November 15, 2552
Sol System
1300 Central Standard Time (CST)
The United Nations Space Command Come and Get 'Em drifted slowly through space, its engines glowing a soft, pale blue. The Charon-class light frigate was en route from a previous campaign in which the crew aided a heavier Halcyon-class cruiser, the Moonlit Sonata, in tactical strikes on several terrorist outposts near Neptune. Despite larger threats of Covenant attack, the Insurrection maintained a presence throughout the Outer Colonies, and while attacks on Inner Colony populations such as the Sol System were rare, they were not unheard of. Insurrection operatives positioned so close to the seat of the Unified Earth Government primarily worked at smuggling weapons and technical data. The cell outside Neptune's orbit, however, sought to worry the UEG's fringe of security, and instill fear at the heart of the Colonies.
Unlike other Insurrectionist cells in the system, the "Devil's Grip" hid out in asteroid dense regions, hiding their movements and operational strengths. This guerrilla-style tactic made preparation for an attack difficult for UNSC outposts in the area, forcing them to go on the offensive. In the end the solution was simple, if not inelegant; Operation: IRON FIST decimated the surrounding asteroid fields, driving the Devil's Grip out with as few civilian casualties as possible. That campaign had been in progress since May of 2552.
August 30th: Mankind's struggle against the Covenant took a dire blow. UNSC forces in all regions were alerted to the destruction of Reach. All available ships in the Epsilon Eridani system were immediately called back to the fortress world. Ships in the remaining colonies were put on emergency status, and ordered to return to the nearest UEG world. UNSC forces in the Sol system were to return immediately to Earth; a priority precaution should the Cole Protocol fail.
IRON FIST was immediately halted. The Faster Than Light drives of the Come and Get 'Em were undergoing repairs for the last four days after taking damage from an Insurrectionist strike. As such the Frigate was unable to make a slipspace jump directly to Earth. Commander Joan Buckley made the call for the ship to run dark, with energy outputs just low enough to run essential navigational and life-support systems. The crew was then put into cryo-stasis before a course was plotted to the Luna outpost.
That was three months ago.
Staff Sergeant Aliz Farkas walked into Cryo-Deck Bravo, briefly inspecting the row of pods. Hers remained open and freshly auto-cleaned from her wake-cycle two hours ago. She ran a hand over her dark red hair. It was buzz-cut, but still too long for her taste; she could still grab at her scalp. Though with a helmet on, that wasn't too much of a concern in the thick of combat. Farkas was an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper, a specialized section of the UNSC Defense Force, and they were as close to Spartans as soldiers could get. Born and raised in New Alexandria, the crown jewel of Reach, she had been thankful for the cryo-stasis after hearing the news from her home. But now that she was awake again, her troubles had all but doubled.
Farkas had been brought out of stasis per a system backup command. In the event that the ship's operating crew didn't wake when scheduled, she was assigned to investigate the problem. Having completed her inspection, she knew that the Gunny of their squad wouldn't like the news. Aliz let out a small sigh as she pressed a button to cycle the squad's cryo-pods.
Gunnery Sergeant Eric Thurson's sleep slowly dissolved as the lid to his cryo-chamber lifted, spilling cryogenic gas across the deck floor. His eyes opened slowly, and he sat up to take the first breath. During their put-down cycle, soldiers entering cryo-stasis inhaled a gas that reacted to form a bronchial surfactant, protecting their lungs and allowing for a smoother wake cycle. Eric pounded his chest and coughed, spitting the vaguely lime-flavored mess to the floor of his pod. Soldiers were encouraged to swallow the gel after regurgitation to recover lost nutrients, but the ODST didn't care for "breakfast."
"Rise and shine, Gunny."
His dark brown hair was covered with a thin layer of frost, and ice crystals still clung to his eyelids. For more reasons than the cold, cryo-sleep was a difficult ordeal for soldiers. Regular clothes were dangerous in cryo-stasis; they caused what the Marines referred to as "freezer burn", and could be the reason behind lost digits or worse. As such most soldiers entered stasis without clothing, though specifically designed garments did exist
"Wake the rest of the squad, Farkas," he ordered in a choked voice, "and then alert Commander Buckley that we're active."
Farkas hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Aye, sir." She replied as the wake cycle on the other three cryo-tubes in the room was engaged.
