The Rabbit and the Wolfe
Back again for another chapter of Halo goodness! Sorry for the long wait but life got in the way again. We are dropping back into the action as Blue Team lands on Tribute to deal with the growing Insurrectionist front. Enjoy the action!
13: Silent but Hyper Leathal
December 20, 2561
UNSC Infinity, S-deck, Hangar 15-B
Epsilon Eridani System
1440 hours
The Infinity was currently holding position on the dark side of Tribute's single moon, Emese. While the idiom "dark" or "far side of the Moon" was somewhat of an outdated concept, considering all that Humanity had accomplished since they first took to stars centuries ago, the phrase was still accurate.
"Remind me why we have to toss ourselves out of a perfectly good bird again?" Sandra asked, a bored look on her face. She was currently decked out in her purple MJOLNIR armor, sans helmet. That, she was using to catch the playing cards, like a miniature solo game of gravball. So far, she had only missed four times. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself, she thought few failures were scattered on the ground like confetti, forgotten.
"Because," Fred spoke up as he poured over the weapon lockers. "That's the plan." That brought a peel of laughter from the youngest member of Blue Team.
"Ha, good one Fred. The last 'plan' you had threw me into an ice wall!" Fred frowned behind his helmet, finally settling on a DMR with a Recon sight. He had a feeling that the tight corners of their AO would render any of the long-range scopes a pain to use. Ensuring the weapon was in working order, he allowed the magnetic strip on his back to take hold of it before setting off in search of another suitable weapon, forcing the blonde's comment to go unanswered.
Heavy footfalls dully rang out across the empty hangar, drawing the attention of all three Spartans. Kelly moved purposefully across the room, armed with an assault rifle and her shotgun, Oathsworn. She was one of the last ones to gear up because she had to wrangle a clingy, stubborn Sangheili child. Amber had just been reunited with her parents and was not eager to be separated again so soon. The scout had more than once wished she was fighting a Hunter bond pair…barehanded. At least then she could have at least attempted to beat the creatures into submission. With Amber, all she had were her words and gentle touches, neither of which she was fluent with. Eventually, she had coaxed her daughter to go with Dr. Cassidy, much to the Spartan's relief. Maybe I've been underestimating my parenting skills? But that was a question for another time. For now, she had a mission to complete.
Resting her rifle next to her lover's older, but still violently effective, BR55, Kelly swiped a small handful of cards and began her own game of toss. Sandra pouted, but gave the white Spartan a playful bump with her shoulder.
"Oi, those were mycards!"
"That's right; they were." Kelly replied mischievously, her small smile hidden behind the opaque visor. Rolling her eyes, Sandra's pout melted away like titanium under a plasma bombardment. With nothing more to do until Chief returned, she allowed her mind to wander. God, she's so beautiful, even in full armor. Mom, I'm so glad she fell off that cliff. Well, not so much the fall, that had to hurt like hell. I meant the hormone…you know what, it doesn't matter. She's gorgeous, can kick some serious ass, and she's mine. That familiar warmth bubbled in her chest whenever thoughts of her bunny entered her mind. But what's next for us? As much as I would love to stomp in Covenant skulls with her till I'm old and gray, we couldn't do that to Amber. Spartans aren't known to have the safest job in the galaxy. And our daughter has been through more than enough. The safest bet would be to retire. But can Spartans even retire? She gave a sidelong glance towards Kelly and the others. Would the UNSC let them? Would ONI? Her mood instantly soured as if someone had urinated in her canteen. Those bastards have a tendency to take 'termination of employment' literally. I have serious doubts they would let a bunch of Spartans run around unsupervised. Especially under that bitch, Osman.
"What's wrong?" Kelly asked from beside her. Damn it, Sandra thought. Her sour mood must have seeped into her facial expressions.
"Nothing." Sandra retorted, trying to play it off. Kelly turned to face her, arms crossed. The message was clear: Really? Well, I don't believe that for a second. Releasing a long sigh through her nose, Sandra looked straight into where the woman's deep sapphires were held behind her gold visor.
"You really want to know?" The shorter Spartan pressed. A nod. "ONI. I don't really want to talk about it." Any further response was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. Commander Palmer came into view first, carrying what appeared to be two dull gray oversized briefcases. Chief stepped into view not a second after, towering almost half a foot taller than the Commander in his green Mjolnir armor.
"Situation's changed, Blue Team." Palmer declared, laying the cases on the table. Fred, Linda and the others shared a glance. None of them liked surprises, especially right before an op.
"Ma'am?" Linda questioned. Chief rejoined his team as Palmer spoke.
"Originally, the plan was to send you in with the other ground teams. That was before we spotted the Front orbiting Tribute." The Infinity was the UNSC's flagship. Its biggest, most heavily armed vessel ever created by human hands. Normally, taking on a cobbled fleet of skiffs, corvettes, prowlers and a few frigates would not be much of a challenge. Not unless they were packing nukes. The Spartans picked up on her train of thought.
"But the Infinity is compromised." Fred said, voicing his observation.
"Right." Palmer acknowledged. "That's where our problem lies. Coms are back online, barely, but our closest reinforcements are half a day out. Even with our probes, we're in the dark." She popped the latches on the heavy cases, throwing their lids back until they locked into place. "We need eyes and ears down there. Now. We can't afford to wait." Operations without sufficient intel tended to go south. Fast. And Blue Team wanted to avoid that, if at all possible.
