Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I do not own halo. I only own my OC
-November 27, 2525 -
- Above Chi Ceti IV-
-Jenna-057 PoV-
It took less than five minutes for our Pelicans to come back and pick up each Spartan team. And not 10 minutes after the Pelicans pressurized and began towards the heavily damaged Commonwealth, did the welds on the temporary armor repair plate crumble way and separate from my armor. It clattered against my leg, before sliding with a 'thunk' against the metal floor of the dropship. Sam's own temporary repair came off as the pelican shuddered and touched down against the floor of the hangar. One by one, each of us exited the pelicans. The greeting from surviving crew members brought a slim smile to my face, obscuring by the golden visor. My breath was deafening in my own helmet. Like a parade line, in rows of three, we marched through the hangar and up into the main deck of the ship, towards the armory. I waited patiently as the techs removed my scorched and damaged armor. I shook my head as I stepped out of the soul of the armor's boots.
"Spartans, report for debriefing. Immediately." Captain Wallace's baritone, but steely voice blared over what remained of the Commonwealth's intercommunication system.
Only a handful of us were out of our armor by now. Those that weren't merely followed along, like an escort to the rest of us. We marched, footsteps in a practiced march with each other. We were silent, even as we entered the conference room that held our debrief. Captain Wallace, Doctor Halsey as well as Vice Admiral Stanforth, who joined the debrief Via a terminal screen, waiting for our arrival. Stanforth merely looked up, while the Captain and Doctor had to turn. We stood in a double half circle, my armored comrades standing behind myself and the ones already out of their armor.
"I believe a measure of congratulations are in order, Spartans." Stanforth complimented. We all shared proud glances with each other. Any other celebration we wanted to make at that moment, we saved for later. Sam tapped me and nodded and the admiral. He was giving us, all of us, approving glances. "Your report, Spartan-117?"
John stepped forward, his head held high as he looked at the adults. "Yes, sir. At approximately 1930 hours, we entered the Covenant ship. I ordered movement in groups. Blue and Red teams moved on the deck we landed in while, Omega, Green, and Black went to the deck below us. The second group, led by Spartan-052 joined up with us after around an hour of searching through the vessel."
Jorge then began his own explanation. As he had his helmet with him, Jorge played the video recorded by his helmet. I winced when it showed the small alien and it's hostile first encounter. I placed a loose fist where the plasma struck with a quiet hiss. The footage snapped over to Jorge's right, just as I stumbled back and my rifle clattered down in surprise. The sound of gunfire immediately filled the audio receivers in Jorge's helmet, and the camera returned to the alien. The little thing staggered and fell back with a gurgle.
"Blue-four, report." John's voice surged through the receptors on Jorge's helmet.
"… Not good… Armor breach. That shit stings, sir." My own voiced followed after.
"Roger. Collect samples. Tissue. Armor. Weapons. Anything." John's voice was laced with a hint of malice and anger, easily identifiable through the recording. Several Spartans passed Jorge as the man approached the chubby, scaly alien.
"Green, sir." I'd reported to John. It was weird, to be heard through a comm unit.
"Let's move, Spartans," John ordered. The camera started to move again, following Jorge's every twitch his helmet made. Jorge was the first through the next door, before, once again, I halted everyone's progress.
"Contact. I've got… three on thermal. Our height, cloaked." Immediately, all our weapons were raised, and Jorge's chaingun filled half the camera. The aliens appeared, a second time to us Spartans. Four mandibles, big bodies, different colored armor and all carrying the same weapons. They ignited their twin bladed swords and charged.
"Bring them down!" And we did, but Sam caught a round in the chest, as I had, and fell back. Six vapor trails brought the red one down, and the engagement was over less than five seconds after it began.
"I'm okay." Sam groaned.
"Two breaches. Fan-fucking-tastic. Damn split-lips." I echoed again. Jorge approached the white one with Alice. It was filled with holes, some going right through.
"They had shields and cloak. ONI's going to love this."Jorge's armored fist tore open the back panel, and his hud, like mine had, labeled them as unknown.
"Got the shields and the cloak…" My voice was unsure.
"We got the same," Jorge reported.