The ODST squad woke with ease, having grown used to the ordeal after many deployments throughout the galaxy. There were only five of them in Cryo-Deck Bravo; the rest of the ship was in Cryo Decks Alpha and Charlie.
The rookie of the squad, Private First Class James Cavetti, tugged at the BDU's he had gone into cryo with. "Man, these clothes itch like hell!" His voice was thick with a Boston accent, and his youth – only twenty-three years - made him difficult to be around. The squad liked him well enough though, and had grown accustomed to the sniper's wiry attitude in the short time he had been with them.
The trooper next to him, Corporal Maria "Masha" Yakusheva, shook her head as she climbed naked from her pod. Frost flew from the length of auburn hair on the right side of her head (the other side shaved close) and melted over her toned body. Tattoos covered a good portion of her right arm and chest, telling stories of her deployments, though others held no immediate meaning or purpose. Masha turned to smack the PFC on the back of his head with a scoff. "Of course they itch you fool. That is why the egg-heads tell you to not wear them. You are lucky that they did not tear your skin." Yakusheva had shipped out from New Moscow, and was the squad's Explosive Ordnance Specialist.
Cavetti flushed, avoiding eye contact with the woman. "What, you wanna see me in my boxers?"
Masha shook her head with a coy smile. "Chicken is not my type, rookie. Just go without clothing next time; you have nothing the rest of us have not seen." She brushed past Jimmy, making her way to the showers.
Lance Corporal Emily Hackett, the squad's medic, leaned close to the Private as she came up behind him. "Ain't you ever heard it's cold in Russia, Cavetti?" She fixed him with an amused grin, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't try ta shower in them BDU's neither!" She stepped lively towards the locker room. Her wavy blonde hair, while already damp, seemed an untamed tangle that matched her brash demeanor. Though she was an experienced Helljumper, Hackett was also relatively new to the squad, having joined with PFC Cavetti during IRON FIST as the Come and Get 'Em deployed from Earth. She was originally from the west side of New Memphis, contrasting Yakusheva's Eastern European heritage. Despite their many cultural differences, the two had quickly formed a bond and were now almost inseparable. Farkas jokingly called them "the Hunters", after the Covenant race that almost always deployed in bond-pairs.
Smirking in amusement at the Private, Eric left the Cryo-Deck and followed the squad into the locker room to shower off. He was from Sedra, an Outer Colony planet in the Orrichon system. While on the fringe of UNSC space, the colony world remained on good terms with them, so much so that they were officially allied with the United Earth Government. Sedrans were hardy and honest. A belief in Valhalla, the Golden Hall of the Norse gods from Earth's ancient past, ran strong among a majority of the colonists; with the culture that followed, one's family and fellow soldiers were the most important people in their lives.
Eric's original squad had been formed on Sedra in 2546. While he was the only native, SSGT Farkas and Corporal Yakusheva had been stationed on the planet to aid the Colonial Guard. While there, they had grown to the Sedran culture and beliefs, and were welcomed by the colonists as Sedrans themselves; despite being off-worlders. Given their performance both in combat and in domestic security, the Sedran UNSC branch had opted to form their own ODST Fireteam; Eric had given them the designation "Helbound", after the Norse underworld.
Drying off, he watched Farkas from the corner of his eye as she donned her ODST standard issue battledress uniform. Her arms were almost as inked as Yakusheva's, and the faint trace of a scar ran down the left side of her face. Were it not for regulations, Eric had to admit to himself that he would take her out for a beer.
Just not an Earth beer.
Hackett pulled an undershirt on, glancing around the deck as her head poked from the collar. Her brow furrowed, a look of troubled curiosity on her face.
Masha looked up from her boots, pausing at Emily's expression. "What, is the chicken making a smell?" A thin, playful smile tugged at her lips.
"Naw, you hear that?"
Yakusheva sat up, saying nothing as she listened. After a while she shrugged. "I hear showers and terrible singing."
Emily stood, fastening her belt. "Yeah, but just from our FNG. Think the other Cryo-decks are awake yet?"
"Who can say? Perhaps we are simply on duty first."
The southern woman shrugged in reply. "Maybe, but I reckon we're just about back home. Everyone should be thawin' out. C'mon," she slapped Maria's shoulder with a light backhand, "let's go see if they're up an' at 'em."