"How do we get to the surface?" Kelly asked. Sandra nodded in assent. It was a sound question. If the Front had a blockade, getting to the surface may be a challenge.
"Drop pods. Specifically, the long-range stealth kind." Palmer couldn't keep the smile out of her voice as Sandra groaned and cursed under her breath. As ODST's, Sandra and Palmer had spent more time in pods than anyone else in the room. Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles, more informally known as drop pods or 'eggs', are enclosed capsules that carry an occupant from high orbit to the surface. The long-range stealth version (LRSOIP) are used to fire occupants from slipspace to their target. Or in a pinch, can be used to slip a team behind an enemy blockade to the planet below. The ride was often quick, bumpy as hell, and for a few unlucky troopers, fatal. If there was one thing she was grateful for about being a Spartan it was being rid of those damn pods. And here she was, years later, about to climb back into the claustrophobic fuckers. "Since the Infinity can't expose itself, we'll slingshot you around the moon. With any luck, you'll land around a klick or so outside of the city, completely undetected.
"Except for the impact of five drop pods carrying fully equipped Spartans." Sandra interjected snidely. The Commander frowned behind her helmet, but the woman did have a valid point.
"True." She said, conceding the point. "We can only hope their too busy to investigate." Palmer didn't like placing lives of any soldier in the hands of things like faith and hope, but in this case, there was no other choice. "I know the last place any of you want to be is strapped into a metal pod careening towards the surface, so I brought you a few gifts." She gestured to the table, where a mixture of suppressors, active camouflage modules, and other assorted tech lay nestled safely within its casing. "Good luck, Blue Team." With a final nod to the Spartans, the Commander took her leave, her armored boots heavily thumping their way across the hangar deck.
Linda was the first one to the table, her armored frame practically shaking with glee. It wasn't often Spartans got to play with such toys, but when they did…well, that's when the fun really began. Moving like a well-oiled machine, she quickly encompassed half a table, her fingers flowing like water over the available ordinance. By the time Fred took a place at the table, she had stripped Nornfang down to its skeleton and laid it out, exchanged her M6H out for twin Tactical magnums with integral suppressors and was currently fitting a suppressor to her BR85. Wow, she moves fast, Sandra thought as she made her way to the table. With five Spartans and all their gear on one table it was cramped, but doable.
Her older style BR55 was the first of her arsenal to receive its own mute button. Well, that's more of a misnomer, as suppressors don't make weapons completely silent, just reduces the noise and presence of the weapon to more manageable levels. But it's better than letting the entire Front know where we are. Reluctantly, she replaced her M6D with a Tactical magnum. Though they shared the same ammunition type, Sandra preferred the 'feel' of the larger handgun. Compared to the older variant, which desperately tried to break her wrist each pull of the trigger, the H variant felt like she was throwing pebbles. But a rock in the right place could still kill a soldier, and that's the only thing which mattered. Finally, she settled on the M20, the post war variant of the beloved SMG. Fully kitted out for urban engagements, she joined the others by the door.
All the other members of Blue Team had the same idea, focusing on short to medium range weapons. None of her teammates had brought anything stronger than a fragmentation grenade. On the one hand, they could move quickly, and stealthily, thanks to their camouflage units. But if they got bogged down in a firefight, they could be in serious trouble.
"Ready?" Chief asked, looking to each of the Spartans around him. Four acknowledgement lights winked on his HUD. Giving them a slight nod, he led the way towards the SOEIV bay. It was time to drop feet first into hell.
UNSC Infinity, S-deck, SOEIV Bay 4
1500 hours
Kelly felt cramped. No, cramped was being shoved into a pelican with a dozen of her brothers and sisters. This was worse. She felt like she was being crushed, even inside her armor. While she was never claustrophobic, she could understand why ODSTs hated these things. Why Sandra hated them. It was one thing to charge headlong into the enemy. It was another thing entirely to climb into what was essentially a metal coffin, blast yourself into a wall of AA fire designed to shorten your trip dramatically, crash land and then charge headlong into enemy fire. Spartans may be walking, talking tanks, but ODST were downright insane. Crazy bastards. Shaking her head to clear the errant thoughts, she tapped into the TEAMCOM.
"Systems are green. Safeties disengaged. Ejection tube…armed." She relayed. With the hatch closed there was nothing she could do but wait. She was the fourth to report in. Only John had yet to prepare for launch. Though she couldn't see anything beyond the small viewports built into the body of the pod, Linda told the others that technicians were computing a few last-minute adjustments. As the minutes ticked by, Kelly swiftly moved from annoyed to agitated. Tapping out a silent beat on her leg had quickly worn out its welcome. Though she hated the phrase when it came to her lover, 'the mission always comes first' suddenly found itself with much more merit. She wanted to get down there. She wanted to help others, to take the fight to the enemy. Sitting up here would accomplish nothing.
"This is Blue Leader. Blue Team is ready to launch." Like a glass of cold water on a hot summer day, Chief's familiar voice eased her fraying patience.
"Blue Team, this is Lasky. The Infinity is in no shape to clear a path. Once you leave this ship you're on your own."
"Understood." If their stealth coating failed or if they were spotted before entry, the Infinity would need a broom to recover the Spartans.