"Three for three." Came Mike's voice.
"Bring them all," John ordered. "Is that breach covered and secured?". Jorge pulled the storage unit and we gently placed the objects into the unit.
"Affirmative," Jai-006 spoke. I approached again seconds after, grabbing Jorge's attention with a shoulder tap. Jorge's helmet turned towards my hands which held the objects.
"Careful with these. Don't cut yourself." I dropped the cylinders in. No more than five minutes later we were in the reactor room. After a painful few moments of fighting and scavenging and target calling, John ordered everyone out.
"Bombs are set. Let's move Spartans! Five minutes!" John ordered and informed us in the recording. Just like my own, Jorge got a five-minute timer. We barreled through several doors, firing at any and all aliens we saw. Jorge's camera caught a glimpse of a floating, pink, purple and blue alien. It wasn't armed.
"Hangar! Prep for EVA." John ordered a final time. Once out of the ship, Jorge looked back in time to see the final spartan, Margaret, exit the covenant ship. The countdown timer on Jorge's hud beeped from three to zero, and a bright explosion in a bluish orange color filled the left side of the camera.
The camera recording ended shortly after that.
Jorge silently retrieved his helmet and retook his spot in the lineup. The adults spoke amongst themselves, and we waited, patiently, for our new orders. Stanforth nodded, agreeing with something Halsey or Wallace had said to him. They turned around a few moments later.
"Spartans. Here is where you part ways. Once the Commonwealth returns to Reach, you will receive your reassignments." Stanforth said, "I will require a list of units, as well as the Spartans in those units, Doctor."
"Yes, Admiral." Halsey nodded.
"Spartans dismissed." Stanforth's hologram winked out.
"Jorge, when we return, I'll take those devices to ONI. And hopefully, they provide us with an edge." Halsey spoke again.
"Affirmative, ma'am." Jorge nodded his armored head.
We snapped salutes to Halsey and Wallace before the mismatched group of Spartans split. The unarmored Spartans, including myself, went to our bunks in the cryo rooms, while the others, including Kelly and Linda, went to get their armor removed. We stepped into our assigned quarters, and I somersaulted into my bunk.
"Hey, look at this." Sam's voice piqued John, Fred, and I's attention. There was a rack in the room. The weapons each spartan had used in our first engagement against the covenant was there. They were split into small, open-aired magnetic cubbies. Each Spartan tag for blue team was on there, organized by number. Sam, me, Linda, Kelly, Fred, and John.
"Oooo, yay," I commented dryly. "Will they move our armor in here next?"
"I hope so." Fred chuckled, "It would make their lives simpler, wouldn't it?"
"Pfft, you wish." Sam shook his head. "They'd have to teach us how to take the armor off, and in which order."
"Well, we would only need to see it once," John commented.
"Wait… none of you paid attention when they suited you up and removed it?" I asked. John and Sam shook their heads. "Boys…" I shook my head.
"Hey!" I watched Sam's jaw drop in offense. "You calling us stupid?"
"Hmmm… Just you, Sam." I smirked at him.
"Shut up, shortie." He grumbled. I cocked an eyebrow in response.
"Sam, you're digging yourself a hole here," Kelly recommended as she and Linda returned. "She's three inches shorter than you. As are most of us."
Sam cursed quietly but said nothing else as he hopped into his bunk. I stifled a laugh at his miniature tantrum. She was right though. Most Spartans came to 7' 1" in full armor.
"I'd like to know something from this… Covenant." I blurted. Several pairs of eyes turned to me. "Why attack us in the first place?"
"That's… a good question, actually. All we've heard from them is, basically, them wanting us dead. 'Will of the gods' or something." Fred nodded in agreement.
"Now, I'm as religious as the next guy-" Sam was interrupted by Linda.
"Not at all." She muttered. Sam ignored her.
"-But the 'Will of the gods'? The only 'Gods' I know come from our lessons of mythology and religion." He sighed audibly.
"If it's religion, there's no chance at peace right now. We'll have to fight and we must win." Kelly replied.
The Commonwealth shuddered and turned, hard, and nearly dropped me out of my bunk. I looked down, or rather, up at the floor. Sam was chuckling at my predicament. I looked towards Linda, who was smirking as she held onto my ankle.