Maria finished securing her boots, then stepped quickly after Emily. Hackett was very headstrong, and when she got an idea in her head it was almost impossible to convince her otherwise. Almost.
Yakusheva caught up to her as they approached the doorway to Cryo-deck Charlie. Emily was frozen, stunned, in the entryway. As Maria laid a hand on her shoulder, peering into the fogged darkness of the deck, she saw why.
"Bogi moi…"
"So what's the situation, Sergeant?" Eric shook thoughts of taking Aliz on a date from his mind as he opened his locker, grabbing the uniform inside. He was divorced, true, but there was still a small hope that he could make things better. And right now they still had a job to do. Aliz's sigh in reply to his question told him quite a bit about the situation already.
"SNAFU, sir." She said, frowning. "When we passed through the Asteroid Belt several small meteors penetrated the hull. The aft section of the ship was the only area actually hit, but it's blown to Hel and we're at least five hours from Luna on the far side of Earth. At least, according to what's left of the NAV array."
Eric furrowed his brow. "How much damage are we looking at here?"
"The engine room was hit the most, as well as several utility lines. Thankfully enough systems were operational that the room was sealed as soon as it started venting atmosphere. That stabilized the interior pressure, but we can't get to the drive core without depressurizing the entire cryo-deck."
He shook his head, "Too much effort for just us. We'll need Commander Buckley's approval on that, but I'll leave it for consideration."
"Sir," the Sergeant said flatly, "that's the biggest problem. There's no easy way to say it, so here it is: Commander Buckley's dead, as well as the operational crew and all troopers of Delta-Four. Several of the lifelines were cut during the meteor bombardment. We're all that's left."
Eric shook his head. "Dammit…" As well as the crew of the Come and Get Em, Delta-Four was the sibling fireteam to Helbound. They had deployed in force – a full squad of twelve soldiers – and fought beside Helbound against the Insurrectionists at the Solar System's edge. To lose them to something as capricious as chance was worse than losing them to the Covenant. "Luna doesn't have the facilities to repair this ship and now we definitely don't have the means or manpower. What about shifting our course directly to Earth, then letting a tow freighter pull us in?"
Farkas paused. "That's going to be a long shot, sir. The tools necessary to fix the drive core were lost when the hull was penetrated. Not only that, but the damn AI was critically damaged. We've got her basic functions, nothing more."
Thurson sighed as he leaned against his locker. "So we're completely adrift?"
"Yes sir, for the moment. We're six hours from Mars, according to the NAV computer. We can repair the ship there if we can hail a tow-freighter once we arrive. Though they'll probably see us limping to the door and send one anyways."
Eric crossed his arms over his chest as his mouth tightened to a thin line. They had nothing to do but wait it out, even if it was in UNSC space. "Sergeant, as soon as you can send out a distress signal on all available channels." The GYSGT ordered as he headed to the bridge, Farkas following close behind. "Try to hail any UNSC freighter and send a status report to any Office of Naval Intelligence on Earth - I don't care which continental branch. We may be floating dead, but we can still make some noise."
Aliz saluted. "Sir, yes sir."
They paused as the door to the bridge verified their Identification: Friend or Foe tags before opening. Eric sat down in the Commander's Chair, keying up the deck's primary systems. Farkas headed towards a console to bring their communication systems back online and re-engage the navigational optics. Static fuzzed on the observation display screen at the front of the bridge.
A siren suddenly blared through the ship as the NAV console lit up with numerous reports. Farkas ran to silence the alert, swearing as she skimmed the readout.
"Sir, major problem!" Farkas shouted as she typed furiously at the keypad to quickly draft their distress signal. "You know how I said we're drifting?"
"Hard to forget, Farkas."
"We're drifting directly towards Earth." She glanced over at him. "I can't alter our trajectory drastically, but it's putting us somewhere in the North American Midwest."
"I thought the computers placed us near Mars." He replied calmly, masking the fingers of panic that curled around his chest.
"It must have been a glitch in the systems, or the sensors may have even been damaged. There's no doubt where we are now, though; communications just pinged the Cairo Station."
