And… we're back!
Welcome back everyone (or, just welcome to any new readers!), to Battle: Actium, Book 2! It took me a lot longer than I expected, mostly because I keep forgetting how long "one update every two weeks" actually is, but hey, we finally made it!
As always, many thanks to everyone who's been following not just this story, but all my other ones over the last few years. Special thanks goes to both my editors, Darkfire7881 and TheWildCanuck (see the favorite authors tab on my profile for links to their profiles.)
Chapter 36
High Orbit, Actium
May 7, 2545
0030
Gunner's Mate Amber Owain
The dropship rattled and shook, causing Gunner's Mate Amber Owain to snap her head up in alarm. Fortunately, the disturbance was the result of the Pelican beginning its final approach to the hangar; and not the start of a Covenant attack. Still, Amber found herself unable to truly relax.
The last twenty-four hours or so had been a stressful time for her, to say the least. She had been aboard Wayward Station when the Covenant first emerged in the system and as such, she had been drafted to aid in the station's defense. Manning a remote Onager turret, she had tried to help the rest of the station defenders drive off the Covenant aerial attack. However, in spite of their best efforts, the Covenant still managed to land troops on the station; leading to Amber being moved to help fight them off.
Fortunately, while the Covenant had superior firepower, the station had everything else: superior numbers, better defensive locations, as well as the home field advantage. As a result, Amber and her comrades had nearly been successful in driving the boarders off when –
The nearby orbital defense platform, Byzas Station, had blown up. Amber had no idea how the Covenant had managed it, but the ensuing explosion had hurtled shrapnel through the void in all directions; some of which struck Wayward and tore apart the Covenant landing craft they had used to assault the station, leaving major hull breaches in their wake. The explosive decompression that followed had devastated both sides, with all sorts of people and aliens getting sucked out before the emergency bulkhead doors could seal. Amber herself had almost been one of the victims; in fact, she surely would have been if her commander at the time hadn't grabbed her at the last moment.
After that though, the station's participation in the battle was over. With hull integrity failing and power at less than thirty percent, there wasn't much Wayward Station could do to defend itself; so everyone on board did their best to make themselves as small and unnoticeable as possible, so as to not attract the Covenant's attention back on to station.
Fortunately for Wayward and everyone on board, with Byzas Station out of the way the Covenant had shifted the weight of their attack to the surface, leaving any and all crippled stations and ships in orbit to be dealt with at a later time. With the main threat moving on, it then became a simple matter to eliminate the last of the Covenant boarders, patch most of the major breaches in the hull –
-and then wait. Wait for most of the fighting to clear up so the UNSC could spare some ships to rescue the survivors. Wait to hear from the surface to find out how bad the situation was on the ground. And finally, wait for long-range communications to be partially restored so people could maybe get a chance to contact their families and friends.
Unfortunately for Amber, that last part was going to have to wait. The only family member she had in the system was one of her aunts, who was stationed on the surface of Actium with the UNSC Army unit. Her unit was right in the middle of the fight to contain the Covenant landing site; both sides fighting tooth and nail to control the city of Byzas. Naturally, the UNSC was suppressing all non-military communications in and around the city, both to clear the airwaves and to deny the Covenant a possibly valuable source of intelligence. As such, Amber had no idea how her aunt was doing, or if she was even still alive, which was obviously causing her a great deal of distress.
On the other hand, Amber was able to find out that her ship, the UNSC Gabrielle, had somehow managed to survive the initial space battles, the knowledge of which had cheered her up considerably. After all, the Gabrielle was not only her home away from home, it was also where most of her friends had been when the attack started. So, if the ship had survived, chances were high they had too.
Amber was suddenly drawn out of her thoughts when, near the back of the Pelican, one of the dropship's crew chiefs abruptly stood up.
"Listen up!" the man quietly called out. "We're two mikes away from docking with the UNSC Gabrielle."
And then, without another word, the man sat back down.
Amber let out a mute sigh of relief. She was almost home.
Carefully, so as to not accidentally hit the two Sailors sitting on either side of her, Amber reached out to jab at the person sitting directly across the aisle from her; her best friend and fellow shipmate, Missile Technician Haley Pool.
"Poolsie!" Amber called out as the sound of the Pelican's landing gear extending filled the cargo bay. "Get up!"
Poolsie jerked awake and looked around wildly, before her eyes fell upon Amber and she immediately relaxed.
"Amber? What's going on?" she mumbled as she reached up and tried to wipe away the exhaustion from her eyes.
"We're almost home," Amber told her, and she watched as Poolsie nodded and sat upright. There was no chance for further conversation though, as the Pelican abruptly hit the deck with a loud bump, causing the small dropship to shake.
"ALRIGHT! EVERYBODY OFF!" the same crew chief from earlier yelled as the rear loading ramp popped open with a loud hiss of hydraulics, revealing one of the Gabrielle's two hangar bays.
The sound of restraints being removed filled the air as everyone started to climb to their feet, and Amber hastily followed suit. She paused long enough to allow Poolsie to get in front of her, and quickly followed as everyone eagerly started to make their way off the dropship. So caught up was Amber in being back on the Gabrielle, she almost didn't notice when Poolsie abruptly stopped in front of her.
"What the hell…" she heard Poolsie exclaim, causing Amber to roll her eyes in annoyance.
"Come on Poolsie: you can't just stop in the middle of the ramp like that," Amber started to say as she made her way past her friend, only to immediately stop short herself at the sight of the object Poolsie was currently gaping at. "What the fuck?"
Sitting in the Gabrielle's other hangar bay was another Pelican, much like the one she and Poolsie were standing on. Only this Pelican had very clearly crashed into the hangar.
With her hull sitting directly on the flight deck, it wasn't very hard to figure out that the Pelican had come crashing into the ship at high speeds. Not only had all of the Pelican's landing gear snapped off, there were deep scratches carved into the metal of the flight deck itself. Furthermore, it also appeared that the dropship had somehow managed to smash through every single crash barrier - designed specifically to stop an out-of-control craft such as this - as the Pelican's nose was forced up against the far hangar bulkhead. The force of the crash caused the entire front of the Pelican to crumple inward; not to mention the sizable dent it left in the hangar bay wall. The dent itself was also an indication of how fast the bird had been moving, as the bulkhead walls lining the hangars were composed of Titanium-A plating almost half-a-meter thick; a precaution to protect the rest of the ship in the event of an explosion.
"Holy crap!" Amber exclaimed. "What the hell happened here!?"
"C'mon ladies, let's keep moving!" someone from behind them yelled.
Absentmindedly, Amber followed Poolsie as they walked the rest of the way down the ramp, still fixated on the wreck in front of her. As she got closer, Amber was able to see past the black tarp that had been draped across the entirety of the downed bird's hull. To her surprise, the Pelican wasn't even a naval dropship; it had clearly come from the air force, as it was covered in UNSC Air Force markings.
"What the hell is the Air Force doing, crashing into our ship?" Amber indignantly demanded to know. "Blocking the hangars and everything!"
"Yeah. Maybe this is why it took so long for us to transfer back here," Poolsie agreed. "They needed to make sure the hangar was safe before letting any more boats dock."
Amber nodded her head.
"And to maybe clean up the bodies," she couldn't help but grimly note. Given the extensive damage done to the Pelican, chances were high someone aboard had died in the crash. "Wonder why they landed here instead of a ship with a much longer crash deck."
Poolsie nodded her head and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, a very familiar voice filled the air:
"AMBER!"
