Battle: Actium

by Ian Otter

Before the Fall of Reach, the Battle of Actium was one of the bloodiest land battles of the Human-Covenant War. Experience the fighting through the eyes of those who fought, and died, in her defense. (Companion piece to my other story, Missing in Action) (Abandoned.)

41. Chapter 40

I was trying a "thing" with this chapter. Try not to think about how long some of these conversations would actually be in real life.

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Chapter 40

"Northern Front" HQ, Byzas, Actium
May 7, 2545
0500

Lieutenant General Athena Miles

Taking a sip from the cup of steaming tea Pasang had just placed on the table in front of her, Athena glanced at her watch: they were at T minus sixty minutes to H-hour. Right on schedule. Good.

For the last two hours, Athena and her staff had been frantically working, trying to make sure all the elements required for this upcoming operation were in place. The force they had assembled was hardly textbook, however it was the best they could hope to achieve given their somewhat limited resources. Unfortunately, for an operation this complex, there was only so much Athena could do to prepare, as a large amount of factors were simply outside of her control. Being the responsibility of other people, the best Athena could do was hope and pray they would pull through.

Of course, Athena wasn't much one for "faith," which is why rather than waste her time praying, she was here, attending another briefing.

Unlike the briefing she had attended earlier this morning, this one was far more limited in scope, being confined to only include the commanders in charge of the ground component of Operation: SUDDEN PURGE II. With that being said, key figures in the chain of command, such as Admiral Spaatz, General Langley, and the commander of the Army's INSCOM, Lieutenant Colonel Harper, were still in attendance.

"Good morning," General Fields was saying, his hologram flickering ever so slightly. As commander of the overall ground battle, he was leading the briefing. "The purpose of this briefing is to ensure all elements – Air Force, Army, Navy, and the Marines – of this operation, are all communicating on the same frequency so that we may be able to conduct this upcoming offensive in the most effective and efficient manner."

"A quick summary of the plan as it stands at the moment: with the bulk of the Covenant forces located in the southern half of the city of Byzas, the main thrust of our attack will come from the north. Under the purview of Lieutenant General Athena Miles and her 9th Marine Expeditionary Force," Fields reported, throwing a nod of acknowledgement in Athena's direction, "UNSC forces will drive the Covenant out of the city proper and up against a defensive line, as established by Lieutenant General Mabel Valerien and her XIV Armored Corps."

"The geography of the Thracia Province greatly limits the axis of the Covenant's advance," Fields continued, "but it doesn't stop them entirely. Therefore, to prevent the enemy from attempting to outflank either of our two major fronts, we have two other forces in position to hold them back. In the west, the Actium Army's 24th Mountain Division under the command of Brigadier General Tai Wahta has begun entrenching themselves in the heart of the Haemus Mountains."

Athena glanced around the room and spotted the man in question, giving a small wave.

"Meanwhile, out in the east, along the shore," Fields was saying, "we have a task force from the Actium Navy's North Euxine Fleet. While the likelihood of a Covenant amphibious assault is slim to none, it's not out of the question. Therefore, Rear Admiral Jale Darvish's ships are standing ready."

Athena glanced across the room where a younger woman was sitting, wearing a simple navy service uniform.

"Finally, the skies. Both the Navy's Sixth Fleet and 52nd TAF are slated to provide us orbital cover, however tactical air support in the form of Broadsword fighters and Shortsword bombers will be provided by the UNSCAF's No 112 Air Division, under the command of Lieutenant General Gordon Shreve."

"In terms of our timeline," Fields continued. "We intend to begin our attack at exactly zero six hundred hours – H-Hour - with an artillery barrage, utilizing both heavy howitzers and short-ranged MLRS's from the Army and the Marine Corps. Targets will include known Covenant hardpoints, as well observed troop concentrations still in the open, however, the main target of the barrage is all known and probable locations of Covenant AA, with the goal of destroying, disabling, or suppressing all enemy air defenses located in the city."

"Barrage will continue, unabated, for thirty minutes, at which point all Covenant air defenses will hopefully be sufficiently suppressed. Whereupon, Shortsword bombers from the No 112 AirDiv will conduct a flyover of the entire city and bomb every single known, probable, and suspected Covenant position using a combination of bunker busters, cluster munitions, and thermobaric weapons. As soon as the Shortswords are finished, Broadswords and Wombats will follow up with ATGM strikes on any targets the bombers may have missed."

"Bombing run and air strikes will take… approximately fifteen minutes to complete barring any complications?" Fields stated, glancing at Shreve, who nodded in confirmation. "Upon which, ground artillery will resume engagement of all previously established targets inside the city. Initial barrage will consisted solely of long and short-ranged rocket artillery; once all rockets have been expended, tube artillery will immediately take over, and will continue to maintain suppression of enemy defenses throughout the entire course of the operation."

"In the meantime, at about zero six forty-five hours, all ground combat units will begin their advance. In the north, Marines supported by Army troopers will begin advancing south through the city. On the southern front, Army tanks supported by mechanize infantry will simultaneously assault in the east and west directions out from the town of Newington in order to expand our defensive line. Attack aircraft, gunships, rotary craft, and mortars will be on standby to provide fire support on both fronts."

"Unfortunately, given our general lack of confirmed intelligence regarding the Covenant composition, we're not sure how much resistance we can expect from them. However, given their tendencies, we can only assume the Covenant will fight back with the same rabid fanaticism we've see from them in the past. Therefore, it's a little hard to predict just how long ground operations will continue. Ideally, the Covenant defense will simply collapse in the face of our infantry's advance, however more realistically, NORTHCOM is expecting the fighting to last the entire day, at least," Fields affirmed. "However, we're prepared to do whatever it takes to sustain the combat; our goal is the complete elimination of all Covenant soldiers on this planet, whatever it may take."

"Are there any questions?"

Athena heard someone clear their throat, and she looked up to see Admiral Spaatz leaning forward.

"Question, General," he began. "How many Covenant AA sites have we been able to positively identify? I know our supply of bombers is somewhat limited, so I'd rather not risk them unnecessarily."

Fields let out a small cough.

"Pardon sir, but I do believe that's a question General Shreve is more qualified to answer," he replied, before glancing in Shreve's direction. "General?"

Shreve slowly climbed to his feet.

