Many thanks to everyone who viewed, fav, or followed the first chapter. Special thanks to those who left reviews. I always like responding to my reviews, so I'm going to take a moment to do just that.
Somedude124: Thanks for your words of encouragement! I always try my best to write a good story and I hope I can maintain the same quality of writing my readers have come to expect from me in this story. I'm not going to lie though, I have sinking feeling my first few chapters are going to feel a little wonky, mostly because, as I mentioned in chapter one, I'm trying things I've never done before, but I'm hoping with a little bit of help from my readers, my chapters will only improve in quality from here on out.
CommissarBS: a return reviewer! You're feedback is much appreciated and as always, you raise some good points! To address some of them:
The inclusion and expansion of the UNSC Air Force in my stories is for several reasons. 1: I kind of like the Air Force (there, I said it.) 2: The general lack of information about the AF in the canon allows me to expand on them and utilize them as I see fit without running the risk of taking toomany liberties from canon. 3: My knowledge of the military is somewhat limited, but within those limits, I'm much more familiar with Air Force (and Army) terminology and procedures when compared to the Navy or Marines, which is why those two branches really take center stage in my stories.
Now, with that being said, you raise a good point and I think you're absolutely correct in that, based on the information we have from canon, the AF would undoubtedly be sidelined in a situation I've created. Because of that, and after a review, I've decided I think I'll work on reducing their role a bit. I've got at least one major battle scene planned involving them, but after that, I think they'll take more a sideline row in the battle. I hope you don't mind
As for your other point, in retrospect, that was a lot of characters and names to throw out all at one time (ironic because I think I left a review on a different story pointing that exact same thing out; guess it's easier for me to give out critique than to actually implement it… lesson learned I guess!) Unfortunately, I was still in full-steam ahead mode when I wrote this chapter, so all six main characters appear here, but this will be the last time they do. In the future, I'll be sure to break things up and spend a bit more time fleshing out the characters so at the very least, my readers can learn their names.
Thanks for all the advice so far, please, by all means, keep it up!
Chapter 2
UNSC Kilkis (BB-123), High Orbit, Actium
May 6, 2545
0755 (Five minutes before contact)
Admiral Lukas Spaatz
"Admiral Spaatz? Your presence is requested in the CIC, sir."
At the sound of his aide's voice, Admiral Lukas Spaatz looked up from the report he was reading and turned around. Emerging from the hologram pedestal just to the left of the bulkhead door was the avatar of his aide-de-camp, a second-generation smart AI that went by the name of Kanin. Kanin stood there, with his paws clasped behind his back, patiently waiting for a response.
Over the course of his forty year naval career, Spaatz had the opportunity to work with a wide variety of smart AIs and out of all of them, Kanin was one of the more memorable ones. For starters, there was his choice of avatar: most smart AIs chose the form of some sort of human being in order to better relate with the humans they were serving. Not Kanin. Instead, his avatar was that of an anthropomorphic hare, clad in single breasted, scarlet colored, military style frock coat, complete with a set of unidentifiable medals pinned over his left breast. He wore no other articles of clothing, no pants or shoes, though he did have a cover, a simple black tricorne, that he would wear on occasion, but never indoors as that would be against Navy regulations.
Then there was his accent. Kanin spoke with a British accent only... it wasn't. The best way Spaatz could describe it was that Kanin's accent was that of a non-Brit pretending to have a British accent only, he wasn't very good at it. As a result, he tried to compensate by using as many stereotypical British words and pronunciations as possible. It made for a rather odd speech pattern and for an AI with full access to Waypoint, it was a bit of a mystery as to why he just didn't base his voice pattern off a native Briton if a British accent was what he wanted.
But, personality quirks aside, Kanin had proven to be just as intelligent and capable as any member of his kind. Thus, when Spaatz picked up on the tension in Kanin's voice, he immediately became alert.
"What's going on?" Spaatz asked as he stood up and grabbed both his jacket and his earpiece. As he put both of them on, he noticed something. "And is it the reason we're now at DEFCON 2?"
"Aye, sir," Kanin replied. "One of our remote scanning outpost picked up a large mass movin' through slipspace. It appears to be headed in our direction sir."
Spaatz felt his heart skip a beat.
"A large mass? What, like a ship?" he asked. All sorts of scenarios began swirling around in his brain, none of them good, but he didn't want to act rashly without more information.
"Unknown at this time, sir."
Spaatz nodded in understanding. Kanin may have made a wonderful aide and an excellent planetary system's manager, however even he had limits.
He headed out the door and towards the CIC, doing his best to resist the urge to run. It wouldn't be very good for morale for the crew to see a four star admiral running through the corridors of their ship. Fortunately, he didn't have to go far: even on a ship as large as a Vindication-class light battleship, everything was so close together and thus, the CIC was only down the corridor from the small office he had commandeered in order to finish up his inspection report.
Barely acknowledging the two Marine guards as they snapped to attention at the sight of him, Spaatz entered the CIC. There wasn't much to see. The combat information center was located in the center of the ship, surrounded by several decks, almost two and half meters of titanium-A plating, and dozens upon dozens of weapons and point defense systems. As such, the CIC was filled with all sorts of displays and monitors, most of which were currently manned by naval officers and sailors of various designators and ratings. Sitting in an open space in the center of the room was a large tactical display. The display was active, showing Actium, as well as a live feed of the position of every single military and civilian station and vessel in orbit.
Standing next to the display was Kanin, as well as the captain of the Kilkis, Captain Yirenkyi.
"What's the situation?" Spaatz asked without preamble as he made his way to the table.
Captain Yirenkyi was the first to reply. "Yankee RSO located in the Heliopause picked up the signature of a large mass moving through slipspace in our direction sir," he began and automatically, the display began to change. It zipped through the system flying passed the planets of Tenedos, Korakesion, and Myonessus, all the way to edge of the system where Yankee RSO was located in the Heliopause, the invisible barrier that marked the point where the Ambracia System ended, and interstellar space began. "The onboard AI concluded the signature matched that of an inbound fleet."
