and continuing to give orders in the confines of their helmets. "Invasion forces inbound towards the surface, unknown number. If the Infinity can punch through that monster's shields, we'll be going there. If not, defensive ground engagement. Relay."
August was already on it as she grabbed her shotgun and ensured it was loaded and ready. The glint of brass in the chamber was a welcome sight, and she moved it to the mag lock on her back, loading shotgun shells into the ammunition pouches on her armor's hips and belt line. When it was all done, she watched the rest of her squad for a few moments, frowning.
Opening a new channel, she hesitated before pushing the call through, the person on the other end responding almost immediately, the sounds of yelling and heavy machinery filling the call, the woman having to yell to be heard.
"Commander? What do you have for me?"
Morgan's frown deepened as she heard her wife's voice, not bothering to correct with her new rank. Both of them would be integral to the next phase of their operations. Morgan would be flying escort, and Amber would be the escortee, as well as the other pilots and their Spartan passengers. "I wanted to hear your voice again."
Amber was silent for a moment, before she went on. "That bad, huh?"
She almost wanted to smile at that, always liking her wife's tendencies to get right to the point. "That bad, Hocus. What do you know?"
"Chiefs all have a fire lit under everybody's asses to get as many birds up and running as possible. Got a short brief that wasn't much other than be ready for transport ops."
"Well whatever tricks you have in that hat of yours, you're gonna need all of them this time."
A whistle came from the helmet's speakers, and Amber shook her head on the other end. "You sure know how to motivate a girl, dont'cha?"
"You know I'd be better if there was a better way of saying it."
"I know, but still."
Morgan felt the ship rumble again, this time heavily as the Series-8 in the bow was fired and the shell was accelerated to a significant percentage of the speed of light. "Listen, Amber. I need you to be ready, alright? No bravado, no tricks, just the best you have."
Her wife's voice on the other end seemed to sober up, and her response was immediate. "I'll do my best. You make sure you do too, because if things are this bad, then we'll all need to be running at a hundred and ten."
Morgan nodded to herself. "Exactly. I'll find out whatever we're about to do and send you a message immediately, so be ready."
"Yes ma'am. Hocus out."
"Wait!" Morgan nearly reached out, as if she could physically stop Amber from cutting the channel.
"Ma'am?" Amber's response was curious.
Morgan didn't say it as often as she wanted to, even after so many years. It was something she had always wanted to change. "I love you."
"I love you too, Morgan. I'll see you when we're both back, I promise."
Satisfied, Morgan nodded. "I'll hold you to it then. Crown out."
With a few of her fears alleviated, she cut the channel, and another came through almost immediately. It was Lasky.
"Morgan here, what's the plan?"
Lasky responded immediately. "Negative penetration, EM scans indicate that whatever those shields have are too strong at this range, lost barely a portion of their strength and we can't get into a slugging match. You and your Spartans are going to ground."
"Understood. We'll start loading, flight ops will be in your ear the instant we start deploying."
"Right. Lasky out."
With merely a thought, her armor read the neural lace and sent a message to Amber, informing her of their ground destination. Crown came after. "We're heading for Earth. Get the orders out, and get the aviation detachment to their birds. I'll meet them there. Rest of you… good luck."
August nodded, speaking for the rest of them. "Good luck, ma'am."
There was nothing else left to say as she turned and left at a run, moving for the hangar bay where something she hadn't expected to really use again lay in wait, ready to come out of retirement and do whatever its pilot demanded of it.
On the hangar bay floor, Broadsword fighters, Pelican transports and gunships, Longsword fighter-bombers, and Shortsword attack aircraft sat waiting, in various states of readiness and armament. Crews from both the hangar and the multitude of frames were swarming about like a hive of ants, attempting to get weapons onboard, get engines spooled up and mission data programmed, and in one case, to finish tuning some new toys.
As Morgan set eyes on it, she felt a sense of familiarity that had come when she last saw it at the end of the war. Her YSS-1000 Sabre sat quietly, the aggressive features making her feel more comfortable, knowing how intimidating of a visage it had. The crew chief was already on his way over as he spotted her.