"Shut up Sam," I grumbled. He peeked over the edge of his bunk.
"I didn't hit the floor." He jested.
"Neither did I. Would you like to get acquainted with it?" I asked. He winced and rubbed his shoulder in mock pain.
"Nah, I got enough of that from Kelly earlier…" He disappeared again, and the light of his bunk dimmed out.
"I guess it is that time…" Kelly copied his actions. I turned my head around and spotted John reading in his bed. With a grunt, I heaved myself up by my waist and hauled myself back into my bunk.
"We need safety railings…" I chuckled quietly to Linda. She rolled her eyes and climbed up into her own bunk. I was mutely aware of Fred and John conversing as I slipped into a dreamless sleep.
-2358 hours, April 26, 2526-
-Circinius IV, Unknown system-
-Outside Corbulo Training Academy-
I tapped John's arm as I looked through the scope of my rifle. I pointed two fingers forward, then held three up. He nodded, and we placed our rifles on our backs and drew our knives. The elites were roaring and growling, firing at something. We leaped down behind them and killed two of three. The third, hearing the dying gurgle of its comrades left itself open to UNSC munitions. Assault Rifle fire from Chief tore through its shields before I popped one round from my magnum through its head. The Elite's head turned into a welcome ball of flesh, brain matter and bone. It dropped with a metallic clang against the piles of broken concrete.
"Clear, Chief. For the moment. Thermal has four human signatures inside the ruins." I reported, grabbing my knife. His acknowledgment light winked green. I grabbed one of the energy swords from a dead elite, snapping it to my left thigh. We proceeded through the rubble, eliminating any Covenant we came across with extreme prejudice. The main entrance into the Corbulo Training Academy was covered by a massive central beam that had collapsed during the initial attack. I threw my arms up in annoyance and groaned.
-30 minutes Prior-
-UNSC Constellation, Circinius IV-
-Corbulo Academy Orbital Platform-
"ODST's dropped around Corbulo Academy have been neutralized, and the Covenant are sweeping through the rest of the planet's population. Spartans, your objective is to neutralize Covenant forces and rescue any survivors." Captain William Thomas, commander of the UNSC Constellation, a Halberd-class destroyer, gave us our mission.
"Survivors are primary, Spartans." He addressed us. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Sir yes, Sir!" Chief and I replied instantaneously.
"Spartans 104 and 087, you will provide backup and extraction for Spartans 117 and 057." I watched in my peripheral as the other two of Blue team nodded in affirmation. "117, 057, you'll be taking pods to the surface in five. Dismissed!"
We all snapped our salutes and exited the briefing room at a brisk pace. John and I went to the drop pod bay, while Kelly and Fred went to the small hangar on the destroyer.
-Current Time-
"Any other entrances?" I asked, looking to the left of the collapsed doorway.
"Negative," John replied. He placed his MA5B on his back, and I placed my magnum on my hip. Together, we shifted the beam enough to allow us to get through. Chief went first, squeezing through the gap. His armor scrapped against the beam, nudging it over a bit more. I proceeded next, several hisses and sizzles occupying the spot where my foot was not a half second earlier. I growled but followed after John.
"How many?" He asked, stepping over a bloody body.
"Four. At least. A company is probably on its way. At the very least." I replied.
He nodded and we stepped carefully down the corpse-filled corridors. Many were mutilated, covered with plasma burns and pink explosive residue from needler rounds. I huffed, the sound echoing inside the helmet. I knelt down and closed the eyes of a dead cadet. I stood, catching up to John in a couple quick strides. He held up his hand, and we paused. He quietly clamped his rifle to his back before drawing his combat knife and stepped around the corner into an armory. I peaked around; an Elite was laughing, it's visible eye filled with malice as it's energy sword crept towards someone in the small alcove in behind the closed lockers. John speared the elite in the neck, at the base of its skull, before throwing the beast sideways off his knife. The lights on the side of his helmet lit up.
"Four." He told me. I winked my acknowledgment light. "Gear up."
John radioed Kelly. "Kelly, rendezvous at evac alpha for pelican extraction. We have four survivors. Chief out."
