"Irrelevant. The alpha-immersion hardware simply isn't good enough. Laconia needs proper hard-light facilities if we're going to make these Spartans combat capable."
"True hardlight simulation isn't ready. Not without the requisite Tier One tech. Need I remind you, gentlemen, that only one asset has that capability, and we both know the Infinity isn't ready for public knowle-"
"Enough, gentlemen. Please. Director Carter, what happened in there today?"
"I believe the test scores speak for themselves."
"Yes, and it makes for impressive reading. But there have been… accusations. Of misconduct. Tampering. One of Chimera is known for his technical ability. His skills with a computer-"
"Are well documented, but in this instance, your suspicions are unfounded, Ma'am. There was no tampering."
"Then what did we just see?"
"I believe we just saw Chimera beginning to realise their true potential, Madame-President... and that it was everything we could have ever hoped for."
- / excerpt from intercepted encoded Subspace Transmission, recorded February 2557 [EYES ONLY] /
"Chimera Five," Damien's voice crackled in Luke's ear, "Sit-rep, now!"
The Warthog's suspension jolted as it crunched down into the stream, blasting a spray of water up over the windshield. The rear-mounted assault cannon thundered in Luke's ears, drowning out the mewling squeal of the tyres as they fought for purchase in the churning muck of the embankment. Behind them, they could hear the enemy engines, growling ever closer.
"Keep driving!" Rashid shouted, sighting his DMR and opening up on the pursuing vehicles as they appeared over the horizon, their own weapons spitting in return. Screaming tracer fire ripped back and forth, like fiery comets.
"Trying!" Luke replied, working the gearshift back and forth.
"Do or die, Five!"
Luke didn't need to be told twice. He thumped the stick into first. The whole vehicle shuddered as it revved on the spot. The wheels spat up a torrent of shredded muck behind the 'hog. Still the vehicle held, mired in the sucking muck. Perched on the rear weapon mount, Viktorya crouched down as bullets began to whicker against the hull, spanking off the metal and whistling past overhead. Jaw set, she raked hard rounds across the bonnet of one of the oncoming pursuers.
"Do I want to know how many are behind us?!" Luke asked, flinching back as a bullet burst the windshield inward.
"Too many!" Rashid cried. Viktorya's snarling curses, a stream of venomous Russian, appeared to agree.
"Luke!" Rashid was changing mags once more. Incoming fire whipped up across the water, skipping toward them like deadly stones. "Now!"
Luke buried his armoured boot on the accelerator. With a sudden lurch the vehicle was free, tearing free and bouncing forward in a drunken sprint. One of the pursuing 'hogs ploughed into the river after them, sticking fast. Its engine shrilled in impotent fury. The other two shadowed Chimera along the riverbank, their mounted cannons blazing as they raced for a narrow shoal further downstream. Bullets whipped toward them, the sound snatch-stolen by the rushing wind.
They sped away, leaving their pursuers behind.
"Five, where's my sit-rep?!" Damien voice was shouting down the line by this point.
"One, this is Four." Rashid answered for Luke, "We are enroute to evac zone; encountering resistance."
An understatement. Behind them, high up in the sky and backlit by the morning sun, a Banshee had appeared, a barely discernible arrowhead.
"Copy. Make it quick, Rash: the bird will leave without you."
"Solid copy, One. ETA Two minutes to extract, Four out."
Two minutes didn't leave a lot of time. The exfil point was one click south of their position; a yawning clearing at the foot of the valley. As rear-guard, their role had been to check oncoming resistance after extraction of the target; a high value Tier One software asset. Platinum had effected the initial extraction, with Chimera running operational security.
Operational security that was deteriorating with each passing second.
Luke never even saw the Banshee coming. One moment he was hurtling down the hillside, the tyres churning up the wet grass, the next he was on his back, staring up at the sky. Then he heard the shriek of the aircraft overhead. The sonic boom caught up with him afterward. The ringing in his ears told him he'd been caught in an explosion. The scorch marks on his armour told him he should be dead. The molten-hot burning in his chest made him wish he were.
Combat instinct took over. Luke rolled to his feet, unshipping his assault rifle.
The Warthog was a smoking ruin. The wheel axle bent inward, and two of the tyres were missing altogether. The engine core was exposed. It pulsed an alarming red as a disquieting ticking sound warned Luke away from the crash. Miraculously, both Viktorya and Rashid had been thrown clear of the wreckage as well. Rashid was limping, the simulation systems calculating broken bones and limiting his armour's movement accordingly. He clawed his way away from the twisted metal with determined fistfuls of grass. Viktorya was already taking cover, preparing for the enemy that would surely catch them.
There was no sign of the Banshee. It was circled away, hunting the other stray members of the attacking team.