"Ma'am," he started off, gesturing to the aircraft. "We've got her ready to fly. Been tinkering with her since she got here and we've made a few adjustments to her that I think you'll love."
Looking down at him, she raised an eyebrow, the motion hidden by her helmet. "Like what, chief?"
He moved around to the rear, avoiding the section where an ammunition linkage system was loading heavy ammunition into the 30mm cannons. The thruster nozzles on both the outboard wing mounted engines and the main engines in the rear of the frame had been changed, losing the 'feathering' that had covered them before, and had been replaced by a set of three large flaps on the top, bottom left, and bottom right sides.
"She's got thrust vectoring nozzles now. They didn't add them on account of the original purpose being pure speed and weapons capacity. Space superiority, but only in the context of anti-ship attacks. Just like how it uses its maneuvering thrusters for each axis of movement, the flight control system will accommodate any maneuvers you make and keep you in control no matter how rough you are with her. Gotta warn you though, she's likely gonna be nasty in a turn, and it's possible even a Spartan might black out with the amount of G's our sim reported with the thrust vectoring capability."
Morgan looked over it with a low whistle. "Hopefully I won't have to find out today. What else?"
"Mostly smaller changes, things like updating the system to the new block 30 software the Broadswords are using right off the production lines. Capability to mount modern armaments is there too. Thought of modernizing it further but we don't have a secondary hull to work on as a test bed." He pointed back to the cockpit. "Read the dossier on it and prior usage on your records that you let me take a look at. Decided to remove the back seat, but left the hardware intact. We can always put one back in, and it'll be good to go, but thought you might prefer to have extra storage space since you don't seem to need a WSO to fly it, given your armor syncs up to the system with the magnetic field detector system and the onboard datalink." He paused, scratching his jaw. "One more thing."
Another gesture and he walked up to the nose. Underneath the canopy railing, right where her seat was located, art had been painted onto the right side of the nose. On it, a woman was painted on, wearing what looked to be a bikini, an old cavalry sabre in one hand and a Medusa missile in the other, a crown sitting lopsided on her head as she smirked at whoever laid eyes on her. Morgan glanced at the chief, who looked at her with a sense of smugness, since he couldn't see the raised eyebrow behind her visor.
She cleared her throat, gesturing to it. "Your leadership know you did this?"
His smugness deflated a bit as he realized she wasn't entirely enthusiastic, as he and his crew had been. "Well, no, but…"
"You think they'll mind it?"
More deflation. "Maybe, maybe not. We can remove it, if you'd like, Commander."
Her rank update hadn't traveled through the chain of command just yet. "Leave her where she is, chief, but if someone spots it and demands it be removed, it won't look too great if I ask to keep her on the bird… but I appreciate the customization."
He gave her a nod. "Yes, ma'am. I'll keep her looking pretty for you as long as I can."
"Good man. How long until she's loaded and ready to fly?"
"She's good to go right now. Last minute fueling prep and another test of the fly-by-light system and you're ready to get in the black. Orders already came down for tasking."
"Good. Run them as quick as you can without cutting any corners."
"Yes, ma'am."
She watched him give his orders, one of his crew climbing into the front seat and running the checks there. Control surfaces started to actuate on each axis and direction, while the thrust vectoring nozzles hissed and twitched as if they were under full acceleration. The FBL checks wouldn't take long, a few more tests and the Sabre would be ready to take to the stars again for the first time in years.
A comm channel opened from Lasky, his voice coming through immediately. "Captain! New signature just popped up and we got a hail from it! It's inside of the Forerunner ship's shields!"
What? She frowned. "Say again? Inside the shields?"
"Affirmative. It's him, Morgan. It's the Chief."
She felt the shock of the message go through her body, and she almost didn't believe it. "What's his status?"
"He's navigating for something Cortana called the 'Composer.' She says that it's their primary target, and the Didact is right next to it. If they can get inside the hull, then they can deal with it and maybe even him, but they're on their own. Scans she's pushing through their Broadsword's data link indicate that the ship is constantly reshaping its armor and the shields can't be taken down enough for us to break through entirely. Boarding is non-viable."