"Oh, great," Amber heard Poolsie groan, and that reaction alone was enough to let her know who was approaching.
With a slight sinking sensation, Amber slowly turned around.
Rapidly walking towards them with an excited look on his face, was one of Amber and Poolsie's shipmates, Damage Controlman Edward MacGrath.
"Amber! Beautiful Amber! I'm so glad to see you made it!" MacGrath exclaimed as he walked right up to Amber, brushing past Poolsie like she wasn't even there.
"Hi Eddie," Amber reluctantly replied. "You know, it wasn't just me that made it: Poolsie made it too."
MacGrath turned and glanced at Poolsie, as if seeing her for the first time.
"Oh, hey Pool, didn't see you standing there," he casually said.
"MacGrath," Poolsie coolly replied.
Then, without another word, MacGrath immediately turned back to Amber with a wide smile on his face, causing her to mentally let out a sigh. This was part of the reason why she didn't like dealing with MacGrath.
It wasn't that MacGrath was an asshole so much as he was simply obnoxious. The thing about MacGrath was that he had a humongous crush on Amber, and usually their off-duty conversations ended with him trying to outrageously flirt with her. For the most part, Amber found his attempts to hit on her rather childish and pathetic, and the fact that Poolsie had taken an instant disliking to him the first time they met didn't help things.
Nevertheless, Amber usually tolerated his presence for one simple reason: the rating he held. As a damage controlman, MacGrath's job involved the inspection and repair of the Gabrielle's entire hull. That meant he had access to the entire ship and, therefore, the latest and juiciest gossip. And right now, Amber was starving for information.
"Amber, my sweet. The jewel of my life," MacGrath was saying in the meantime, but Amber quickly interrupted him.
"Yeah, whatever," she said dismissively, and before he could say anything else, she jerked her head in the direction of the crashed Pelican. "What the hell happened here?"
MacGrath's eyes immediately lit up with excitement.
"Oh, dude! You should have seen it!" he exclaimed. "So, there we were, sitting in orbit along with the rest of the fleet, just waiting for something to happen, when Captain Lancaster gets orders from FLEETCOM HQ to go down into the atmosphere to retrieve some sort of package. Weird, right? But you know, FLEETCOM, can't say no. So we head down to atmo and bam! There's a Pelican flying right towards us with like, a hundred Banshees on its tail. The sky was just covered in fighters. It was kind of like, you know, you throw a rock at a beehive and all the bees come swarming out? Yeah, kind of like that."
"I think you were the only one ever stupid enough to do that when you were a kid," Amber heard Poolsie mutter under her breath, and Amber had to fight hard not to start grinning.
Fortunately, MacGrath didn't seem to notice.
"Anyways," he continued, "there were also all sorts of Broadswords and Longswords and shit protecting the Pelican so we figured, Pelican's got to be the package, right? So we evac the hangars, pop open the doors, and let them in. I don't know who was flying that thing though 'cause they came in at like, Mach seventy. They plowed right through all five of our crash barricades, hit the damn arrestor bed, and hit the bulkhead wall before they stopped. It was crazy!"
"'Course, that wasn't the end of it," MacGrath added as Amber opened her mouth to ask a question.
"What do you mean?" Amber asked instead.
"Well, once we had the package, we figured we had to get outta dodge, right? So, we start to head to orbit, only, the damn Banshees start flying into us!"
"What, like on purpose?" Poolsie asked. "Like, kamikazes?"
"Exactly!" MacGrath said, pointing at her.
Amber and Poolsie exchanged a look of worry.
"Eddie," Amber slowly began, "is this ship alright? Like, structurally speaking?"
MacGrath shrugged.
"Me, Ally, and the Chief have been inspecting the main keel beams all morning. Couldn't find any damage, but lotta systems were damaged or knocked offline. Including the main battery," he reported, jerking his head in Amber's direction. "Shepard is probably gonna want you to take a look at it as soon as she hears you're back onboard."
"Shepard?" Amber repeated. "Why would Lieutenant Shepard care what I do?"
"She's the new TAO."
"What!? What happened to Commander Seybou?"
"He was on Byzas Station," MacGrath grimly reported. "There hasn't been any official word but… we're pretty sure he didn't make it off before the station went up.
Amber was stunned. Lieutenant Commander Issa Seybou had been the tactical action officer for as long as she had been assigned to this ship. To hear he was gone, just like that… well, it was shocking to say the least.
"Anyone else not make it?" she heard Poolsie ask in the distance.
"Well, you know, half the crew was off the ship when the attack began. People are still trickling in so… hard to say."
"Christ," Amber muttered, as she considered her next words. As much as she wanted to know who had made it, she really didn't want to know who hadn't, so she searched around the room for something else to ask. Her eyes fell on the Pelican once more.
"What was even in the Pelican by the way?" Amber asked.
"That's the thing!" MacGrath exclaimed, sounding a bit too excited for the change in subject. Perhaps the talk of all the deaths was bothering him too. "Nobody knows! Because as soon as we put out the fires, the order comes down from the bridge: no one gets near the Pelican, not even search and rescue. Fifteen minutes later, fucking Navy SEALs show up!"
"SEALs?" Poolsie skeptically echoed. "How do you know they were SEAL?"
MacGrath waved his hand dismissively. "They all had on the navy blue special ops type armor Navy operators wear, instead of the jet black armor the ODSTs have; plus, they were all carrying suppressed M7 submachine guns. But that's not the point. The point is, they kicked everyone out of the hangar. Not even Captain Lancaster was allowed in! Cameras, all surveillance equipment; everything was blacked out! They must have been trying to remove whoever was in the Pelican for medical treatment because twenty minutes later, when they finally allowed us back in, the whole cockpit had been cut to pieces. And then, Leonard - you know, OS3 Zubair who works in the CIC? - he said he managed to track a single transport craft leaving our hangars and heading straight for the UNSC Tranquility!"
Amber blinked at that. She honestly had no idea what the Tranquility was, but given the name, she was willing to bet it was a hospital ship.
"So somebody did survive the crash," she noted.
"Yeah. It's crazy isn't it!?"
Without warning, Poolsie poked Amber in the arm, as if something had just suddenly occurred to her.
"Hey, if Shepard is the new TAO, she's probably going to be looking for us," Poolsie said when Amber looked up. "We better get going."
"Good point," Amber admitted. "But I wanna stop by my rack first. You go ahead, I'll catch up. See you later MacGrath."
Without another word, Amber took off in the direction of the enlisted berthing. Her mind was racing, trying to process all the new information MacGrath had just provided her. So much to take in, first and foremost being the casualties; evidently Amber's ship had not emerged from the battle as unscathed as she had initially thought. Then there was the potential damage the ship had suffered. She couldn't help but wonder just how many systems had been knocked offline and what exactly she and the rest of the crew were going to have to do in order to restore the Gabrielle to full working condition.
She was still pondering the subject as she entered the enlisted crew quarters and looked around. On a ship the size of a Halberd-class destroyer, there wasn't enough room for everyone to have their own quarters so outside of the captain and the executive officer, the rest of the crew stayed in a compartment that looked very similar to the barracks Amber had stayed in while in boot camp. Every sailor was issued a rack and a footlocker for personal items. The compartment was then further divided between the "men's section" and the "women's section."
For the most part, the sleeping quarters were all rather spartan, however most of the crew – at least on the women's side, Amber wasn't sure about the men's – had done their best to decorate the walls with pictures, posters, and even a couple of blankets; all in order to make the area feel just a bit more homely. However, upon entering the compartment, Amber was startled to see most of those decorations were now scattered all over the place, probably the result of the chaos that ensued during the battle against the Banshees.
