0650 Hours UTC, 20 October 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Sol System, Earth, UNSC Science Outpost 01A-77
Rooftop, 7th Army Main Command Post

Arrivals

Rion awoke to familiar, mundane silence.

He hears a flock of birds passing by overhead, it is so silent. The only other noise is a distant hum of the turrets below undulating like coiled, perched serpents on their programmed auto-track, waiting.

He steps outside the tent, receives a nod from a lone soldier by the name of Woodrow loitering nearby as he regards the first rays of the sun with stoicism and a sniper rifle grasped firmly. The Chief can only assume the man likes to be perched at heights out of habit and preference. He likely favors the quiet and solitude. The Warrant Officer returns the nod and stretches.

Stemming from curiosity, Rion gets an impulse and steps back inside the tent to retrieve a GUI he recently linked to the telephoto lens—perched atop the parapet just behind his ops tent. He remotes-in and extends his sights far to the East, deep inside Mombasa. The light of the sun is such that smog-wisps emanated from the antiquated power sources of the Old City appear as broad, bluish brush strokes that cling to the easements of skyscrapers a finger's width away. The haze is most visible at this hour, much like twilight. It wanders there along the prevailing winds.

He touches a finger to the screen, holds it there, drags it downward, angling the focal point of the 500mm Nitrogen-filled aperture upon the streets. The metropolis is bustling at all hours. Cars, buses, rails, people. The daily beat. A bird's eye view of lives interacting with other lives. Routine connections played out and new ones made every day. He swings further to the right, further East toward the Old Town. It's quieter, much more still. Much fewer people outside. The way the buildings mesh together to where boundaries couldn't be discerned is somehow a peaceful sight compared to the definitive and hard lines of its sprawling, superior sibling. He imagines things there are simpler and much more predictable. Every day squabbles concern only the necessary things, never etiquette and ego like it probably is across the water.

But whether affluent or destitute, influential or simple-minded...no commoner was prepared for this day.

The Warrant Officer ends the feed with a simple command and rests the GUI down on the table again, stifling a yawn with the other hand. He then begins to think how he might be productive today. He snaps a finger and knows exactly what to do, though he realizes in another instant that what he has in mind could only consume an hour of the day at most—and that's if he takes his time. Nevertheless, he exits the tent with new bounce in his step and proceeds toward the elevator.

0800 Hours UTC
Ground Floor

"One month of nothin'." Reed sat against a ledge, picking chips of loose concrete off the wall. A low-speed vehicular impact a week prior made an impression and dislodged some of the outer layer material like a flesh wound. Reed had already scoured all of the loose, easy pickings scattered about the ground. He tossed one of the scraps high in the air, the pebble-sized stone almost grazing the ceiling. His eyes tracked its trajectory, up and then down. Instantly losing interest, he looked away before it hit the ground, searching for another object to fiddle with. "Just a whole lotta nothin'."

"Thought them SOBs would be here by now." Fontaine offered, just staring outward at nothing in particular. "Starting to wonder if the ODGs will send us any leftovers whenever they do get here, you know?"

Reed grunted, not conveying any definitive response one way or the other. "Got anything to do? Any chores? Anything I can help with?"

"Not really. I just got done setting up my SCADA systems on the twelfth floor. I'm all out of busy work, LT."

"Family?"

"Truthfully, I think they're getting tired of me phoning in. Nobody's got any updates. They're just passing the time like us."

"Same here. Damn. Just…tell me again about your situation topside, Chief."

"What, the equipment?"

"Yeah, gimmy the full run-down. Last time I heard the Major talkin'bout it, he didn't seem at ease. You never seen'im when there's a loose end lyin'round. Ain't good. Starts gettin' edgy. People get caught in his vortex pretty quickly."

"How much do you want to know? I mean, the details are pretty juicy. I don't want to bore you. I've seen you bored."

"Already bored right now." Reed hurled a large chunk and it blistered apart upon impact across the way. "Just speak in layman's terms, Chief. Imagine you're talkin' to a hairless ape wit'a rifle."

"You want me to grunt and scratch my ass too?"

Reed smirked and started on a cigarette.

"So when I first got here, I tried to transmit with the troposcatter terminal so I could get initial access to the network."

"That's that old thing off in the far corner up there. Your dunce."

"Correct. Well, it was a no-go from the start. Got overwhelming feedback every time I tried to transmit out, almost as if it was reflected power bleeding over into itself from transmit circuitry into receive circuitry. But after some internal tests, I confirmed the equipment was functioning normally. I tried every trick in the book and out of the book. I moved onto SATCOM. Similar business. Same symptoms, same tests, same results."

"And you didn't know about the interference at this point, the strange signals in the air."

"Not until the first birds from Air Cav showed up. Actually," Rion snorted, "it was blind luck that I found out about it. I'd still be underwater if I didn't bust my leg over the damned thing."

"So that led to you using what you have on-line right now."

"Well, yes and no. After I got nowhere with the other gear, I fired up the LASER. Good thing I did because higher ups back at ONI were using that link exclusively once they determined I was late in accessing the grid. Violating protocol turned out to be the only correct course of action on my part. Then of course you all helped me get the brand-new SATCOM terminal up…and it turned out to be non-op as well."

Reed sighed. "And so now we're here. Back when I was in my enlisted days, we didn't have all this kind of fancy gear. We had simple, easy-to-use stuff."

"Back in your day? Hell, I've got boots older than you, sir. I'd call you kid but I'm a little bit old-school myself."

Reed again smirked behind a puff of smoke. "What's your next move?"

Rion shook his head, chuckled desolately as if he was a man more than capable of overcoming something but lacked the resources to do it. "Just keep monitoring the diagnostics…and pray that the LASER holds true. It's the only thing we can properly rely on at this point."

Reed sat up straight. "I'll have my troops construct a hard wall around it. Case it comes under fire."

"And what about you all? What's Shield's play from here on out?"

"Once hostilities start…if they start…we'll deploy to the FOB."

"Who's holding down the fort now?"

"That'll be Sword. They'll expand out and provide us a sphere to work inside of. Confuse Covie, and cripple 'em if the opportunity presents itself. We'll backfill their positions at the hospital and finish fortifying what they didn't."

"They're probably finished fortifying by now." Rion assumed.

"Well, shit, with all this time on our hands, I kinda hope they did!"

Footsteps became audible and the two stopped talking. Soon, the newcomer came into view once they passed under the threshold from outside. The two officers idly passing the time failed to acknowledge his presence. They suddenly stood once they realized it was Major Wu. He waved both of them off without even looking their direction, just scanned the state of the ground floor and all the Warthogs packed inside of it. "No need for that, gents. As you were."

"What's the latest and greatest, sir?" Reed asked, stowing the e-cig.