He was on his own. There would be no way for her to get in even if she wanted to, and she cursed, unable to keep it inside. "Then what can we do? What can Infinity do to support?"
"All we can do right now is close the distance and hope he disables point defense, then we'll shunt everything into a Series-8 strike, punch a hole just big enough for him to go interior, and then it's all up to him."
"Did he say how he plans to destroy something that big?"
Lasky was slow to respond. "Havok-grade payload, man portable."
He didn't say anything else, and Morgan's blood froze in her veins. If he failed, he would be killed one way or another. If he succeeded… he would still be killed in the detonation. She had been right down in the bowels of Bravo-6, but she hadn't known it would be like this. He was alone, ready to assault a Forerunner ship on his own, knowing exactly what the outcome would bring even in the best case. It hurt her. She had sent him on this mission, and even though it had been his idea, she still had a part in it. She was killing her friend.
"Captain?"
She was shaken from her thoughts, her voice unsteady. "Understood, Lasky. Deployment preparation is nearly complete. Estimate 15 before we're all out and heading for the surface."
"CAG Boss has let me know already. Good luck out there. And Morgan?"
"Sir?"
"Don't worry about the Chief. He'll get it done."
"I know he will." She cut the channel. Lasky's words, intended to be comforting, had only made her feel worse.
Spartans rushed into the bay a squad at a time, going for independent Pelicans. Some split off from each other, running to Broadswords that had been set aside and loaded with mixed loadouts. Pelicans spooled up to a powerful whine. Gunship variants had crew check them over before piling into them, the weapons moving on powered turrets and preparing for take off to support ground element. Past that, she could see a pair of AC-220 Vulture heavy gunships spooling up, their heavy ventral thrusters roaring and sending hot air across the deck before jet blast deflectors came up and redirected it all up into a series of vents that came online to suck the superheated air out of the deck and back into the climate control center for processing and cooling. They were slow, so they'd be leaving immediately, attempting to make as much progress as they could before the rest of the strike force got to the ground.
Crown was one of the last teams to show up in the bay. August led them in, his imposing stature painting a picture that reminded her of how big Jorge had been. She looked over at them, and August glanced over his shoulder at the rest, nodding toward the Pelican they'd be in. They split off, and he came to her.
"We're the last of them. Soon as we button up, we can start getting out there. Any new orders?"
She looked up at him, frowning. "No. Briefing for ground force will come en route. Deployment zones will be assigned by operators on Infinity. Landing zones are expected to be near Tucson, Arizona, URNA. There's a facility in New Phoenix that's sending a distress call as well, a few squads in Charlie will be diverted there to supplement the Marine garrison. Rest of you will spread out from your landing area and work your way in towards New Phoenix, clear it out as you go."
He shifted a bit. "Ma'am, that's a lot of ground for us to cover."
She almost smiled at that. "What do Spartans do when there's trouble, Paul?"
"We run towards it," he replied.
"Yes, you do. Monsoon will vector from the ship as your primary combat controller, but with no new orders, head towards the sound of fighting. Always. It's what we do."
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
If you meet up with another fireteam, you can figure out where to go from there until Monsoon changes it." Another nod, and she went on. "Above all else, be careful. You're Spartans, but you're not infallible."
That gave him pause. August had always been calm and collected, and her observations of Crown in Wargames scenarios prior to her showdown with Vegas that day had showed him as a commanding presence in more than just stature. During the war, he'd been an ODST weapons specialist, already a monster of a man even before the augmentations turned him into a behemoth capable of doing something even few Spartans could do; at one point wielding two SAWs under his arms and firing them like a mobile weapons platform, and while not exactly viable, it was possible in a pinch. His ATLAS armor was rugged and reliable, allowing him to sit in cover and take hits, suppressing whatever came, but if needed, he would be her shadow when she stormed into the thick of it, ready to finish tearing apart whatever her shotgun didn't. More than once, he'd survived wounds that would've killed other men, and had completed the mission always. She was more than lucky she'd gotten his skillset when she'd come aboard, and more than just a valuable ally, he had become her friend, introducing her to other hobbies while she'd been aboard, before everything had gone to shit. He'd even taught her how to box, but she was still learning on that front.