"To be completely honest, sir? Not much, if any," he admitted. "We've spent most of the morning having Wombats do slow and low overflights of the entire city, see if we can't draw some ground fire but… the damn Hinge-heads aren't taking the bait. I reckon they've figured out what we're doing, and are doing their best to hide, for now. They'll probably emerge the moment our birds go in."

"So… what are we doing to protect our aircraft?" Spaatz asked.

"Well, sir, we've got a couple of things goin' our way here," Shreve replied. "Covies didn't have much time to set up proper SAMs, so their AA is limited to two things: Wraiths and Shades. Wraiths are a bit more of the problem, as they're mobile, and have a lot more armor compared to Shades. But like Shades, they have a relatively short detection radius, which limits where they can go. Which is why, the initial artillery barrage will be focusing heavily on those few spots we can expect the Wraiths to be."

Langley looked up.

"How much artillery is being dedicated towards that task?" he asked.

Shreve glanced at Fields.

"Roughly seventy percent of the initial barrage, sir," Fields replied. Athena could see Langley raising an eyebrow.

"That much? We're not worried about counter-battery fire?"

"Well sir, all signs indicate the Covenant are doing their best to preserve their heavy weapons for the infantry attack, so we don't expect much counter-fire," Fields explained. "But in the event that does happen, NORTHCOM HQ has assigned General Valerian a battery of tactical ballistic missiles for, well, counter counter-battery fire. Furthermore, Admiral Darvish has allocated at least one guided-missile destroyer equipped with hypersonic cruise missiles for our use."

"Not only that, sir," Athena interjected, "as part of the 9th MEF's assets, we have a battery of 'Delta' model Rhinos, equipped with Zeus 320mm plasma cannons, which we're retaining for this purpose."

"If we've got plasma weaponry in play on the field, then let's make sure all commands are aware of that," Spaatz immediately said. "Last thing we need is for someone to accidently call down counter-fire on our own guns."

"Yes, sir," Langley said, as Athena nodded in agreement. That was a good point. "Though that does raise the question: how are we planning to spot the enemy fire?"

"Aircraft, mostly," Shreve explained. "I'm planning on having at least three Longsword airborne warning and control system craft over the city at any given time. Key will be trying to find the best altitude to park them – too high, and we run the risk of taking fire from orbit, but too low and they might as well be bait for Covenant AA fire. But, we'll figure it out, sir."

"Having AWACs over the city will also give us the advantage of being able to spot any Banshees that might try to come out of the city and engage our bombers," he added, "so there's that."

"Good, good," Athena heard Spaatz saying."Let's switch topics here for a moment. General Fields, you mentioned NORTHCOM is prepared to sustain combat for at least a full day. Are you prepared for the possibility that fighting could extend beyond that time?"

Fields grimaced.

"Yes and no, sir," he admitted. "For the last half day, the priority of the Transportation Corps has mostly been on munitions – at the moment, we've managed to amass roughly five thousand shells a piece for each of our howitzers and mortars, ballpark figure of about ten thousand rounds per infantryman, and almost three quarter million litres worth of fuel. However, our shortfalls are with medical supplies, food, and water. In that order, sir."

"What's the problem?"

"Frankly, sir, our logistics are tapped out. Our focus has been moving combat units into position, at the cost of logistical and supply ones. As a result, we just don't have enough trucks or men. And the situation is only going to get worse once off-world reinforcements arrive and simple battlefield attrition."

Athena could see Spaatz glancing between Fields and Langley. "So, what are we doing to address this issue?"

"Well, as you know sir," Fields began, "the Army has always been rather dependent on the Colonial Militia for rear echelon support. So I've given the order to activate just about every single support unit under my command and have them shipped here. However, they are CM units, which means they aren't prepared to deploy this quickly; essentially sir, it's going to take them time to marshal their forces and deploy to this area."

"How much time."

Fields noticeably hesitated. "A couple of days, sir. At earliest."

Spaatz frowned. "So, again I ask: what are we doing to address this shortfall?"

Langley shuffled in his seat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room to him.

"I've reached out to the other unified combatant commands of this colony for support," he reported, "most notably Southern Command and Central Command as they're both the closest. They've been ordered to ship over their activate support units over to Hellas as soon as they can, but again, it will take a few days for them to arrive."

"In the meantime, sir," Fields quickly added as Spaatz started to become visibly annoyed, "we're starting to commandeer trucks from civilian stock."

"Self-driving trucks or manned vehicles?"

"Both, sir."

"How are you getting the drivers?"

"Started by asking for volunteers," Langley explained. "As well as offering cash incentives."

"And how many takers?"

Athena noticed Langley and Fields exchanging a look.

"Not as many as we would need," Fields admitted.

Spaatz reached up and visibly pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Any chance the Marines could lend a hand?" he suddenly asked, jutting his chin in Athena's direction.

"Not really, sir," Athena admitted. "As I told General Fields when he asked, 'We Marines are known for a lot of things. Logistical is not one of them.' As you know, sir, Marines are rather dependent on the Navy for most of our support."

Spaatz nodded and fell silent for a moment.

"Offer up drivers priority refugee resettlement status for their families if they're willing to stay, not just in the next couple of days, but for the entire battle," he finally declared. "But if that doesn't take, start conscripting drivers."

"Sir. Unfortunately sir, there is also still the issue of providing them with protection," Fields pointed out. "Ideally we should keep the Covenant boxed in around the Byzas area, however… we can't guarantee it."

"Tap into the civilian police force, and offer them the same deal," Spaatz commanded. "At least until reinforcements arrive. Speaking of which, what's the status in that regards?"

"Might be easier, sir, if the front commanders explain their situation themselves," Fields offered, before turning to Valerien. "Why don't we start with the south? General Valerien?"

Valerien climbed to her feet.

"My situation is as follows, sir: currently I've got roughly three quarters of the 7th CAV online and ready for combat. I've got one maneuver brigade from the CM's 80th Rifle Division in my AO, however, given that they are a light infantry unit only, they are of somehow limited utility. However, I'll still be able to find a use for them. Most importantly sir, I've just got word that the entire UNSC Army's 31st Armored Division just arrived in the system about half an hour ago, so I'll be working with my staff on getting them and their tanks transported to the surface while operations are underway."

With a small nod, Valerien started to sit back down but before she could, Langley raised his hand.