A deployment counter appeared on the holographic display on her pod and was mirrored in her HUD. Thirty seconds before they launched. After that, the Spartans would remain radio silent until they landed planet side to avoid detection. With the Infinity crippled such as it was, would hold position behind the moon in an effort to draw as little attention as possible. For the next twelve hours, they would be the only forces from the UNSC Infinity on Tribute. Not a comforting thought.
20 seconds…
Fear crept silently up her spine, causing the woman to shiver. She feared not only for herself and her team, but her lover and daughter who would be out of reach for the entire duration of this flight. Against all logic, she wished they were dropping via a stealth Pelican, just to be able to hold Sandra's hand. Some semblance of comfort, reassurance. But like breathing in complete vacuum, it was impossible.
10 seconds…
She inhaled deeply and held it. How could Sandra do this time after time?! The docking clamps above her disengaged with a loud hiss. Now the pod would be able to drop through its tube unhindered. Kelly wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
Like a flick of a switch or a snap of the fingers, her pod plummeted through its tube. If Kelly wasn't a seasoned soldier with over three decades of battle under her belt she would have screamed bloody murder. Instead, she gripped the handholds with so much force, her knuckles turned white. Her organs surged upwards like a tidal wave and she swore she could taste a lung. Or was it her kidneys? The scout did not have much time to mull over the jumbled state of her internal organs as the titanium gray of the flagship suddenly fell away, giving way to the unending cosmos. Releasing the breath she had been holding, she allowed herself to take in the grandeur of the void that surrounded her pod like a cloak. She was momentarily ejected from her musings as her maneuvering thrusters engaged, the pinpricks of blue light angling and accelerating the pod to achieve a successful slingshot around the moon.
Compared to the Pelican ride down to Teash, the fierce suborbital burn to break Emese's gravitational pull was gentle, almost to the point of being nonexistent. Kelly glanced down at her readouts as her pod assumed its proper trajectory. The Infinity's probe network had done its job: mapping the Front's fleet had shown several small holes in their blockade. They were too small for a corvette or a large class prowler, but the pods had plenty of room to spare. If all went according to plan, they would slip right past, the enemy none the wiser. But if their sensors were sophisticated enough or if they flew too close to a window… Amber becomes an orphan, again. And Kelly would not let that happen, though ironically, she had no control over the present situation. She tapped out a few commands, bringing up the locations of the rest of her team. The small screen displayed them flying in a loose V-formation, right on target. As the first shadow slowly crept into the small cabin, the scout glanced up at the small corvette that swallowed the entirety of the observational window.
Up close, the ships showed their age, as plasma burns and missile detonations marred their coats. Some of them were ancient, dating back to the early 2400's, according to her HUD. The buildup of years did not seem to hamper their captains, who presented each injury like a badge of honor, daring anyone to argue. Calling it a fleet would be an insult to fleets everywhere, but that did not change the facts: the Infinity would be torn apart in minutes. The veteran was shaken from her thoughts as her pod began to rumble and her HUD noted an uptick in temperature. Her first thought was that they were under attack or her pod had been breached. But none of those came to pass. No, they were just entering the upper atmosphere. She wanted to reach out to her team, to Sandra, but communications were impossible until they cleared the interference generated by the re-entry.
The pods hurtled downwards like meteors, the night air being ripped apart before them like grunts caught in a brute's rampage. Whatever gods lingered in the heavens above must have not filled their fun quota for the day because her pod began to shake so fiercely her augmented bones began to move in step with such a jarring dance. The alloy hand holds were the recipients of further abuse as her gauntlets dug deeper into them, putting them under strains they were never designed for. It this what Sandra went through on every deployment?! I'd gladly take my chances in a dropship! Least then I can actually do something about it!
"Blue 4 adjus…yo…trejecto…" Chief's voice crackled through her helmet speakers. The message was garbled, but she followed the command. She had fallen out of formation due to the steep angle of entry and was in danger of careening completely off course. Her pod was brought back into formation with a few taps of the keys and allowed her organs to finally settle. Mostly. When the pods hit the 50-meter mark, cyan flame seemingly burst from thin air as the retrorockets in the Spartans' pods activated, drastically slowing the metal coffins. Kelly and the others slammed into the bowels of a shallow ravine, throwing up dust, dirt and rocks like confetti. Blinking away the abrupt impact, she hit the hatch release. Pulling the assault rifle from its cradle inside her pod, the scout quickly fanned out, scanning the low walls with her weapon.
"All clear. Don't know for how long though." She reported via TEAMCOM, returning to her pod to scavenge weapons and ammunition.
"Our new friends might have heard us. I say we split, head for the nearest established civilization." Fred chipped in.
"Linda?"
"There's a major city roughly two klicks from here. Intel says it was rebuilt from the ruins of the former capital, Casbah. Local chatter refers to it as…Humanity Mall." Kelly had no clue how her sister had got on top of the ridge so fast, but she didn't bother to ask. She gave a short not to a set of purple armor, which was swiftly returned. They were on a mission, kisses and cuddles would have to wait.
"Copy that. Linda, give us a waypoint." Chief said, nimbly scaling the sheer rock face despite the Mjolnir's bulk. Clipping a final fragmentation grenade to her waist, Kelly activated her night vision, painting her HUD green. Offering her weapons one final check, she followed the rest of Blue Team out of the ditch onto an open plateau. The wind picked up dust, drawing lazy patterns with, like an artist practicing a new technique. With any luck, no one will have noted the pods come in. If they did, Kelly hoped they would already be deep within the city by then. If not, this mission would get much more interesting. With only a cursory glance to make sure they were all present, John gestured to fall out. They had a long trek ahead. This op was just getting started.