Before he could respond, she heard the warning alarm that indicated the deck was transitioning to launch configuration, nonessential crews moving to specially marked areas to protect themselves from hot jetwash and to get them out of the way of recovery and launch lanes. Looking back at him, she jerked her head towards the bird Crown had gone to. "Get to your bird, Spartan. We're out of time."
"Good luck, Morgan. Don't let us get cooked down there."
"Not on your life, big man."
He jogged off, disappearing into the bay as it sealed shut. Morgan climbed into her Sabre, the canopy sliding back and sealing with the cockpit railing, and her seat sliding forward on its rails. The battery was already started, primary and secondary generators running. A hiss as the electrical power was disconnected, and the Sabre hummed with its own power. The engines were fed as the primary reactor came online, and they started to roar with power, from the outboard engines out to the primary engines, a haze of heat occluding the area behind the big fighter. The HUD came online, and the displays on her dash came next, updated from the original Sabre's software to something more modern that the Broadsword used.
She had trained on the Broadsword simulators a few times on their initial slipspace journey, most of the actions familiar with a new look. Weapons were armed, datalinks primed, IFF activated, and comms channels were synced. Primary was flight ops, where she'd get her orders. Secondary was the Broadsword flight leads. Tertiary was the Pelican force that was carrying the majority of Infinity's Spartan compliment to the ground.
Just like how things had happened on the Forward Unto Dawn over the Ark all those years ago, magnetic clamps came down from the ceiling on tracks, picking up any airframes not in the launch corridors and holding them aloft where spaces were taken, or slotting them into empty areas. Morgan's Sabre was picked up and moved into place near the front of one of the corridors, a crew member quickly coming over and ensuring that the launch bar on her nose landing gear was set up. A moment passed, a loud thunk rattled the ship, and suddenly it pitched up slightly.
The crewman scampered off back to his jet blast deflector, hunkering down and putting both hands up with thumbs up signals. Morgan looked back to her displays, activating the comms for flight ops. "Ops, Crown Actual. Standing by on the cat. Advise when ready."
A deep voice came through, one that she hadn't heard since the last time she'd been in the Sabre. "Didn't think I'd ever see you in a bird again, Noble."
Her brain took a second to give up. "Caesar? That you?"
The man that had been Lieutenant Marcus Gibson, Ranger flight's leader during the battle over the Ark, responded with a bit of amusement in his voice. "Affirm, ma'am. Working a squadron on this big girl for a bit now, but not taking part in this drop with you, so I thought I'd make myself useful. Friendly face and all that."
"I'll take all the help I can get for this one."
"Happy to give it if you need it. You still rocking Noble for this flight, ma'am?"
"Negative, Caesar. Noble retired when the war ended. New callsign now is Crown."
"I'll make a note of it. I'll be your point of contact for this mission, got a line directly to the CAG, couple of additional Broadswords are being loaded up with more mixed munitions, ready for support when you call it. Your Spartans have priority tasking on the ground. If you need more birds launched, say the word and you'll get what you need."
"Much appreciated." Ahead of her, three Broadswords sat in line, one of them pushing its throttle to max and shaking for a moment as the thrust tried to push it out of its housing on the catapult track. A few moments passed, and it was released, launching forward and out into the stars. Three more catapult tracks to her left were doing similar operations, and with each new ship launched out of the hangar, the track would advance forward, the next ship in line repeating the procedure.
As she lined up in the forward most spot, she watched her display, the software running her through the steps. Pull up the hook on the nose gear, take tension. When she flipped the switch, the Sabre shuddered as it tried to pull up the nose gear's hook, and was locked into place. Push throttle to military power, zero controls. She eased the throttle forward until it was at the gate between military and max. The pedals worked under her feet, and she pushed the stick around in a circle twice, making sure nothing was failing. Advance to max power, signal to shooter. Pushing the throttle all the way forward, the Sabre started to shake more violently than before, the nose dipping ever so slightly as it strained against the catapult mechanism. Looking to her right, she could see a single crewman in a bubble on the deck, looking at her with both hands up.