Making sure not to accidently step on anything, Amber walked over to her rack and tossed her stuff onto her bed before turning around. With a loud sigh, Amber started cleaning up.
Gathering up all the decorations, Amber did her best to put everything back in its proper place. She started with the posters, as they were the easiest because she could actually remember where they went.
Next, she started working on the other items, like the pictures, blankets, and other decorative pieces of artwork she and her shipmates had put up to add a bit more color to their home.
It wasn't until Amber reached the photographs that she hesitated.
One of the things her friends had done was establish a sort of "memorial wall" for all the people they knew that had fallen in the war against the Covenant. Out of the four main UNSC military service branches, the UNSC Navy had borne the brunt of this twenty year war, and with many members of the crew coming from families with a naval tradition, just about everyone onboard had a family member or a friend who had been killed in action against the Covenant. And Amber was no exception.
Slowly picking up the pictures one by one, Amber paused reverently as she reached her contribution to the memorial wall: a picture of her dad.
Unlike most of the other pictures depicting the fallen, her dad had not been a member of the UNSC Navy, but had actually been a member of the Colonial Military Administration. This hadn't prevented her father from getting deployed alongside his ship if the situation required, as had happened six years ago when the colony of Kholo was invaded. Despite the best efforts of the UNSC and the CMA, the colony had been lost, along with the ship that Amber's father had served on.
The death of her father had been the main motivating factor for Amber's own enlistment with the UNSC Navy, however there wasn't a day that went by where she wouldn't rather have her father back.
The sound of the door to the compartment suddenly opening behind her caused Amber to jump, and she hastily wiped her eyes as she placed the picture back in its proper place on the wall. Taking a moment to regain her composure, Amber stood up and turned around, expecting to see Poolsie standing there, only –
To Amber's horror, it wasn't Poolsie standing there behind her, but Shepard.
"Owain," Lieutenant Shepard quietly greeted and Amber mentally swore as she snapped to attention.
"Lieutenant," Amber cautiously returned.
"Heard you were down here. Glad to see you made it," Shepard uncomfortably announced.
"Thanks. I guess," Amber stiffly replied.
And just like that, the conversation fizzled out and for a moment, the two of them just stood there, awkwardly staring at each other.
The reason for their silence was simple: Amber and Shepard did not get along. At all. Lieutenant Hannah Shepard was a young and ambitious officer, and from what Amber had heard amid the scuttlebutt, had a stated goal of becoming the youngest fleet admiral in the entire history of the UNSC Navy. Because of that desire, Shepard strove to prevent anything from derailing her career and as a result, she was very much a "by-the-book" type of officer; expecting the sailors under her command to do what she told them, when she told them, and without question. Unfortunately, this strict and rigid attitude had contrasted greatly with Amber's more outspoken and defiant nature, and it had only taken a few days after she'd been assigned to the ship for Amber to land on Shepard's shitlist, on which she had stayed on semi-permanent basis.
To complicate matters further, whereas Shepard was an officer, Amber was only a junior enlisted sailor. Because of this, could do very little to retaliate against any and all injustices, real or perceived, that Shepard leveled against her. As such, the only real course of action Amber had was simply to avoid Shepard as much as possible, something that had been relatively easy to do when Shepard was the Gabrielle's officer of the deck, which meant she and Amber had been assigned to work at different stations on the ship.
However, if it was true that Shepard had been appointed as the new TAO, that meant their dynamic was going to change drastically in the upcoming days, as now they would be forced to work directly together.
Without warning, Shepard suddenly sighed, breaking the uneasy silence that had permeated through the compartment, and snapping Amber out of her thoughts.
"Listen Owain," she began, "Let me blunt here: I don't like you. I think you're childish, insubordinate, and a spoiled little brat."
Anger immediately surged through Amber's veins and she automatically opened her mouth to retaliate, but Shepard quickly lifted her hand.
"No. Now's not the time to talk, now's the time to listen," she insisted and reluctantly, Amber closed her mouth. "My point is, I don't like you, and I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual. And you know what? That's fine. I didn't embark on my chosen career path expecting all of the sailors under my command to actually like me. I do, however, expect all my sailors to obey my orders."
"I think you and I can both agree," Shepard continued, "that whatever so-called 'feud' we've got going on, it no longer matters. Because with the arrival of the Covenant, everything has changed. After all, the Covenant don't care whether we get along or not, they'll kill both of us without hesitation for simply breathing. So, what I'm tell… what I'm asking you is, let's just put aside whatever this 'thing' we've got going on between us is, and just focus on doing our jobs. At least until this crisis is over with. Think you can handle that?"
Amber stared at Shepard, and resisted the urge to let out a derisive snort. She couldn't help but note that while everything Shepard had said was good and all, Shepard was approaching this issue as if Amber was the problem. Basically, Shepard was demanding Amber change her ways, without even recognizing the possibility that she herself might be part of the issue.
Regrettably for Amber, there wasn't much she could do about this situation, except nod her head and say, "Aye, Lieutenant."
Shepard nodded, as if that was what she had been expecting. Arrogantly lady. God. And she still couldn't figure out why Amber disliked her.
"You heard about the Banshee kamikaze attacks?" Shepard was saying in the meantime.
"Aye, Lieutenant," Amber distractedly declared.
"Good. Then you probably also heard about the damage they did to this ship. How much, we're not sure yet, but it doesn't matter: we need everyone to go through their stations with a fine-tooth comb and make sure the Gabrielle is one hundred percent ready for combat operations. One of the major components? The main battery. Captain Lancaster needs to know if his ship still has teeth. And since you're one of the few gunner's mates back onboard…"
Shepard trailed off and Amber couldn't help but throw a longing look around the compartment. So much for cleaning up.
"Get to work GM," Shepard finally said.
"We've got a war to fight."
XXXXX
Staging Area, Outskirts of Newington, Actium
May 7, 2545
0053
Sergeant Tariq Helmand
The very sky seemed to rattle and shake as yet another Covenant warship descended through the atmosphere. Tariq automatically tensed and gripped his rifle just a bit tighter as he watched the ship soar through the air. Not that a single MA37 assault rifle could hope to do a thing against a ship that size, but the gesture was more for Tariq's comfort than any sort of attempt at protecting himself.
Fortunately, the ship only did what every other ship had done before it; that is to say, it turned and headed straight for the nearest city. Tariq and his friends were safe, for now. But at the rate those ships were working, it would only be a matter of time before they started heading in their direction. And once that happened, then everyone was fucked.
"We can't do this. This is our job as soldiers."
Tariq turned back to the area where what was left of his battalion had gathered. Duvall was standing there with his arms crossed, looking stubborn.
"Look dude," Lavina snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, this planet has gone to hell in a handbasket. The chain of command is gone. We're free; we can do whatever the fuck we want."
Duvall stubbornly shook his head.
"This ain't right," he insisted.
Chenko raised his hand in a placating gesture.
"Dude, I get it," he said quietly. "I really do. It's the end of days and all that other shit. You wanna go down fighting. But think about it man: this is only one battle. War will still go on after this. So, let me ask you: what would serve humanity better in the long run? Us throwing away our lives, here and now? Or living to fight another day?"
"Fuck. You," Duvall growled. "That's not the issue at hand, and you know it. Stop moving the fucking goalpost around. In fact, Specialist, just shut the fuck up entirely. You don't get an opinion."
Chenko reared back like he'd been struck but before he could say anything, Shayan interjected.
