UNSC Kuching in orbit over Providence
November 24, 2557
"Put the weapons down and your hands up!" The officer shoved the shotgun into Austal's chest, forcing the Spartan to take a step back.
"Woah buddy." Fowler smoothly quipped, "It's alright. We're on your side."
A load roar interrupted the conversation as the doorway to their left opened.
Standing opposite them were four jiralhanae, all armed with spiker carbines.
"TAKE COVER!"
Opening fire, the brutes found cover, digging into the corners of the separate corridors. Spikes glowed a bright orange as they embedded themselves into the wall. The Sacred Promissory-made weapons were a staple throughout the infantry and reliable enough due to their ability to tear through shields, armor and flesh alike. Fixed to the gun's underbarrel were a pair of tungsten carbide blades that were sharp enough to sever arms.
Both Spartans saw the damage of what the weapons could do and that was just the staple of the jiralhanae firearm company. Horror stories were rampant through the Medical Corps on the weapon's effects. It was designed for a race with hands twice the size of a human's, so there was a no-brainer when picking one up, it had to be wielded with two hands. Brutes only had to use one and they did it as if it were a pistol.
Much other weapons, Brute Shot; Fired high explosive RPGs and electro shots to make short work of armor. Close in and anyone unlucky would get hit by the foot long blade that ran along the back of the gun. The Mauler; a handheld shotgun with a blade underneath. Finally, the Hammer, probably the most feared of all the jiralhanae weapons. Luckily, this ceremonial weapon was only in the hands of high ranking members.
The two shotgun wielders fired their weapons, but the pellets easily dispersed before even reaching the brutes. The Spartans both took cover and shot back, however they too merely caused the apelike creatures to remain in cover.
"You believe us now?" Fowler asked.
"Sure whatever." The marine replied. "The bridge crew's all back there holed up. Brutes have been trying to force their way inside!"
"So how come when we arrived, there was nobody?"
"Because they saw you coming!"
Austal paused, taking a quick look and suddenly retracting when a quartet of spikes hit the wall dangerously close to his position. "I'll draw their fire and maybe flush them out."
He dashed out, keeping his MA5D's sights in front in a sweeping manner. Needless to say, the brute on the other end of the wall was just as surprised as he was.
The former was faster, lashing out with an arm. Austal was flung back; his stomach feeling like it had been shattered.
The brute roared, pressing his advantage and bringing up the spiker.
With reflexes only capable of a Spartan, Austal fell back, dashing to cover a split second before spikes slammed into the floor where he once lay.
"I thought you were going to draw their fire!" Fowler shouted as he leaned out once again. A brute broke cover, causing the older Spartan to aim downrange. Ten bullets leapt out of the rifle's muzzle, splattering over the shields and overloading them. He paused for a split second before putting ten more into the giant alien's chest. "I didn't say get your ass kicked!"
Normally, a brute would require an entire magazine to put down, but strangely it had fallen with only two thirds of Fowler's rifle.
Austal broke cover, prompting the brute that had previously tried to kill him to do likewise. He pulled the pin on a frag grenade and lobbed it over. At the same time, he aimed his rifle and shot his opponent a couple of times, causing him to wave and return fire with his spiker. The weapon's barrel glowed a dull orange as it heated up. The smell to Marines resembled burnt hair.
As the brute ducked back into cover, Austal's grenade detonated, sending the corpse flying upwards a few feet before it came crashing down.
The two shotgunners took cover by Fowler, causing the Spartan to wave them down.
"We'll handle these two, get back and protect the bridge crew."
"Camo activated." A second later, "One of them is behind the left corridor." Austal planted a red marker outlining his position. Unless he had a high caliber weapon like a sniper rifle, a single shot rarely killed a fully armored and shielded jiralhanae. Even if it got past those two barriers, their anatomy depicted thick hide resistant to bullets and skull density that was probably twice as strong as a human's.
"See the other one?"
"Negative." Fowler heard a gunshot and then a roar.
Austal's magazine ran dry, but he had only drained the brute's shields. It wasn't impressed at his sneak attack and fired a volley of red spikes before closing in to melee with the twin bayonet blades at the weapon's underbarrel.
He nimbly dodged the attack and countered with a shoulder barge that had little effect other than causing the brute to stagger slightly. Fowler added his own fire to the mix and it finally succumbed after some time.