"General Valerien, quick question: as I understand it, the only combat aviation brigade you had at the ready was the 53rd CAB, only they're up north, under General Miles' command. Who are you using for air support instead?"

"The Actium Air Force, sir. Mostly Vulture gunships and SkyHawk attack aircraft from the No 234 Attack Group," Valerien reported.

Langley nodded, and Valerien sat down. Then, almost as one, everyone turned to look at Athena.

Clearing her throat, Athena stood up.

"As I explained in this morning's system-wide briefing, my largest issue is with command and control," she began. "Since that time, my staff and I have managed to hash out a workable system. It's not pretty, but we're confident it should hold until the rest of my forces land. Speaking of which, we've also managed to work out a timetable for when the rest of the 9th MEF is able to land; at the moment, we're bringing down the 77th Marine Regiment, with the 43rd to follow. However, the problem I'm rapidly running into is a general lack of infrastructure; until we begin our attack, I simply don't have much room to station too many Marines."

"And I am getting a lot of Marines," she continued. "Aside from the 103rd MEU, I've also got two more Marine combat units en route to the system: the 11th Marine Expeditionary Brigade, as well as the 8th Marine Division."

Out of the corner of her eye, Athena noticed General Wahta looking up.

"Ma'am, any chance you could send a couple battalions my direction?" he asked.

Athena took a moment to think it over.

"Probably," she finally announced. "How many do you need?"

Before Wahta could reply, Fields raised his hand.

"What's the problem, General?" he asked. "I thought you had most of the mountain passes secured already?"

"I do. But, in order to do so, I had to deploy all my troops," Wahta explained. "Keep in mind sir, I've only got two units under my command at the moment: the 33rd Mountain Brigade Combat Team and the 2nd and 7th Battalions of the 1187th Mountain Infantry Regiment. I have absolutely no reserves, so if the Covenant were to attack in force…"

Wahta trailed off and gave a shrug. Athena glanced at Fields, who nodded.

"I'll have my staff put together an RCT centered around the 38th Marine Regiment," she declared. "And I'll probably be able to give you the 103rd MEU once they arrive. However, I'm not sure I can spare much more than that; based on all the intel and recon I'm receiving, this offensive is shaping up to be one hell of a meat grinder, so I'm going to need all the Marines I can get to maintain my momentum."

"That's plenty, ma'am," Wahta assured her. "Though… I don't suppose you've got some air support to spare too?"

Athena shook her head. "As of right now, all our air support will be coming from the Army Airborne's combat brigade, who barely have enough aircraft to cover our entire AO. I have more aircraft coming online, but not for several more hours, at least."

"I can have a couple of my fighter squadrons transferred over to your AO," Shreve suddenly offered. "They'll be fast movers, not gunships, but at least it'll be better than nothing."

"That'll work. Thank you sir," Wahta assured him.

"General Langley, contact High Command and have them ship over another mountain unit and a couple more aircraft squadrons," Spaatz ordered. "Preferably multi-role fighters jets; I have a feeling we might need them."

"Yes, sir."

Spaatz glanced around the room. "I do believe that's everything. If no one has any more questions…"

Athena glanced up as someone suddenly raised their hand. It was Rear Admiral Darvish.

"Excuse me Admiral," she said in a soft voice, and Athena couldn't help be struck by how young she sounded, even for a one star admiral. "I can't help but note that there seems to be a lot of effort going into this operation. But our goal is to kill all the Covenant, right? If you don't mind me saying, sir, but at this point, wouldn't it just be easier to nuke the city of Byzas and be done with it, and avoid all this bloodshed?"

Athena glanced at Spaatz, curious to hear his response, only to see him immediately shaking his head.

"As much as I'd like to do that, there are several factors that prevent us from trying just that," he began. "First off, both the Sixth Fleet and ODC have asked me to conserve all nuclear weapons, no matter the yield, for usage against the enemy fleet in orbit as, despite our superiority in numbers, the balance in firepower is roughly equal. Nuclear weapons are quite possibly the only thing that might be able to shift that balance in our favor."

"I've already approved the request because, secondly: we don't actually have too many nuclear weapons deployed on this planet. As you're undoubtedly aware, Admiral, Actium manufactures quite a few munitions, however nukes are not one of them. With most of our ready stock already off-world, our supply is limited."

"Lastly, according to information I've received, with the amount of iron ore located within the crust of this planet, detonation of even a low yield tactical nuke on the surface would result in mass contamination of the atmosphere with iron dust and rust particles. While exposure to both substances in low concentrations is relatively benign, the amount that would be deposited… well, I'm not a doctor, so the science is beyond me, however I'm told it would permanently contaminate the atmosphere and toxify the water supply, effectively destroying this world."

Darvish nodded in understanding, and then sat back down, however Spaatz's response left Athena slightly disappointed. While her Marines were equipped and trained to deal with any situation, she would have rather avoid this upcoming battle if at all possible – she simply wasn't interested in losing too many of her men in the meat grinder that Byzas was undoubtedly going to become.

Nevertheless, despite her misgivings, Athena had a job to do, and so she would execute to the best of her abilities.

Athena was roused from her thoughts when Spaatz stood up once more.

"Thank you all for attending," he acknowledged. "If that's everything, then the only thing I have left to say is good luck. Dismissed."

"Sir," Athena called out in farewell along with the rest of the occupants of the room, before reaching out and deactivating her projector. Once more, she suddenly found herself back inside the communications room of her headquarters building, and it took her a few seconds to reorientate herself. Once she did though, she immediately walked outside where Pasang was waiting patiently for her.

"Ma'am," Pasang said, snapping to attention as soon as Athena stepped out. Athena barely acknowledged her presence and instead, jumped right into business.

"What's the status of the 77th MAR RGT?" she demanded to know as she headed in the direction of the CIC.

"1st Battalion has fully transited to the surface, though they're still awaiting their heavy weaponry," Pasang announced as she followed in Athena's footsteps. "Meanwhile, we've begun shipping down 3rd Battalion."

"Good," Athena replied as she stepped into the CIC, waving her hand to stop everyone from immediately snapping to attention, before gesturing for General Lysander, Colonel Savage, and Sergeant Major Osterman to join her. "Keep at it. In the meantime though, new orders from FLEETCOM: Colonel Savage, I want you to get a line up to 9MEF HQ and tell them to prep an RCT centered around the 38th Marine Regiment. At the same time, inform Colonel Riley to prep his boys for mountain warfare – they're getting shipped over to the western front to shore up the UNSC defensive line in the Haemus Mountains."