Bringing her hand up to her visor, she gave the shooter a quick salute, and watched as his right hand dropped out of view quickly, and then came back up. A second later, and she looked back ahead just in time for the Sabre to push her back against her seat with the force that only a catapult shot could do. Another second and she was outside of the ship, pulling to the right and linking up with the three Broadswords that had been ahead of her in an orbit just off of Infinity's left side.
Ships were launching four at a time, comprised of Pelicans and the rest of their Broadsword escorts. She keyed her comm to Caesar again. "Caesar, Crown is in the black. Do I have you all to myself for this mission?"
"Yes ma'am, you do. Status is noted, lighting up your beacon. Rest of the Broadswords should be vectoring in on you as soon as they launch. Pelicans will be standing off in the shadow of the ship, just in case anything tries to come at you before you're on your way and picking up speed."
"Understood. Estimated time until all birds are up?"
"Just a moment… looks like there's still a couple of stragglers from both parties. At this rate, three minutes, max."
A glance down at her datalink showing who was and wasn't airborne, and she went back to him. "Copy all. Switching to channel twelve to link up with flight leads."
"I'll be eavesdropping if you need me."
Switching back to her secondary net, she called in to those airborne. "All transport aircraft standby for space to ground transit. Three minutes to step off, five more to the atmosphere, two to dirt. Leads sound off as you enter the bubble."
The Pelicans called in first, a string of voices that let her know who was listening and who wasn't.
"Titan flight checking in."
"Goblin flight checking in."
"Knight flight checking in."
Another voice that she knew well came on last, and she hung on the words as Hocus responded, her accent standing out. "Wizard flight, checking in."
Morgan carried on without dwelling on her wife's voice. "Pelican flight leads established, update state via datalink when all birds are up. Broadswords sound off."
The Broadsword pilots would be maintaining the same names as their fireteams, and each Spartan flight lead responded quickly.
"Jackhammer checking in."
"Tsunami checking in."
"Raven checking in."
Satisfied with the check in progress, Morgan settled into the seat, flexing her fingers on the stick and throttle. "All Broadswords established. Set operational stance Able Sentry, set navigation mode for reentry."
The Broadswords and Pelicans started shifting into place, a choreographed dance of ships sliding past one another in the zero gravity void as the Broadswords took the lead and scattered around the Pelicans in the center. Morgan slid into place at the head of the formation, her Sabre looking out of place among the most modern designs the UNSC had. It was a shadow of the war, and so was the woman piloting it.
Stragglers flitted into place quickly, and all ships were accounted for. Keying her comm again, she was speaking to Caesar. "All birds are up, beginning transit."
"Roger, Crown. I'll keep you appraised on the fight up here. Caesar out."
In the skies over Arizona in the United Republic of North America, a swarm of fireballs were hurtling toward the ground, painting long trails of flame behind them as they pushed through the atmosphere at speed. Dropping from orbit was no easy task, and no chatter was on any net as all of the pilots put all of their focus on surviving reentry, something that could always go wrong if they let it get away from them.
Helljumpers might go feet first into Hell, but the UNSC's pilots rode the dragon all the way down.
The first fireball started to change trajectory, the rest following it closely as a mixture of friction and thicker air slowed down the Sabre, the flame licking at it and dying down as Morgan continued to slow the fighter. Dropping through hypersonic, down to supersonic, and finally, into subsonic, a cloud of vapor passed over the Sabre from the rear and moved forward as it slowed further, multiple sonic booms sounding and rolling across the arid desert two hundred miles south of New Phoenix.
A quick glance at her data link showed no birds had been lost, nor any non-green status lights indicating failures. All of them heard her voice as she gave her first orders of the battle. "Pelican flights, your drop zones are marked. The fighters will sweep ahead and check for anything that might impede landing. As soon as you're clear, circle east toward Joint Spaceport Leonard Haywood and refuel, start bringing in Marine forces and vehicles."