"Hey! That's my fucking life you're talking about there! You wanna throw away yours, fine by me, but don't you fucking drag me down with you!"
"Jesus Christ Sergeant," Duvall hissed, disgust dripping with every word. "I always knew you were squirrelly, but fuck me, I had no idea you were also a spineless coward!"
Shayan immediately leapt to his feet.
"What'd you say to me you little bitch!?" he threatened.
"Oh, big man!" Duvall mocked. "Got the balls to face me, but not the fucking Covenant!"
"Guys, come on!" Chenko attempted to interject, but neither Duvall nor Shayan paid him any heed.
"You motherfucker! I will break you!" Shayan screeched.
"Well, come on then!"
Just as the two seemed ready to come to blows, Tariq felt something inside of him snap, and he surged to his feet. Grabbing a very startled Duvall by the back of his vest, Tariq shoved him hard against the wall.
"What the hell Helmand," Duvall started to exclaim, but Tariq quickly cut him off.
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me," Tariq snapped. "You need to wake the fuck up! Have you looked outside recently? I mean, seriously looked outside!? Look at the sky! You see how many Covenant ships are out there? You see any of ours? Come on dude!"
Releasing Duvall with a huff, Tariq took a step back, shaking his head.
"Draco III is dead," Tariq emphatically announced. "And I don't plan on joining it. And no one, not even you, Sergeant, will get in my way. You understand me!?"
He suddenly cocked his head. He thought he had heard a noise…
Tariq's eyes snapped open as he instantly went from being asleep to full consciousness in a split second. Despite this, he did his best to keep his breathing steady to feign sleep as he listened.
Yep! Someone was definitely moving around just outside his pup tent. But no one was supposed to be awake right now…
Slowly, Tariq eased his hand out of his sleeping bag and snaked it up towards his pillow where his M7 submachine gun was stored. Grabbing a hold of the pistol grip and disabling the safety, Tariq waited as whoever was outside moved closer to the tent flap.
And… now.
The tent flap was suddenly ripped open and Tariq surged upright, SMG in hand and he was just about to pull the trigger when –
"WHOA! SERGEANT, ITS JUST ME!"
Tariq calmly re-engaged the safety but didn't lower his weapon as he stared at Corona, who was now cowering in the tent entrance.
"What the fuck kid," Tariq growled. He glanced at his watch. "What the fuck are you doing scurrying around when we still got another thirty minutes to sleep?"
"There's gunfire outside," Corona cautiously reported as he lowered his hands.
"Yeah?" Tariq replied with a yawn. "In case you didn't know, there's a war going on. Of course you're going to hear gunfire."
"But… it's like, right outside the staging area," Corona said uncertainly. "Should fighting be taking place so close to the staging area?"
"Not directed at us, so what the fuck do I care?"
"But! Shouldn't we… do something?"
Tariq groaned and tossed his gun back onto his pillow. "Who the fuck is on guard duty?"
"Some MPs from the Colonial Militia, I think."
"Then let them worry about it. We've still got -" Tariq checked his watch " – another twenty-minutes before we're supposed to be awake, and I'm sure as hell not going to waste it worrying about shit that's not even my problem."
"Man, I don't think I could even go back to sleep now," Corona nervously replied.
Tariq rolled his eyes.
"Fine." Reaching out to his backpack of stuff, which he had made sure to remove from the outside of the tank and store inside the tent so it wouldn't freeze overnight, he began digging around until he found his thermos and a box of plastic bags.
"If you're not going to sleep, then make yourself useful," Tariq demanded. "We're in the staging area: should be a mess tent around here somewhere. Go get some hot breakfast; I wanna avoid eating MREs for as long as possible. Fill this – " he lifted the thermos " – to the brim with coffee. Black! No sugar or creamer. Fill these – " he lifted the bags " – with coffee powder."
"But we don't have a kettle," Corona protested, even as he took the stuff in question. "What good will coffee powder do?"
Tariq snorted.
"Trust me kid: when shit starts to really hit the fan and Command starts having to choose between sending us ammo or sending us food, that shit will be worth more than crack. Now, fuck off."
Tariq promptly threw himself back into his sleeping bag, and waited for the sounds of Corona leaving before letting out a loud sigh. Despite everything he had just said, he didn't actually think he would be able to go back to sleep. Not after that dream he just had.
"Fuck," he groaned.
XXXXX
Northern Byzas, Thracia Province, Actium
May 7, 2545
0113
Private First Class Adel Savaschi
Adel's armor rattled and shook as someone grabbed his shoulder and tried to wake him. Consciousness didn't come easy to the young Marine, at least not until he cracked open his eyes and saw Sam crouched right in front of him. It took a few moments for yesterday's events to come crashing down on him, but when it did, Adel started stirring.
"Sam?" Adel said between a yawn. "What's going on?"
"Get up," Sam demanded. "And grab your rifle. We're needed on the line."
That caught Adel's attention and he immediately climbed out of his sleeping bag. Rubbing his hands together because of the cold, he grabbed his rifle which was propped up against the wall nearby, and followed Sam as he led them out of the building they were billeted in, back towards the foxholes that made up the forward most positions of the UNSC forces. There, he found X, as well as Lieutenant Lancelot and the Marines that had been on guard duty, ready and at full alert. Standing with them, to Adel's mild surprise, was Sergeant Melvin Mobuto's scout sniper team from H&S Company.
"What's going on?" Adel whispered as he took up position next to X.
"Not sure," X whispered back. "I just got woken up like, two minutes ago."
Adel couldn't help but jump as the sound of mortars passing overhead suddenly filled the air. Fortunately it was outgoing, not incoming, but the noise still made Adel really nervous.
"Easy there Private," Lancelot quietly called out. "Those are ours: we've been sporadically firing mortars downrange most of the night, trying to get the Covenant used to the sound. I figure, another five minutes, we'll send another salvo during which you'll deploy."
He directed the last part towards Mobuto, who nodded.
"Aye, Lieutenant," he replied, before glancing in Adel's direction. "What's going on Adel? Hey man: heard you bagged your first kill yesterday. Congrats."
Adel was silent as last night's events came flooding back to him. In particular, the Jackal he had gunned down while the creature had been trying to infiltrate their lines. Despite having had a chance to sleep on the issue, Adel had to admit, he still wasn't sure how to feel about it all. Should he have felt excited? Satisfied? Or perhaps he should have been disgusted with himself? Granted, if given the chance, that Jackal would have no doubt gunned down Adel without hesitation so really, there was nothing wrong with what Adel had done.
But still, the fact that Adel had deliberately killed another living, breathing, sentient being for the first time in his life, just didn't quite sit well with him.
So rather than reply directly to Mobuto's comment, Adel instead decided to quickly change the subject.
"Hey Sergeant: what are you doing so far up in the front? Shouldn't you be hiding in a hole in rear with all the other queers?" Adel said with a smile, to show he was joking.
Even in the dim light, Adel could see Mobuto grinning back.
"Nah, man. Came to make sure you didn't get that donkey dick you call a rocket launcher stuck up your ass; I know how much you cannon cockers love taking it from behind," he shot back.
Behind him, Adel could hear X chortling ever so slightly at the amount of trash talk being thrown around, and Mobuto grinned before growing serious.
"No, seriously though: Command wants to know what the fuck the Covies are doing, so they're sending all the SS and recon teams out to set up shop. Just don't want the Covies to know we're coming, so we gotta wait a bit."