"Watson is having Shield TACAMO tonight."

"Did he say why?"

"Didn't give a reason." Wu gaited over to a ledge and took a seat there, his fatigue obvious. "Just positioning the pieces on the board, I suppose."

"Finally, a purpose."

Wu was off-handedly craning his neck and staring far into the darkest reaches of the ground floor in between conversation.

"Somethin' wrong, Major?" Reed asked.

"What are these civilian vehicles I'm seeing?"

Rion followed the Major's stare and said, "Ah, those are the Doctor's SUVs. Rode in one of 'em. Ride like lumber trucks but at least the seats are quite nice."

Wu then offered a rare, contented smile at the two of them. "Any of you had a chance to stay in contact with family?"

The Lieutenant answered for the both of them. "Roger, sir. You, sir?"

"Not really. Been running rampant these past weeks."

"I was gonna say you look a little puffy-eyed."

"X.O. has its perks, just that you don't get to enjoy them until the fighting is over."

Reed nodded at the higher-ranking officer. "Looks like you got some down time right now. Let's get you to the rooftop, sir. Take five minutes for yourself."

Wu thought about this for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Lead the way."

0825 Hours UTC
Rooftop

"Major Wu, were you a wrestler?"

The junior field-grade officer held the GUI tablet with one hand, his other hand contracted into a fist propped on a knee while seated inside the Chief's ops tent.

"Yeah, back at ROTC before I shipped off to CAMS. How'd you guess, Chief?"

"Low CG. Short, stocky limbs. You've got a forward-bearing gait. You spent a lot of time grappling opponents."

"The limp I got is another story. Still recovering from that one." Wu glanced at Reed.

"That firefight we had in the river was a hell of a thing, sir." Reed said. "Did some shootin' there. Was too bad you got hit. Damn, I 'member that fuckin' hill. What was it, Four-Four-Nine?"

"Roger…" Wu trailed off as his connection was initiated.

Reed then mumbled absentmindedly as if consumed in memory, "Tore 'em up, we did. For a while, anyways." The LT then looked to Fontaine upon the Major's withdrawal from the conversation. "Cassandra…That place was Shield Company's baby. The place where the ole Cap'n Stern really made his mark."

Rion didn't query further. It was something in the LT's eyes and voice that made the Warrant Officer look away.

"Well, let's give the Major some privacy. C'mon, LT, I've got just the thing to keep you occupied."

The Warrant Officer pushed aside the outer flap and looked around. A man Rion hadn't seen since the first element of the 906th arrived strode with an effortless thunder across the gravel-topped concrete. Rion could see and hear the pebbles beneath his boots bounce and jitter with each step.

"Hey, look who it is!" Fontaine hollered upon a second glance across the roof. "You just after some sun, Hickman?"

"Maybe a little."

"What the hell is the Seventh Army feeding you?"

At just shy of two meters, Chief Fontaine was tall, but Hickman had him by a whole head. He was a giant among his brethren, undoubtedly the largest soldier Rion had seen in the 906th—the entire UNSC in fact. The SFC tipped his head up, flaunted a cocky smile and said, "You're about to be graced with the presence of the finest aerial gunner this side of the Orion Arm."

"I don't suppose recoil is an issue for you."

The strapping NCO stepped toward Fontaine and Reed, "I heard that there's a phone booth around here somewhere."

"Major's on it right now. Where've you been?" Fontaine patted the Sergeant First Class on the shoulder and his hand bounced back at him.

"Me and the other Steel Dragons have been running some practice sorties off-and-on. Mostly a bunch of high-speed strafes a few klicks further out to the South."

"Steel Dragons…"

"What we call the attack squadrons. Falcons, Hornets."

"Fuel not an issue here?"

"Apparently not. The Warrant Officers like their seat time, so I just tagged along since they were burning fuel anyways. Gotta maintain the proficiency any chance I can get. Pays dividends. You'll all be thanking me sooner or later."

"I imagine it's a perishable skill. Nice to know you're getting some trigger time."

"Well, not so much the trigger time. We use bore sight LASER designators for the practice runs so we can conserve the live brass for when it matters. We're in this for the long run, Chief." Hickman turned toward the Lieutenant. "What's that Shield Company motto of yours, sir?"

"Until we're needed no more." Reed said in mid-swing, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. The head of the club smacked the dimpled ball and it disappeared in a white streak. "Boom. Three-twenty meters, at least. Sight that one out, Chief."

"See, I like that slogan." Hickman nodded, thumbing toward the Lieutenant. "Watchdogs are some shit-hot soldiers, Fontaine, but I guess you won't see that from this bird's nest." Hickman craned his neck higher and gazed far out past the Western parapet. "You driving some hard-boils downrange? What's the score?"

"I'm about to kick the LT's ass." Fontaine chided. "I got a three-fifty meter swing a day ago. Not that we're really keeping score or anything."

"Just pass'n the time," the Lieutenant said as he again stepped up to a tee, "because everything else 'round here's a lame duck."

"You should step up, Hickman." Fontaine said. "Guy your size could prob—"

"—Alright," said Wu stepping out of the tent, "I'm done. Sorry that took so long. Haven't talked to them in a while. Well, no time to chat further. Need to run. Take care, gentlemen."

"Am I up?" Hickman asked. "Gotta check on the lady."

Two pairs of thumbs-up answered him.

Before the colossal NCO could take even a few steps, a whole squadron of combat aircraft down below spooled their engines up, sending a unanimous, ear-lancing screech in every direction. People could be heard yelling orders a few seconds after all the pre-flight burn procedures subsided. The commands came in succession, almost rhythmically, company officer after company officer herding troops by the numbers. In another instant, both the Lieutenant and the Sergeant First Class stopped everything they were doing and cocked their heads to the side, pressing their fingers against earpieces.

Rion set his golf club down and watched.

"Wife'll have to wait a bit." Hickman said with a bitter smile.

"What's happening, LT?" Fontaine asked. "Where's everyone going?"

Reed pivoted to face the exit and pressed lightly on an earpiece, sounding off, "Acknowledged." He turned to face Fontaine, backpedaling toward the elevator as he did. "I think it's finally that time the Nine-Oh-Sixth gets its turn t'eat."

"You headed out?"

"Yep. Stern's mustering all of Shield we're taking over the FOB." Reed threw up a mock-salute. "Good knowing you, Chief. Hope to see you when all this ends."

"Likewise, sir. Eat hearty." Rion saw them off with a nod. Hickman threw a light downward jab to the LT's shoulder and they both sped off to the lift.