"Why'd you come for us?" A tall, brown-haired boy asked.
"You're the only survivors," John replied.
"Of the school?" He asked again.
"On the planet," I replied, tearing open four lockers with a swift yank to the safety doors.
"We have twenty minutes to get to the evac point. Armor up." Chief ordered.
Now out of the protective alcove, the cadets suited themselves up and readied their respective assault rifles. Minutes later, we inching along the scorched wall back towards the front of the school, and the facility's garage of warthogs. The cadets paraded behind Chief as we walked through hallway after hallway of corpses, burnt and blackened, torn to pieces, and blown to even smaller bits.
We got outside of the facility and walked near a cliff wall to the warthog a hundred meters away. We crept along a scorched, now debris filled walkway outside the facility. Cold bodies with merciful plasma shots to the heads in several of them. The cold air blew through the section. A few feet in front of us, was solid, albeit beaten up and cracked concrete wall. A shot ripped through the leg of the second boy, Sullivan. Said the boy screamed in pain. Yanking him down behind the wall, I readied my own weapon.
"Cadets, get into cover," John ordered, firing on the jackals. Seems he spotted them first. The others didn't hesitate, while we somersaulted behind the wall ourselves. Four brilliant pink crystals and purple beams burned into the already scorched ground where we had been not seconds before. I scowled and prepared my rifle. Pulling the firing bolt of the high caliber weapon, I popped out, lined the sight with the eye of a jackal and fired in no longer than a second. As it fell, it fired through an ally's neck next to it, and they dropped dead. The two other birds squawked and growled in their twisted, alien language. I smirked slightly, disappearing back around the corner. As I peeked around with my rifle a second time, an angry blue beam ripped through the barrel of the weapon, rendering it useless. I immediately pulled back, disengaged the clip and threw the empty and destroyed weapon away.
"No rifle, Chief," I informed him. I could see his fog lights dance up and down in a nodding gesture, the white stripes on his forearm lighting up as he fired his weapon.
"Copy that, Jenna." John popped out, and fired at the jackals, hitting one. I could hear its squawk as I looked at the ground for a weapon. A blue beam ripped through the concrete next to me and I slammed into the ground with a heavy grunt.
"The other one is mad," Chief noted lightly.
"I blame you." I jested, my hand curling around an object.
It was rough, even though the metal liquid crystal body glove that surrounded me below the heavy panels of armor. The fog lights on the side of my helmet bobbed up and down several times as I changed angles and peaked out of cover, painting a picture of the ridge and the locations of the final jackal in my mind. I looked at the object in my hand, a piece of reinforced concrete with several metal rods - rebar - sticking from it. I heard John's rifle fire, and I straightened towards him, debris held in my right hand. With a burst of speed, I ran, leaped, turning sideways and threw the concrete at the last jackal. It squawked, fired, and missed me by several inches, a nice burn left on my armor as a memento from the close call. The 11-pound block slammed into the jackal's neck at nearly thirty miles an hour, snapping it on impact. I landed and rolled next to John, sprawled on my back. I looked up as his lights filled my polarising visor.
"Well done." He commented. "Reckless, but good."
I scoffed again. "If it works, it works." He pulled me to my feet and passed me a scavenged assault rifle and a pair of magazines. I took them from him, pocketed the one and loaded the rifle. I looked over at the cadets, whose jaws had dropped at my actions.
"Let's go," John ordered, and we continued on rapidly, reaching the troop transport Warthog with a fully traversable chaingun mount in the middle of the assembly. The senior cadet hoped shotgun, while another took the gun. The other two and I piled into the back. My armor clinked against the metal framework, while my boots pushed against the protective railing. The vehicle rumbled through my armor and body. It began to move, and I rested my head back against the hollow metal block. The bumpy ride turned smooth, as I was made aware of Chief talking to Kelly.
"-point Bravo, on the other side of Harental," Chief said.
"Roger, Chief. We're making a detour now. Evac Alpha was swarming with covvies. Don't imagine Bravo is much better, nor Charlie."
"We'll just have to do it our usual way," Chief replied. "117, out."