Adel couldn't help but shiver at that. The idea of trying to infiltrate no-man's land in order to set up an observation post deep behind enemy lines where friendly support was rather limited always made Adel nervous. Granted, he had done something like that last night, but it wasn't as if he had a choice then.
"That's kind of dangerous," Adel couldn't help but note.
A bloodthirsty grin slowly appeared on Mobuto's face.
"I know: it's great, ain't it?" he excitedly whispered back.
"Mortars are about to fire once more," Lancelot suddenly reported, bringing an immediate halt to all conversations. "All Marines, stand to! Don't know if Covies have eyes on us, so SS might start taking fire the moment they step off. Be ready."
Adel shivered, before lifting his rifle and pointing it downrange. All around him, all the other Marines, minus Mobuto and his spotter, did the same.
"Sergeant: standby," Lancelot whispered as the sound of the mortars passing by began to fill the sky. "Go, go, go!"
Mobuto and his spotter immediately hauled themselves out of the hole and took off as the mortars exploded somewhere randomly in the distance. Adel mentally braced himself, half expecting both Marines to immediately be cut down by plasma fire but instead, nothing happened, and he watched as the scout sniper team disappeared into the darkness.
"Standby," Lancelot commanded, his hand pressed against his radio. Adel nervously gripped his rifle as he realized they weren't done yet. "Hang on… and SS is out. Go ahead and stand down Marines."
Adel let out a quiet sigh of relief as he lowered his rifle. Honestly, Adel didn't think he was mentally ready for a firefight so early in the morning.
"Come on guys," Sam commanded, flicking the safety back on his rifle. "Let's go back. Lieutenant?"
"Corporal," Lancelot quietly replied, and Adel followed Sam as he led him and X back to their house.
"Shit," Sam dragged out as they walked back inside and he propped his rifle up against the wall beside his bag. "That was exciting. Well, let's just hope that'll be the most exciting thing to happen to us in the next few hours. We're not actually due to be up for another hour, so if you guys want to go back to sleep, now's the time to do it."
Adel shot Sam an incredulous look. How could Adel go back to sleep after something like that?
He turned to X to complain, but much to his surprise, X had already crawled back into his sack and by the sounds of it, was somehow fast asleep, leaving him to be the only one still standing there. Great.
Adel looked around, wondering what he was going to do now. Sleep was out of the question, but at the same time, he didn't really want to be awake either as he knew all he would be doing was thinking about that damn Jackal. And he didn't want to be doing that right now. He didn't want to be doing that ever.
He let another sigh. Well, perhaps now would be a good time to clean his rifle again.
XXXXX
Camp Hoxha, Thracia Province
May 7, 2545
0127
Private Marcus Olsen
The bed rattled and shook, causing Marcus to stir from his slumber. With a concerted effort, he wrenched his eyelids open, only to be confronted with a room that he did not recognize. He wasn't in his bedroom at his parent's house, as the walls weren't covered in college posters. Nor was he in the barracks at AIT, as there wasn't a bunk directly above him. Where the hell was he?
"Come on dude, get up. I'm not your damn mother: I will dump a bucket of water on your face if that's what it'll take."
With a bit of reluctance, Marcus rolled over to his side to see Orlović standing over him, already dressed. At once, the events of yesterday began to come back to Marcus. The fighting, all the resupply runs… the Covenant had invaded yesterday!
A surge of adrenaline flooded Marcus' veins as he suddenly remembered the big thing that had happened yesterday, and he quickly sat up.
"Aww," Orlović said, sounding disappointed. "I had a bucket ready and everything."
Marcus glanced at him in alarm. Sure enough, Orlović had a small, one liter bucket in hand, filled with water.
"I'm up, I'm up," Marcus quickly assured him. He didn't relax though until Orlović went ahead and put the bucket down.
Tossing the sheets away from him, Marcus reluctantly climbed out of bed, shivering slightly at the slightly cooler room. Glancing down at himself, he was surprised to see he was already dressed, but then he remembered he had passed out last night before he had a chance to change.
"Hey: those weren't the same clothes you were wearing all day yesterday, was it?" he heard Orlović call out from his side of the room.
"Uh… no!" Marcus automatically replied.
"Good. Last thing you want is to be catching hypothermia or pneumonia or some shit like that."
Marcus reached up to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. Right…
"What time is it?" he asked, to try and change the subject.
"Oh-one-thirty? Something like that?"
That caught Marcus off-guard.
"Why do we need to be awake this early?" he couldn't help but exclaim. Orlović immediately straightened and turned around, an incredulous look on his face.
"Dude…" he slowly began. "There's a war going on. No such thing as 'early' or 'late' anymore. There's only 'we good' or 'oh shit, we're all going to die!' So, when Theo tells us to get up, we fucking get up."
"Sergeant Dresden?" Marcus echoed. "He called?"
"Sorta."
As if on cue, the door to the room abruptly opened, and Dresden came strolling in, a greasy looking bag in one hand, and a tray of steaming cups in the other.
"Morning men!" he announced, sounding entirely too cheerful for this hour. "Up and at 'em gents, up and at 'em. We got a long and busy day ahead of us, so we got to hit the ground running. Chop chop. Figured I'd save you guys some time so I grabbed breakfast. It's only mess hall food but hey! At least it's hot."
Marcus couldn't help but just stare at Dresden, shocked. How the hell was Dresden so awake right now? It was especially astounding as Marcus suddenly remembered he hadn't even gone to bed at the same time Marcus had, having opted to stay awake a bit longer in order to work on fixing their rig. Yet, even with less sleep, somehow he had so much more energy than Marcus did. It didn't seem right.
In the meantime though, Orlović had already walked over and grabbed one of the cups from Dresden. Popping the cap off, he took a sip before making a face.
"I don't suppose you…?" he started to ask, an almost pleading look on his face.
Marcus could see Dresden rolling his eyes before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of packs of sugar and creamer.
"Thanks," Orlović said as he all but grabbed the packs and began dumping them into his cup. He suddenly glanced up with a look of warning on his face. "I don't want to hear it, dude."
"Hey, I wasn't about to say anything," Dresden lightly protested. "If you want to drink your coffee like a pussy, then that's your prerogative. Me and Marcus? We're going to drink it like real men: so hot that it burns our taste buds so we don't realize how nasty this shit actually tastes. Right Marcus?"
Marcus jumped and couldn't help but feel guilty.
"Um. I actually do drink my coffee straight black," he sheepishly admitted.
"Oh, do you?" Dresden commented conversationally. "Well, good for you then. Here, take this."
Marcus took the offered cup and took a sip, the caffeine immediately hitting him like a jolt of electricity.
"Wasn't sure what you guys would want, Marcus in particular 'cause we only just met, so I figured I'd get a little bit everything. Ah!" Dresden said, pulling the bag away as Orlović reached for it. "We'll eat in the Rig. Come on, we got to get ready."
"Why's that, sir?" Marcus couldn't help but ask. "What's the big rush? What are we doing today?"
"We are hauling every manner of artillery shells we can get our hands on," Dresden declared.
"What for?"
"Command's planning an offensive," Dresden replied. "We're gonna blow every single one of these fuckers to bits."
"And then? That's when the real battle begins."
Marcus stared in morbid fascination at the look that appeared on Dresden's face, and he shivered at how… excited he sounded. He didn't see Dresden acting like this at all yesterday, so the change completely caught Marcus off guard. But then, just like a switch had been flicked, Dresden was back.
"But, only if we do our jobs properly," he said lightly. "So, that's why we gotta get moving. Come on guys!"
"We've got another long day ahead of us."