"Thanks."
"No problem brother."
"Thanks for the assist Spartans." Commander MacLean of the Kuching said as they were escorted to a bridge safe-room, just next to the commander's cabin.
"It's nothing ma'am." Austal relaxed, "We're here to take the ship back."
"Please do."
"So what can you tell us about the uninvited friends?"
"Well they're Covenant Council of Chieftains of course. From our previous intel by our Marine contingent, the chatter indicates one of the seven chieftains who make up this council is aboard seeking something."
"That sounds pretty typical of the Covenant." Fowler snorted.
"That is our objective." Austal pointed out, "His name is Nadirus and our briefing told us that he specialized in boarding actions like these. Any idea where he is now?"
"I don't." MacLean shook her head, "Much of the attack had left Kuching all but immobile. Brutes must've shutdown the power because we're running on auxiliary. They're something else, a new caste system ."
"If we can bring it back online, what benefit is that?"
"Everything from the weapons to the coffee makers in the galley."
"We're on it." Fowler picked up his assault rifle.
"Watch your six," the Commander warned them, "I lost a lot of Marines in that area."
Sure enough, the area leading to the powerplant of the Kuching was adorned with corpses, both human and Covenant alike. Austal and Fowler had to be reflexive and constantly communicated to one another in order to avoid joining them.
This trust was hardened over the years since the two had been assigned to Eon. Fowler trusted Austal with his life and vice versa.
"Watch that brute on your left."
"Grenade get out of there!"
Fowler dived out of the way just as the T-2 Spike Grenade detonated nearby. The elongated device sent hazardous Brute spikes flying everywhere in the process. The razor sharp projectiles did skewer a pair of hapless grunts who were unfortunate enough to be nearby.
"We must be getting close to Chieftain Nadirus." Austal breathed. He fired again at another brute with the armor of a bodyguard. They encountered two so far and their presence meant that usually a chieftain would be nearby.
It was odd; the brutes' armor seemed to be a step back.
During the Great Schism when the sangheili had left the Coveanant, a transaction was made with the Prophets to replace the elite stations with brutes. As such, armories halted manufacturing of plasma rifles and instead began constructing spikers. For body armor, it moved over to brute rankings, which were much different than their elite counterparts.
It seemed as if the Council of Chieftains had taken a step back from their advancement. Puzzling, however they were more leaning towards the appearance of their warlike tribes that was on their homeworld. The armor and new weaponry intel supposedly suggested that these designs of the new military force were reminiscent of Doisac, the original homeworld of the species.
The bodyguard fell to Austal's fire and Fowler flipped a grenade around the next corridor corner. He gave a slight chuckle when he heard the death squeals of jackals and grunts.
"Okay, powerplant should be right behind this door." Fowler said, approaching.
"Keep your eyes peeled."
The door opened,
The powerplant of the pinch-fusion reactor was massive, stretching thirty feet up where the giant cylindrical tube rested. It glowed a ghostly blue as the energy powered the Kuching.
The occupants of the room were not surprised to see the two Spartans. Three of them were the bodyguard rank, indicated by their armor.
The fourth brute was much larger than the rest. The majority of his body was bare, save for markings, scars, tattoos and piercings. What little armor covering him was at his shoulders, chest, legs and cords linking his elaborate white headdress to his back. There was a necklace around his neck that had little white beads and ended in a pair of tiny blades, similar to the ones found on the spiker.
The weapon he carried was a long barreled underhanded gun. It had a long belt that looped underneath and upon closer inspection, the belt's ammunition were spikes. Much larger spikes than the ones in their standard pistol-like guns.
Right then and there, Austal dubbed it the Spike Cannon in his mind. Likewise, Fowler instead devised, Brute Minigun.
They had expected the two Spartans long before the gunfight before the powerplant had even started. Now it was time to finish the task.
With a load roar, Nadirus and this three bodyguards on the other end opened fire.
New Alexandria, Reach
Rain had begun to fall in the city, causing many to hurry inside their homes for the day. In November, the downpour was a foreshadowing to snowfall in the next three months. The intensity of the latter varied, although this early in November meant that they'd have at least one day where there could be as much as eight inches.
It was nowhere close to his native Buffalo in New York.