Spaatz did his best to prevent his emotions from showing on his face. "Were we able to obtain a positive identification?"
Yirenkyi shook his head. "The RSO is an older model; it's not equipped with slipstream space probes and thus, not capable of that fine tune identification."
Spaatz glanced at Kanin. "Have we verified this mass is not an inbound civilian or military convoy?"
"Aye sir. Twice. No fleet of that size is scheduled to arrive in system within the next two days, and the only fleet that would match that theoretical mass is the Air Force's No 33 Air Base Group, only they're not expected to arrive for another week or so. Furthermore, all attempts at establishing communications with the mass have failed."
"Failed because we were unable to go through, or because they were rejecting the call?"
"The first time failed to patch through sir, the second was rejected."
"And we sure this signature is actually there? That it's not a glitch?"
Kanin reached up to scratch one of his long, furry ears."
"As sure as we can be sir, without being able to physically examine the hardware."
Cold tendrils of fear began gripping Spaatz' heart, and he did his best to remain calm. "Kanin, what's the likelihood of the No 33 Air Base Group arriving in system early due to fluctuations in slipspace?"
"About a five percent chance sir," Kanin instantly replied.
At that, Yirenkyi put both hands on the edge of the display and leaned forward. "So, it's the Covenant then?"
"We don't know that for certain, Captain," Spaatz cautioned, even though he couldn't think of what else it could be. "Still, we need to start taking precautions. Kanin, who's on picket duty right now? And which Air Force carrier is on QRA?"
"Rear Admiral Tethong's battle group is performing maneuvers outside the orbit of Tenedos sir," Kanin replied. "And the UNSC Trenchard is on QRA duty. But the Trenchard is holding position on the other side of Actium sir."
"They will do. Comms!" Spaatz barked, catching the attention of the Kilkis' communication officer. "Contact Admiral Tethong, have him link up the UNSC Trenchard and form Joint Task Force Yankee then -"
"Sir, we're getting a signal!" Yirenkyi suddenly exclaimed. "It's -"
"Slipspace rupture detected."
Spaatz jerked towards the display, heart racing, as the image immediately zoomed in on a swirling blue vortex of an active slipspace portal that had suddenly opened up the vast emptiness of space between Actium and Tenedos. Shooting out of the portal came -
Purple bulbous hulls. Electric blue energy shields. Plasma turrets primed and ready to fire.
The Covenant.
The entire combat information center watched in shocked silence as nine Covenant warships, ranging from three hundred meter long light cruisers to a two kilometer long battlecruiser, dropped out of slipspace into real space and began forming up. In the silence, a lone voice rang out.
"Blimey," Kanin said in a loud whisper that echoed through the room. "That's a bloody Covenant invasion force!"
At once, everyone began speaking at the same time.
"Alert! Multiple hostiles..."
"...nine Covenant capital ships..."
"Confirmed presence of Covenant..."
"…emergency signals…"
"Byzas Station confirming visual..."
"...bring our fighter screen around..."
Spaatz took a deep breath, allowing all the noise to wash over him as he centered himself. Then, he began barking out orders.
"Sound general quarters, all hands, battle stations! Kanin, activate a system wide red alert, bring us up to DEFCON 1! Navigation, initiate Cole Protocol! Comms, I want Winter Contingency broadcasted across all military channels then send out a planetary distress signal and alert High Command: Actium is under attack! Captain Yirenkyi!"
"Sir?"
"Take control of your ship!"
"Aye aye sir! Officer of the Deck, sound general quarters and set condition one! Helm, bring us about to heading zero three zero one! Weaps, arm all warheads, standby the MACs, and prepare for ship to ship combat!"
In the meantime, Spaatz had turned his attention to the tactical display and watching as the Covenant began deploying their ships into formation. Shoving that display to the side, he opened one of Actium and jabbed at a spot some five thousand kilometers above the ODPs. "There! Kanin, I want all military ships that can fight to form a battle line at that position, then designate a place for all civilian ships to dump their non-living human cargo so they can begin preparations for the evacuation of the citizens of Actium. Get the governor's office working on that! Then I want Byzas and Cyprium Stations to reorientate their MACs in the direction of the hostiles, then have Astoria Station come about to cover the hole Cyprium will leave in our defensive grid in case the Covenant try to jump in behind us."
"Aye sir!"
"Order the Air Force to reequip all their interplanetary ballistic missile with anti-ship warheads then open all silo doors. Also get them to bring whatever fighters they have available from the surface so they can start forming a fighter screen for our battle groups!"
"Sir?"
"What?" Spaatz demanded as he turned to Yirenkyi.
"I'm prepping a dropship for you so that you can return to your headquarters on Heliopolis Station," Yirenkyi reported and with a start, Spaatz looked around. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was: the Kilkis was not his flagship, he was only here because he had been conducting an inspection of the fleet.
However, as Spaatz glanced at the tac display in front of him once more, he realized that between the chaos of the fleet bringing itself up to full alert, as well as the need to task all the dropships to other duties, it would simply be more efficient for Spaatz to remain where he was for the time being.
"No, there's no time," Spaatz insisted. "I'll set up shop here until a more opportune moment arises for me to return to my headquarters. In the meantime, re-task that dropship for more pressing matters – see if they can't bring up more crews or munitions from the surface."
Yirenkyi nodded his head, then scurried off, leaving Spaatz to try to think of what else he needed his forces to get ready for, but nothing came to mind. All around him, the CIC was bustling with frantic energy as the crew went about executing his orders. Spaatz wanted nothing more than to encourage them, or yell at them, if only so that he could feel like he was doing something. But he resisted, as the last thing these men and women needed was more stress from his part.
Spaatz tightly gripped the edge of the display to stop himself from fidgeting. This was the one thing he hated about being in charge: once he had given his initial orders, all he could do was wait until they had been executed before he could give any more. And it was the waiting part that always got to him. Knowing that the enemy was closing in, that their deaths could be minutes away, and that there was nothing Spaatz could do to prepare for it. It was at times like these, Spaatz longed for the days when he was a simple Ensign, fresh out from training, serving aboard his very first warship. Back then, there would have been over a dozen tasks, all of which would have demanded his attention. It would kept him busy enough to prevent him from thinking about the upcoming battle. And the losses they were going to take.