The Sullivan boy was groaning and screaming in pain. I placed a gloved hand over his mouth, as he squeezed my exposed elbow as hard as he could. I took a look at the wound, craning my neck to see a clean hole through the side of his lower thigh, barely missing the boy's hamstring. The warthog slowed to a stop and I listened to the chief switch to the gun, and the hog began moving again. The Warthog rolled onto two wheels, and a bolt of plasma snapped all of us into combat. I twisted and pulled my assault rifle into firing position, carefully avoiding John's feet as he returned fire with the gun. I rested just behind Lasky, firing the assault rifle at targets of opportunity.
"Jackals…" I commented. "And the shield biters too."
"Keep firing. Controlled bursts. Cadet, left, ten o'clock." Chief ordered.
The warthog leaned and turned, its engine growling to keep alive and moving. A glint caught the corner of my eye through my firing. In slow motion, a deadly purple needle pierced my visor for side to side, cutting a gash into the bridge of my nose, and continued through, exploding not a second later. I dropped back, staring out the two new additions to the expensive visor, shards of reinforced plastic-like glass buried in the skin of my cheeks. The cries of the cadets reached my ears. I slowly rolled back to face the other cadet up front, Silva. She was gone. Half of the back of her head was blown away and sprinkled with glowing needle shards and flowing blood.
John's foot pressed my back down and I obliged, staying flat against the bed. The firing was melodic, a new tune as it reached my ears, not just through the helmet receptors, but the two holes in my visor as well. The warthog seemed to growl as it pushed outside of the city. The machine sputtered, died and jackknifed on the dirt road. One by one, we disembarked, and I gently pulled the dead cadet's service tags from around her neck and closed her frightened, and fearful eyes. The warthog exploded not long after we got into the forest. After giving Sullivan biofoam, we hurried on our way before big trouble caught up to us in the form of hunters. My hud flickered and alternated between periods of static and clear activity.
"Run! Don't wait. Not even for us." Chief ordered, and the two of us engaged.
Our ammunition pinged against the thick armor of the hunters, vaguely aware of the running teens. I ran up and smacked one with the depleted assault rifle, which, expectedly broke the weapon, before jumping back over a shield swing. I rolled backward, before rolling sideways to avoid the second hunter's cannon arm. Kicking my foot up, the hunter discharged its weapon into several trees, setting them ablaze in a sick glory of green fuel and plasma. A dimming roar of pain and a loud crash briefly caught me and the second hunter off guard. The other one lay less than a meter away, an arm's length at most, with its head, arms, and legs shredded by 7.62mm FMJ rounds.
"I'm out," John told me. "We need to lose it."
"Roger that Chief." I followed after him as he began sprinting, narrowly dodging the enraged second hunter's powerful shield swing. We wove through the trees and found the cadets in a small cement shelter.
"We need to move," John told them. To emphasize his point, the hunter, which followed us, roared.
"Two-fifty meters, Chief," I informed him, looking at the hunter, and back again. I tapped Lasky, gently pressing Silva's dog tags into his hands. I pulled him to his feet and gave him a gentle shove in the direction the others went. We caught up within a minute, and we jumped down a several meter tall cliffs. A small indent at its base gave us a bit of shelter. I watched my motion tracker, the hunter entering its radius. I peaked over John's shoulder, watching a cadet give John the final remaining grenade amongst our group.
"Thank you," John said quietly.
"I'll distract it." I tapped John on the shoulder.
"Wait, ma'am." Lasky's hand grabbed at my armored forearm. I turned my helmet towards him. "I'll do it."
His friends protested it, but John and I both nodded at the boy. Lasky took a breath and ran as fast as he could. I stopped both of his friends with an arm, shaking my helmeted head. The hunter dropped down to the ground as it hit John away, continuing to shoot at Lasky. I took a ragged breath and charged in after the hunter, rolling under its shield and forcing its cannon up, as it discharged high into the trees, lighting them with green flames of discharged plasma. I drove my knife into what I assumed was its wrist. John's armored foot forced me away as it collided with my shoulder pad. I slammed against the soft, plastic-like membrane of the worms that made the hunter.