XXXXX
O'Neil Air Force Base, Actium
May 7, 2545
0147
1st Lieutenant Link "Zelda" Kuang
The cot rattled and shook as their occupants writhed across the top.
"Oh yeah baby, just like that," Zelda groaned as the beautiful blonde woman rode him like a pro.
"You like that?" the woman flirtatiously replied.
"Oh yeah," Zelda euphorically replied. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back with a groan. "You keep ridin' like that, I might just decide to keep you."
"Talkin' about the future already?" the woman replied with a laugh that almost made Zelda explode right then and there, but he resisted the urge.
"Don't you know it," he replied with a groan.
"How come I don't get a future."
Zelda jerked awake and launched himself upright. There, standing at the end of the bed just staring at him with a dead look, was Betros.
"What the…" Zelda frantically said, looking around. "Betros? Aren't you? I mean… didn't you… weren't you…"
"Dead?" Betros finished for him. "Yeah. I know. I was there. And so were you. You watched it happen. You… let it happen."
"What?" Zelda exclaimed, astonished. "No… No I didn't! Dude, your bird was fucked up! There wasn't anything I could do!"
"You're the best pilot in the entire AO," Betros snapped. "That's what you tell people, isn't it? You don't get to say that without accepting certain responsibilities. You should have seen it coming, you could have said something, you let me die!"
He suddenly surged forward and wrapped his hands around Zelda's neck, only now it wasn't Betros but a Covenant Brute.
"You are all worms," the Brute sneered. "And you will all burn!"
As he started choking, Zelda reached down to his waist, trying to grab his sidearm, only he couldn't quite reach it. It was just out of his reach, just out of his reach…
Zelda lurched awake just as he started to fall out of his cot only he wasn't fast enough to catch himself. He hit the ground hard.
"Whoa! Are you alright dude?"
His face burning in embarrassment, Zelda looked up to see Omega-12, aka, 1st Lieutenant Mohammad "Skeeter" Astor staring at him with a concerned look on his face, and Zelda's embarrassment only deepened. Bad enough he had accidentally rolled out of his cot like he was a fucking toddler, but to have someone else witness it?
"Fuck off Skeeter!" Zelda reflexively snapped.
Skeeter reared back.
"Well excuse me for trying to pretend to care," he angrily retorted, and a small part of Zelda couldn't help but feel guilty for having snapped at him, but at this point Zelda was too fired up to care.
"Yeah, well, nobody fucking asked you to!" he growled. "So leave me the fuck alone!"
"You know, this is why no fucking likes you Zelda: you're a goddamn prick."
"And you're nothing but a fucking bug," Zelda retorted. "Always sticking your nose in other people's business. Like a fucking 'Mo-Skeeter!'"
Skeeter angrily opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to think better of it as he instead agitatedly waved his hand before stalking off. Zelda watched him go, before picking himself off the ground and throwing himself back onto his cot. Reaching up, he rubbed his eyes.
What the fuck was that dream all about? A lesser man might have suggested that perhaps Zelda was feeling some guilt over the loss of his fellow squadron member, Chief Warrant Officer 2 Bertin Betros, who was the first pilot to be killed in action yesterday. But the thing was, Zelda wasn't one to feel guilty about stuff like that, especially things he had no control over. That's not to say he didn't feel bad about the loss of Betros – he had liked Betros, which was something he didn't say a lot about the people not only in his squadron, but his entire fighter wing. But there was no way Zelda even remotely bore responsibility for Betros' death.
Zelda groaned and leaned his head back as he tried to replay exactly how Betros had died. He had been killed very early on in the day, inside the rings of Tenedos. A Covenant CRS-class light cruiser had fired a single plasma cannon bolt, which had struck Betros in the wing, tearing it apart and sending Betros into a fatal spin, one he wasn't able to pull out of before he crashed into an asteroid. No one had seen the cruiser arrive and thus, they had no warning that the bolt had been coming. There was absolutely no way Zelda was at all responsible for Betros' death and therefore he felt no guilt over the entire incident.
Absolutely none.
…But then again, if there had been no warning, how was it that Zelda had survived…
"Yo! You awake yet?"
Zelda quickly looked up at the sound of Odessa's voice.
"I'm awake," Zelda declared, doing his best to hide his internal conflict. "I've been awake: seriously, who can sleep with your fat ass snoring away like a fucking chainsaw man."
Odessa laughed appreciatively.
"Yeah, and here's me thinking you couldn't fall asleep without a little…" he thrusted his hips forward a couple of times. "What do all the ladies say you do? Three thrusts and you're out like a light? Come on man; that's some weak sauce right there."
Zelda absentmindedly flicked him off, but truth be told he wasn't paying attention. Odessa's talk of sex had inadvertently forced him to think about his dream again, and all the baggage that came with it, and Zelda was doing his best to suppress it.
Perhaps picking up on his mood, Odessa quickly grew serious.
"Anyways, I recommend getting some food Lieutenant: we're going to need it."
"Why? What's up?" Zelda asked as he climbed to his feet. Odessa stared at him.
"The Covenant, dude," he said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "We're going to hit back, duh. And you know what that means, don't you?"
Zelda shook his head.
Odessa shrugged.
"It means, dude, we're going to carpet bomb the shit out of them. So, let's go. We don't have a lot of time to get ready."
XXXXX
Central Byzas, Thracia Province
May 7, 2545
0201
Officer Selene Riddle
The building rattled and shook, causing Selene to instantly snap awake. For a moment she laid there, beadily staring into the darkness, trying to figure out what was going on, when the building rattled again, proving that she wasn't dreaming after all.
Slowly, she reached into her blanket and pulled out her sidearm. As she did, she looked around the room. According to her watch, it was about two o'clock in the morning, which meant it was dark enough as it was. However, being inside a room without any electricity or lights meant it was completely pitch black, devoid of any sort of ambient light for Selene's eyes to pick up on. Nevertheless, she was still able to tell how very much alone she was at the moment.
Where the hell did Shin go?
Easing her stiff body off the ground, Selene brought her pistol up into a low-ready position. Wishing she had a pair of night vision goggles or even a flashlight, Selene slowly began walking around the room, trying to determine if Shin had been kidnapped or if he had left of his own accord. Or even less drastically, he was merely hiding in the shadows of one of the corners of the room.
However, after a few minutes of walking in circles, Selene was able to determine that Shin was nowhere to be found, and that if he'd been forcefully removed from the room, there was no indication.
Inhaling sharply through her nostrils, Selene did her best to remain calm. Just because Shin wasn't where she had last seen him, that didn't mean he was gone, gone. Perhaps he had merely left to go on another scavenging run? Though, Selene would have preferred that he had woken her to tell her that, instead of simply disappearing.
Then again, Selene was beginning to realize this was very much going to be a "thing" with him.
Figuring she might as well look around the building, on the off chance Shin left a note or something, Selene felt her way along the wall until she located the door. Easing it open, she couldn't help but flinch as a loud creak filled the empty silence. Fortunately, the noise occurred at the exact same time the building shook once more, so she doubted anyone further than a meter away from the room would have heard the noise. Though it did raise another question: what the hell was causing all that shaking?
Deciding that was a mystery to be solved after she found out what happened to Shin, Selene lightly shoved the door open all the way and cautiously walked into the hallway.
Outside, there wasn't that much more light, however given the confines of the hallway versus the room she had just vacated, there was a lot less area she had to cover, so Selene wasn't too bothered by it. What she did have to figure out though, was which way to start her search.
"If I was Shin," she whispered to herself, "where would I go?"