"Not sure we have enough transports to do that, as well as continue to bring the 77th down to the surface," Pasang immediately warned, causing Athena to frown.

"Then get in contact with General Shreve's staff at the 112th," she ordered. "See if they wouldn't mind lending us some of their heavy-lift aircraft to help out."

"Yes, ma'am."

"While Colonel Savage is doing that, Colonel Pasang? Continue working on bringing the rest of the 9MEF elements to the surface. General Lysander?" Athena turned to the man in question, who snapped to attention. "As most of our logistical support right now is coming from Army units, I want you on point in that regard. Interface with all the G-4 and S-4 sections, and double check we have enough supplies to sustain this fight in the event it last longer than a fully thirty-six hour day. If not, inform me immediately. Apparently, NORTHCOM as a whole is finding themselves running short in terms transportation units, so I have a feeling we're going to end up fighting with the other fronts over who gets what. If we can building up a stockpile of essential supplies right now, then I rather do that."

"I can do that, ma'am," Lysander replied, and Athena immediately turned to the last man in the room.

"Finally, Sergeant Major Osterman: I want to do a last minute inspection of at least the artillery units participating in the initial barrage. Let's ensure the men are equipped and ready to engage, understood?"

"Ma'am."

"Alright." Athena clapped her hands. "You're all dismissed. Let's go people!"

Her staff promptly scattered, leaving Athena alone for the moment to calm herself down. She frantically thought about what else she needed to do to prepare, but found herself coming up short. At this point, she had done everything she could. The only thing left was for her to hope that the men and women who would be doing the actual fighting was ready.

Without thinking, she checked her watch:

They were at T minus twenty minutes to H-Hour.

XXXXX

O'Neill Air Force Base, Actium
May 7, 2545
0542

Zelda

Zelda stared pensively out across the airfield in the direction of north. Obviously he was too far behind in friendly territory to be able to see anything, but reports had been coming over the radio all morning about the minor fighting that was taking place closer towards the frontlines – it would seem that while the fighting had slowed, it hadn't entirely stopped.

None of the fights had warranted the attention of the Air Force though, being too small to really justify the need to scramble fighter jets. Plus, about half of the skirmishers were over before any call for help could be sent out. Which was good, as that had allowed the ground crews to conduct a full overhaul of Zelda's Broadsword, making sure it was ready for another long day of fighting. However, in a few minutes that would all change, which was what led to Zelda's current dilemma.

It wasn't that he was scared to go back into the air. Zelda was no pussy: flying wasn't just a job for him, it was a way of life. It was what defined him. Being able to kill a bunch of monstrous, genocidal aliens while doing so was just icing on the top. However, there was no denying that doing so took a toll, both physical and emotional, on the pilot flying the machine. Flying at those speeds, for that many hours, sitting on the edge of the seat, knowing that death could come from anywhere… it was rough. A lot of people couldn't hack it.

Of course, Zelda was one of the best of the best… but still, even the best pilots in history had gone down because of the smallest of incidents. The Red Baron, for example. Killed by a single bullet fired from the ground as opposed to ordnance launched by any flying machine. And while those things certainly happened from time to time, it was just not the way Zelda wanted to go out.

Zelda looked up as Odessa unexpectedly plopped down onto the ground right next to him.

"Happy birthday," he announced without preamble as he handed Zelda a package.

Without thinking, Zelda took the package before pausing. "My birthday's not until next month."

Odessa shrugged.

"Well, consider it an early gift," he retorted.

Zelda glanced at him before shrugging to himself and tearing off the cardboard paper that covered the package. To his mild surprise, the package turned out to be a six-pack of energy drinks.

"Know you're not much of a coffee drinker, so figured you would rather prefer that over this," Odessa noted, gesturing at the large thermos of steaming coffee he was carrying.

"Where the fuck you get this shit?" Zelda asked even as he removed one of the drinks from its packaging. Popping open the can, he took a quick swig.

"BX," Odessa simply said.

Zelda's head snapped up at that.

"The BX?" he repeated. "When the fuck were you allowed to go to the BX, and why wasn't I told?"

Odessa frowned. "We got permission to go, like, an hour ago because Bellum figured our Broadswords wouldn't be ready to go in that time, so it didn't hurt for us to leave and get some small comfort stuff. Where the fuck were you?"

Zelda opened his mouth to reply, but then hesitated. He'd actually been sitting here in that time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zelda could see Odessa giving him a close look.

"Dude, you alright?" he finally asked.

Zelda grunted.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. "Why?"

He could hear Odessa shrugging. "We've known each other for over two years, and during that time, I can almost never get you to shut up. Now you're hardly speaking. Plus, Skeeter mentioned you were having issues getting up this morning."

Choosing to ignore the first part, Zelda instead glared at him.

"Really? You're gonna believe a word Skeeter says?" he sneered.

Odessa gave an indifferent shrug.

"Hey, Skeeter might have a stick up his ass, but he's generally honest about these sort of things," he allowed, before narrowing his eyes. "Which is something you would have known if you bothered to hang out with the rest of the squadron every now and then."

Zelda stared at him.

"Why the hell would I want to hang out with those… casuals, when I already spend more time than I want with them here?" he couldn't help but exclaim.

Odessa shook his head.

"You know, it's one thing to be 'Mister Anti-Social' all the time, but it probably wouldn't hurt to have another friend in the squadron besides me and… well…me," he pointed out.

"What makes you think you're even my friend?" Zelda reflexively retorted and immediately winced. He didn't really mean that.

Fortunately, Odessa didn't seem to care.

"'Cause I'm the only one around here who can tolerate your bullshit," he dryly noted. Then he added: "Plus, I'm a better pilot than you."

Zelda scoffed and shook his head. "Whatever man."

Odessa smirked and took a large gulp from his thermos. His watch suddenly let out a loud chirp, and he quickly glanced at it before letting out a loud sigh.

"Well," he began. "Guess it's time. Let's go kick some ass, yeah?"

Zelda grunted in agreement and climbed to his feet before following Odessa as he led them in the direction of their respective hangars where their Broadswords were located. As they did, the sound of multiple fighter jet fusion engines starting up began to fill the air.