0845 Hours UTC
Rooftop

Fontaine remembered Lieutenant Reed's mention earlier in the morning of Shield Company's upcoming movement to the forward operating base inside Mombasa. He also remembered him saying that it wouldn't occur until later in the day. There could be dozens of logistical motives for speeding up the time-table. Advantages in fuel savings during certain hours of the day, the positioning of troop movements throughout the city that took advantage of avoiding heavy civilian traffic, jockeying the pieces on the board for optimal time-phased force deployments throughout the city's various sectors, and many more reasons. Whatever the current rationale, all Fontaine had to do was make sure things didn't get too screwy here at the rooftop.

Once again, the wing parked below spooled their engines and something else drove the Warrant Officer's gaze upward.

The reason for the sudden 906th mobilization was apparent in the sky.

The Chief battled Covenant before, but his last engagement was so long ago that he'd almost forgotten how awesome the sight of a Covenant vessel descending from orbit was. This one was an Assault Carrier which was particularly menacing as it pierced through the highest cloud layer. Rion he could see the radiating glow of the bloated, purple shape just before it crossed beyond the upper end of the troposphere. It's imposing mass seemed to crush the clouds beneath it, a massive thunderhead billowing up around the flagship's flanks.

He felt like a sitting duck, the ship was so large that it appeared too near. But another moment's logic would surely reveal that it was extremely distant—in fact near the limits of the radio-horizon if the Covenant carrier was positioned closer to ground. His first instinct would of course be to seek cover in the decks below, but Rion gained control over his nerves with a few more passing seconds. He stared at it. Already, various aerial dogfights were playing out, attack-craft from both sides of the fight collectively appearing as a colorless electron cloud surrounding the vivid interloper.

The unthinkable was now factual. The fight for Earth—the very first of human worlds—was at hand.

Down below, swarms of Pelicans and Falcons and Hornets ascended and vectored away in offensive formation toward Mombasa, leaving behind a wake of dirt-haze and fading exhaust swirling about the periphery of the site. Through the miasma and the sun and his own hands obscuring it all, Rion regarded the departing 906th Air Cav one last time. Aboard the vessels was Shield Company, fully mobilized and en route toward their new home.

Now loitering, Rion had no other function to pursue. His only charge had been carried out in full. Communications were up and running. With his equipment and expertise, every single member of the 906th could talk into their net as long as they wanted, as often as they wanted, a luxury item seldom realized on a battlefield. His only remaining challenge was to ensure it stayed that way. At least Lieutenant Reed was good on his word. The hard wall he promised Fontaine had been emplaced and now the LASER link was fully obscured, replete with a camouflage tarp above it. Surely concealed there from above, the wall also looked sturdy enough to take a few direct hits as well.

Rion performed a cursory inspection of the greater rooftop, opened a small personnel door embedded within the LASER's exterior reinforcement a moment after. Everything was proper and nothing was damaged during the course of their construction efforts. He rapped a knuckle against it and smiled, then stepped toward the ops tent. Inside, he queued the link to the telephoto lens from the GUI resting atop the table, zooming in on the Air Cav's short journey. After a few moments, the formation reached a mid-rise structure at a point where the New City met the Old, not too far from the main bridge. Pelicans initiated touch-and-go landings, offloading hordes of troops onto its rooftop. They landed by the dozen while all others remained in a holding pattern, taking their turns descending into what space was available.

One Hornet broke off and engaged a lone Banshee on a high-speed recon run that got too close for comfort. Rockets away and door guns blazing, the enemy craft was destroyed as it came within a kilometer of the 906th wing.

The unit's first engagement on Earth.

Chief Fontaine heard the unit's wideband crackle from a loudspeaker nearby.

"Who's going down in history?!"

That was unmistakably Sergeant First Class Hickman's voice being broadcasted to all nets, all personnel.

"That'd be this guy. First point on the board, Highwaymen! Uh!"

An unknown responded, "That's good. Keep the channel clear."

Rion smiled as he tracked the plummeting high-speed wreckage shortly before it disappeared behind another tower. He backed off about one-hundred meters and the field-of-view increased enough that he could see the victorious Hornet rotate about and encircle the outlying structures not a moment later, lurking and providing over watch along with three of its siblings. Within less than a minute, Pelicans began their return journey to the Parking Garage with only a few staying behind parked atop the Hospital's roof. An equal number of attack craft remained as well. He panned back to the mid-rise Hospital rooftop after tracking the departing vessels, zoomed in further, and saw all personnel scurrying toward the topside elevator and emergency stairwells like they had a purpose.

"The Nine-Oh-Sixth Highwayman." Fontaine said to himself. "Over, under, and everywhere in between."

Rion then realized that the Major would be headed underground if he hadn't already. The Chief set the tablet down and donned his combat ensemble, adjusting the tightness of his torso armor plating. For preparedness-sake, Fontaine drew his sidearm and racked the slide back halfway, making sure a round was already chambered and the trigger action safed. He fully understood that the Doctor's insolence had greatly stirred Wu. While the Covenant had unfortunately slipped at least one Assault Carrier through the roof, it now gave Fontaine and the Major the leverage they needed to lawfully infiltrate any of the underground sectors they wanted.

The Chief proceeded to the elevator and re-holstered the pistol. He genuinely disliked the idea of literally walking away from a fight, but this was the opportune time to get some much-needed answers.

A quick stop at floor twelve, Rion saw that all the parking spaces were filled with mil-spec vehicles, though there were no people present. In the middle of the cavernous level, the living tent that Rion had seldom visited was nestled right up against the pillars flanking the central ramp. Rion wasted no time. He unzipped the fabric and went straight for the transit case housing the only working spectrum analyzer he had remaining, ignoring the thirst and dehydration he now became aware of.

Stepping out and securing the outer lining, he turned to see a lone Warthog ascending the central ramp. At the top of the rise, the ATV stopped, flashed its bright beams three times in rapid succession and the horn blared. It crept closer to Fontaine as the Warrant Officer met it halfway. There in the driver's seat was Major Wu himself.

"Just the executive officer I was looking for." Rion grinned.

"Hey, Chief," Wu said with one hand on the wheel, "Going my way?"

"Headed below to see the Doctor?"

"Yes."

"Then aye, I am going your way."

"Hop in."

The Hog swerved one-eighty to descend the structure.

Wu drove the vehicle in broad, counter-clockwise maneuvers, arriving at one level only to right it about and proceed to the next downward ramp. Each vehicle parked on every story was neatly stowed, cowlings facing out. Almost every sector was devoid of people except for the first two, where soldiers either rested for their next shift, staged themselves as relief for returning FOB personnel, or were permanently stationed here serving as part of the command support staff.

Once the Hog hit the ground floor, Wu quickly found a parking spot and dismounted. "Time to set things straight, Chief. I take care of my own."

0915 Hours UTC
Delta Corridor, Sub-complex A

The transition between the A Sub-complex and the Omega Sub-complex was in sight.