Spaatz glanced at his tac display. He had two screens active: one showing the state of the Covenant invasion fleet, one showing the state of his forces. Things were looking grim. By the looks of it, the Covenant had finished maneuvering into battle formation and were now making their way towards Actium at maximum burn. In contrast, maybe less than five percent of his forces had assumed battle formations.
"Kanin, how long is it going to take for our ships to form up?" Spaatz finally asked.
Kanin's avatar instantly appeared by his side. "We're working on it sir," he reported. "The problem is sir, a number of ships were in the middle of getting either refit or resupplied, so they're startin' out cold. It's going to take some time to get them to full alert status. Furthermore, other ships are reportin' they not operating at max capacity, as a number of their crews were on leave when -"
"Kanin!" Spaatz snapped, his impatience getting the better of him. "I need a number!"
Kanin fell silent.
"I estimate it will take fifteen minutes before we have fifty percent of our fleet in defensive position sir," he finally reported. "Approximately another fifteen minutes after that to bring the rest of the fleet up to speed. For ground installations, it will take anywhere between thirty to fifty minutes before they come to full alert status."
"And how long before the Covenant are on top of us?"
"If they maintain their current speed and velocity? They'll reach maximum effective weapons range in ten minutes."
Spaatz pinched the bridge of his nose. "We need more time," he muttered out loud. He glanced at his display and felt a sinking sensation in his abdomen when he realized there was only one way he was going to achieve that. "Get me a direct line to Rear Admiral Tethong."
Tethong's image immediately appeared on his screen.
"Admiral Spaatz," he greeted.
"Pramod, listen to me carefully," Spaatz began. "As you've probably noticed by now, Actium is under attack. The fleet is forming up in a defensive line, but it's going to take time. In the meantime, the Covenant are closing in fast. Our best guess? We'll be in range of their weapons in ten minutes." Spaatz paused, hating what he was going to have to say next. "Admiral, I need you to take your battle group and stall the Covenant advance long enough for the fleet to assume some semblance of a formation."
For his part, Tethong didn't seemed too perturbed about the fact he was being ordered to undertake what was essentially a suicide mission. He nodded, as if that was what he'd been expecting.
"How much time do you need?"
Kanin flashed a sign over the display. Fifteen minutes.
"I need at least fifteen minutes," Spaatz reported.
"You'll get twenty," Tethong promised.
Spaatz nodded in agreement, even though they both knew that was impossible. As strong as Tethong's battle group was, against the Covenant, they would be nothing more than a speed bump on the road. But at this point, Spaatz would take what he could get.
"We'll have more units coming online in a few minutes," Spaatz announced, feeling exorbitantly guilty for what he was having his troops do. "As soon as they do, I'll send them out to rein-"
"No."
"Excuse me?" Spaatz asked, surprised.
"No sir," Tethong added. "We can't afford to send out our fleet in piecemeal, the Covenant will just defeat us in detail. Use all the ships you can get your hands on to set up a proper defense while I take my forces and buy you as much time as I can."
Spaatz swallowed, then grimly nodded. As much as he hated to admit it, Tethong was right, and they both knew it. "I'll make sure High Command knows what you and your battle group did here today Admiral," Spaatz promised. "And I'll make sure your family will be alright."
"The Navy is my family sir. Hold fast, and hold the line."
"I will. You have my word Admiral," Spaatz vowed.
Tethong nodded, and Spaatz could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed, the only sign of his nerves. "In that case sir, this is Rear Admiral Pramod Tethong, UNSC Navy, signing off."
He snapped off a salute, one that Spaatz quickly returned, before his image winked out of existence. For a few seconds, Spaatz just stood there, feeling winded, like he had just ran a couple laps around the ship. On his display, he watched as Tethong's battle group emerge from the dark side of Tenedos, revealing their presence to the Covenant. They ignited their sublight engines and began heading straight for the invasion force at max burn.
Spaatz took a moment to close his eyes and bow his head in respect for the hundreds of men and women that were about to die. Then he turned his attention back to the task at hand.
"Comms!" Spaatz snapped. "Sitrep on the fleet?"
Kilkis's communication officer looked up from her display. "The entire orbital defense grid is now at DEFCON 1 sir, however we're still getting word out to some of the ground installations."
"Then what are you doing still talking to me for?" Spaatz snapped and the officer hastily returned to her station.
As she turned away, all Spaatz could do was glare at his monitor. What the hell was taking so long?
XXXXX
Wayward Station, High Orbit, Actium
May 6, 2545
0802 (Two minutes after contact)
Gunner's Mate Amber Owain
Amber was excited. She hadn't realized there was a Tippy's breakfast place aboard this station.
Tippy's, in her opinion, had some of the best breakfast food on this side of the galaxy including her favorite, blueberry pancakes. She had ordered three slices, topped off with some butter, a small dish of tater tots, and a Frappuccino because, well, why not?
As an afterthought, she had also gone ahead and ordered a small cup of ginger ale for Poolsie. They didn't have any crackers, but at the very least, Poolsie could have something to sip on that would hopefully help settle her stomach before they returned to the ship.
Amber was the best friend ever, wasn't she?
After paying for her stuff, she made her way into the seating area, quickly locating a two seat dining table near the entrance. Tossing her jacket over the back of the seat to make sure it didn't get dirty, she sat down and eagerly ripped open the small container of strawberry syrup she had ordered with her meal and began generously lathering her pancakes. She was about to dig in when she happened to look up and spotted Poolsie returning to the area, looking a bit worried. Amber automatically raised her hand in greeting, but Poolsie wasn't looking in her direction.
Rolling her eyes, Amber reached up to her communicator and sent out a ping. Just as she did, Poolsie turned around and glanced in her direction. Amber quickly waved at her and Poolsie hastily made her way towards her, shoving her way passed all the other tables and patrons.