Luke checked his range finder. The exfiltration point was still over seven hundred metres out. He could here the purring-whine of the enemy fusion engine grow louder. Even with their augmented limbs and suit-assisted preternatural speed, they couldn't outrun a speeding Warthog. In a moment, hostiles would appear over the hillside en masse. Luke opened a com channel.
"Uh, Sir, this is Five… we're going to have a bit of a problem here…"
Damien turned to look at Chidi. Chidi turned to look at Damien. Behind them, crouched low on the landing ramp of the idling Pelican, Fireteam Platinum looked on impatiently. The mission clock was ticking.
"Solid copy, Four."
Damien started for one of the Warthogs abandoned at the edge of the LZ. Chidinma followed his lead, breaking open the emergency weapon cache affixed to the Pelican's fuselage. Quickly and with single minded determination, she began to unpack an arsenal of anti-material weaponry. Hard-packed laser convergence weaponry, magnetic accelerated cannons, full-throated SPNK3R deployment tubes; by the time she staggered back to Damien's Warthog, she was carrying enough ordnance to level a mountain.
Perhaps two mountains, she thought to herself ambitiously.
"Where the hell are you doing, Chimera?" Chase Keller's voice buzzed in disbelief, "We have to go, now!"
Damien growled the engine to life, not pausing to look back at the Pelican. He touched a hand to the side of his helmet.
"Chimera, this is Chimera One. Reinforcements are en-route."
Even as they took off up the hill, they could still here Platinum One's voice swearing at them over the com.
"Chimera get back here! Chimera!"
Viktorya prepped quickly. She had propped Rashid up on a boulder far enough away from the upturned Warthog that the beeping fusion core would not prove to be an immediate risk, then turned her attention to stripping any usable materials from the wreck. Smoke washed up from the flaming wreckage, causing the air around them to blur and twist from the heat.
A DMR, three grenades, and four additional magazines. Fine for an infantry skirmish, but sorely lacking when it came to stopping a Warthog dead in its tracks. Strapped to the small of her back was a remote detonator, a field engineer tool used for rapid breaching and emergency demolition work. That would have to do.
Luke stowed his assault rifle, instead tearing the Warthog's assault cannon free of its restraints and propping it on a rock beside Rashid. Viktorya came over a moment later, lugging over the ammunition bay. They clipped the belt feed into the ammo store, turning the rock into an impromptu gun emplacement. The sound of raring engines grew louder in their ears. It was almost time.
"You can fight?" She asked.
Rashid nodded.
"Good." she nodded once, clapping him on the shoulder. It was about as close to jovial as Viktorya ever got.
They took their positions. Luke bellied down in the muck in front of Rashid, smearing some across his visor to obscure its golden tint. He held his assault rifle pointed at the hill in front of them, toward the sound of the hunting engines. Viktorya moved forward and to the right, ducking low in a shallow ditch housing a narrow stream. Rashid stayed where he was, limited by the piercing pain the simulator was pumping through his nervous system. His armour status showed a yellow-orange status indicator. He listened to the tinkle of the nearby stream, watched the way the winds swayed the grass in great swishing waves. He cherished those last few seconds.
"Hold fire." Viktorya ordered sternly.
Then she vanished. Literally vanished. One second she was there. Then there was a rippling sound, and like a fish slipping beneath the water, she was gone; her outline the faintest blur, a whispered trace.
The first Warthog appeared, then a second. A third. It was Castle Team, judging by the bulky armour design and the fact that they had arrived first. Castle were a solid fire-team, dependable, tenacious in a fight. That they were the first on Chimera's heels came as no surprise.
"Hold." Viktorya's voice was a whisper.
The Warthogs barrelled down the hill, suspension rocking. They raced toward the exfil point. The gunner on the point vehicle swept the rotary cannon over the wreck, panning for targets of opportunity. It was gunning straight for Viktorya. Still she appeared as little more than a smudged rumour, as the sun shone clear through the imaging system embedded within the skin of her armour.
"Hold."
The lead Warthog was only fifty metres from them now. Its headlamps caught the light, dazzling and winking in the sunlight like manic leering eyes.
"Hold."
The blur shifted slightly.
There was a hollow thump, like the bang of a starter gun. It seemed comically weak in the face of the monstrous buzzing-growl of the advancing engine. Something attached itself to the hood of Castle's Warthog. Something that beeped and throbbed a deep angry red. The Warthog screeched on the brakes, slewing to one side. Then it exploded, the fusion core lighting up in a hurtling fireball. The 'hog flipped forwards, bouncing once, twice, then finally rolling to a halt in a series of crunching tumbles.
Viktorya abruptly materialised, rifle raised.
"Chimera!" she shouted, opening fire on the second oncoming Warthog.