Humanity Mall, Tribute
Epsilon Eridani System
1740 hours
Megan peered around the corner slowly, doing her best to control her ragged breathing and jerky movements. The street ahead lay empty, dark and foreboding in the waning hours of the evening. Flames settled in the burnt-out shells of automobiles, shadows flickering along the walls from one metal berth to the next. She was safe, at least momentarily. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slid to the ground, her legs finally giving out after hours of running and hiding. What had started out as a dream vacation had dissolved into a nightmare. She was all alone, in a city under attack, and as far as she knew, no one was coming to save them. She laughed mirthlessly as she took in the state of herself. Her once beautiful and flowing sundress was now nothing but a dirty rag, clinging uselessly by a patch of cloth that refused to give. Cuts, bruises and scraped marred her skin, a reminder of each fall she had taken, each mistake she had made. Dried blood was caked to the bottoms of her feet as shattered glass and broken pavement did its best to impede her progress. But even the bullets and wounds couldn't hide the shame she felt. She had stolen clothes from a nearby shop a day or two before. Even thinking about it now filled her with embarrassment. Inane as it was given the current situation, she couldn't just shut down her morals on a whim. Her parents had raised her to be better than this.
Kevin, where are you, baby? When she woke up a few hours later after being blown through a window, she searched for him everywhere. After searching high and low, she found absolutely no sign of him, as if he just vanished off the face of the earth. At first, she feared he was dead, taken by the blast that rendered her unconscious, but held out hope that he had just been taken prisoner. Megan didn't want to consider which was the better option. Releasing a heavy sigh through her nose, she moved down the street, sticking to the shadows. A pair of Wasps buzzed angrily overhead, their autocannons sweeping the street, ready to shred anything that moved. To her dismay, the craft slowed to a stop a few hundred meters ahead, their ducted fan engines keeping them aloft and effectively cutting her off.
"Crap!" She hissed, ducking down behind the remains of a vehicle. The fire that blazed within bathed her in its warmth, filling her aching body with strength. She would survive, she would find Kevin and they would get out of here. Tearing a strip off her sundress, she tied her cerulean hair back in a ponytail before throwing the remains into the fire. Now, without the extra layers, the evening chill was that much sharper, burrowing into her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. Gunfire shattered the calm of the evening air, whipping the wasps into a frenzy. Their turrets leapt into action, spitting hot lead indiscriminately at the shadows behind her. Swallowing the scream that threatened to rip itself from her lungs, she crawled under the nearest car, the coarse asphalt and shattered glass digging into the vulnerable flesh of her stomach. Indistinct shouting rang out through the impromptu battlefield, mixing with the screams and moans of the dying to create a nauseating slurry of noise that would make the hardiest civilian lose their lunch.
Bullets pinged off her hiding spot as the battle surged towards her. Shouts, once muted by distance, rang with crystal clarity in such close proximity. Two soldiers rolled into her view, locked in deadly combat. Their identities were shielded by their clothing and armor, but the sounds of fist meeting flesh churned the teachers stomach once more. Flipping their positions, the soldier slammed his fist into the other man's face like a viper uncoiling to strike. Megan could only watch on, helpless, as a man was beaten to death right before her eyes. With a sickeningly wet crack, the soldier's arms went slack as the life left his body. The lone remaining soldier was gone in a heartbeat, his enemy already forgotten. Salty tears stung her eyes like liquid daggers as bursts of golden death shone light upon the body, as if trying to resuscitate the lost soul. The patch on his shoulder marked him as Tribute militia, the gold and white crest rendered black as it soaked up the blood of its wearer. The man's helmet lay useless beside him, knocked away as his killer scrambled back into the fight. Barely out of his teens, his glassy eyes stared off into the nothingness beyond, face twisted in horror, a firsthand witness to his final moments.
Rage flooded Megan's mind, crushing the fear and horror that welled within. The notion that this soldier, this boy's, life had been wasted, cast aside like it was nothing was unforgivable! Her muscles twitched angrily, like a bull straining the chains that bound it, wanting not to impart knowledge but pain. She wanted to find the monster who did this and hurt him. Hurt him like he hurt this boy before her. Even as adrenaline coursed through her veins like wildfire, her grandfather's words tempered the blaze: an eye for an eye makes the world blind. Taking a moment to compose herself, the red in her vision began to fade. What could she do against trained fighters with guns? She was not suited for combat, but the classroom. This was not her fight. A plan of attack just became a plan of survival. Sticking her head out as far as she dared, Megan observed her surroundings with a sense of horrified awe. Bodies lay in the streets, warm blood pouring from open wounds. Both sides were still heavily engaged, their weapons and their focus pointed elsewhere. Spotting a blown-out building across the street, a plan slowly formed in her mind. It was rash and stupid, but the longer she remained in her spot the more likely she was to be discovered or accidently killed, neither of which appealed to her. Pulling herself out from under the mangled metal, she remained in a crouch, gathering her courage. Taking a few deep breaths through her nose, she eyed her goal, blue eyes flashing with determination. I can do this! It's just like track…with bullets. Odd, the thoughts that pass through one's mind in high-stress situations.