"Hey!" Amber greeted as Poolsie joined her. "How are the 'rents? Oh, and I didn't know what you wanted, but I got you some ginger ale, just in case."
She glanced up, expecting Poolsie to at least thank her, but Poolsie wasn't paying attention.
"Amber," she began in an odd voice, staring straight at the ceiling. "Is it just me or, is the Gabrielle leaving port?"
Amber looked up. Sure enough, the Gabrielle had broken away from her refit station and was firing her maneuvering thrusters, as if she was about to head towards deep space.
A wave of panic rushed through Amber.
"SHIT!" she yelped, tossing her fork onto the table. Leaping to her feet, she grabbed her jacket and started towards the door. "I thought you said we had a couple hours before we had to report back to the ship!? Fuck, Shepard is going to captain's mast our asses if we go UA!"
Poolsie grabbed a hold of Amber's arm before she could go anywhere. "Amber, all the ships are leaving," she grimly pointed out.
That gave Amber pause and she quickly looked again, this time paying closer attention to the actions of everyone else. It was like Poolsie had said, every single ship, civilian and military, were pulling away from their docking stations and were scrambling in all directions. Even Byzas Station appeared to be firing her thrusters, turning her massive bulk and reorienting her main cannon in another direction. Amber didn't have her HUD in front of her right now, so she had no idea what they were aiming at, but as a gunner's mate, she could tell they were traversing their gun so that it was pointed towards… the edge of the system? But why? The only reason they would do that was if there was…
"Oh… fuck…" she whispered as realization struck her. And then that was when the general quarters alarm began to sound.
"GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS! ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I SAY AGAIN, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"
XXXXX
O'Neill Air Force Base, Actium
May 6, 2545
0804 (Four minutes after contact)
1st Lieutenant Link "Zelda" Kuang
Zelda was bored.
He was laying on a cot, staring at the ceiling of the ready room, trying to figure out what he could do to occupy his time. He supposed he should have been working on his after-action report from yesterday, but honestly, that sounded worse than just lying there, counting the ceiling tiles. Odessa was on the other side of the room, playing poker with the guys from one of the other flights in the squadron, and ideally Zelda would have loved to join them, however he had blown all his credits on drinks last night and considering he owed everyone in the squadron money, no one was willing to spot him a loan. So, there he was, lying on his cot, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for something to happen.
This was why he hated QRA duty.
He sighed. Maybe he really should take a nap. Because really, what else could he do?
"Hey Zelda, I'm putting in an order for breakfast from Tippy's. You want anything?"
Zelda turned his head to look at the speaker. It was the newest member of the squadron, a guy named Betros, who had joined the squadron about a month ago. He wasn't a complete novice as he had flown AC-220 "Vultures" for the Colonial Militia before joining the UNSC Air Force, but due to his relative inexperience with fighter jets, he had been assigned as Bellum's wing mate. He was an okay flyer who was at least capable of keeping up with the more experienced members of the squadron, but as a rookie who had never flown a combat mission against either the Covenant or the Insurgency, he had yet earn the right to a call sign.
Zelda let out a groan. "Tippy's?" he asked. "We always order from fucking Tippy's. Seriously, there's like, fifteen places that serve breakfast within a ten klick radius. Why we always got to go to Tippy's?"
He could see Betros rolling his eyes. "Well, where the hell do you want to order from then?"
Zelda considered the question. "I'm thinking –"
BRANK! BRAYNK! BRAYNK!
"SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE. I SAY AGAIN. SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE, SCRAMBLE."
Zelda was on the ground, running for the hanger before his brain could even fully comprehend what was going on. He darted out of the door, joined by everyone else in the ready room, and then flat out sprinted towards the hanger that housed his Broadsword.
Inside, the flight crew was already going about disconnecting fuel lines, recharging cables, and removing red tag items. Coming to a stop by his bird, Zelda grabbed his helmet and put it on before raising his arms as one of his mechanics quickly patted him down to make sure his vacuum suit was sealed and his vest was secured, before sprinting up the ladder and throwing himself into his cockpit. Hitting a button, Zelda strapped himself in as cockpit canopy lowered shut. He plugged his oxygen tube into the plane as a loud HISS filled the air as his cockpit sealed itself.
Inside, Zelda thumbed the ignition button. His bird, which had been sitting on standby mode, instantly came to life. Every single control panel in the cockpit lit up, and his HUD winked into existence.
"ALL PERSONNEL, WE ARE AT TIME: PLUS TWO MINUTES."
Zelda swore. They needed to be up in the air in seven minutes or less. He had to hurry up.
"Come on, come on," he muttered to himself as he drummed his fingers impatiently against his side-stick as the doors to the hanger began to roll open, and his ground crew hurriedly removed the wheel chocks from his landing gear. As soon as he received the all-clear signal, Zelda pushed down on the throttle, and his Broadsword began to roll out of the hanger towards the runways.
"O'Neill Control Tower, this is Omega-6," Zelda said into his radio as soon as he was cleared of the hanger. "Requesting instructions for launch, over."
"Omega-6, Control Tower. Proceed along highlighted route to runway three."
An orange marked path suddenly appeared on Zelda's HUD. "Copy that Control Tower, Omega-6 proceeding to runway three."
Zelda began to drive his Broadsword down the highlighted path. As he did, he glanced around. All around him, Broadswords were emerging from their hangers and falling in line behind him. He couldn't help but allow a smile to grace his face. It was always a point of pride for him when he was the first one out of the hanger and into the air.
Zelda made the final turn onto runway three, keying his microphone as he did. "Control Tower, Omega-6. Requesting permission for takeoff, over?"
"Omega-6, you're cleared for takeoff. I say again. You're cleared for takeoff."
Zelda jammed down on the throttle.
His Broadsword began to rattle and shake, and the whine of his engines rapidly drowned out all other sounds as power surged through his fighter. Through his wind shields, he could see the snowy landscape rolling by as he started down the runway, quickly picking up speed. Punching in his afterburners, he yanked back on the stick once he had achieved enough lift and his Broadsword began to climb and gained altitude. He thumbed a button and heard a mute thunk as his landing gear fully retracted.