It was a lonely, seemingly derelict facility—a total absence of activity. Fontaine and the Major had entered in silence, not a word spoken the entire walk. Wu quickened his step, his strides fluid and purposeful, pulling ahead of Fontaine once the doors that previously held them back were almost tangible. He stopped there for a moment, afforded the Doctor one last chance by knocking a few times and stepped back with hands rested on his hips.

He gave an honest, gentlemanly wait.

Fontaine lingered behind in silence, occasionally glancing behind them and down the opposite length of the corridor. It was predictably empty. He activated his uniform's short-range communicator again in an attempt to hail the Doctor, returned his gaze to Wu and the doors, asking, "What's the plan if they don't respond?"

The Major stood up on his toes as he pressed his face against the window just above one of the handles. "Apparently nothing at present. Look."

Rion gaited towards the other half of the door adjacent to Wu and peered beyond the mesh-lined pane as best he could. Holding both halves of the door were what looked to be giant, electro-hydraulic pistons, connecting the doors to the ground at 45-degree angles. Buttresses anchored there to make the 906th's entry particularly trying.

"I'd say firmly at arm's length." Wu quipped.

"Justice for Jericho." Rion shook his head. "What do we do now?"

The glass pane in front of Wu's face fogged as he answered, the voice perfectly calm. "Get me one of the mechanics from the Combat Engineering Battalion. Tell him to bring a carbide saw. We're cutting this motherfucker down. Go."

"Yes, sir."

Twenty-five minutes later…

Rion watched as the mechanic knelt down and applied pressure against the frame of the saw, the fap disc whirling, screaming, sending a stream of sparks toward the man's apron. After two minutes of full-throttle buzzing, the soldier let go of the trigger and withdrew the saw, removing his protective mask once the rotary blade fully stopped. Rion shook his head as the smoke cleared. All the tool did was lightly score the metal.

The technician huffed. "This isn't going to cut it."

"What do we have that will?" Wu asked, staring at the chipped paint and burn marks.

"Well," the technician offered, "I could maybe weld up a hook to the door and we could get a Hog down here, winch it up and just rip the whole thing off the frame. A bit time consuming, but it would work."

"Eh." Wu scoffed. "I want this door off now."

"I think we have a plasma torch somewhere. Give me a minute to dig it up and I'll cut through this like butter. What's back there anyway, sir?"

"We don't know."

"Someone doesn't want people going through there, that's certain. You sure it's a good idea to force your way in?"

"It's the only choice we've been given. Get going. Bring two torches if you have them, but only if it's quick."

"Proceeding, sir."

Fontaine gave up the numerous attempts at hailing the Doctor from his body-worn transmitter. By now, it was well-obvious the new direction everyone was headed in. "Hey, Major, I'm gonna head topside and check for another view out there. Give me a ring when work starts on the door again."

"Roger, Chief. When you get a minute, see one of the network technicians and have them issue you a vid screen. That way you won't have to keep heading up there for peeps. Tablets we have are smaller and lighter than yours."

"Thanks, sir." Rion said over the shoulder.

He arrived at the surface alongside the technician just in time to see the incoming Air-Cav—or most of it—heading on final approach to the sands surrounding the parking garage. Rion and the soldier ran as fast as they could for the interior before the inevitable dust storm would arrive in their wake. There at the threshold was Lieutenant Colonel Watson, Mattis' Deputy Commander, waiting with a small entourage of Majors and Captains.

"Was Major Wu with you?" Watson asked loudly over the incoming drone of aircraft.

Winds swept into the garage as Fontaine answered with squinted eyes. "Yes, sir, trying to get further underground."

"What for?"

"The civilian administrator of the facility is…having some difficulty keeping us in the loop of things. Critical things. The doors are barred with sticks the size of Texas. Major's working on that right now."

"He's babysitting again. Well, next time you see him, tell him he needs to re-activate his comm. device. No one can get a hold of him."

"Roger, sir. Will do. I'll be headed down there again in a few minutes."

Fontaine gave a nod to the group of soldiers present at the ground floor and headed to the elevator. He called it with a jab at the button, glanced at the floor marker above and noted that it was already in-use, currently occupied at the sixth floor and heading upward.

"Shit."

Rion sprinted toward the ramp and ascended the levels on foot.

1015 Hours UTC
14th Floor, 7th Army Main Command Post

Rion took a breather once he met the final level just below the rooftop.

There at the top of the rise, he doubled over and allowed himself a few heartbeats to regain a somewhat normal respiration. He glanced up and was met with the sight of Mattis' primary command staff: a small number of executive officers, most of them Captains and Lieutenants presumably under Wu's direct command as well as a platoon-sized shop of nothing but enlisted technicians. They had their own stations to man, each encompassing the various functions of a battle staff: communications, intelligence, topography and weather, personnel, weapons and munitions, supply, fuel, everything. The 906th even had two of their very own air liaison officers relaying the will of the Commander to the Air Cav's flight planners. Even now, at the onset of battle, the activity was frenzied.

Somewhere on this level, one of the many tents undoubtedly housed Colonel Mattis—the strategic genius himself who had been placed in command of this mighty force some time ago. Rion took a few more breaths and sped up the last incline, once again met with the light of day. Fatigued, he lightly jogged to the tent, swiping the tablet up while reaching for the fridge. The only beverages remaining were cold sodas. He didn't care—just opened whatever was within closest reach and gulped it down. He queued the picture again, panning around the mid-rise, observed that nothing much in particular was happening on the exterior. Just then, a pulse of light shone in the periphery of the swath. Then two, then three, in rapid succession. He zoomed out and skewed in the direction of their origin. The next sight was disheartening.

The Type-47 Ultra Heavy Assault Platform—the infamous quadruped known by many in the UNSC as Scarabs—was lighting up the sky with its top-mounted anti-air turret while Air Forces attempted to strafe the modified Covenant mining vehicle. Of course it was no use to try and inflict any damage to the giant, mechanized beast, but anything would do as long as it distracted the thing from using its main battery on whatever it chose. For whatever it did target, the end result was total destruction. Rion grimaced at the screen, rubbing at his chin and hoping that by some chance an orbital MAC blast would be saved specifically for this thing.

It crawled over neighborhoods and scaled impossible inclines, drove right through mountains of rubble that were once immovable structures seconds before. Rion walked to the cot and crashed down, setting the tablet in his lap, again rubbing at his chin. He stole a few more gulps of the soda, crushed the empty husk with one hand, and threw it to the corner. He lifted the tablet, focused in on the aftermath of the Scarab's charge from Old to New Mombasa. It had left a sizeable chunk in shambles. It was a clear-cut path of destruction overtly visible even from the Parking Garage's sidelong view—the line of smoke, flames and shooting water stretching for miles to the East. Thankfully, the 906th's mid-rise was still intact and not of interest to anything yet. The Chief slewed the angle slowly and gently, following the hulk as its massive silhouette wavered between buildings in the foreground. Only the Assault Carrier hovering above it all could've deployed something that size.