The spit of her DMR was drowned out by the rattling chatter of Rashid's assault cannon. Without the halting suspension of the weapon frame, the recoil was impossible to control, even with augmented limbs. It kicked and danced against the supporting boulder, as Rashid threw his body weight across it in a desperate attempt to hold it on target.
Not that it mattered. The sheer weight of fire thrown up toward the oncoming vehicles was enough to cause the Warthogs to veer off course. The vehicle on the left flipped over, its front wheel disappearing into a sinkhole hidden by a dense thicket of heather. One of the passengers was thrown free. Luke was on him in a second, rising up out of the muck, his assault rifle juddering as the rounds chopped home.
The rear weapon mount of the second 'Hog swung to bear down on Luke. The weapon spun as it began to cycle up.
Damien's Warthog smashed into the side of the vehicle, sandwiching the gunner between its tyres and the crumpled weapon mount. A clambering leap carried him into the vacant seat of the hostile Warthog. He smashing the butt of his BR-85 into the driver's visor. Once. Shields sparked and popped. Twice. Armour dented and the visor cracked. A third blow burst the hapless Spartan's visor inward entirely, eliminating him from the simulation.
There was a blinding crimson flash, and the third warthog vanished in a column of fire. Chidinma climbed out of the Warthog's passenger seat, tossing the Spartan Laser over toward Viktorya, who deftly caught it.
Chimera rallied in the centre of the ruined field, bracketed on all sides by scorched wreckage. Damien jumped down from the intertwined corpses of the broken Warthogs.
"Chimera, prep for contact." Damien nodded at each of them in turn. "Get loaded, make it fast. Open dispersal, defensive spread."
The others took their positions, spreading themselves out in a wide arc.
Damien hunkered down beside Rashid. The fallen Spartan was on his back, the discarded assault cannon laying over to one side.
"You alright, Four?"
"Having a great time, One." Rashid wheezed.
"Get Well Soon present for you." Damien took a second M-6 Nonlinear Rifle from Viktorya, then handed it down to Rashid.
"A Grindell? Nice."
"Might be a bit easier to aim than that cannon. Make it count, Rash."
Damien went to stand up. Rashid forestalled him with a raised hand.
"You realise our performance rating is going to take a hit on this, Sir."
"Not the only thing about to take a hit." Luke added glumly, watching the horizon darken with hostile contacts.
"Yeah, well call me an optimist." Damien replied. "Alright Chimera, no time for speeches, we're on in five. Conserve ammunition and prioritise targets of opportunity. With me?"
Three green acknowledgement lights lit up. The motion sensor showed a wall of red converging upon their position. Damien ignored it, shrugging a launcher up onto his shoulder. Damien frowned. Chimera Five's acknowledgement light still hadn't lit up.
It was then that Luke spoke up again.
"Sir, not to point out the drastic statistical likelihood of our imminent destruction, or anything, but can I just point out that we're hilariously outgunned?"
Damien grinned at that. He hefted the launcher on his shoulder, adjusting his grip.
"Always outnumbered, never outgunned, Five."
The fifth and final HUD light lit up, Damien's own.
Status green.
What followed was an action steeped in heroic inevitability. Chimera, caught out in an open field with scant coverage bar the mangled ruins of the twisted Warthogs and smouldering fires, fought tooth and nail as a second wave of enemies encroached upon their position. Aircover, Banshees high and screaming, swept down upon them, raking the ground with scorching bolts of stabbing plasma. Warthogs powered through the swirling smoke, weapons clattering with murderous intent.
Chimera met them head on, weapons primed.
Their defeat was not a matter open to debate. The enemy were too numerous, too well equipped. Equally, those descending upon them were Spartans, who would not be outdone by bravado alone.
What proved surprising was the duration and tenacity of Chimera's defence. It was a triumph of audacity, of balls out courage and rage against five full teams of Spartan attackers.
And what courage! Concerted DMR fire tore Banshees from the sky. Warthogs were driven away by determined small arms fire or killed outright by lancing stabs of melt-hot beam-fire. Those aircraft that strayed too close were pelted with salvos of rockets, which smashed them to the ground in great arcs of fiery pebbles. Advancing infantry shied back, cowed by the wall of destruction. The field had been green and vivid once. Fully twelve minutes after the battle opened in earnest, it became an elephant graveyard of twisted metal and bubbling fire.
But bereft of cover and hopelessly out-matched, the sustained defensive effort began to run its inevitable course. Ammunition clicked dry, rocket tubes spun empty. Laser-weapons folded shut, their barrels white hot and exhaust grills venting freely as they fell silent, inert. Chimera fell back on their standard fire-arms; loading and reloading as they plinked shots up at the advancing tide. The ground became carpeted in empty bullet casings.