Maintaining his speed, Zelda continued to climb until he had reached about twelve thousand meters before leveling out. He was quickly joined by the rest of squadron.
"Omega Flight, radio check, sound off in sequence," he heard Bellum order over the radio.
"Omega-2, standing by." That was Betros.
"Omega-3, standing by."
"Omega-4, standing by."
"Omega-5, standing by." That was Odessa.
Zelda keyed in his mic. "Omega-6, standing by," he announced, then released the talk button and leaned back as he waited for all twelve members of the squadron to finish sounding off.
"This is Omega-Leader, all Omega Flight fighters standing by," Bellum finally announced. "All pilots, link up with your wing mates, then form up on me."
Zelda banked his Broadsword to the left so that he was just behind Odessa on his right. The pair of them then fell in formation behind Bellum and Betros.
"So," Zelda cheerfully announced over SQUADCOM as the squadron fell into formation. "Anyone want to tell me where the fire is? Don't get me wrong, I love flying just as much as the next guy, it's just I've got about fifteen thousand kilograms worth of ordnance that's begging to be expended."
"I'm getting briefed by the AWACS right now Zelda, so shut up," Bellum snapped.
"Alright, jeez, I was just asking," Zelda muttered to himself as he busied himself checking his air radar to make sure he wasn't about to jumped from behind. To his surprise, he noticed a large number of aircraft taking off from O'Neill Air Base. The Air Force was launching more than one fighter squadron? Then his radio began buzzing, indicating he was getting a message on his private channel from Odessa.
"Hey, look to the west," Odessa said as soon as Zelda switched over. "Do the Cunt Munchers have an exercise today? Looks like they're mobilizing all their gunships."
Zelda looked over his right shoulder. They were currently flying by a Colonial Militia Air Force base and the entire airfield was covered with what looked like every single air frame in their possession. Activating the zoom feature on his helmet, Zelda could see Falcons, Sparrowhawks, and even a couple Vultures, all prepping for takeoff.
"Huh. That's weird," Zelda commented. "Hey, did you check behind us? Looks like Flanker and Tornado Squadrons are also getting launched. What the fuck is going on?"
Before Odessa could respond, Bellum's voice cut through the channel.
"Okay, listen up Omega," she barked and to Zelda's surprise, he could just barely pick up the hint of… was that fear in her voice? "We got our orders."
"Where we headed?" one of the other flight leaders asked before Zelda could.
"Low orbit. We're rendezvous with the UNSC Trenchard."
"Low orbit?" Zelda blurted out in astonishment before he could stop himself. "Why would we…" He trailed off as realization struck him. Low orbit, the Air Force trying to get every single airframe off the ground? There could only be one possible explanation. "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh,'" Bellum said and this time, there was no mistaking the tension in her voice. "We're dealing with a Winter Contingency situation here. Ladies and gentlemen, get your game faces on: the Covenant are here."
XXXXX
Camp Hoxha, Actium
May 6, 2545
0807 (Seven minutes after contact)
Private Marcus Olsen
"And this here is going to be your dorm," Dresden cheerfully announced.
Marcus walked into the room and took a look around. It was surprisingly comfortable looking room. His barracks in both basic and AIT had reminded him of a prison cell: rather Spartan looking, with a lot of cinderblocks and concrete. All it had been missing were the bars on the windows. This room, however, reminded him a lot of the college dorms he had seen back when he was still visiting colleges. The walls were covered in drywall, all the furniture was made out of wood, carpet on the ground. There were even blinds on the windows. All in all, a rather pleasant looking place.
Of course, to be fair, they could have given Marcus a sleeping bag and a pup tent and placed him in the middle of an open field and he would have been happy. At this point, Marcus was just glad to finally be allowed to settle in.
When Dresden had brought him to this building two hours ago, Marcus had thought his dorm room was the first place they were going to go. As it turned out, he still had a lot of processing to go through. For starters, he had to first visit the company headquarters where another bored looking soldier had to double check his transfer orders and personal information. Then Marcus had to fill out a bunch of paperwork. Then he had to sit through some sort of briefing and orientation. Then fill out more paperwork. He would have thought he would have to do all that stuff down at battalion reception before he got assigned to a unit but apparently not.
After he was done with his briefing and orientation, Marcus had to go down to the base HQ in order to receive his CAC, or common access card, because apparently without one, he wouldn't be able to access any of the buildings or buy any food at the mess hall. Why the Army just didn't use a hand or retinal scanners, Marcus had no idea.
After he had received his CAC, Marcus then had to go to the armory, where he was issued all of his armor, his equipment, and then a whole bunch of other stuff, half of which he didn't even know what it was for. Then, after that, Marcus had to go back to company supply in order to receive some bed linens, some toiletries, and some other crap.
Finally, after all that, Marcus was brought to his dorm room where he was finally able to put his stuff down. All he wanted to do at this point was take a nap but unfortunately, Dresden still needed to give him a tour of the base after which, they would need to head down to the motor pool where Marcus would met the rest of his platoon. Fuck.
"You'll be sharing the room with Private First Class William Orlović, whom I think you met at battalion reception?" Dresden was saying.
Marcus absentmindedly nodded his head. The name sounded familiar; Marcus was pretty sure he was the guy who had checked him in hours ago.
"Well, that's about it." Marcus noticed Dresden glancing at his watch. "I know I need to give you a tour of the base, but if you don't mind, I think we should go down to the mess hall. I don't know about you, but I'm getting kind of hungry."
Marcus brightened at those words. He hadn't had a chance to eat or drink anything since he landed at the Novak Intercontinental Airport on the outskirts of the city of Byzas some three hours ago, and with all the running around he'd been doing, he was ready for a hot breakfast.
"Go ahead and dump your stuff on your bed," Dresden suggested as he walked for the door. "You'll have time to – "
"wwwweeeeeeerrrrrrrrnnnnNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"
"What the hell is that?" Marcus asked, startled, as the bone chilling shriek of an alarm filled the air. He glanced over at Dresden, only to see a look of concern pass over his face.