All of her Pelican leads squawked confirmation. They had their orders. The Broadswords would have theirs.
"Broadswords, you're on me. Go offensive spread, activate ground scanners, ready datalinks for transmission to Infinity. Pass over at best speed, head back at five miles and prepare to receive tasking."
More green lights winked, and she pushed her throttle forward as the Broadswords spread out in a long line abreast, weapons armed and ground scanning radar activated. Optical and thermal sensors embedded in the belly were already marking landmarks and making a map of the area, updating the onboard navigation database with information that was up to date to the second, rather than minutes or hours.
With the combat aircraft accelerating back into the transonic bubble, another series of sonic booms was sent out across the wide open terrain. Tucson was only a minute out, and New Phoenix a few more minutes past that. They'd get plenty of intel before the Pelicans even started their drops.
Passing over Tucson, the fighters entered a slow, sweeping left turn to the northwest, and Morgan watched as data from each fighter swarmed into her system. Multiple threat assessments by onboard AI subroutines were brought into play. Dozens of signatures matching that of known Forerunner constructs, but whatever had brought them here had bugged the hell out.
New Phoenix was packed with signatures, though, all of them spreading out from the area where the distress beacon was sounding. Even from above, she could see the harsh orange glow of Forerunner weapons discharging, and a moment later, she saw something coming right at her.
"Break! Ground fire!" Each Broadsword went evasive, diving or climbing as they twisted through the sky and continued on in the same general direction. Immediately, she sent word back to the rest. "New Phoenix is hot, Forerunner signatures numbering in the hundreds, facility being overrun. Ground fire to be expected, terrain mask or use buildings as cover on your way in. Tucson less intense. Yokai, say status."
One of the pilots from the two Vultures that had gone out with them responded quickly. "Yokai, on station, 10 miles south of Tucson. Where do you want us, ma'am?"
"Shift priority to New Phoenix. You're gonna be close air support for the beacon's facility, clear out some of the constructs outside and make a landing zone for the Pelicans. As soon as they're off, you're free to prosecute targets as needed, but be wary of more ground fire."
"Yokai moving to prosecute, ETA 15 minutes."
The channel cut, and by now, they had passed the five mile mark. Turning back around, all of the Broadswords mirrored her perfectly, and they started their second run back through, climbing before inverting and going in one by one, strafing the ground outside of the facility's gates on anything that was big, silver, and glowing orange.
Morgan didn't participate in the attack run, watching as twin geysers of dirt, fire, debris, and whatever they hit was sent up. Keen eyes saw more than a few Forerunner Knights get toasted. She reached back out to Caesar. "Caesar, Crown. We're committed. Status of the facility?"
"Standby, Crown." He cut out, and was gone for almost a full minute before coming back. "Update: facility is being overrun, multiple slipspace portals have opened inside of and around the facility, Covenant Remnant and Forerunner constructs reported emerging from these portals."
Morgan cursed. "Understood, I'll ensure that squads start their trek in soon." Switching channels, she called out to the two Pelican flights that had been assigned to New Phoenix after the situation had been updated on their initial flight in. "Wizard, Goblin, pick up the pace. Facility is considered priority one. Unload your Spartans as soon as possible and bug out. Thinned the herd, but ground fire is only gonna get worse in the time it takes for us to reorient for new runs."
Both Hocus and the other pilot responded with short, clipped affirmatives, her wife's familiar drawl settled into a level tone that was all business. "Aye, ma'am. ETA sub-five mike, four squads diverting."
One of the Broadswords finished its arcing turn and came back around in a shallow dive for one of the open streets where Marines on the ground had withdrawn. Red smoke was billowing from a pair of dropped smoke grenades, drifting in the wind. Morgan tuned into their channel as the Broadsword screamed under the lazy orbit she had made.
"-West of the smoke! Keep fire west of the smoke! Multiple large constructs advancing west to east!"
The Broadsword pilot was quick to respond. "I have visual."
"Roger, you're cleared hot!"