During a lull in the firefight, Megan shot off like a MAC, her feet pounding across the pavement as fast as her muscles could carry her. Shouts of surprise and alarm sprang from the shadows, but she didn't slow at all, even as warm blood splashed up her legs. If anything, the woman seemed to pick up speed as bullets ate at the pavement like ravenous dogs. The night air felt like ice against her skin, a million needles poking and prodding her as if she was some specimen to be dissected. Pushing the uncomfortable feeling aside, she filled her lungs to the brim with the frosty oxygen, using its plunging temperature to keep herself alert and her respiratory tract functioning. Brick, steel and glass passed in a blur as she raced through the streets, eager to put as much distance between her and any pursuers as possible. But her luck couldn't hold out forever. One of the AV-49 Wasps, a close air support VTOL, had broken off from its twin to hunt her down. And the pilot was in no mood to reason, a testament supported by its twin autocannons unleashing long bursts of lead rain. Her only saving grace was that the residential area was filled with tight corners and narrow alleys, making the pilot's hunt much more difficult. Frustrated, the pilot switched to their rocket launchers, opting to turn the entire block into a funeral pyre, like an angry deity would strike down a blasphemer.
The teacher didn't know she still had enough air to scream as the first pair of rockets detonated behind her, encompassing the entire domicile in an all-consuming hellfire. Vicious flames licked at her back, eager to devour, to feed on her flesh. Sweat clung to her body like a second skin, stinging her eyes and coating her lips. Her lungs pleaded, screamed for her to stop, to rest. But to do so now would mean certain death. First, she had to escape this death machine, an idea she didn't quite know how to turn into reality. A second pair of missiles screamed over her head, the twin explosions bringing down a small office building, blocking any further progress that way. Crap! She stumbled as she cornered at full tilt, catching herself before going head over heels into the burning wreckage. The near-constant barrage of autocannon fire forced her to keep her head down while the rockets fueled the ever-growing presence of fire and smoke that threatened to choke out whatever precious air remained. Megan paled at the realization: the pilot didn't have to kill her outright, just box her in until she asphyxiated. The Wasp was no angry god; it was a cat, delighting itself by playing with its terrified prey before it inevitably devoured it. The mere thought churned her stomach. She may have been scared out of her wits but she was not about to be a pawn in anyone's game.
Ignoring a third set of rockets, she took a sudden turn, one that hopefully would take her out of the maze of glass and steel that threatened to become her tomb. She had been running almost nonstop for ten minutes and her lungs were dying for air. The hot, smoke-infused oxygen she had been gulping down was addling her mind, slowing her reactions as it burned its way down her throat. As such, she couldn't stop herself from slamming into the metal, throwing her to the ground as it reverberated like a beacon. Her vision began to blur as her brain struggled for the oxygen it needed to survive. No…not like this… Megan didn't have long. Soon, she would fall unconscious from lack of air. From there the fire and smoke would do the rest, erasing her from memory. Just like that young man… Memories flashed by, monumental events in her life but mere pinpricks in the great tapestry that is human history. In time, even her deeds would fade, sink to the bottom as other events took their place. Life would go on, as it always had, as it always would.
The Spartans. They were Humanity's last line of defense, overcoming odds, even when everyone else had lost hope. Though she didn't know them, she owed her life to them. Without these super soldiers, Humanity would have lost the war, exterminated by the genocidal Covenant hierarchy. That was a lie. She did know one Spartan.
"Linda…" She rasped out, throat raw from smoke and overexertion. Linda was a Spartan, gave every task her all. It would be an insult to her friend if Megan didn't put forth the same effort. Squeezing her eyes shut to push out the lingering tears and sweat, she rolled onto her stomach. The smoke stung her eyes and the embers singed her sinuses, but with a monumental effort, pushed it down. It was the only way she would survive. Vaguely, she heard the aircraft buzzing overhead, ready to unleash another deadly payload. One problem at a time, Megan. Digging her nails into a small flowerbed beside her, she clawed her way back on to her feet. Grimacing in pain, she staggered from one building to the next, head spinning all the while. Each step was absolute hell, but eventually she emerged from her prison, the night air cooling the fresh blisters on her skin. Megan cracked a small smile, even as the hauntingly familiar whoosh of the fusion thrusters grew closer. Maybe there was a guardian angel looking over her shoulder.
She didn't move as the Wasp vectored into position. She had nothing left to give. It wasn't fair, but such was life. Sometimes you won and sometimes you didn't. The VTOL hovered there, as if uncertain if she was going to escape back into the burning maze of metal and glass behind her. On cue, her legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees as they could no longer support her body. The Wasp circled a few times, like a bully would taunt their imminent victim, as if determining the best way to end her. It was frustrating, agonizing.
"Just…do…it!" She wheezed out between gasps for air, glaring defiantly at the aircraft whenever it swooped into her vision. Suddenly, its entire body lit up in a shimmering, golden glow. The AV-49 stopped, just a perplexed as she was. Not a moment later, it glowed even brighter as its shields absorbed a second round. Its thrusters glowed brightly, forcing Megan to shield her eyes, as the craft turned and climbed as fast as possible. Awe filled the teacher's chest as events unfolded faster than her weakened state could keep up with. One second, that damned machine that had nearly killed her was flying away as quickly as its little tailfins could carry it. The golden outline surrounding it disappeared, where it wobbled uncontrollably for an instant before falling end-over-end until it slammed into a skyrise. The resulting explosion was, dare she say it, beautiful. The adrenaline had kept more than her legs going. It kept the contents of her stomach down. Megan heaved, the contents of the last few days coming up in a sloppy, soupy, tan mess that splattered her arms and abdomen. She took a few calming breaths, dreading her lack of water. Considering what she had just been through, water was the least of her problems. Her stomach continued to squeeze her for all she was worth as the day's events finally caught up to her. By the end, she had a pretty sizable puddle at her feet. Gross. She tried to stand, at least put some distance between her and the disgusting slop but found she didn't have the strength to move. In the end she passed out where she was, fires crackling melodically around her.