"That's the base alarm. But I have no idea why they're sounding it right now; I didn't see any notices about them testing it today," Dresden explained as he walked over to the window and lifted the blinds. "What the hell?"
Marcus joined him by the window. The window overlooked one of the base entrances, allowing Marcus to see the base guards were freaking out. The ones on duty were hastily shutting the gate and raising traffic barriers, and to Marcus' alarm, looked like they were loading their machine guns. As he watched, more guards came pouring out of a nearby building, many of whom were still throwing on their gear and loading their guns.
"What's going on?" Marcus nervously asked. "Are we under attack?" he jokingly suggested. He glanced over at Dresden, expecting him to at least crack a smile at Marcus' naivety, however his face was drawn and grim.
"Get your armor on," he said instead.
"What?"
"Get your armor on," Dresden repeated as he headed for the door. "I got to get mine from my room, but you stay here until I get back!"
"Wha..? Sir, what the fuck is going on!?" Marcus blurted out, Dresden's attitude not doing a thing to calm him down.
"Stop asking questions and get your armor on!" Dresden snapped and startled, Marcus moved to obey.
As he slid on his groin protection, one last desperate thought entered his mind. "Hey Sarge!"
Dresden poked his head through the door.
"Is this some sort of new guy hazing ritual?" Marcus desperately asked, hoping upon hope that was all this was.
The expression on Dresden's face instantly dashed that hope.
"I don't think it is," was all he said before disappearing down the hall.
Marcus stood there, gapping at the spot where Dresden had been standing, before the sound of dozens of people running up the stairs caused him to snap out of it and he hurried began throwing on the rest of his gear. As he frantically worked, one thought kept bouncing around inside his mind:
'Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.'
XXXXX
Graham Quarry, Actium
May 6, 2545
0810 (Ten minutes after contact)
Sergeant Tariq Helmand
"Okay, ease her forward a bit! That's it, come on. And... STOP!"
With a slight groaning of metal, Lillian came to an abrupt halt as Corona slammed on the brakes.
"Put her in park and then get your ass out here Rook," Tariq ordered as he picked up his wrench. It had taken far longer than it should had, but Lillian's track was finally fixed and back in alignment. All he had to do now was tighten the bolt and pray this stupid FNG didn't throw the track again.
"You hold it in place and I'll tighten," Tariq commanded as Corona joined him on the ground next to the track. "You ready?"
"Yes," Corona announced as he slipped his wrench over the other end of the bolt and braced himself.
Tariq quickly tightened the bolt as much he possibly could, before giving the track a good whack to make sure there wasn't too much slack. Everything seemed alright so Tariq turned to Corona and toss him his wrench.
"We're all set," he declared. "Get that shit cleaned up and let's get ready to move out."
Corona nodded, then scampered away to put the tools away. While he did that, Tariq reached down for the talk button on his radio and keyed it, but jerked his head away as he was assaulted with a bunch of feedback. He turned around.
Walking towards him was Noble, radio in hand, and a pissed off look on her face. Tariq internally cringed and mentally sighed. Now what did he do? Was she pissed about how long it had taken him to fix that track? Because if she was, then that was complete bullshit. The track would have gotten fixed faster if he had a crew that actually knew what they were doing but because he didn't, he pretty much had to do everything himself.
Tariq opened his mouth to explain all that, but before he could get a word in, Noble lifted her hand and stopped him.
"Save it Sergeant," she commanded, then gestured at him and Corona. "I need you two to drop whatever the fuck you're doing and come with me right now."
Without another word, she turned around and walked away. Mystified, Tariq exchanged a puzzled look with Corona before shrugging his shoulders and began trudging through the snow behind her.
She led them towards the battalion commander's APC, where it looked like everyone from the battalion, including all the tank crew members from both tank companies as well as all the infantrymen from the mechanized infantry company had gathered. Tariq immediately set out to find Chenko, and located him standing nearby. Coming to a stop next to him, Tariq nudged him to get his attention, then shot him a questioning look while gesturing at the assembled group. Chenko shook his head. He didn't know what was going on either.
"3rd Battalion, listen up!" Tariq heard the battalion sergeant major scream out, and he strained his head to spot the man over the shoulders of everyone else standing in front of him. "I want the first three rows of soldiers to take a seat so everyone can see the CO. Next three rows, take a knee. Last three rows, remain standing!"
Murmurs broke out as the assembled mass proceeded to do just that. As the soldiers in front of him knelt, Tariq was finally able to see the battalion commanding officer and his staff standing at the head of the group.
"Eyes on the CO!"
The CO took a step forward. "Listen up!" he barked. "As of ten minutes ago, this entire exercise was terminated! As of right now, we are no longer in training mode!"
Tariq's confusion deepened. This field exercise was scheduled to last a full week. They were barely three days into it. There was no way they could have accomplished the exercise's objectives in that time frame.
Nearby, Tariq could hear a couple of replacements whispering to each other, speculating if the early termination of the exercise was because the CO wanted to give them the rest of the week off. Tariq knew that wasn't going to be the case. The battalion commander had been with the unit long before the division had been deployed to Draco III and back then, he had gotten a reputation for being a bit of a puppet: he did what he was told, when he was told, no matter what, even if it didn't make a whole lot of sense. So, if the CO had been told to lead a field exercise for exactly seven days, he would lead a field exercise for exactly seven days, and not a minute less. Unless something had happened...
Instead of answering any of the questions that were being voiced, the CO turned to the battalion S-6, who lifted a radio receiver. The entire battalion fell silent as the S-6 boosted the gain, allowing everyone to hear what was being broadcasted.
"-ncy. This is Actium Defense Command broadcasting across all military channels: Winter Contingency. I say again, Winter Contingency. This is -"
The message continued to repeat itself but Tariq was no longer listening; immediately after hearing the message, his blood had turned cold.
'No... it couldn't be...'
Next to him, Chenko was frantically slapping his arm, trying to get his attention.
"Wait a minute," he was saying. "Did she just fucking say...?"