That was all that the Spartan at the controls needed. Augmented eyes picked out the small targets on the ground as if they were the size of a barn, their hand twitched ever so slightly and dipped one of the wings, adjusting their strafing path, and they pulled down on the trigger.
Two seconds of sustained cannon fire rattled out of the twin autocannons with a deep chatter, dirt and debris kicking up as the rounds impacts. Plenty of them missed, but that was too be expected. Precision wasn't what guns were used for. Saturating a small area on the ground was, and the tight circle that the rounds were splashing in was suddenly yanked to the west as the pilot pulled the stick again. Several Elites disappeared alongside one of the Knights as the rounds hit home.
Their advance was halted for a moment as they reoriented their attention on the fighter. Plasma bolts and hard light rose up after the Broadsword as it raised the nose and corkscrewed out of view behind one of the skyscrapers of New Phoenix's skyline. Before the first Broadsword's engines had faded, another was taking its place, getting the information from the Marine on the ground as they made their own run in.
Stragglers got through in the time between each run, and the Elites in charge must have decided it was suicide to stay out here. Instead of returning fire in cover, they charged, shields taking fire from the Marine garrison and flickering to life. Several were gunned down, and the Marines were holding their own, but now the noose was closing and the precious seconds between each run was leaving the Marines exposed.
Cursing, Morgan keyed her mic. "Marine JTAC, standby for missile barrage. Next Broadsword, level off and skip this run."
Both of them replied quickly, the JTAC sounding more than a little concerned at the rate the enemy forces were closing the hundred feet of open ground that made up the facility's main parking lot. A twitch of her hand to the left and the Sabre rolled onto its back before she pulled back on the stick. The positive Gs started loading on her as she grunted, thumbing the weapon select hat on her stick and selecting the Medusa missiles, and she lined up the targets below as close as she could.
Medusa missiles were missiles that required lock on to be precise, meant for anti-air combat, or if in the presence of a laser designator, it could lock on to those. Now, there was no designator, and she didn't trust anybody else to do something like this.
Dropping altitude fast from the 10,000 feet she had been sitting at, she pulled back on the throttle and made a few more adjustments, before pressing the trigger four times, putting in a little bit of yaw between each press.
Four missiles rocketed out of their housing, each one igniting their rocket motor and diving towards the ground. Elites and Knights continued to sprint forward, and some would reach the Marines, but the rest? They would have a bad day.
All four impacted within a second, the shockwaves of the explosions rolling across the parking lot and setting off several car alarms. Multiple enemy combatants were killed outright, and large holes were left in the asphalt below that would make continued advances tricky as they tried to maneuver around them. The ones that had gotten through were either thrown off balance or stunned by the concussive force of the explosions. Marines continued to hose them down, and Morgan pulled back on the stick again, sending the Sabre back into the sky on jets of flame as she pushed the throttle back to max.
All that she had just done, though, was for nothing. The JTAC came on the radio again, voice an octave higher than before with gunfire in the transmission. "They're coming from inside the facility! We're about to get sandwiched! Reque-" Whatever he was going to say was cut off with a choked sound and a dull thud as the round that hit him put an end to the Marine. Looking over her shoulder at the ground below, she saw the advancing enemy force meeting one coming out of the facility, the Marines being cut down as if they were nothing now that they had been flanked.
With a curse, she returned to her loitering orbit. "All Broadswords, wave off from the attack. Tsunami, return to Tucson, check in with Crown Two."
"Yes ma'am, Tsunami moving to BP Throne."
Switching back to Caesar, she didn't waste time waiting for a response. "Caesar, assume facility lost. Spartans on the ground in two mikes. Do you have contact with anybody inside?"
A pause. "...Negative Crown. Nothing going in or out except that beacon. Possible jamming in effect? Slipspace portal interfering with the interior's electronics? No clue."
"What about Tucson?"
"I've got another of my people in contact with Spartan August. Heavy contact in Tucson, says they've spotted at least two of those Leviathans you've encountered before, but they're making good progress."
"Good. Anything else?"