There indeed was an angel watching over her.
Humanity Mall, Tribute
2000 hours
The four remaining Spartans moved swiftly through the hollow streets, their bulky MJOLNIR armor naught but a whisper as they swam in the shadows. Linda was nowhere to be found, electing to hold up in a rooftop suite with plenty of rations and enough ammunition to down a small corvette. As Blue Team's resident sniper, the redhead knew the SRS better than anyone. Chief would even put money down that she could show the manufacturers a thing or two she picked up over her years operating in the field.
"Assist if possible, but don't telegraph your presence." John's voice rumbled through TEAMCOM.
"Affirmative." Linda responded succinctly.
"Chief," Kelly said, jumping into the conversation. "I love sightseeing as much as the next girl but wandering aimlessly through the streets is not my idea of fun." Several bursts of rifle fire cut through whatever words were on the scout's tongue, silencing any further conversation. John looked behind him, tilting his visor as if to say anything else you want to say? Embarrassed, Kelly kept her mouth shut.
"Engage active camouflage. Hold fire until we receive positive confirmation of URF forces." Three acknowledgement lights winked on his HUD, confirming his orders. The stealth systems engaged, adapting to the surrounding background and accounting for movement, allowing the UNSC super soldiers to fade from view in a few short moments. While previous editions were rudimentary, understanding of Covenant and Forerunner technologies vastly improved the viability and duration. It practically made anyone wearing it completely undetectable to visible detection. But that didn't mean the module was infallible. If used for too long they could overheat and fail, extremely unfortunate if caught in the middle of a firefight. Not to forget the fact they would show up like miniature suns for any idiot with a thermal scope. Pointing to the scout, he signaled Kelly to take point.
Sandra was crouched behind an overturned trashcan, the scope of her battle rifle centered on the head of a trooper. It wasn't often she got to sit back and just watch an engagement unfold before her. It was serene, in a sort of detached, odd way. But the blonde was never one for sitting on her butt when she could help someone. She just didn't know who to help and who head she needed to fill with lethal brass. It was frustrating! Come on bunny, hurry up! Directly or not, these monsters had a hand in placing her daughter and she wanted to get even.
"Relax." Fred whispered beside her. "Your shaking my shot." Sandra frowned behind her visor, though she didn't quite know where her hostility came from.
"Just want to help, Lieutenant."
"Amber is fine. Now, stop with the leg twitching." Sandra fell completely still, stunned. Was she that easy to read? Letting out a deep breath through her nose, she took a few moments to center herself. Focus on the mission. As much as she hated that mantra sometimes, a reminder of its importance seemed pertinent. Fate smiled upon her patience and decided to reward them, throwing up a handful of IFF tags.
"Friendlies are lit, Chief." Kelly's voice broke through the silence of their TEAMCOM. Apparently, the Spartans had come up behind the enemy. Perfect. Things were about to get interesting.
"Copy. Assist but remain silent. We need to keep our presence minimal for now." Four green acknowledgement lightswinked in his HUD as Blue Team enclosed upon the unsuspecting soldiers. The muffled bursts from their rifles tore into their mismatched armor with ruthless efficiency, shredding vital internal organs and spraying the walls red with blood. Caught completely off guard, the remaining soldiers whirled around and fired into the darkness behind them, suddenly having to fight on two fronts. Invisible to the naked eye, Kelly leapt into the growing chaos, eyeing her first target. She was on him in an instant, ripping the weapon from his hands, driving the butt of it into his helmet hard enough to crack it like an egg. The man was out before his brain could register the pain of his broken fingers. Pivoting on her heel, the scout pulled the magnum from her belt and shot two of them in the head, splattering blood and brain matter all over their fellow soldiers.
"What the f-" The woman's cry of alarm was silenced as a three-round burst caught her in the throat, giving the Front soldier a new blowhole. Any further comments came out as choked, wet gurgles as she slumped to her knees, clutching her throat. Her agony was short lived as another burst caught her in the back of the head, shoving her body to the dirt and adding her blood to the growing pool.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Kelly sidestepped a shotgun that was set to plaster her. While a weapon was dangerous in anyone's hands, the URF's lack of discipline was playing to their favor. Sliding her combat knife from its sheathe, the scout jammed the high carbon steel blade between their ribs. The wounded rebel could only whimper as his lungs slowly filled with blood. A shimmer of gold was the last thing he saw before the light left his eyes and Death took the young soul under his tattered wing. Working with the remaining militia, Blue Team quickly mopped up the few still standing. Blood and plasma settled within the grooves of their boots, a fluid reminder of what transpired here today. Her motion tracker picked up friendly contacts moving on her position. No enemy IFF's remained.