"She did," Tariq confirmed, feeling numb.
"Tell me this isn't fucking happening!"
The battalion CO spoke up, his booming voice drawing all attention back to him. "For those of you who were on Draco III, you know exactly what that message means. For you replacements, I'm sorry to say, that message means you're going to see the Covenant up close and personal a lot sooner than anticipated. Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear that the war followed us home: Covenant presence in this system has been confirmed. We're going back to war."
Silence followed his grim announcement. For the veterans, it was the realization they were about to drop back into hell again. For the replacements, it was because of the fear and uncertainty of what was about to occur not just to them but to their families and their homes.
"As of right now, there's not a lot of information," the CO continued. "We still don't know when, where, or how big the invasion force is. In fact, at this point, we don't even know if it IS an invasion force: the Covenant could very well just glass the planet and move on without once committing to a surface attack. However, for the time being, we are to assume they will. So right now, our immediate mission objective is full rearmament. We will proceed west, to a nearby Colonial Militia base, where we will be able to arm our vehicles."
"There's one last thing I want to mention before we mount up," the CO declared. "I know there's been a lot of gripping and bitching about the replacements in the last few weeks, as well as a number of hazing incidents the Sergeant Major and I have had to deal with. I'm putting out a blanket order: all that shit stops right now. Everyone, look at the soldier to your left."
Tariq obeyed and noticed Corona was standing beside him.
"Now everyone, look to your right."
Tariq did as he was told. Chenko was standing there beside him, looking pale.
"As of right now, the only people we can depend on are the soldiers standing next to us. We're all in this together. Take care of your teammates so that they can take care of you. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir," Tariq murmured along with everyone else in the battalion.
"Good. Sergeant Major?"
The battalion Sergeant Major took a step forward. "Battalion will now proceed at top speed to the armory. Convoy will be Joker Company, Lima Company, battalion HHC, and Kilo Company following up the rear. Battalion! Mount up and move out!"
XXXXX
Town of Aquia, Actium
May 6, 2545
0830 (Thiry minutes after contact)
Officer Selene Riddle
BUZZ!
Selene jerked awake, nearly giving her pet cat, who had been sleeping peacefully on her chest, a heart attack. Her cat let out an offended mrow, before leaping to the ground and sauntering off, but not before giving Selene a disapproving glare.
"Sorry Fig Mewton," Selene called out after him, trying to catch her breath as adrenaline circulated through her veins.
Her communicator let out another angry buzz and irritated, Selene grabbed it. As she did, she glanced at the clock. She had gotten home at about seven o'clock and without bothering to take off her gear or her uniform, had immediately thrown herself onto the couch and crashed. It was now eight thirty, which meant she had only been asleep for an hour and a half at most. What the fuck.
She looked at who was trying to contact her. It was the office and for a moment, Selene was oh so tempted to ignore the message and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, the message was from dispatch and tagged 'emergency,' so Selene had to open it.
Rubbing her eyes, she accessed the message and scanned it. It simply read, "All officers and detectives are hereby ordered to report back to their stations."
Selene frowned. Did that include off-duty officers? If so, that would be a bunch of bull. She just got off work!
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Pulling up her contact list, she called up Kingsley. While she waited for the call to connect, she got up and headed to the kitchen to get a cup of water. While she was there, Fig began rubbing against her leg, begging for attention which Selene obliged. As she stood there, petting her cat, she abruptly connected with Kingsley.
"Riddle?" Kingsley said, sounding distracted.
"Hey LT," Selene said, yawning. "Hey, I just got the message from dispatch and I want to check with you: does this include off-duty officers?"
"Yeah, it does. I need everyone back right now," Kingsley reported.
Selene couldn't stop the groan from escaping her mouth. "Oh, come on Lieutenant, I just clocked out less than two hours ago. You can't -"
"Selene, listen to me very carefully," Kingsley interrupted. "About half an hour ago, the UNSC military, the Colonial Militia, and the Province Militia all went on full alert and are currently, as we speak, in the middle of a full scale mobilization. Furthermore, I'm getting early reports that there appears to be some fighting going on near or around the planet of Tenedos. The Actium government is about to hold a press conference any minute now, but its clear something is going down right now. I need all my officers back at the station, thirty minutes ago."
"O-okay," Selene said, confused and slightly worried. "But you know I don't have a car, right? I take the maglev train, so it's going to take me some time to get there."
"Just get here as fast as you can."
"10-4," Selene said, then terminated the connection.
"Sorry Fig," she told her cat as she set him down on the ground. "Looks like I got to go. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Looking around her apartment, Selene thought about what she needed. She was already dressed and ready to go, and she never took her equipment off her belt when she was at home. The only thing she could think she would need was in her bedroom.
She ran into her bedroom and reached under the bed, pulling out a small safe. Putting her thumb on the scanner, she unlocked it and pulled out a pistol. It was her off duty piece, a Caveira PX40 chambered in 10mm Auto. She didn't pull it out very often, mostly because this province was surprisingly stingy when it came to issuing out firearms licenses and she could get in serious trouble just for having it on her in public, even as a cop, but something in Kingsley's voice that made her feel like she was going to need it.
Making sure she had a couple loaded magazines, she stuck her pistol and holster onto her belt, grabbed her jacket, then headed outside.
Out in the hall it was eerily quiet. A number of her neighbors were soldiers who she knew worked the night shift at the local base, and normally at this time they would have the TV or radio on, blaring at max volume. But right now, there was nothing. No bass, no screaming, no simulated gunfire. It was kind of creepy to be honest and Selene hurriedly rushed to the lobby.
She burst outside and started to dash for the bus stop when the roar of a jet engine flying by overhead made her pause and look up. What she saw astounded her.
"What the hell..." she murmured.
Overhead, dozens upon dozens of military fighters were passing by. There were so many of them, it was like watching a flock of birds heading south for the winter. It kind reminded her of the pictures she had seen of World War II back in school, of all the Allied bombers headed towards Europe. She didn't think the military had that many planes in the general area.