Strangely, it began traversing Mombasa's main bridge instead of outright sinking it. Rion assumed the bridge would be one of many prime targets for the invading forces, especially for this beast which was ideally suited for such demolition. Cut off routes of supply and movement, isolate your enemy and prevent them from grouping into pockets of strength, and take them out piece by piece. The most fundamental aspect of ground warfare. That the Scarab chose otherwise only meant it had bigger priorities on the other side.

Reconvening at the base of the bridge from where the massive walker paused its assault were two Marines, male and a female, a miracle that they survived the blitz. A lone soldier then emerged shortly after. Rion had to adjust the focus to discern who—or what—it was.

"…A Spartan."

Rion zoomed in further, reaching the limits of the optics' accuity. Much like Sergeant First Class Hickman, the green-armored figure dwarfed everyone in its company. Meeting it there in the open was a single Pelican with a Main Battle Tank dangling from its tail section. A Marine hopped out of the cargo hold, a dark-skinned Sergeant Major chewing on a half-lit cigar. Just as the Pelican jettisoned the tank, he immediately began issuing orders, reeling in close to one of the lower-ranking.

The image was so clear that Fontaine could see the dust plume fanning outward beneath the Scorpion as well as the man's lip movements.

A mere moment later, the Sergeant Major re-boarded the Pelican and the super-soldier took control of the tank. Next, it began its upward push, wavering in and out of view as it spanned the bridge's support columns, ascending the incline. Rion zoomed out, discovered the ambitious odds the lone tank was up against. But his quick survey of the enemy's numbers proved moot; he soon began to see what effect a Spartan in a tank had on every hostile aircraft huddled around the causeway as they broke apart and exploded one by one.

Fontaine grinned wide. "Hoo-rah, Spartan."

1035 Hours UTC
Delta Corridor, Sub-complex A

Rion banked a left at the T-junction and squinted his eyes at the arc of the plasma torch shimmering brightly from the far terminus. All he could see was the multi-hued glare, the surrounding walls, and the silhouettes of all the 906th personnel gathered there. It seemed more had shown up this time. The bright halo emanating outward was instantly relinquished as the technician halted progress for a break. Rion blinked the spots away from his vision. The heat radiating off the deep, rectangular incision was surely intense and the man backed away for a moment. He lifted up the auto-tinting mask, revealing heavy beads of sweat, and said, "Now when this thing comes loose, it's going to come loose with a bang. When I get back in there for the final cut, you three need to be right on top of me bracing the door…or we're all in for a nasty surprise. Alright, let's take a quick breather. Keep hold on the door for now."

He was correct. Fontaine could already hear the creaks and groans, the door twisting as he spoke.

Wu turned and regarded the Chief. "Fontaine, just in time. I've enlisted some help."

The Chief looked around. There were three strong-bodied men already leaned up against the left half of the door, ready to halt it from flying outward as there was no discernible way of knowing how much pressure was acting against it from the hydro-stick on the other side. But there were more here. A five-man team lingered off to the side, not participating in the effort. They weren't the added muscle needed to catch the door. They were a breaching squad, outfitted for just such a task with thick-hided battle dress, joint padding, heavier body armor, face shields, shotguns and flash bangs.

"Hey, Major, the Light Colonel asked me to have you reactivate your personal comms."

"Thanks, Chief." Wu clutched Fontaine on the shoulder. "Things could get hostile down here, Chief. I hope they don't, but I can't have you around if they do. You're the only guy smart enough to make sure comms stay the way they are, so I need you to hold fast here or topside, whichever you prefer. I'll sound an all-clear once I know the area's secured."

1100 Hours UTC
14th Floor, 7th Army Main Command Post

"Navigate to the 7th Army Command Portal and you'll see the complete list of network addresses, Chief."

An enlisted soldier with a patch denoting the logo of the 7th Army Comm & Infrastructure Corps handed over a flexible display to Fontaine, already rolled up like an ancient scroll.

"Thanks, soldier."

Fontaine proceeded back down the ramp, avoiding the elevator due to it being heavily in-use recently. The Main CP was a hive. Rion couldn't even imagine what it was like for the forward-deployed elements at the FOB right now. He unrolled the display as he walked, the smooth fabric turning rigid in another instant. A touch-sensitive button activated its software program and Rion navigated to the main portal, recognizing the address of the topside spyglass. He had this memorized.

He woke up the telephoto lens and refocused on the last place he viewed, the city's main bridge. It was nearly barren of activity, but the carnage left behind by the Spartan was impressive—twisted and mangled vehicles of all sort belching smoke and plasma. He then panned across the length of the bridge and over the tunnel it transitioned into, to the other side. For the first time since the battle started, a swell of hope registered on Fontaine's face. The ruinous Scarab was vanquished. It stood limp inside a wide canal, aflush with deep scars gushing colorful flames.

Rion quickened his step, eager to inform all passerby of the good news on his way down.

1115 Hours UTC
Delta Corridor, Sub-complex A

The Chief rounded the T-junction again and nodded at the one man remaining at the threshold into the Omega Sub-complex. He slowed his step until he approached the face of the doors, one of them removed with jagged outlines, resting against a wall at an angle. The soldier adjacent to him had his back to the other wall, hefting a carbine, not doing much of anything except observation.

"How long?" Fontaine asked.

"Been going on fifteen minutes now."

"No word yet?"

He shook his head. "Nothin'."

Rion peered deep into the corridor of Omega. It was just as long as the Delta Corridor, just as barren. He thought he could see recesses off to either side at the very end. Whereas Delta had offices, Omega had additional corridors instead, stemming perpendicular to it.

"Damn, they could be down any one of those halls." Rion mumbled.

"Yeah, but they did split up a bit to make it a faster process."

"Seriously?"

"Just two groups. So, three people each."

Rion nodded. "Not so bad."

No sooner had the Warrant Officer responded, all six men appeared from separate corridors, convened in the middle of the hall and marched toward his position. Even from this distance, Rion could see the look of defeat and disappointment. Their weapons were hanging loosely from their grasp, nearly dragging against the floor as they sauntered. Wu led the pack of five infiltrators, which was followed by three unknown soldiers to the rear that Rion had never seen before.

Upon venturing near the transition between the two corridors, Rion could make out a single, silver star pinned to the epaulettes of one of the unknowns in the center. He immediately snapped to attention as did the Highwayman providing egress security with him.

"At ease," the unknown said with a heavy baritone, "we're informal around here."