The building shook once more, causing a small pile of dust to fall onto her shoulders, and it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Shin had been woken up by the same rattling as Selene had. And if that was the case, then perhaps he had gone to find out what the source of all the shaking and rattling was? But she didn't think he was stupid enough or crazy enough to simply walk outside where anyone could see from. Which meant he probably went to go find a window. Which meant finding a room that had a window facing the direction of the most likely source of the noise.
Turning left, she slowly walked down the hall, doing her best to keep quiet just in case it wasn't just her and Shin in the building. Reaching the room at the end of the hall, she stopped and squinted at the door, as if she had somehow magically acquired x-ray vision overnight.
As it turned out, no she hadn't, but after several minutes of straining, Selene eventually realized that the door was actually cracked open slightly, as if someone had gone through recently.
Bingo.
Selene started to reach for the doorknob, but then paused. To be fair, she actually couldn't remember if this door had been closed beforehand, or if it had always been cracked open like this. But then again, did it really matter?
Nevertheless, Selene brought her pistol up into a low-ready position as she reached out with her other hand and carefully pushed the door open.
Almost immediately, her eyes were drawn to the figure silhouetted in the small window that was overlooking the street below, and Selene automatically snapped her sidearm up.
"Police! Freeze!" Selene reflexively started to say, but at the last second, suddenly remembered what her situation was. Though she wasn't able to stop the words from tumbling out of her voice, at the very least, she was able to smoothen herself down to a whisper.
The figure at the window jumped, and whirled around, and the movement nearly caused Selene to instinctively shoot him, and she would have if it weren't for the fact the figure immediately began hissing:
"Whoa! Riddle, it's me!"
Selene hurriedly lowered her pistol so that the muzzle was pointing straight down at the floor as she recognized Shin's voice. Still, for some reason, something made her hesitate.
"Shin?" she whispered back in the hopes of getting a confirmation.
"Yeah. Who the fuck else do you think it could be?" the figure irritably demanded as he lowered his hands and walked forward, close enough that Selene was finally able to make out Shin's face in the dim light, thus confirming his identity.
Selene slowly let out a sigh of relief as she finally put her pistol away.
"Sorry," was all she said. "Had to make sure."
She could see Shin shaking his head.
"Shit. Woman, has anyone ever told you, you are wired fucking tight?"
A wave of annoyance instantly surged through Selene.
"We're sitting in the middle of an alien invasion dude," she snapped back. "I had to be sure."
"Yeah, whatever," Shin said dismissively, which only served to add fuel to Selene's anger, but before she could say anything else, Shin gestured for her to come join him at the window. "Come here. You need to see this."
Her irritation pausing at the sudden change of topic, Selene did as she was told, walking across the room to the window to look outside.
"What am I looking at?" she asked as she took in the sights. As expected, it was pretty dark outside; not as dark as it was inside due to the ambient light being reflected off the snow-filled clouds overhead, but dark enough that she wasn't able to instantly pick out what Shin was looking at.
"Wait for it…" Shin whispered.
Selene was about to ask, but before she could, there was a purple flash from somewhere deeper in the city. Almost at the exact same time, the building rattled and shook once more.
"What the hell was that?" Selene exclaimed, her anger forgotten in the face of this new mystery.
Beside her, she could feel Shin shrugging.
"Hard to say, but best guess? Covenant demolition charge."
"'Demolition charge?'" Selene echoed. "They're blowing up the city!?"
Shin snorted. "If they wanted to destroy the entire city, they would glass it. No, what they're probably doing is only blowing up a number of select buildings."
"Why?"
"They're digging in," Shin grimly proclaimed. "We need to leave. Now."
"What?"
Selene was completely caught off guard by both the sudden change in subject, as well as Shin abruptly pulling away from the window and walking back towards the hallway. She hurriedly moved to catch up.
"What's going on Shin?" Selene demanded to know. "Why do we need to leave?"
"The Covenant are digging in," Shin explained without breaking stride. "Which means they're expecting a counterattack. You know how the UNSC starts a counterattack? By paving a twelve lane highway using high altitude bombers and massed artillery. They're going to level this entire area with high explosives to bury the Covenant alive, then roll over their graves with tanks. And we just happen to be sitting in the middle of the dartboard."
"We need to get back underground. Now. Before it's too late."
XXXXX
Covenant designated Landing Zone: Deliverance
Forerunner Designated World: MS 222-53 a
9th Age of Reclamation
1st Planet Cycle
Minor Zek
The vehicle rattled and shook as it strained to pull its load. Zek growled as he fought to keep it under control. It was stupid, but to be fair, he was trying to use this vehicle in ways that it was never designed to be used.
An attack was coming. Zek may have only been a security technician, but one didn't need to be a matriarch in order to figure that out. The moment the Fleet and the Legions had ceased their attack, and thus surrendered control of the initiative, was the moment everyone knew the humans were going to launch a counterattack. The only question remained: how big was the attack going to be and when was it going to take place?
For those questions, Zek would leave it to Fleetmaster 'Oteree to answer. What Zek needed to figure out was how he was going to survive the upcoming onslaught.
After Fleetmaster 'Oteree returned to orbit, much of the Covenant fleet had retreated from their position over the city. Meanwhile, back on the surface, Evocatus 'Quetshadee, commander of landing zone Deliverance and current commander of all Covenant Legions on the colony – at least until a proper Zealot and ground commander could arrive – had decided to withdraw all armored vehicles to the center of Deliverance in order to preserve them from the upcoming attack. As a result, regular soldiers like Zek and his comrades had essentially been left to figure out on their own how they could survive the coming wave.
Fortunately, when the humans had withdrawn from this part of the city, they'd left behind all manner of building material and vehicles. Most of the vehicles were clearly intended for civilian usage, as they were but lightly armored and would do little to stop a bullet; however, Zek had realized that if enough of them were pushed together, they would at least provide acceptable levels of protection against the likes of shrapnel, of which there was undoubtedly going to be a surplus of in the coming cycles.
The key, however, was attempting to push said vehicles together, hence Zek's current struggle.
"Vittu!" he screeched as the vehicle abruptly slipped and nearly flipped over with him still in the seat.
"Brother Zek… are you well?"
Zek's head snapped in the direction of the speaker. There, standing nearby, was Ziik, the T'vaoan that Zek had met while at Firebase Reformation. Zek didn't know when Ziik had joined them in this sector of the city, but apparently he had at some point as he was currently standing just off to the side, watching Zek work with a small look of concern on his face.
"YES, I AM FINE!" Zek all but shouted in response. "Why would you think otherwise!?"
"Perhaps because you are attempting to use a Type-32 as a cargo trawler?" Ziik suggested.
Zek glanced down.
Due to the weight of the civilian vehicles which made it difficult for Zek to move around, Zek had decided to go looking for alternative methods of pushing the vehicles around. During his search, he had stumbled across a slightly damaged Covenant Type-32 Rapid Attack Vehicle. Used for reconnaissance and skirmishing, Type-32s were never designed to haul heavy cargo around. Nor were they even designed to be used by Kig-Yar as they were designed for usage by the Sangheili, and the morphology of the two races was so different that Zek wasn't even able to properly sit in the driver's seat of the vehicle.
Nevertheless, with no alternatives available and limited time, Zek had commandeered the Type-32 and tied a couple of human vehicles to the back in order to move them into a more optimal position. However, much to his annoyance, said task had proven to be far more difficult than he had anticipated. Hence his growing frustration.