"We're clear, Chief." She reported, eyeing the approaching Tribute militia. They looked virtually dead on their feet, likely never having seen combat outside the occasional bar brawl or unruly protest, until today. But at least they were breathing, which was more than she could say for the bodies clustered around her. They peered around in the darkness, squinting to try to make out her silhouette.
"Understood." He responded, stepping up beside her and deactivating his active camo unit, revealing his olive, heavily armored frame to the Tribute troopers. The rest of Blue Team quickly followed John's lead, intentionally painting themselves as important targets.
"Holy shit, Spartans. Real Spartans!" The young man gawked openly as he stared at the soldiers towering over him.
"No way…"
"They cut through them Innies like it was nothin'!"
"Damn…" Another one muttered. Kelly shifted uneasily underneath the spotlight. She, like her brothers and sisters, never liked the attention or godlike status bestowed upon them by others. She was just a solider, following orders and completing her mission. But I have more to protect now. I have my family. And just like flipping a switch, her frown disappeared entirely, replaced by a small smile that refused to fade.
"Not to sound ungrateful, but what are Spartans doing here?" Asked the leader of their little band. His confusion was understandable. It wasn't everyday someone passed a Spartan on the street. And to his knowledge, Tribute had no Spartans, operational or otherwise.
"We received your distress call and are here to provide any assistance. Are you the commanding officer?" Chief's question took the man by surprise, as if he believed Spartans didn't do anything as menial as 'provide assistance', not when there were still monsters hiding deep in the Milky Way's closets. But he wasn't stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He shook his head sadly. "As you could probably tell, things aren't looking so hot for us right now. Our commander is in a nearby hospital. We are using it as a temporary HQ. She'll probably have intel, along with whatever else you need." Casting one last glance down the street, he waved the four Spartans on, eager to get out of the open. Ignoring the warmth still radiating from corpses around them, Blue Team once more faded from view, as if they never existed in the first place. They glanced around, confused by the sudden lack of bodies. Sandra quickly pointed out that they were still there, just that it was better for both groups if they stayed out of sight. Because as the saying goes: out of sight, out of mind. And the last thing Blue Team wanted was to be discovered before the Infinity could deploy its reinforcements. If that happened they would really be screwed. With that hurdle cleared, the troops led the way down the dark, abandoned streets, the Spartans ghosting after them like angels of Death.
Tribute Militia Temporary Headquarters, Humanity Mall, Tribute
2020 hours
Megan groggily opened her eyes, the sounds of her surroundings slowly filtering through her senses. Dull, indistinct conversations floated around her like a heavy cloud, preventing her from understanding a single word. She tried to sit up, but instantly regretted it as her head began to swim, threatening to erase the trivial amount of progress she had made and send her reeling back into the land of the unconscious.
A hand pushed her gently but insistently back down. "Woah! Easy there, mate." The voice sent pulses of relief through her, like waves cresting onto the shore. She was alive. But the last thing she remembered was passing out cold on a back street. How did I end up here?
"One of the other patrols brought you in." He answered, seeing the confusion plastered on the woman's face. "You're a lot stronger than I thought. Most of us thought you weren't going to make it." Megan frowned, the inadvertent barb digging into her pride. She wasn't a soldier. It wasn't fair to hold her to a set of standards that were so far above her own! Grinding her palms into her eyes, Megan crushed the last vestiges of disorientation that brushed up against the edges of her vision. Slowly scanning the room, her brain concluded that she was in a large lobby of some form, most likely a hospital or office building. The room was dark, heavy with dust and despair. Bright spotlights rose like pillars over the area, throwing just as much shadow as it did light. What she could see was not a welcoming sight. Frightened families who jumped at every shadow. Anxious, distrustful eyes darted from person to person, sizing them up, trying to determine if they were a threat…or a target. And watching over it all, a handful of militia, some of which seemed to have difficulties handling their own weapons. A perfect reflection of the situation. It was like looking in a mirror. And that mirror was terrifying. The calm before the storm.
The man spoke once more, pulling her gaze from the people gathered around her. "Looks pretty bad, right?" Something about the man struck her as odd. She gave him a quick once over. Young, rugged, and seemed to carry a spark of inexhaustible energy. His black and gold uniform carried the crest of the Tribute Militia: an assault rifle and cross wrenches superimposed on a set of eagle wings. C. Dubbo was stenciled across his right breast. Come to think of it, his accent was pretty noticeable.
"Your accent, it's quite familiar. Madagascar?"
The soldier gave her a knowing smile. "It's Australian, actually." They shared a brief chuckle before a shout drew their attention across the room. A grizzled looking woman was glaring in Dubbo's direction with a look that could pierce through reinforced titanium like it was paper. Megan heard the thick gulp of air as it traveled down his throat; the woman looked ready so strangle someone. She couldn't blame him as a spike of fear rippled down her own spinal vertebrae.
"Good luck." She whispered, not taking her eyes off the woman for a second.
"Guess my ass-kicking adventures in space will have to wait for another day." He gave her one more once over before walking towards the woman who would become his doom, whistling all the way. Glad he can seem happy about being chewed out. Finally having a moment to herself, she took stock of her appearance. While not entirely vain, beauty was still important to her. The clothes she had stolen were soaked in sweat, vomit and god-knows what else. The dirt and other airborne particles had clung to her sweat-soaked skin, forming a dry, grimy layer on her skin that happened to be irritable and unpleasant at the same time. Ugh. How disgusting. While her little diva ranted and raved, demanding a shower and a mani pedi, Megan knew that was impossible thing to ask. It would be selfish to put her needs above others, especially when some of them were in much more dire shape than she was. A wet towel would suit her needs for now. Eventually, the miniature brat that dwelled within got the message and quieted down.