He was an Army general dressed in battle fatigues, the heavily-camouflaged variety designed for urban warfare. White-grey-black-blue. Generals were usually heavily stereotyped and inaccessible, but not this one. Overweight, liberal with regulations and choice of conversational words—it didn't seem that the common misconceptions applied here to this General. Fontaine made sure to get a good look at the senior officer's name tape: LeMay. Brigadier General LeMay. He was as lean as any of the 906th troops, though with a solid-grey head of hair and a matching mustache, every single appearance aspect within regs.

Rion went to Parade Rest rather than going to full-rest despite the relaxed air of the man who uttered the command. Wu approached Fontaine, bit his lip and shook his head. He then turned around to face LeMay.

"Look," the General said, addressing the Major as if revisiting a prior conversation, "I understand your concerns. Really, I do. Hell, I might've acted just as you did if I was in your position. I was a rather boisterous officer myself before I got my first set of G-series orders, but you need to understand and respect that keeping this place sterile of unauthorized visitors is among my greatest concerns."

"And you've heard ours, sir." Wu responded, his posture more relaxed than Fontaine's.

"Your infrastructure is still functioning?"

"For now, sir, but at limited capacity." Wu glanced at Fontaine. "The Chief can elaborate."

Rion raised a brow and cleared his throat, stepping forth to look the General in the eye.

"Sir, there's a massive amount of interference in this area and I believe it's coming from underground. Two of our circuits are null and void because of it. The Doctor might be withholding some information that could undo that."

The Major added, "And with the Covenant now trading shots with us, sir, we need to readdress this with the Doctor. Where is he?"

"Hold on, now, Major. The Doctor was just doing as I instructed. Let's leave him out of this."

"So what you're saying is that we can take up our concerns directly with you, sir?"

"I would like to help, but really there's nothing that can be done about it."

"Well, maybe we can do something about it, sir. Fontaine is an expert."

"No. Can't have outsiders in here."

"I just don't understand why this has to be difficult. You acknowledge our situation up there, now something needs to be done about it. We've got a war to fight at the surface."

"It's not difficult, it's simple. None of you can have access to this facility. That's by my order. We will be repairing this door. Refrain from trying to gain access again. Let's not deteriorate our neighborship any further."

"But you do recognize that there is a source of interference here and that it's affecting everyone." Wu stated flatly, his face devoid of expression.

"…Yes, we are aware." LeMay responded, the tone of his voice just as absolute as the Major's facial features.

Wu paused and didn't press his case any further for the moment, his jaw clenched. Rion again rubbed at his chin, that nervous quirk of his returning while the two officers gauged one another.

Amicably, the General offered, "We're not in control of it. Really, there's nothing we can do at this time."

"Just know that if our last working asset goes offline up there, we're blind, sir. Nine-Oh-Sixth will be blind."

"I know about the assets being provided by Chief Fontaine up there. You'll be fine. He's been spec'd with the proper gear. It's why you're still on the grid as we speak. And he's the perfect man for the job if anything unforeseen happens."

The Flag Officer continued to observe Wu, never once glancing at Fontaine or anyone else, though all anyone could observe from a distance was silence and an apprehension emanating from the Major.

"Okay, to be fair," LeMay continued, "I know you just want answers and to be able to restore full capability to your own resources. Perfectly understandable. Which is why I will help you. Just not now."

"Any ETA on that help then, sir?"

"Maybe in two and a half weeks, give or take. Three weeks at most."

"Three weeks?!" Wu huffed, almost losing cool in front of a superior officer. "Sir, rarely has a colony lasted that long under Covenant attack."

"You have your protocol. We have ours. No one can enter beyond these premises until Captain Lawson arrives."

"Who is Captain Lawson?" Wu threw his hands up in the air, the officer's frustration reaching a peak.

"He is my Deputy Commander and he possesses intel of the highest sensitivity. He is the missing piece in our efforts at this facility and is en route as we speak. His arrival might very well be the key to all this interference. Again, no one enters until he arr—"

Major Wu looked away and pressed on his earpiece, withdrawing from the conversation in an instant. LeMay did the same.

"What's going on?" Fontaine asked.

The Major's eyes widened. "ODSTs inbound."

"Lots of 'em." LeMay added.

Wu about-faced and marched toward the junction. He snapped a finger at his men. "Topside!"

Rion remained for only a few more seconds if only to scan the faces in the midst, though all eyes were on the departing Major.

"C'mon, Chief," one of the 906th soldiers said to Fontaine, "seems the show's over down here."

1132 Hours UTC
Ground Floor

"Can we counter him with anything?" Fontaine asked as the elevator ascended. "I thought I heard someone say Seventh Army can commandeer just about anything it wants if the Covenant show up?"

"Yeah," Wu answered, "I said that. But this is a general officer. I don't think there's anything in our playbook that says we can override someone like that. And he isn't playing ball, so why would he help us go any further? Or even respond to threats?"

"Yeah." Rion rubbed at his chin. "So we're back to square one then. No better off than we were when dealing with that Doctor. New face, same devil."

"Hang on, Chief," Wu held up a hand and pressed on the earpiece, "I'm getting a communique." The Major nodded a few times and looked back to Fontaine. "ODSTs just might be able to help us win a counter-offensive earlier than we planned. They're descending on the city as we speak. Things are going to get a lot busier at the HQ. I hope your comms stand the test of time."

The doors opened into sunlight.

"But getting back to the General," Wu continued as he led them outward, "if we had someone on our side with two stars or greater, we could get back in there and back on the happy path."

Rion craned his neck as he stepped across the sandy walkway. Everyone else did the same. Just beyond the silhouette of the massive Parking Garage was a swelling sphere of light emanating from inside New Mombasa. Pure white, it expanded with a ravenous pace, engulfing whole skyscrapers in its wake.

"I don't think there'll be a happy path, Major."

Wu rushed toward the structure's interior followed by his security detail and Fontaine.

"Retake your posts." Wu told them while heading towards a small group of 906th officers clustered at the ground floor.

"Where's that Assault Carrier?" Watson asked, peering into a screen showing the networked video feed of the rooftop spyglass. He keyed in a command and preempted control of its movements from whoever had it prior.

"It must've jumped from inside the city." Fontaine shook his head as he approached behind Wu. "That's not good."

Watson, the oldest man in the unit, nodded with a bitter glance at Fontaine. "It's going to leave a hole the size of this entire outpost. Let's hope the hospital didn't go down with it." And with that, the Lieutenant Colonel drifted off with a pensive look about him.

"Chief Fontaine," Wu said, "can you estimate what effect the radiation from that Carrier's jump will have on our infrastructure?"

"EMP won't be a problem, sir. Everything's hardened against that, and we're far enough away. The FOB, though, I'm not so sure about."