Zelda glanced at his own clock.

They were at T minus eighteen minutes to H-Hour.

XXXXX

Byzas, Thracia Province
May 7, 2545
0545

Adel

Click-clack. Click-clack. Click-clack.

Adel sat inside the lobby of the one of the many buildings the Marines had taken over and integrated into their defensive line, idly playing with one of his magazines while staring out of the nearest window in the direction he knew where the Covenant MRL to be.

At the moment, he and the entire UNSC force was waiting. Waiting for the artillery to begin firing. Waiting for the order to be given for them to advance. Waiting for them to attack. Adel had to admit, in some ways, he was kind of looking forward to it. Not because he was all that interested in getting shot at, but mostly because he was getting sick and tired of simply waiting here. Sitting in this freezing weather, getting lost in the thoughts he simply didn't want to be thinking about. Adel had joined the Marines for the action, and right now, that was exactly what he needed.

At the same time, he wasn't exactly looking forward to this attack. He could still remember with absolute clarity the sheer amount of defenses the Covenant had set up in front of the Marines from his recon mission with Lancelot last night, and that had been hours ago. Who knew how much more the Covenant had accomplished since then?

Not that Adel was concerned about getting hit. Rather, he simply didn't want to see his friends get torn up right in front of him. Not again. Because, as much shit as Sam and even X gave him, they were still his friends, and he didn't want them to get hurt because otherwise… well, he didn't know what he would do.

"Is that why your magazine feed lips are always fucked up?"

Adel looked up at the sound of Sam's voice, only to see him staring pointedly at the magazine Adel was playing with. Adel glanced down, where he had been absentmindedly popping the first round out of his magazine, only to immediately put it back in.

"No…" Adel reflexively denied, even as he replaced the round and resisted the urge to immediately remove it once more.

Sam snorted in disbelief.

"Don't do that dude," he warned. "Government issued magazines are shitty enough as it is; no need to make them worse by doing what you're doing now."

Adel couldn't help roll his eyes, but he nevertheless tucked the magazine back into its proper place on his belt. Unfortunately, he found he couldn't sit still for very long, and he quickly pulled out a fragmentation grenade and began to play with that instead. Sam raised an eyebrow at the sight, but didn't say anything. Instead, he merely snorted in amusement before returning to his Rubik's cube.

Sighing to himself, Adel quietly placed the grenade back onto his belt, only to hear the sound of someone approaching him. He looked up to see two Marines walking towards him, but unlike Adel and his buddies, Adel could tell these guys weren't UNSC Marines, but reservist as everything about them – from the way they walked to the way they carried their rifles – screamed colonial militia.

"Excuse me," one of them said as the two of them came to a stop right in front of Adel. "You Corporal Yilmaz?"

Adel gave them a critical once-over.

"Who's asking?" he demanded to know. The speaker gestured at himself.

"I'm Lance Corporal Stephen Gale, and this here is Private First Class Derik Reznick," the man said, introducing himself and his friend. "Lieutenant Lancelot told us to come here. Said we were being reassigned to your team. To act as ammo bearers?"

Adel stared at them, aghast.

"Son of a bitch, you got to be fucking kidding me!" he spat out. "I knew the LT told us he couldn't give us any of his good soldiers, but I didn't think he was going to give us fucking reservist!"

The other soldier, Private Reznick, immediately bristled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, ignoring the warning look Gale seemed to give him. "We're Marines, just like you – just because we're also Colonial Militia, it doesn't make us any less trained than you are! And besides, your battalion commander, Major Garcia, is also from the CM! So, what's your problem?"

"Adel, shut your mouth and don't answer that question," Sam interjected before Adel could say a word. Climbing to his feet, he took a step forward and physically put himself between Adel and the two militiamen. "I'm Corporal Yilmaz. So you two are our new ammo bitches, huh?"

"Ammo bearers," one of them, Gale, immediately correct.

"Ammo bearers, ammo bitches, what's the different?" Adel heard Sam reply with a verbal shrug. "Point is, you're here to help us carry ammo. That's good, cause need lots of it. Let's get you fitted real quick. Either of you trained on the M41 Jackhammer before?"

The three of them walked away, leaving Adel both confused and horrified. He immediately turned to X.

"'Our battalion commander, Major Garcia?''" he quoted. "Who the fuck is Major Garcia, and what the fuck happened to Lieutenant Colonel Van Klinken?

X looked up from the data pad on philosophy he was reading from and gave Adel an odd look.

"Okay, genuine question here: do you treat briefings as naptime or something?" he asked.

"No, why?"

"'Cause all this shit was explained when we got our mission objectives, dude. For this operation, due to 'command and control reasons,' we've been temporarily reorganized; we're no longer with 2/77th MAR REGT, we're something like 'Item Company, 3rd Battalion,' which is apparently just a conglomeration of us, the Army dudes, a couple of AF guys, and the militia." X leaned in towards Adel. "You really oughta start paying more attention, dude, 'cause otherwise, it just might cost you your life."

With that, X turned back to his data pad, leaving Adel to be suddenly very reluctant to embark on this offensive. It was bad enough he and his buddies were about to march into the shithole that was this city; it was another thing entirely to do so with fucking reservist watching his back.

He quickly glanced at his watch to see if there was enough time for them to get some other people as ammo bearers. Unfortunately, they were at T minus fifteen minutes to H-Hour.

Fuck, this was going to suck.

XXXXX

Staging Area, Thracia Province
May 7, 2545
0548

Tariq

Tariq quietly tore the top off his small packet of powdered milked and poured it into a bottle of water he had stashed in one of the various nooks at his station nearby. Thoroughly shaking the entire combination in order to ensure it was properly mixed, he then went ahead and poured his drink into the bag of breakfast cereal that had come with his MRE. With his free hand, he reached into one of his vest's pockets and pulled out his spoon. Blowing on it a couple of times to make sure it was relatively clean, Tariq leaned back in his chair as much as he could, before proceeding to dig in.

Tariq could honestly say that breakfast cereal was one of his most favorite foods in the entire universe. It was rather weird though, as it wasn't any cereal in particular, it was all of them. Duvall used to suggest that it was actually the milk that Tariq enjoyed, but Tariq was pretty sure that wasn't right – the few times Tariq had drunk milk by itself, he had found the stuff to be rather nasty. No, there was something in particular about the combination of breakfast cereal and milk that Tariq really enjoyed.

