Section 1
Chapter One
1300 Hours, 15th March, 2559 (Military Calendar) /
Aboard the UNSC Hide and Seek, Epsilon Indi System
The ship's intercom rang with a dong, and the calm voice of the Hide and Seek's smart-AI Catrina was amplified over the speakers.
"Captain Marvin Jacoby, please report to the bridge."
Marvin woke with a start, snapping to attention and knocking his chair over. He blinked a few times to clear his hazy vision, yawned, and then examined the room he stood in.
It was roughly rectangular, with brilliant white walls and a soft gray carpet, bouncy under his bare feet. The leather chair he had slept in was now on it's side, and the desk in front of him was covered in data pads, paperwork and coffee mugs. A small sofa sat at the east end along with a coffee table. There was a keypad on the north-facing wall, next to a door that was built into the wall. The west wall entirely consisted of triple-glazed, highly pressurised glass, a feature extremely rare among UNSC fleet ships. But then again, the Hide and Seek was unlike any ship.
She was a modified Phoenix-class colony ship, refitted sometime in the 2520's. It had been stripped of it's colonisation features, entire schools and hospitals being removed and replaced with a medium-sized Magnetic Accelerator Cannon, or MAC gun to most of the UNSC personnel, a vast amount of Archer missiles and 50 mm point defence weapons. The Hide and Seek had seen plenty of Covenant action, and despite taking some serious beatings, had survived each and every one of these dangerous encounters. Now that the war was over, sections of it had been converted into orbital observation platforms, providing a spectacular and breathtaking view of deep interplanetary space.
Marvin righted the chair and stepped towards the window, smoothing down his uniform with the help of the reflection. Then he walked up to the door, thumbed the keypad and stepped through.
The corridor was nothing like the pristine whiteness of his office. Dirty pipes lined the metal walls, and a choking vapor filled the air, the smell of the Hide and Seek's Shaw-Fujikawa engine and cooling vents. It was an atmosphere of chaos - something he was not pleased with.
Marvin entered the ship's elevator and pressed the button for the bridge. He adjusted the collar of his uniform and pulled his peak cap further down on his head. The doors opened with a ping and he stepped out onto the bustling bridge.
View screens flickered with statistics, co-ordinates and engine readouts. A total of five bridge crew sat at their stations around the room, monitoring their assigned consoles, and the Captain's chair sat unattended at the front of the bridge, facing the wide expanse of space.
A man stood by the navigation table in the centre of the room, a holographic map of the Epsilon Indi system being projected. The system had only one habitable planet, Harvest, which had been glassed multiple times by the Covenant and finally abandoned by the UNSC sometime in 2531, the scorched surface of the planet being useless to the humans and the Covenant.
So what were they doing here?
The man turned towards Marvin and he spotted the single star of a Rear Admiral glinting in the bridge lights. The surname Fenton was written across his left breast. Marvin snapped to attention.
"Sir!" he barked.
The Rear Admiral gave a casual salute and said, "At ease, Captain,".
"Sir," Marvin lowered his arm. "Permission to speak, sir!"
"Granted," Rear Admiral Fenton nodded his head slightly.
"Sir, what are we doing around Harvest? It was classed as useless over two decades ago."
Fenton cleared his throat and fingered his collar.
"When the UNSC Spirit of Fire went missing in 2531, it was our last official contact with planet Harvest. Of course, we've sent probes down there, even the odd squad of Marines, but contact has always been lost."
The Rear Admiral coughed once, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Scans show that approximately 92 percent of Harvest was glassed by the Covenant and is now an endless wasteland of molten sand. The remaining 8 percent, we believe, was quickly occupied by Rebel forces, most likely the United Rebel Front. Even more worrying, however, is that there also appears to be a small Covenant presence within this 8-or-so percent."
Marvin nodded. The Covenant would always leave a small force behind on every planet they glassed - to mop up any mess, presumably.
Fenton must have known he'd think that, for he shook his head.
"No, you're wrong." he said. "Or at least, in Harvest's case you are. Readings show that there is only one Covenant species down there - the Huragok, as the Covenant called them, or Engineers to you and I."
Marvin was now thoroughly confused. "Sir, why would they leave their most harmless species down on Harvest?"
"We don't know." Marvin nodded a little - like anyone would ever know. "But what we do know, is this group of Engineers are now in Rebel hands."
"Sir?"