Watson clutched at Wu's shoulder. "Get in contact with Stern and have him perform accountability of all his troops. Same for Sword Company. And see what you can do about getting me on the next flight out there."

At that, Rion departed for the roof, hoping to perform his own sort of accountability as well.

Ten minutes later…

Rion held the command console aloft as he took a seat on the cot. The outpost was so far removed from Mombasa that there were no distant sounds to accompany what he was seeing on-screen. It then occurred to him that someone else was currently operating the spyglass's movements. He cut connection and did what he came here to do in the first place.

He dialed into Alpha Site from a calling program, straight to Colonel Kromer.

The connection was near-instantaneous.

"Chief. That you?"

"Colonel. Damn, it's good to hear your voice, sir. How's Alpha Site holding up?"

There was a pause.

"Fine, chief. Some skirmishes topside, but we've got it under control. How's your situation at that outpost?"

"A lot different than yours, I'm sure. We're holding up. Seventh is a fine unit, sir."

"I told you that you'd be in good hands, didn't I?"

Rion heard a chuckle from the officer.

"Aye, sir. You did."

"Everything green over there?"

"As green as can be, sir."

"I had a feeling you were keeping their hopes up. Listen, you're doing a good job out there. I'll contact you if anything here changes. And Rion…good luck to you."

"Same to you, sir."

"Kromer, out."

Rion set one GUI down to pick up another, querying the status of the spyglass. Whatever user was in control earlier had left the session, so Rion then had free access to it. He peered deep into Mombasa, noting the wanton destruction all about the central region of the artificial island. The orbital tether was at the epicenter of the Carrier's ion rift-wake when it jumped. He could see it gently swaying, strands of it fraying.

"Damn."

That it was so well-engineered was likely the only reason it was still standing.

He peered beyond and to the monolithic Alpha Site, that familiar silhouette towering over much else in its vicinity. The Colonel was correct—there was a bridge-side skirmish taking place. The Covenant wanted in, exactly what Rion feared. The ONI field HQ was surely a prime target. Wraith tanks and coordinated ground troops were on assault duty while Shade emplacements further back rained a steady stream of plasma on the site's fortifications. Rion could only hope the Colonel was also correct in that the local security forces had it under control.

Fontaine perked his head up as he heard a flight of aircraft on approach. He quickly stepped outside after ending the GUI feed from the lens. Three Pelicans began their descent off the Eastern front of the Parking Garage, idling there, keeping the engines hot. He peered over the ledge and saw the 906th's first casualties being lifted out by stretchers. Corpsman immediately poured out of the ground floor and met them halfway, checking vitals as they all scurried into shade.

Not a moment later, their replacements ran into the sun and boarded the transports, speeding up the tail ramps at full-tilt. They were airborne and en route to the FOB in another moment.

1230 Hours UTC
Second Floor

Fontaine had just finished changing into a fresh set of battle fatigues. The shower he took moments prior was a relief. He'd felt grimy and gritty. The sands of the last few days had worked its way inside every crevice of his old uniform—now just finishing its drying cycle from a machine nearby. He'd paid a brief visit to the medical booths at the third floor. The entire interior of their tent was a sterile environment, and Rion couldn't clearly see their faces through the translucent drapes, but he understood their outcomes quite well. One lost an arm, another their hearing, and the remaining troop's face would never be recognizable again—charred to the bone from plasma burns. Life was a miracle itself. That a soldier so beaten could still endure and hold on was also another miracle.

At the onset of all this trauma and loss these few soldiers faced thus far, Rion couldn't help but wonder for a moment what else it was like out there, beyond the 906th's locus of control. He couldn't fathom it, didn't have the heart to after witnessing those boys just a few meters away.

A crackle came over Rion's earpiece, now linked to the 906th's internal battle net.

"Everyone, prepare for incoming debris. The Orbital Tether is about to come apart."

That was Major Wu. His voice was immensely calm despite the urgency, though the intent was clearly conveyed. Rion immediately unrolled his portable display and patched into the spyglass, saw that someone had already slaved it to their commands. He watched in passive mode as the operator of the feed tracked the New Mombasa Uplift, an economic and logistical powerhouse of the region—but no longer.

Its undoing was slow, but deliberate and inexorable.

Massive strands snapped at various points and flew apart with extreme force. All the pent-up kinetic energy expending itself was strangely a fascinating sight to behold. The more lengths that let go, the faster that others followed suit. What at first seemed like a progression that would require many minutes to play out only took a few more seconds as the entirety of the trunk exponentially frayed open, unraveling all the way to the core. Then, all at once, the entire structure plummeted. The current operator of the display tracked a single, massive chunk of it. The descent lasted for half a minute. To somewhere off in the West near Tsavo, it crashed into the ground, leaving half its body lying sunken into its own depression. The dust plume reached at least a hundred meters into the air as a signal of its final death woe casting out in every direction.

Seconds later, the sound of the concussion oscillated gently toward the 7th Army's Main Command Post greatly attenuated over the vast distance, the shockwaves imperceptibly agitating the superstructure of the Parking Garage.

The operator zoomed out. The sky was raining with the Tether's disparate parts, crashing over a radius too wide to calculate from this vantage.

1335 Hours UTC
Rooftop

Rion stared across the plains.

He could much more easily accomplish what he was doing by raising the spyglass again, see more activity, and see it with a thousand times more clarity than through this overexposed panorama of dry haze and intense sunlight. But it was the far Eastern horizon that summoned his gaze. In some kind of war memorial painting, it would be quite a vivid, touching sight—maybe one of many in such a place. Now, in this moment, it was simply awe-inducing. The horror of an entire city nearly in ruin from this distance was unmistakable and could not be ignored.

Fontaine's earpiece squawked.

"Chief, are we good on comms? I've been having trouble raising the FOB."

"Still in the green out here, Major. EMP might've offlined their antennas and amplifiers. You might want to have someone ship out a replacement set on the next Pelican run. But we're good here."

"And you?"

"Me? I'm holding out. More worried about your troops on the front lines."

"I hope to know soon enough," Wu said as a trio of Pelicans rose up and flew away from the site.

"Where are they going?" Fontaine asked, noting the Scorpion tanks being ferried away by the dropships.

"The Colonel loaned out some support to another organization. Seems they took quite a beating and they're losing ground. Those tanks should shore them up."

Rion heard an audible indicator emanating from one of the tablets inside the ops tent. "Sir, that's good news. I'll speak with you later. Fontaine, out."

He stepped inside and saw the GUI's display, noting multiple contact attempts from Colonel Kromer. Rion deftly swiped up the tablet and answered the call.

"Sir, Chief here. Go ahead."

"Fontaine…"

"Sir, everything alright?"

"Fontaine, you're going to experience a comms blackout in a little while. Don't worry, it's only intermittent. Shouldn't last more than a minute."