Thinking about his old tank commander caused to Tariq to let out a mental sigh. So. Duvall had been hit. It was… almost impossible to believe, really. Back on Draco III, Duvall had gotten a reputation for doing a lot of crazy stuff that under normal circumstances, should have either killed him or gotten him seriously wounded. Yet somehow, Duvall had been one of the few soldiers to make it through that campaign completely unscathed. And yet, he couldn't even last a full day on Actium.

Now, to be fair, Tariq had no idea how badly Duvall was wounded. The most frustrating thing about casualty lists was that it was just that, a list. It never went into any details about what happened, when, or how bad the injured party was. Obviously, in order to make it onto the list, the injury had to be bad enough to remove the soldier from action, but for all Tariq knew, it was something as simple as a sprain ankle or some crap like that.

But somehow, deep down, Tariq knew it had to be pretty serious. After all, it wasn't in Duvall's nature to simply give up and allow himself to get evacuation. Not without serious protest at least.

Tariq let out another mental sigh. He supposed the easiest solution was to simply call the man, but ignoring the fact that, given the circumstances, personal calls like that weren't being allowed, Tariq simply had no way of actually reaching Duvall. He had tried calling Duvall a couple times in the months following their evacuation from Draco III, but it quickly became clear to him that Duvall was openly ignoring him. Obviously he wasn't interested in forgiving Tariq for his role in… whatever happened on Draco III, and in some ways, Tariq couldn't blame him.

At the same time, what they had done had been done for the greater good, and if Duvall couldn't accept that, then fuck him. Being a soldier was all about making the difficult choices, and if Duvall couldn't handle that, then perhaps he shouldn't have been a soldier in the first place.

Yet, on the other hand, Tariq was sort of sad to see the years of friendship they had together just… get dumped down the drain like that…

Suddenly realizing his eyes were getting a bit misty, Tariq violently shook his head and looked around his station for something to distract him. Realizing he wasn't feeling any heat, Tariq glanced at the nearby vent, only to find it wasn't blowing anymore. Mutely letting out a growl, Tariq reached out and gave the thing a solid whack.

Bang.

"Jesus!" Corona let out a loud yelp as he physically jumped in his seat. Tariq gave him a very strange look.

"The fuck is the matter with you kid?" Tariq demanded to know through a mouthful of cereal.

"Sorry! I was just… um… I was… sorry," he stammered. "I'm just, uh, a little nervous about this upcoming operation."

"Why?"

Tariq could see Corona physically turning around in his seat to give him an incredulous look.

"Because… it's the Covenant," he said, a bit uncertainly. "There's a lot at stake here: a lot of lives are going to be lost in the next few hours, but at the same time, if we don't succeed here, that's going to send repercussion rippling across the entire planet and – "

Tariq immediately held up his hand.

"Why are you worrying about that shit?" he demanded to know as soon as Corona had stopped talking.

"I don't follow," Corona admitted.

"Why are you worrying about other people's lives and the 'strategic repercussions' of this operation?" Tariq elaborated. "That's not your job. You're not a general. Or an admiral. Hell, you're not even an officer. You're just a tank driver. Why worry about shit that's not under your control?"

"I just – "

"No, shut up and listen to me," Tariq immediately interrupted. "Your job is to drive this tank, and do whatever she tells you." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Noble's direction. "Just like how my job is to shoot this gun. That's all you need to worry about. Focus on your job, focus on doing it right, and trust that everyone else in the AO is doing the exact same thing. Because if we all play our roles to the best of our ability, then we'll be fine. Don't spend your time worrying about shit that's not under your control, focus on the things you can, and you'll be much better off that way. Hooah?"

"Hooah," Corona replied after a moment of silence. He didn't sound entirely convinced, but when he turned back to his station, he was visibly calmer, so Tariq chalked it up as a win.

Behind him, Tariq could practically hear Noble beaming at their interaction, and Tariq was pretty sure she thought it was the result of her lecture from earlier this morning, but truth be told, Tariq's actions was merely pragmatism. After all, being stuck in the same tank as Corona, if Corona were to somehow freeze or freak out in the middle of a fight and the tank were to be struck, then there was a good chance Tariq would be taken out too.

No, if Tariq was not going to get killed by something stupid like that.

Taking another bite out of his cereal, Tariq glanced at his clock to figure out how time he had to enjoy what would probably be his last meal today.

They were at T minus nine minutes to H-Hour.

XXXXX

Outskirts of Newington, Thracia Province
May 7, 2545
0551

Marcus

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

A steady tapping noise filled the cabin as Marcus nervously bounced his foot up and down on the floor.

"Stop doing that," Orlović demanded from where he was sitting beside Marcus. Marcus immediately stopped tapping his foot.

"Sorry," he said, before glancing out the window. For a few moments, there was silence then –

"Dude, don't do that either."

Marcus hesitated, before realizing he had absentmindedly started drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in lieu of tapping his foot.

"Sorry," he said once more.

"And stop fucking apologizing," Orlović snapped. "It's annoying."

"Sorry," Marcus reflexively said, and winced as Orlović facepalmed while Dresden let out a loud laugh from the other side of the cabin.

"Dude, you're making me nervous. Stop it," Orlović demanded.

"Sor – " Marcus began, before managing to catch himself.

"That's not my intention," he said instead.

"Yeah, sure, I know. Still doesn't change the fact you're making me nervous."

"Marcus, why don't you go take a walk?" Dresden suggested. "See if you can't burn off some of that nervous energy. Maybe have a smoke break while you're at it. We'll still be here when you return."

Marcus nodded then popped open the door, shivering as the cold air immediately hit him. Nevertheless, he hopped out of the cab and started walking around the area, both in an effort to keep warm as well as burn off some of his nervous energy. Marcus wasn't ashamed to admit, his nerves were shot as a result of this upcoming operation. And the firefight earlier this morning hadn't helped matters one bit.

As Marcus did his little walked, he also took a look around the area. He, along with the rest of his platoon, were sitting around waiting in some sort of staging area where some soldiers had set up a bunch of heavy mortars in preparation for the nearly upon them attack – Dresden had identified the soldiers as belonging to the 3rd Brigade, 80th Rifle Division, which had apparently arrived on the frontline within the last several hours. How Dresden had known this information, Marcus didn't know, but he supposed it didn't really matter.