"No, I don't- Wait, new transmission. Reports… Crown Two reporting a triple-A battery just came online in a courtyard near where Shamrock touched down, nothing we've seen before but definitely Forerunner."
Her blood chilled and she immediately started transmitting on the other channel. "Tsunami, Triple-A expectant in your AO!"
"We're already seeing a hail of shots coming up at the Pelicans, one of them took a glancing hit, trailing black smoke. They're waving off. Orders?"
Caesar waited as Morgan went on, giving orders on the fly. "Wave off. Until one of the teams can get in there and bring it down, it's too risky to try and support. Only do runs when it's absolutely necessary."
"Tsunami copies."
Back to Caesar, she cursed again, looking back down at the ground below as if expecting another one to come online. "Is Infinity in position to provide thermal scans of the ground?"
"Negative, too much interference either way. We'll reach out to ODP Las Vegas and see what we can get, but don't expect too much, they just committed to the fight with that big ass battleship."
"Understood, Caesar. Get me anything the moment you know it. Crown out."
This wasn't just skirmishes like they'd experienced on Requiem. This was turning into a full on war zone. Even now, she could still see people fleeing on the ground, carrying their belongings in hand. The enemy forces weren't looking at them, only having eyes for the facility and its contents. Collateral damage was always a risk, especially given they were in downtown New Phoenix at the height of the afternoon rush hour. Cars covered the roads, and people had started booking it as soon as the Broadsword flight had made their pass overhead. Memories of the war were still fresh years later, and they knew the drill by now.
Another voice filled her ear. "Wizard flight, on approach. Touchdown two hundred meters south of main entry point."
Goblin's lead was immediately after. "Goblin flight, touching down one hundred meters west of main entry point."
Seconds passed as the Spartans on those Pelicans all rushed out, weapons up, orders barked. The opposing force had been stalled heavily by Marines and air support, but what they didn't know was that they were about to be boxed in by four fireteams of Spartans. By the time they knew what had hit them, it would be a blood bath. Engaging Spartans in close quarters was nigh on suicide.
Goblin was the first to lift off, taking to the sky with a wash of thruster fire, but Morgan didn't miss the sign of multiple streaks of hardlight rising up from the ground, filling the air with hundreds of tracers in only seconds. Goblin's pilots were able to respond quickly, on the opposite side of the facility from the anti-aircraft gun that had managed to come online.
But Wizard flight, still lifting off, was less lucky. One of the two Pelicans had been hit and was spewing smoke, the pilot trying to recover, only for one of the main thrusters to go out. It had risen about fifty meters off the ground, and when it rolled over, it went in hard, detonating in an explosion of fuel and ammunition. Nothing would be left inside of that.
When the next voice came on the channel, Morgan felt her heart seize up in a way it had never done before. "Mayday, mayday, mayday. Wizard One hit. Losing power and going in, three hundred meters to the north."
Amber Bailey's voice was level as she nursed her stricken bird down to the ground, covered in people, cars, and any other number of obstacles. She had flown birds with worse damage than this, had gotten her callsign for the magic she could work behind the stick, was more than capable of something like this.
But as the Pelican started to level out slightly, still dropping altitude, one of the rear thrusters went out, exploding in a way that sent the bird into a flat spin and shearing off a portion of the tail. Amber didn't have time to say any further status, working the thruster angling as hard as she could to shift back into VTOL mode. The sink rate was arrested, but the spin was not, and the last thing Morgan saw of her wife's Pelican was the sight of it spinning off out of sight behind a skyscraper, and then it was gone.
Time seemed to stop, and she was disbelieving as she waited for her wife's voice to come back through her earpiece. Thick black smoke poured out as the wind carried it away from the crash site, obscuring any sight of it even as Morgan attempted to get an eye on the downed bird from the sky. It was completely hidden by the smoke, and it had gone down in a parking lot. Debris was scattered in its wake as one of the wings had been ripped off, a trail of fire from a fuel leak, and who knew what else.
Something came from Morgan that eclipsed the anguish she'd felt when she'd lost Noble, even when she'd lost the Master Chief. Hammering her fist against the cockpit interior, she howled at the uncaring sky above.