"HOW ELSE AM I TO MOVE THESE CURSED VEHICLES IF NOT WITH THIS!?" Zek angrily demanded.
Ziik cocked his head.
"Perhaps you should have ensured the human vehicles have been placed in the proper gear before attempting to utilize the Type-32 in such a manner?" he suggested, not at all intimidated by Zek's anger.
"I – what?" Zek stammered.
Ziik gave a toothy grin, before walking over to one of the human vehicles. In the dim light caused by the glow from the anti-gravity engines of the Type-32, Zek watched as he reached into the human vehicle, grabbed a handle sticking out from the side of the steering wheel, and pulled it downwards. Almost immediately, the wheels on the human vehicle began to turn, and all resistance disappeared.
"You need to unlock the wheels on the human vessels," Ziik explained. "Otherwise, you are dragging them along, instead of wheeling them along."
Instead of placating Zek's anger, all Ziik's explanation did was cause him to become even more agitated.
"FINE!" Zek yelled as he climbed out of the seat in a huff. "If you're so smart, then you do it!"
Ziik gestured indifferently before climbing into the Type-32. Almost immediately, the Type-32 and the human vehicles began rolling down the street without any of the resistance Zek had been experiencing moments ago, and leaving him feeling slightly foolish.
"Stupid T'vaoans, always have to be better than every other Kig-Yar," Zek grumbled under his breath as he stalked over to where he had left his weapons. Grabbing his Type-51, he began cleaning off all the snow and dirt that covered the housing, trying his best not to think about what was undoubtedly going to occur in a few cycles.
"Zek, does this pavise go on the left arm or the right? I can never remember."
Zek automatically looked up at the question, only to see Rezan standing there, fumbling with an energy pavise as he attempted to figure out which forearm it needed to be attached to.
"Attach it to the arm that has been injured, so that you may still be able to fire your weapon," Zek snapped, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.
Rezan jumped and looked startled as he stared at his wounded hand, as if noticing it for the first time.
"Oh…" Rezan said sadly. "Of course."
At that, Zek couldn't help but feel guilty for snapping at his friend, and at once, all of his anger seemed to dissipate.
"Come here," he demanded, before reaching up to try and help his friend properly equip himself.
"I can't believe the Shipmaster refused to allow you to be evacuated off this world," Zek grumbled out loud as he worked. "You are wounded! You should not be fighting."
He could feel Rezan gesturing indifferently.
"I merely lost usage of my hand, Zek, not my entire arm," Rezan pointed out. "I can still hold a sidearm, if not a service weapon. And the Legions will need as many soldiers as they possibly can get in order to withstand the coming storm. At least I can provide you with some cover with this pavise."
He gestured at the inactive energy shield Zek had just finished strapping to his forearm and Zek squawked in acknowledgement, doing his best not to start at Rezan's damaged hand. Back at the Firebase Reformation, they had been attacked, and in the ensuing firefight, Rezan's finger had been shot off, leaving his hand bloodied and scarred.
"Well, stay close to me: I'll watch over you," Zek commanded.
"We'll watch each other," Rezan corrected. "After all, once this attack begins, the only people we will be able to depend on are our Brothers standing next to us on the line, as well as the blessing of the Gods."
Zek tried not to shiver at the thought. He knew what Rezan was talking about. Despite having never experienced an attack similar to the one that was undoubtedly coming, Zek had seen the videos and he knew what to expect. When the humans attacked, it would begin with hundreds and hundreds of aircraft, all of which would drop their bombs and other explosives. Once they were finished, then would come the human mortars. In a few cycles, this entire sector would be naught be craters, blasted buildings, and destroyed vehicles.
"We better keep working," Zek urged as he glanced at the sky. It was still dark. Good. That meant the attack had yet to come. But it would.
He could feel it.
Footnotes
1. Colonial Military Administration: I realized that in official canon, the Colonial Military Administration, or the CMA, has mostly been dissolved by 2545, with most of its ships and assets being handed over to the UNSC. That being said, I always pictured the CMA as kind of holding a similar status to the way the United States Coast Guard works in real-life, with the Coast Guard officially being a military branch and falling under the Department of the Navy (and subsequently, the Department of Defense,) however during peacetime it falls under the Department of Homeland Security. I kind of figured a similar situation would have developed with the CMA.
So basically, during peace, the CMA would report directly to the United Earth Government, however during times of war (such as the Insurrection or the Human-Covenant War,) the CMA would instead report to the UNSC, with most of its assets being used to augment the UNSC Navy's active fleet. However, I don't foresee all of CMA's assets going to the Navy, and one of the major roles I see the CMA holding during the war would be refugee management: after all, every time a colony gets invaded by the Covenant, the UNSC immediately begins evacuation procedures. But just because all these people are offworld, doesn't mean they're safe, which is where I see CMA stepping in: using whatever small ships they have left (probably corvettes, light frigates, and maybe a couple of outdated destroyers like the Diligence-class and the Hillsborough-class,) they would provide armed protection for these massive refugee convoys while the Navy would focus on taking the fight directly against the Covenant.
So yeah, in summary of how I view most of the Colonial assets and what their real-world counterparts would be (including the CMA and the Colonial Militia) :
Colonial Military Administration (CMA) = United States Coast Guard
Colonial Militia = United States National Guard
Various Colonial Navies = United States Merchant Marines
2. SEALs: I have a long and lengthy explanation for how I imagine both the UNSC "Special Operations Command" (UNSCSOCOM) and "Joint Special Operations Command" (JSOC) would be organized, from the names of the units each military branch would have contributed, to what roles and responsibilities they would have, and even what "tiers" each unit would occupy. However, I'm saving all that for my other fanfic, Barracuda, as those units are the main subject of that story.
The short explanation for this story, however, is that "SEALs" are just the nickname for the UNSC Navy's "tier one" non-Spartan special forces unit.
Author's Notes
A couple of general notes before we end the chapter:
- Updates: I'm going back to my original schedule of updating one chapter every two weeks. At the end of Book 1, I was doing an update once a week, however that was a schedule that was really hard to maintain, so I'm not going to do that unless I'm somehow able to build up a large reserve of chapters.
- Pacing: as with the beginning of Book 1, this book is going to start off a bit slow as our characters get themselves geared up for the fighting ahead. I realize that non-action has kind of the theme for my Halo stories in the last few months, and most of my readers are probably interested in jumping back into the action, which will happen, but not for another four chapters at least. So, I can only ask people to be just a bit more patient.
- Edits: over the last few months of hiatus, I've been doing some editing of Book 1. Most of it has been administrative things like grammar and spelling errors, but some of it has actually been headcanon and plot stuff like adopting a more uniformed pattern to unit names, changing of commands, etc.
Most of the changes shouldn't affect anything too much, but I have three changes that are somewhat noticeable:
= I've changed the reason for Admiral Spaatz's being on the UNSC Kilkis. Instead of being his flagship, I've changed it so that Spaatz was only on the ship because he was in the middle of inspecting it when the Covenant invasion fleet arrived, it was just more efficient for him to stay onboard the ship than waste time returning to his headquarters on Heliopolis Station.
= I think I've finally dropped the last vestiges of Kanin's original stupid accent that I had been trying to do at the beginning of the story.
= Specific for chapter 18, I've dropped the idea of Air Force gunships and changed them to Longsword interceptors. I originally had an idea for Air Force gunships, but in the end, they just didn't quite work out the way I had thought they would, and it was just easier to use something that was already established in canon.
It should be noted that in that chapter, the Longswords are intended to be the larger versions normally used by the Navy (the C709 Longsword variant.)