Regardless, Marcus and his platoon had arrived to this area roughly half an hour ago in order to deliver a load of 120mm mortar shells, only to find the unit here literally had no room to store them. According to the commander, each mortar had closed to a thousand shells prepared fire at the enemy. So until the attack begun and the mortars began firing away – thus making room to store more shells – the only thing Marcus and his platoon could do was just sit there and wait.

Which was good because in many ways, the sight of so many shells did a lot to help Marcus calm down. Not that he was particularly keen on standing amongst a veritable forest of bombs, as one stray spark and people would finding pieces of him in orbit. But the fact there were so many shells positioned here showed just how much firepower the UNSC had at their fingertips. Even if each one of these shells was only capable of killing one Covenant, the end result would still be a massive amount of alien invaders dead. And surely the Covenant couldn't afford to replace all those troops, right?

No, in some ways Marcus was actually a bit excited for this attack. After all, the sooner they began, the sooner it would be before the Covenant were running away with their tails tucked between their feet. And as soon as that happened, maybe things could actually get back to normal around here. Maybe Marcus could even get a discharge from the Army!

…

…okay, perhaps he was being a bit too optimistic about that last one, but the possibility had go be there, right? All they had to do was start the attack. Which they would.

In exactly six minutes.

XXXXX

UNSC Gabrielle
May 7, 2545
0554

Amber

Amber sat on her bunk, staring blankly at the data pad she had sitting in her lap. She was supposed to be recording a message that was to be delivered to her family in the event of her untimely death, but Amber found she just couldn't do it. She just couldn't.

Not only did she not know how to put into words everything she wanted to say, she also really didn't want to be thinking about her own mortality right now.

It sounded stupid, she knew, because, what better time was there to face the idea of death when standing on verge of the precipice? But at the same time, there was a part of Amber that couldn't help but think: as long as she continued to deny the possibility of her dying in combat, then it just wouldn't happen.

But of course, real life didn't work that way, did it?

The creaking of the bunk above her head caught Amber's attention, and she looked up in time to see Poolsie poking her head over the edge and stare at Amber with a rather intense look on her face. Amber patiently watched as Poolsie open her mouth as to say something, but then hesitate, and throw a glance at their two GM shipmates who were idly lounging in their own racks in the other side of the berth. At once, Poolsie's face became flushed and she quickly closed her mouth.

'What?' Amber silently mouthed at her, but Poolsie quickly shook her head.

'I'll tell you later,' she mouthed back, and then retreated back to her bunk.

Staring the spot Poolsie's had just been, Amber reached up and scratched her head in confusion. That was weird, but at the same time, that wasn't the first time Poolsie had done something like that and at this point in their friendship, Amber had learned to merely chalk it up as one of her friend's odd quirks.

Taking pains as to not disturb the stilted silence that had formed inside the berth, Amber nevertheless let out a mute sigh before turning back to her data pad, and attempting to force herself to start writing. Only, it felt like she just had some sort of mental block that prevented her actually doing anything. And it wasn't hard to figure out why: in roughly six minutes, Operation: SUDDEN PURGE II would begin.

Technically, the Navy's part of the operation didn't begin at the same time as the ground force's. As part of the plan to try and divide the Covenant Navy's attention, the UNSC Navy had to wait until the ground force had committed to their attack before beginning their part. Nevertheless, Admiral Amarchih – the commander of Sixth Fleet, the fleet that Amber and her ship had been reassigned to within the last few hours – had insisted all ship under his command stand at general quarters roughly at the same time as the ground forces began their attack, just in case.

Which is why Amber and her shipmates were sitting and waiting here, in their sleeping quarters. With all repairs having been completed an hour ago, there wasn't much else Amber and her friends could do, so they had returned to their crew quarters to try and relax.

Not like that was easy under this situation.

Amber finally let out a sigh, cause her friends to jump, and shoved her data pad away. She couldn't do this now. Maybe if she went and go a cup of coffee from the mess or something -

Without warning, a loud whistle came over the intercom, followed immediately by the chiming of an alarm.

"General quarters, general quarters," the ship's boatswain calmly declared over the ship's 1MC "All hands, man your battle stations."

"The route to general quarters is up and forward to the starboard side, down and aft to the port side. Set condition zebra through the entire ship and prepare for combat!"

Amber immediately surged to her feet. Grabbing her anti-flash gear, helmet, and vest, she hurtled them on and waited for everyone in the room to finish getting dressed.

"Good luck girls," was all she said before dashing out of the room and heading towards her station. As she did, she happened to glance at a nearby clock:

They were T minus three minutes to H-hour.

XXXXX

"Northern Front" HQ, Byzas
May 7, 2545
0557

Athena

Athena stood on the balcony, staring down the road where the Army had positioned a couple of their 203mm self-propelled howitzers. Surrounded by at least four ammunition supply vehicles, she could tell they were prepared and ready to begin firing the moment the clock hit zero six hundred hours. For now though, all they could do was wait.

And that was all anyone could really do at this point – wait. All preparations for the attack had been completed. All the soldiers had already been briefed and positioned at their proper jump off points. Every single howitzer, mortar, and MLRS was loaded and pre-sighted at their assigned targets. Ammunition and other critical supplies had been pre-positioned in forward supply depots, ready to move forward alongside the rest of the front lines. MEDEVAC vehicles had been prepared, and all field hospitals were standing by for the influx of wounded warriors. Even the Air Force's bombers were already en route to their designated targeting areas.

Basically, everything and anything Athena could have done to prepare, had already been accomplished.

Athena did her best to avoid fidgeting. She always hated this part. The anticipation and the dread that came with the knowledge that the fighting was about to renew once more. That all the pain and struggles were about to become reality once more.

Without thinking, she glanced at her watch. Again. For the third time in the last minute and a half. She just couldn't help it. They were at exactly T minus three minutes to H-Hour, yet it seemed more like thirty. The seconds on her watch seemed to tick by so slowly.

It was at times like this, Athena kind of wished she was still just a simple Marine rifleman platoon commander. It wasn't because she enjoyed getting shot at, mind you, but it was more to do with the fact that, at the moment, she really didn't have anyone to commiserate with her. The old adage came to mind: "it was lonely at the top," and, as a three star general, Athena had found the statement to be truer than she had ever realized. Sure, there were other general-grade and flag officers at her level, but they were all sitting at their own headquarters, no doubt worrying about the same things Athena was right now.