Sandra drummed her fingers lightly on her rifle, utterly bored. If I knew I was going to be sitting around for so long, I would have brought a book. Sergeant Mathers, the woman in charge of the operations in this sector of the mall, was on top of things. Even with the greying hair, she worked her people like a seasoned drill instructor and they knew it, following her orders without complaint. According to their intel, the URF had set up patrols and checkpoints, flooding the city with bodies and mobile armor. Chief originally wanted to push through, gather all they could so the Infinity and the rest of the incoming fleet would know what they were walking into. Mathers had wisely pointed out walking headlong into that much armor was suicide, even for a veteran Spartan with active camouflage. So, a compromise was struck: Blue Team would gain access to the militia's armory and intelligence network but would help Mathers rescue civilians and route the URF from her sector until the UNSC arrived to offer its assistance.
I don't see the point, as those were our orders to begin with! Grumbling under her breath, the purple Spartan slipped out of the conference room. The meeting had come to a close anyway, Mathers was just talking semantics with her people at this point.
Chief's voice rumbled in her ear. "We move out the moment that new intel arrives." They must have finally come to a decision. Bureaucracy. A frustratingly stupid, but ultimately necessary part of planning. Even during times of war. It's what kept the supply ships filled and the assembly plants running hotas the Covenant hammered on their door. Still, just because it was necessary didn't mean she had to like it.
"Understood, Chief." She automatically responded over TEAMCOM. Hundreds of souls stared back at her, all different, but all equally afraid. A flash of heat washed over her, leaving her in an uncomfortable cocoon of humidity, temperature-regulating skin suit be damned. They were all counting on her, weather they admitted it or not. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a familiar gait. Her love came to a stop beside her, surveying the crowd with an experienced eye behind her opaque visor. She found her gaze naturally gravitating towards the families with children, her heartstrings tugging painfully at their plight.
"Is it just me or have you been particularly…annoyed as of late?" Kelly asked over their private channel.
"I've always hated bureaucracy." Sandra huffed, distasteful undertones clear in her voice.
"You do realize that the UNSC is built on it? They are inseparable." Kelly joked. Sandra rolled her eyes behind her visor but said nothing. Refugees and citizens milled about the lobby, their conversations becoming indecipherable in the cyclone of noise that encompassed the glass and metal atrium.
"This is a hospital, right?" Kelly gave a slight inclination of her helmet, the only outward sign the veteran had even registered the woman's words. Pause for effect and… "Want to find a bed and 'go loud'?"
"Sandra!" Kelly hissed, practically scrambling to catch Oathsworn over the blonde's peals of laughter. Embarrassment lit up her pale features as a familiar heat crept down towards her core. Belay that! Remain on-mission, that's an order! But the only thing her brain did better than following orders was ignoring them, especially when offered the juiciest of all the nectars: sexual intimacy.
"What?! I'm bored and we have time to burn!"
"That is not an acceptable suggestion!" Kelly fired back, flustered. She was amazed how her lover could constantly catch her off guard like this. The veteran may have learned much under the blonde's tutelage, but she was still dealing with a master. Yes, it is, her core purred. It's purrrrrfectly reasonable.
Prepare. Oh, she was already well on her way.
Indulge. No. Stop that. The mission comes first.
Releassse… Annnnd now she needed a cold shower.
Kelly opened her mouth to give the shorter woman a serious tongue lashing but the approach of another woman halted the words in her throat. This newcomer wove her way between the throngs of people, the nervousness only outshined by the blue hair that seemed to glitter despite the poor lighting. Though it was both her duty and her mission to help those in need, the constant clenching and unclenching of her lower musculature told her she was not helping anyone.
"Be careful of what you wish for, Spartan Wolfe, for it just may come true." Kelly teased seductively before fading into the shadows to think unsexy thoughts.
"Um, e-excuse me S-spartan?" The woman asked uncertainly, clearly awed by the soldier in front of her. Sandra had to look down to meet the woman's eyes. Whoever this person was, she hid her discomfort remarkably well. Most people found talking to a faceless hulking mass of armor unnerving. Kind of hard to have a decent conversation when your talking to a biological equivalent of a brick wall.
"How can we-I help, ma'am?" Sandra tossed a glare behind her, mildly resentful her partner abandoned her. Though I probably deserve it.
"My name is Megan, Megan Dikos. Is there someplace we could talk?" The woman, Megan, said, sticking out her hand to shake. The blonde raised a brow in surprise. Talk about breaking stereotypes.
"Sandra Wolfe." Accepting the woman's hand, taking great care not to crush the aquamarine's bones like a bag of chips. "Follow me, please." A quick glance to make sure everything wouldn't fall into chaos the minute she turned her back, Sandra led two of them into a nearby alcove. The shadows would mask their expressions and the cacophony of noise would drown out their own conversation. Chief would need her soon but until then she would help these people in any way she could.
Come Back Next Time!
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know I loved writing it! On to the next one. Hopefully, life doesn't get in the way too much this time… fingers crossed! Please favorite, follow and review! See you planet side next time as the Infinity comes to the aid of Blue Team and the citizens of Tribute!