"The Rebels captured them and put them to work." Fenton sighed. "In other words, the Rebels will eventually be armed with Covenant-esque technology. We'll pretty much be fighting the same war all over again."
Marvin dropped his eyes to the floor. This was terrible news. The UNSC now had no hope - again.
Marvin locked eyes with the Rear Admiral, fiery determination in his eyes.
"We can't let them have the Huragok..." he whispered.
"No - we can't." Fenton replied, stepping away from the table and placing a hand on Marvin's shoulder. "Which is why we're going in hot and taking them away from the bastards - is that understood?"
Marvin nodded.
"Yes, sir - I understand." He turned towards First Lieutenant Hobbs on navigation. "Plot a course for planet Harvest - best speed."
"Aye aye, sir!" she said, tucking a strand of her honey-blonde hair behind an ear.
Her fingers danced across the console as she tapped in the co-ordinates. The Hide and Seek bucked slightly as the glowing surface of Harvest popped into view on the monitors.
The Captain turned towards the Rear Admiral. "We'll get it done, sir." he said, grim with determination.
"Thank you," Fenton replied, and exited the bridge, the elevator doors sliding apart with a whoosh.
Marvin called up Catrina on the holographic table. She appeared before him in a swathe of blue light that faded as her graphics engine aligned itself to her preferences.
All UNSC Artificial Intelligence's take on the form of an avatar, a virtual form that has the ability to move and speak, generally used because it is more reassuring for humans to see such a godlike being as one of their own.
Catrina took the form of a striking young woman with cropped raven-black hair, pale skin and blue eyes that seemed to radiate sheer power. A startling-white robe covered her body, as did a matching hood on her head. Calculations and symbols constantly flowed over them.
"Hello, Captain," she smirked, eyes flashing playfully from the murky depths of her hood. She raised one eyebrow mockingly. "Harvest? I don't believe any UNSC ship has been there since 2531."
Marvin rolled his eyes. Of course, she wasn't surprised. Knowing Catrina - knowing any AI, in fact - she'd probably heard the whole conversation, memorised it, stored it and created multiple copies of it before the last syllable had been spoken.
"Catrina, ready all units on board. I want a full scanner report on the Rebel forces down on Harvest - find out where they are and what they've got."
"Aye, sir." she said. Symbols and numbers swam across her body as she took surface readings. "Rebel presence located. Getting results..."
"Display them on my data pad, please, Catrina."
Marvin sat down in his chair and looked out into the deep space. A small circle in the distance gradually grew larger as they approached Harvest. Details became apparent on it's surface - scorched earth, glowing expanses of molten sand and great plains of glass.
The data pad fixed to the left arm of Marvin's chair blinked on and swung into viewing position. Streams of data ran across it's surface, until Marvin thumbed a button on the screen and it switched to Catrina's report.
His eyes flickered over line after line of text, detailing information on the Rebel forces, confirmed landmarks, possible base sites for the UNSC to destroy and suitable locations for their own firebases.
The Captain shook his head slowly. It was going to be a tough fight, should these figures prove to be true.
"Catrina, get a couple of scout squads down there - we are going to need information from the front if we're gonna grab those packages!" he growled, glaring at the data pad, trying to find some hidden tactic, some hidden super-weapon in the lines of letters, numbers and code.
The war was starting all over again.
* * *
The lone Buffalo roared over the ravaged terrain, gliding over lumps of concrete and rock, sliding over potholes and craters. The UNSC had returned to Harvest.
It was the first and, so far, only vehicle the UNSC had managed to reverse-engineer... or so they said. In reality, ONI had stumbled across a Shadow-producing factory, waited until their numbers were high enough, then swarmed in and rounded up the whole lot of them - jackpot. After some heavy modifications, a paint-job and rigourous field testing, the two-hundred-and-fifty-seven-strong Buffalo fleet was ready for action.
The Buffalo had been given an upgrade. As well as increased speed and extra-extra-armor plating, two heavy UNSC "shredder" machine gun turrets had been affixed to either side of the troop bay, and a shell cannon was now fixed to each of the Buffalo's four pylons, two facing forwards, two facing backwards, with roughly a 180-degree range of fire for each.
Several Marines in the troop bay twitched nervously, uncomfortable at being on a planet officially listed as "lost" by the Office of Naval Intelligence. They were sweaty underneath their standard UNSC Marine armor and battle fatigues, for the air was hot and humid, the stench of burnt flesh and thousands dead choking the sweet Harvest air.