Of course, even if those other officers did happen to be here, standing right next to Athena at this very instant, it's not like they could really standing around complaining like junior officers or even the enlisted could do. Again, as a general-officer, there were certain unwritten expectations of Athena, one of which was that she was to remain calm, collected, and most of all, professional at all times. Because, after all, when things inevitably went wrong, it would be her responsibility to make it right.

And that was the other thing that she found difficult sometimes: the economy of scale in terms of responsibility. As a platoon commander, Athena had been in charge of about forty Marines, not including herself. While forty Marine was still a lot of people to be responsible for, she was at least able to learn the names of everyone under her command, find out what they were like as Marines, and even get to personally know some of them.

Now? As commander of the entire Northern Front, Athena had close to fifty thousand military personnel under her command. Fifty thousand. She didn't even know what fifty thousand people looked like in person. And yet, she was responsible for leading them all to victory?

It was a nearly overwhelming thought.

Movement from down the block caught her eye, and Athena looked up in time to see the howitzer crews climbing out of their vehicles. At first, Athena was confused as to what was going on, but then she remembered when it came to artillery, generally the crew always tried to fire the first shot from a few meters away, as a safety precaution just in case the first shell exploded inside the breach.

Athena glanced at her watch. They were officially at T minus thirty seconds to H-Hour.

"And away we go," she whispered to herself as she watched as the artillerymen set up a lanyard. They would be firing in three…

Two…

One…

"FIRE!"

---

1. BX: BX stands for Base eXchange. Basically, it's a general store/small mall on some military bases where active and former military personnel can go to buy good like uniforms, food, alcohol, etc., or where they can go to obtain certain services like barber shops, or dry cleaners, or even vehicle maintenance. As is common with most things in the US military, each service branch has their own name for it: in the Army, they're known as the "PX" (post exchange,) while the Navy calls it the "NEX" (naval exchange,) and the Marines call it the "MCX" (Marine CorpseXchange.)

2. Athena mentions in the chapter she's in charge of a little over fifty thousand troops. While that's certainly a lot of people, a couple of caveats to keep in mind. First, most of Athena's troops are still in orbit, or have yet to arrive in the system. Second thing to keep in mind is the "tooth-to-tail" ratio, which is basically the ratio between the number of "combat troops" (like the infantry, tankers, artillerymen, combat engineers, fighter pilots, etc.) and "support troops" (like truck drivers, mechanics, engineers, etc.) There aren't any real hard numbers that I'm aware of, but I've seen sources state that the tooth-to-tail ratio for the entire US Army is roughly 28%. As in, 28% of the entire US Army are considered "combat arms troops." In other countries, that ratio could be even higher, with some armies being one in ten soldiers. As in, only ten percent of their armies are combat soldiers.

For the Marine Corps, the ratio is usually skewed the other way due to their expeditionary nature, which means they need to travel fairly light. Again, I don't know any specific numbers, but I doubt it would break even 30%.

Author's Note

Something I sort of started to explain back in my notes for chapter 37, but never really got into (because there was a lot of information already present in that chapter alone,) was how the structure of the Air Force goes.

Something I'm doing in this story that I haven't really done before so I figured I'd give it a try, is try to modify the structure of the UNSC a bit in order to make it seem less of a "United States military in space," and more of a "human military that draws heritage from multiple nation's militaries." What I mean by that is, I've been trying to bring in subtle and minor structural and cultural differences from different militaries around the as opposed to strictly sticking with the United States.

Obviously there's some fundamental things I can't and or don't really want to change, as that's stuff that's been established in canon (like ranks,) but other, minor things, I think I would like to try something different. The big thing would be the UNSC Air Force: as opposed to being influenced by the USAF, one thing that I've been trying to do is add on more of a British Royal Air Force as, it was (at least during WWII,) one of the largest air forces in the world.

One of those changes I've tried to adapt is more of a RAF structure, as opposed to a USAF one (which coincidently makes it more like a USN aviation structure.) So, instead of "squadron," "group," then "wing," unit sizes would be "squadron," "wing," and then "group." Going higher would then be a "Tactical Air Force" (as opposed to a USAF "command,") then a "Command" (as opposed to a USAF "numbered air force.")

There is also one other change I've added in that, given how large the UNSCAF would theoretically be (and covering the vast amounts of planets and colonies it would be,) I thought it would be beneficial if there was actually one more layer of organization. So I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to insert an "Air Division" in the command structure, placing it between a "Group" and a "Tactical Air Force." The idea being that Air Divisions would be the command in charge of different sections on a colony, whereas Tactical Air Forces would be responsible for the entire colony (so, in other words, a colony would have multiple air divisions in both orbit and on the surface that would all report to a single TAF.)

So, UNSCAF unit structure would look like this (smallest to largest)

Section – Flight – Squadron – Wing – Group – Air Division – Tactical Air Force – Command.

So, to use an example, Zelda is part of No 187 Fighter Squadron, of the No 103 Fighter Wing, of the No 75th Fighter Wing, of the No 112 Air Division, which helps covers Actium's NORTHCOM area. However, Actium itself is the responsibility of the Fifty-Second Tactical Air Force, who in turn would report to FLEETCOM Sector Twelve (Confused yet? There's a reason why a lot of this crap gets put in my noted and not in my story – it gets too confusing to keep track of, even for me.)

Something else to note:

- "Air Division" is not a unit used by the RAF. It's actually supposed to be from the Russian Air Force (though they seem to use both the term "air division" and "aviation division,") but I actually found out later "Air Division" was a unit that used to be used by the USAF (in roughly the exact same way as I'm depicting here in this story,) and is currently a unit used by the Canadian Air Force (in lieu of "Groups.") So, lucky me I guess.

- the naming of the units itself is sort of a blend between the RAF and the USAF. As far as I can tell, the RAF actually doesn't differentiate between different types like the USAF does (so, it's No 1 Squadron, not No 1 Fighter Squadron or No 1 Bomber Squadron.) I added the type of aircraft to the unit name because again, given how large the UNSCAF would theoretically be, if they used the sequential numbering system like the RAF does, then numbers would be ridiculously high (like having a No. 10,000 Squadron, or something like that.)