It was actually Damien who was the first to be 'killed' outright. A Banshee skilfully flitted down beneath a duo of twisting rockets, dumping its fuel rod payload at almost point blank range. Chimera One simply vanished in a pillar of heat. The pilot spun up and away, chuckling to himself. He could only blink in surprise once he saw that Chidinma attached to his wing, priming a plasma grenade and angling for the cockpit. The blast took them both, spitting shrapnel and body parts down across the battlefield.
All but forgotten on his propped up rock, Rashid was the last fall. The infantry were picking their way through the smoke, determined to stamp out the last of Chimera's dogged resistance. They found him clutching his Grindell across his chest. The weapon was unfolded and prepped to fire, though it was pointed at his feet - no threat to the Spartans encircling him They kicked a spent assault rifle away from Rashid's side, crowding in close. Still he ignored them, clinging the anti-material projector like a beloved teddy bear.
"Mission's over, Chimera." a green-armoured Spartan from Fireteam Jackal grunted, as he raised the barrel of a BR-85 "Time to die."
"Too right." Rashid agreed.
Rashid twisted his fingers inside the exposed core of the Grindell, overloading the reactor and immolating them all.
The simulator restraints popped open. Clasps released with a hiss of steam. Simulated sensor packages withdrew from tiny circuit plugs in the neck of his armour, causing Damien to gasp as he slid free of the armature. A surging feeling rushed up the back of his mind; a bubble of cold, clear water as his body naturally reacted to the immersion withdrawal.
His armoured boots clanged on the gantry as he lurched over to a support rail, clinging to it for dear life. The shock of stepping out of a suit-simulated bubble into hard gravity was always jarring. Doubly so when your brain thinks it's been recently incinerated.
Chase was waiting for him, arms folded across his chest.
"What the hell are you playing at, Chimera?" he spat, shoving the younger Spartan, "You do not go off mission."
Damien swatted the next shoving set of hands aside, trying to shake off the dizziness.
"I don't leave my men behind, Platinum. Not for your precious mission score, and especially not for you." Damien's visor was almost touching Chase's. The white armoured Spartan cocked his head to one side.
"You want to dance, Chimera, is that it?"
"Get out of my face before I make you eat your goddamn helmet."
Eric appeared on the gantry behind them, fully armoured and silently watchful. Both candidates fell in, snapping a salute. Eric turned to look at Chase, with that killer's stare. Chase swallowed nervously.
"An excellent performance as always, Platinum." Eric said quietly, "Let's not see it ruined by discipline infractions, shall we? Dismissed."
"Sir." Chase saluted and made himself scarce.
Damien went to salute and vanish too.
"A word, Chimera One."
The ice flooding Damien's veins welded him to the spot.
"A stubborn resistance, all told. Dogged, determined."
Eric's head came back around to look roundly at Damien.
"And ultimately futile. You and your entire team were killed. The war is over. We do not build expendable Spartans. Not anymore. Do you understand?"
Damien took a moment before answering.
"I will not leave my team behind, Sir."
"An admirable sentiment. One that may not stand up in a live-fire combat scenario. In a choice between your mission and your team, the mission must take priority."
"I understand, Sir."
"Do you?"
Damien nodded.
"Good. Dismissed, Spartan."
After Damien was gone, Kaizen's hologram shivered into view behind him. Eric half turned to face her. He was too busy looking up at the combat scores displayed on the Team Roster.
"The mission or your team, 239?" she asked. "Would you really choose the mission?"
"Director Carter's orders. I was to relay them directly."
"And you agree with his assessment?"
"Once." Eric replied. "Now I'm not so sure."
Eric was still studying the board. He was absently rubbing his hand over the small white scimitar inscribed on the collar of his chest plate. The rest of his armour was dented and scuffed, marked with a thousand tiny scratches from a hundred different battles. But the sword was repainted, flawlessly, by hand. Old strokes had been re-coated by new ones, each painted with delicate reverence. Beneath the curving blade, three small skulls, etched in black.
"What is it, 239?"
"Chimera."
"They remind you of them, don't they?"
Eric didn't reply. He continued to rub at the scimitar stencilled on his chest, deep in thought.
To a certain degree, Chase had been right. Dead to a man, Chimera's mission score was in tatters. But the combat scores; kill/death ratios, targets destroyed, vehicles eliminated. Three Spartans had died for every member of Chimera slain. It was unprecedented.
Chimera had moved up into second place in the standings, edging past Fireteam Trident by a clear forty points.
Only Platinum, with their flawless record, stood above them.
"Now comes the hard part, Kai." Eric said eventually.
"Which is?"
"How do we teach Chimera to do that for real… and not get them killed in the process?"