"Was this scheduled or was this just now decided?"

A hesitation...

"No, this was rather sudden. The satellite controllers in Colorado are swapping birds. Your uplink should automatically re-acquire. And Chief, you'll need to update the WAN network address...because Alpha Site won't be the relay station anymore."

"Why, sir? What's going on?"

Rion heard a bout of static, then a bout of screaming.

"Seal that door, dammit!"

"Sir, who was that? Are you all under attack? Have they breached?"

"Look, I'm surrounded down here. Covenant drones got the place locked down tighter than a snare and the boys topside have no choice but to level this place. Too many sensitive assets here. Chief…Rion…you're going to see some interesting things over there at that field HQ. Just keep doing what you're doing and stick by your original orders. Share your wisdom with the Seventh and anyone of strategic importance that comes your way, they may soon need it. You were chosen for this op by me. You never once proved me wrong every time I spoke in esteem about you. I look back and think about what a difficult position we put you in over there without being able to let you know what you were getting into, and the impact this is having on your family. But it was always going to be you, Rion. It had to be you. Hang tough through this. See it through for me."

"I will, sir, but what about you?"

"Me…Well, this is my last hurrah, Chief. I'll be going down with the ship this time, so divert all of your data protocol defaults over to the unicast address I'm sending you now. All further intel and communications will relay through there from here on out. Alpha Site won't be on the map anymore."

Not an instant later, a skyward plume of smoke, ash, and flame erupted to the East.

"As always, Fontaine, it was a pleasure serving with you. Kromer, ou—"

Rion hung his head for a moment and leaned against the parapet.

1500 Hours UTC
Rooftop

Rion could do nothing but continue to watch.

The smoke and debris barely allowed a glimpse of anything but the city's tallest towers from the outpost's extreme distance. Only the base of the Uplift was visible, its cable section completely shorn a few hundred meters up. Further to the left, the ONI Alpha Site's surroundings might as well have been invisible as its own destruction totally obscured the area. Rion's witnessing of its demise was still fresh in mind. The Colonel had been his mentor for the last few years. His leader. A family man. A dedicated Marine. Despite such a loss, knowing what had to be done to carry on was also at the forefront of Rion's thoughts.

As if asserting the futility of Mombasa's defense, though, another Covenant Assault Carrier materialized from a slipspace exit. Then a Battlecruiser. And another. And more.

They immediately went to work, dispensing various aircraft from their innards, each warming up their main battery abows. Rion didn't need a telephoto lens to witness it all. The pinpricks of light from the waking plasma cannons were bright as distant stars seen through a telescope on a cloudless night. Once they connected to the Earth's surface, Rion's eyes began to feel pain. He relinquished his stare at the ruby-red beams and took in the panorama once again. More vessels continued to arrive in steady intervals as if the attack was staged for some time at a safe distance from Earth's space-based defenses. A few broke off and started in the direction of the outpost. Rion cocked his head and his brow began to furrow.

He reached out to the Major over the internal net.

"Sir, you might want to look at this."

"What?"

"Take control of the spyglass for a sec, sir."

"Roger…"

Rion glanced to the side and saw the lens start to move, the servo motors faintly whirring.

"Oh, yes, that's bad news. I'll inform everyone."

"Wait." Rion said. "They're diverting."

"Yes, they are…"

"Looks like they're listing off, slightly North. Main batteries warming up. They're firing down on the desert."

"I see…"

"What are they doing way out there?"

"I don't know, but I like the fact that they're leaving Mombasa."

"And that they're not coming this way too."

"Still good up there?"

"Better than good, actually. I've siphoned off extra bandwidth from the folks below. Nine-Oh-Sixth can team-chat all day, everyday, with simultaneous live video feeds from all vehicles and troops. Hell, tell your people to gossip on-air if they want to."

"That gonna hold out with your higher ups?"

"Got no more higher ups, sir. Alpha Site's down."

"…I see, Chief. I'm sorry. If any of those ungrateful eggheads downstairs get uppity with you, send 'em my way."

"No. I'll deal with them myself."

"Listen, Chief, I admire your dedication to the Nine-Oh-Sixth, but a Warrant Officer might get run over by those people. I'm a Maj—"

"—Hell with them, sir. I'll send 'em all right back down to their hole if they come at me. I don't give a shit anymore."

"You're old school. I like that. You have my support."

"So what's the situation like with the comms over at the FOB?"

"Pelican en route with new equipment. ETA on reconnect is twenty minutes, tops."

"Glad to hear it, sir."

1540 Hours UTC
14th Floor, Command Support Staff, 7th Army Main Command Post

Rion's LASER uplink was temporarily offlined. It was just as Kromer had once said. Rion tried to squelch his sorrow at the thought of the man's last, brave moments.

The offline status meant little for the time being; the FOB's own uplink was non-operative as well.

He glanced about the many stations of the Brigade Support Battalion. They had taken over the entire 14th story of the structure. He could feel the heat wavering in and out from all the equipment they used to process various types of data and facilitate hundreds of simultaneous active links. Rion casually strolled through the layout, combing through the rows of stations and discerning their individual functions. He stopped abruptly at one particular node, the holo-caption hovering above it displaying, INTER-FACILITY/LONG-HAUL COMM.

The soldier seated there was currently speaking into a headset while shuffling through memory chips and inserting them into consoles.

He heard the enlisted technician huff once and remove his headset.

"Hey, soldier, any word on the Hospital?"

He turned to face Fontaine, glancing up at him. "Their comm. link went down when the EMP hit."

"Tracking. We shipped off a new set of equipment to them from spares stock earlier. So, no word then?"

"None, Chief. Just tried hailing them. They probably need more time to get it set up and working."

"Any updates from Air Cav?"

"Hang on, I'll check." The soldier keyed a console switch and spoke into the receiver, "HQ to Airborne Recon, copy?"

"Roger," the loudspeaker sounded off, "you're go for Recon."

"Do you have eyes on the FOB?"

"Negative, no eyes at this time. We're currently too far to the West for a visual."

"What's the situation like out there?"

"We're holding position at Mariakani. LZ was too hot the last run. Need to regroup with the Steel Dragons for fire support."

"Recon, just tell me if there is any friendly activity taking place at the Hospital or nearby?"

"Too much debris and we won't see shit until it clears!"

Fontaine then asked, "Anything on long-range telemetry, pilot? IFFs? Thermals? Satellite downlink?"

"Nothing friendly on any spectrum as far as we can see. Covenant are literally glassing the hell out of the entire region!" The pilot at the distant end of the link sighed, the anguish not lost through all the distortion in between. "HQ...did you read me? Anyone still remaining East of Mazeras is king of Mombasa for all I know!"