"Back," John said, springing away from the Hunter.
I barely got two steps before the explosion of the grenade knocked me over. Drops of glowing orange blood and worm bits from the Hunter covered the back of my armor, while shrapnel cut into, and in some cases, buried themselves into the exposed joints between the armor plates. I pushed myself up, and my right arm locked in place, a metal shard suppressing any bending motion of my elbow, grinding against the nerves in the joint. I clenched my teeth in irritation, joining up with John and the cadets as we slowly walked into the early morning rays of the sun, and towards extraction. The scorching on the plates of our armor barely reflected the sun, the black soot, and orange blood from the hunter absorbing the light. The rumble of the pelican's engines vibrated through the ground. The exhaust of its engines ruffled the grass and the nearby trees in the small clearing. It descended, and its bay opened, revealing Kelly, Fred and a pair of marines.
The cockpit entrance was sealed tightly, the flanking red lights dimly lit. The cadets piled in on one side, John took the seat nearest the entrance of the troop bay, while I sat next to Kelly with a grimace. I reached to my elbow and dug into the gouge in my skin and vacuum suit. I barely gripped the piece of shrapnel, but it was enough. I grit my teeth, and pulled the shard out with a grunt, dropping it to the floor of the pelican. Sullivan watched for my reaction. I didn't give him one, patching the wound with a squirt of biofoam from the first aid kit in the troop bay. Through the open bay door, the bright beams of Covenant cruisers crashed through the clouds, boiling the ground. The bay door slowly closed, cutting off the view of what's become a planetary graveyard for millions of people. The curvature of the planet came into view through a small window in the ramp, showcasing the burning and dying landscape that was Circinius IV. We landed in the Constellation's hangar, and the ship made a jump to slipspace.
We slowly exited out of the Pelican's troop bay and marched our way to the armory. The heavy thuds of my footsteps stopped climbing through my body as I stood before a doctor, my arm bent. Carefully, they worked at my armored arm, loosening the armor around the wound on my arm. I studied my HuD, watching armor diagnostics scroll across the holographic screen between the static periods, while techs began unclamping and peeling pieces of armor away from the layered bodysuit.
After a few moments, my arm was patched and my armor was removed, and the old vacuum suit was replaced by another. I met up with John, and we walked in absolute silence to the mess hall, joining Fred and Kelly. It was barren, with the cadets seated at one table, and marines scattered throughout the big room. We collected our high-calorie meals and sat at an unoccupied table in absolute silence. Even this early into the war, we all knew what the Covenant was capable of.
In space, there was no contest. No test of might between the fleets. Even with superior numbers, our ships didn't stand a chance against Covenant shielding and plasma weaponry. FLEETCOM gave Admirals and ship captains authorization for the use of shipboard stocks of WMDs. For us Spartans, it wasn't uncommon to see miniature suns appear in the middle of the Covenant fleet as we descended to the planetary battlefield or towards a high-value enemy vessel. Mostly, WMDs were withheld until late in the battle, when they could cause the most damage. We end up losing a lot of men and women that way.
Such is war.
Ground warfare was a different matter entirely. While it was common - even this early in the war - for UNSC Marines to fall in droves, when their backs were against the wall, the marines - solo, pairs, squads or platoons, it didn't matter. They fought like caged animals, giving no quarter to the Covenant. When we arrived, in some cases the Covenant were pushed back. From the start of the war, until now - almost sixteen months later - it was pyrrhic victories for the Covenant on the ground.
There is no such thing as overkill for us. Even with four of us for a single planet like Circinus IV, if it couldn't be saved, there was no reason to not make the Covenant die for every yard they took.
Our meals continued in absolute silence, even as Marines chatted around us in the now half full mess hall. Despite the hell that the Constellation escaped at Circinus IV, the marines and off-duty crew were chatting animatedly. They waved their arms about, made weird hand gestures and spoke about other battles waging across the Orion Arm. A few were about the insurrectionists and their continued raids of UNSC ships and supplies.
The Covenant and Harvest was the hot topic, however.
As I placed my empty food tray with the rest and followed the other members of Blue Team out of the mess hall, I couldn't help but wonder what our next assignment would be.