The gauss cannon on top of the Buffalo swivelled about, the Staff Sergeant gunner surveying the surrounding wreckage and forest for any signs of hostile forces.
"All clear," he said, voice crackling over the COM.
"Check thermals, sir?" replied the driver, a Private First-Class with Andrews printed on his chest piece.
The Sergeant, his bulky armor shifting as he peered through the sight, switched to thermal view. The surname Lachance was emblazoned underneath the four gold chevrons on his shoulder pauldron.
Over twenty humanoid-shaped thermals walked into his scope, their crouched postures and camoflague gear indicating that they were most likely an ambush squad.
"Ambush squad - 300 meters, two o'clock. They're moving real slow - barely picked them up, they're so far out." he hissed between his teeth. "Cut this damn thing out!"
The driver flicked a switch and pressed several buttons, and the Buffalo slowed to a standstill, gently kissing the ground as it's antigravity engines turned off.
Lachance turned off his COM and quietly climbed out of the turret, swinging open the access hatch and dropping down into the troop bay below, where a squad of eight Marines sat clutching their weapons.
"Everyone COM silent!" he whispered. The Marines switched off their helmet mikes.
"Harlow, Thompson, detach those turrets and set them up behind that crumbling wall adjacent to us."
The two Marines nodded and got to work taking the four turrets off their stands. Lachance turned towards a Marine wearing slightly bulkier armor with a large rim of protective metal going round his neck - a bomb-disposal expert. The word "expert" was somewhat of a joke within the forces - if you survived your first bomb, you were an expert.
"Chen, rig claymores near the Buffalo and in the grass. Try and keep them hidden." Lachance knew that last part was unnecessary - Chen really was an expert, especially at keeping his death devices hidden.
"Yes, sir!" the man replied, and clambered out of the troop bay, already finding suitable locations for the explosives.
"Everyone else, turn over a few boxes and make it look like we were already ambushed. Spray a little fire along the sides - make it look real. Then get back behind the turrets - we're taking these guys out!" Lachance said, hefting his assault rifle.
"Ooh-rah!" cried the five Marines, and proceeded to carry out his orders. Lachance emptied a magazine along a couple of the Buffalo's armor plates, then pulled the pin on a frag grenade and left it a good few meters away, and retreated to a safe distance.
The frag went off, shattering the quiet night and leaving a good scorch mark on the side of the Buffalo.
"All right!" he said. "Everyone into cover, they'll be here any minute!"
The squad moved back through the rubble and behind the wall where Harlow and Thompson had set up three of the turrets, leaving the remaining one near the Buffalo, smashed up nicely.
A scout Lachance had posted up near the Buffalo turned and made a thumbs-up sign at Staff Sergeant Lachance - they were here.
Lachance gave a hand signal and the Marines went prone. And sure enough, a team of twenty Rebels - over twice the size of the Marine squad - armed with stolen SPNKr missiles, grenades and M7 submachine guns, burst out of the forest and into the open.
"Hey, what's going on?" Lachance heard one say. "Someone got here first..."
Lachance gave the order. "Now!"
The Marines burst out of cover and started firing at the enemy. Shredder and AP rounds cut through the air in a blaze of fire, slicing flesh, punching through armor and killing Rebel troops.
Three turrets wound up and started their hellish attack, each manned by an enthusiastic Marine.
"Yeah!" cried Thompson. "Take that, you Rebel piece o' crap!"
The ambush squad fell quickly, and what little survived ran back into the forest, taking cover in the trees. Lachance gave the signal and the Marines all tossed frag grenades into the bushes, each one exploding violently and sending bits of shrapnel, splinters of wood and hunks of Rebel flesh into the air.
He ran up to a fallen Rebel and searched his body. Lachance pulled off the Rebel's helmet and snatched the neural interfacial chip out of it's slot on the back. Perfect - it would provide ample data on the whereabouts of the Rebel bases on Harvest.
"Andrews, check our Buffalo over for damage, then get it rolling." barked the Staff Sergeant. "Polonksi, police the weapons and ammo - we're shipping out in ten!"
"Sir, yes sir!" The Marines saluted.
Lachance climbed into the troop bay, pulled a Sweet William cigar out of one of the many ammo pouches strapped to his chest, along with the silver-plated lighter his father had given him when he'd graduated from military school.
Take care of it, son.
He lit the cigar and took a good, long drag, puffing the black smoke out into the sky and watching it dissipate into the polluted Harvest air.
They were back, alright. And it felt good.