As she watched them fly by, she happened to notice one little detail: all the planes were headed towards low orbit.
"Shit," she whispered to herself. She didn't know what was going on, but she did know one thing: she needed to get back to the station.
Now.
XXXXX
Somewhere in UNSC Controlled Space
May 6, 2545
0850 (Fifty minutes after contact)
Private First Class Adel Savaschi
"Hey, you the guys the ones washing the dishes?"
Adel looked up in time to one of the Swabbies come walking into the room with another cart load of dishes.
"Are fucking kidding me right now?" Adel disgustedly exclaimed. "X just went to go get another cart and you're here dropping off a third one? What the fuck!?"
"Sorry buddy," the Swabbie said with a shrug. "I was told to bring this here. Wasn't my call."
"This is fucking bullshit!" Adel told Sam as the Swabbie left the room. "How long are we supposed to be doing this shit for anyways? This is so fucking stupid. I signed up to be a Marine and kill aliens, not be some slave for some dickless motherfuckers!"
"Then maybe you should have kept your insubordination in check, Private."
Adel jumped and turned around in time to see the dumb motherfucker who had forced him into this situation in the first place come walking in.
"You're reaping what you sew," the PO1 smugly said, and Adel was oh so tempted to deck the man and wipe that smug smirk off his stupid face, but he refrained himself. Fucking pussy probably had a glass jaw and would probably start crying if Adel broke it. "You're getting what you deserve, soldier."
"Soldier!?" Adel angrily exclaimed. "I'm a Marine! Not some pansy-assed Army pus -"
"There something you need Petty Officer?" Sam interrupted, and Adel couldn't help but be disgusted by the servile tone Sam had adopted.
"Just checking to see your progress Corporal," the Swabbie said as he walked over to the pots and pans Adel had been spending all morning cleaning.
As soon as the Swabbie's back was turned though, Sam viciously spat in his direction. Sam was dipping at the moment, so his spit looked particularly nasty.
"Fucking asshole," Adel heard Sam mutter, and Adel nodded in satisfaction. It was nice to see Sam still had his dignity. That was, at least until Sam whirled on him.
"And you! What the fuck is your problem? Are you trying to get into more trouble? And more importantly, get me into more trouble?"
Adel was incredulous. "What? I shouldn't have to listen to that fucking pussy! If he didn't have the balls to join the real military, then why should I have to stand here and listen to whatever bullshit comes out of his mouth?"
It was Sam's turn to look incredulous. "That's not... what the fu... god damn, what the fuck is wrong with my Corps if they let a dumbass motherfucker like you graduate from boot camp!? Back in the Old Corps, the DIs would have kicked the shit out of you if you acted the way you're acting now!"
"'Back in the Old Corps?' You're only five years older than me," Adel darkly muttered under his breath.
"Private!"
Adel jumped at the shout and looked around wildly. Near the door to the room, the limp-dick Swabbie had picked up a pan and was inspecting it carefully. Seeing Adel's attention was on him, he lifted the pan and started waving it through the air. "You wash this?"
"Yeah," Adel replied aggressively. "What of it?"
Without warning, the Swabbie tossed the pan right at Adel, who just barely managed to catch it before it hit him in the face.
"You called that washed?" the Swabbie barked. "There's still spots of grease all over the surface. In fact, all these pots and pans are still filthy! I know you Marines are dumb, but you think you would be able to handle a simple task like washing some cookware? Do it all over again!"
Adel's temper flared and he was about to let the Swabbie know what he really thought when –
SLAM!
"HEY GUYS – oh, sorry Petty Officer," X quickly said as he burst into the room, nearly running right into the Swabbie.
"Be careful!" the Swabbie squeaked as he leapt out of the way. "What exactly has gotten you so agitated Marine?"
X glanced at Sam, who nodded.
"I just ran into Staff Sergeant Reynolds. You know, from 3rd Platoon?" X explained. "He just told me our orders have changed: we're no longer going to Newsaka."
That caught Adel's attention. "Really?" he excitedly asked.
"Yeah, word just came through on the radio: the Covenant have invade another colony!"
Sam's head snapped up. "What? Where? Which one?"
"Actium, in the Ambracia System. They need reinforcements, bad. The entire Expeditionary Strike Group is getting diverted!"
"The Ambracia System? Where the fuck is that?" Adel heard Sam ask, but Adel was no longer paying attention. He was doing his best not to start cheering.
As part of the 88th Marine Expeditionary Unit, Adel's battalion was getting deployed to Newsaka to help with the fighting going on there. Only, Adel hadn't been looking forward to it mainly because, from what he had heard, most of the fighting was already over. All that was left were small pockets of defeated Covenant soldiers running about, most of whom would probably end up killing themselves before the 88th MEU arrived.
Adel had been super pissed when he had first heard the news. He had wanted to have been the first kid on his block to have a confirmed kill, but how would that have been possible if all the Covenant were dead before he got there? But now it sounded like he was about to not only get his chance, he was also going to get his chance to be the hero he was supposed to be. And everyone who laughed at him in high school, boot camp, and SOI would finally be able to see what sort of badass warrior he was.
Adel managed to bring his excitement under control long enough to hear X saying, "We're heading straight to the planet right now. They say the ETA is maybe three, four hours, but the Sergeant Major wants all Marines to start getting ready for combat."
"Well then," Sam declared as he tossed the sponge he was holding to the side. "No point in sticking around here. Let's go Marines."
Adel started smirking at the startled expression on the Swabbie's face. "Hang on a second," he began, but Sam immediately cut him off with a raised hand.
"With all due respect Petty Officer, you heard what my Marine said. And I don't care if you're a Swabbie or not: in my book, a Sergeant Major's orders override a Petty Officer 1st Class's any day of the week." Sam leaned in close. "If you got a problem with that, bring it up with him because my Marines? We've got a war to prepare for."
Without another a word, Sam marched right out of the room, with X and Adel following close behind. Once out of the room, Adel finally couldn't stop himself any longer, and began laughing out loud. He was going to war and was able to get out of a shit job early?
This was just like Christmas.