Ivey was a man of average height and weight. He carried a normal look with fair skin, dark blue eyes and black hair. The nonthreatening demeanor he had was definitely a wolf in sheepskin to those who truly knew what he did.
He worked for Gustafson…well used to, after the Spartans had put him away, he had received a message from an unknown source to continue the plan.
He looked up at the small eatery just off the main highway that looped New Alexandria and checked his address. This was the place.
Inside, he was waved over by another man who sat in a booth. The restaurant's atmosphere was warm and inviting, with holo-screens overhead on various concurrent sports matches going on throughout the Inner Colonies.
Sitting down, Ivey cast a look at the man. It was mostly indescribable, but his head showed dark hair beginning to gray. Normally, he could tell how people where just by casting a look at them, most of the time it was a fearful expression because he typically had the barrel of his M6 pistol to their face. However, this man radiated nothing.
"I hope you like onion rings." He gestured to the platter in front, accompanied by one red and one white dipping sauce.
"I'm practically married to onion rings." Ivey dipped one in the ranch sauce and chewed thoughtfully, "If there's something we in Buffalo love to perfect, it's that."
"Glad to hear. Now the reason I called you here."
He leaned forward, "It's unfortunate how Gustafson was captured. Did he have an escape plan?"
Ivey chuckled, "He always has an escape plan, although the UNSC probably took him to the deepest darkest room they could find and I doubt he can get out anytime soon, especially after he held the entire NAT Resources building hostage. He nearly killed the director."
"I am a representative of Gustafson's recent employer. Unfortunately, he had to attend to other matters and could not meet you in person."
"So what's the deal here. Your man must have wanted something top secret if he's going to ask Gustafson to take over an entire building."
"Of course. He hired him to take over. Yes what you extracted was useful, but the valuable thing of Siroco's diamond mines weren't what we were truly after."
"So he made a distraction for another distraction, when it was believed to be the true intention?"
"Exactly," the representative replied, "What he was truly after was the identities of the rescuers. The Spartans sent in to put on the show of a successful hostage rescue." He held up a folder, "This is why you are here. Keep tight to that thing, we had to go to great lengths to obtain it under watch."
"What's in it for me?"
"Same thing Gustafson was promised before his capture."
"Deal. You said this was a four man job?"
The man nodded, reaching into the platter for another onion ring, "The Spartans are a four man team and right now, they're the biggest threat to our goal."
"You want me to destroy them," Ivey concluded. He held up a hand to stem any further speculation.
"Yes, but not in the way you think. Long have I admired military tacticians who fight in an unconventional manner. While we may not want to physically fight and destroy them, they already have their hands tied up with Providence."
Ivey forgot all about that attack. So that's where their intended targets were currently.
"Instead, we'll strike from a different vector. One of a mental perspective. Even the strongest soldiers without motivation are obsolete. Spartan Fours are humans too. There is something inside each and every one of them that will cause them to lose focus and be costly to their lives and those around them."
"What if it doesn't succeed?"
"Then the myth of Spartans being unbreakable machines will be true." The man stood up, "Since you like onion rings, why don't you leave a tip too? I'm afraid my employer will have to pay you five less than what we had previously negotiated."
The manila folder was left on the table, so Ivey paid the bill out of frustration and walked back to his car.
The rain was continuing its relentless torrent outside, but the roof of his vehicle wasn't too far away.
Inside, he opened the folder and his eyes widened.
"This is all classified information." He quietly swore under his breath. Had he been an ONI agent, this would be a huge breach in security. Everything, DOB, enlistment date, specs, even information about his family was there. How did his employer get ahold of this? Or why didn't he do this dirty work himself?
It didn't make sense, but Ivey and the remnants of Gustafson's mercenary gang needed the money. Plus, they were also threatened to be exposed had they not taken up the contract offer.
There were four Spartans in this designated Eon Squad, part of the elite Thirty-Seventh Special Shock Division involving intel, counter-intel and high stake missions that surpassed standard Spartan operations. Trifling with one was basically a death sentence.
Three of his men would share the bounty, all partaking in a sabotage act close to the Spartans themselves.
Ivey smiled as he read his bio. This one would be fairly easy because he found his planned attack before he even finished reading the entire file.
It wasn't long before he completed his application for employment to Westbrook and Associates Photography.
It's pretty clear to see who Ivey got. Problem is, will the Spartans or their families see this attack coming?
Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.