Eric sat forward, pressing a hand to his mouth in thought. If they were headed towards Earth, there was no way they would be able to land safely with faulty engines and a ship who's atmosphere rating just had hundreds of holes punched through it. There was an even slimmer chance a tow-frigate would be able to slow or halt their approach in time; not if they had already reached the battle cluster.
There was only one way for them to land.
"Sergeant, as we approach Earth I want you to navigate around the battle cluster as best you can. Use vent thrusters, weapons systems-whatever it takes. Send a distress signal to Cairo; I want them ready when we come barreling past. Then put the ship on full-alert and bring the squad to the Bridge ASAP. Lastly, set a deployment mark just after we hit the atmosphere."
Farkas saluted sharply, setting to the various tasks. "Sir, yes sir."
Throughout the rest of the ship, a new alarm sounded - three short repeating bursts. It was a signal for the ODST to suit up quickly. Yakusheva looked up to the ceiling as Cryo-deck Charlie was suddenly bathed in a pulsing red light. Troopers dead and frozen in cryo-pods that had either been shot through with space debris or frozen solid due to system failure. The walls were punctured with numerous holes of varying size, and bits of broken equipment and space junk floated around the deck. The only thing between Hackett and Yakusheva was the sealed and locked door. "Chort," she swore as the alarm continued, "it looks like this is only the beginning of our problems."
"Shee-it." Hackett groaned, tearing herself away from the grim spectacle. "What the hell kind-a trouble are we findin' in UNSC space?"
Yakusheva shook her head, turning to walk away from the Cryo-deck. "We are ODST, Hackett, the better question is when do we find peace?" To try and break the mood, she smirked at Emily over her shoulder. "We cannot even drink without trouble."
The Lance Corporal took a couple quick steps to catch up. "Hey, that bar fight was not my fault! Can't tell me some damn fool's gonna accuse me of hustlin' and not get his ass beat." She looked over her shoulder as they left the deck. Though she retorted as expected, her heart wasn't really in it. Seeing the entirety of the crew dead was not a good sign.
As they returned to Cryo-deck Bravo the squad made ready quickly, dressing in their dark gray BDU and battle-armor painted a matte-black in opposition to the Marine's dull green. In addition to the color scheme, their suits were able to withstand zero-atmosphere environments as the sealed helmets supplied oxygen for up to fifteen minutes. They also had more extensive protection against both plasma and ballistics than standard battle armor, through reinforced ceramic plates. After suiting up the three soldiers headed to the bridge at a brisk pace, their boots thudding rhythmically against the steel deck.
When they arrived, Gunnery Sergeant Thurson filled them in on their current situation. "Alright boys and girls, we're in a hell of a situation. We are the only remaining crew of the Come and Get 'Em. And, as though that wasn't bad enough, we don't have a lot of time left on this ship. A lot of important crap was damaged in the event that took out the crew, and we're about to land hot and rough on Earth." He looked to the squad, momentarily annoyed to see their faces frozen in horror.
A low moan came from Cavetti's throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Oh my god, man. What the hell…"
"Private, we're used to a hell of a lot worse situations."
Corporal Yakusheva raised a finger, pointing to the observation display. "Sir," she said, her face just as pale with shock, "he is talking about that."
As Eric turned around he understood the squad's reaction. On the display screen the aftermath of battle greeted them. The Earth's newly initiated Orbital Defense Grid had been overwhelmed; of 300 platforms, it now looked as though only half that number remained. The planet itself was in a state of chaos. Several circular patterns of fire covered sections of Africa, South America and North America, and even Australia in areas where brutal battles had been fought. Skeletons of UNSC Frigates and Halcyon-Class cruisers floated in a haunting manner through space, slowly orbiting the Earth in an endless dance of death.
"Gods…" Eric whispered, collapsing down into the Commander's Chair. The Covenant ships taken down were only about a tenth of the UNSC ships, judging from the sparse purple debris in comparison to blackened grays. Numerous fighter ships floated around the corpses of the destroyers and cruisers. More than likely they were composed of Longsword fighters, rather than Covenant Seraphs.
"Sir," Sergeant Farkas cut through the tension that had permeated the deck, "we're picking up speed. Approaching deployment mark in five."
Thurson stood, grabbing his helmet – the only one with a red Squad Leader stripe – as he shook the sense of shock from his head. "You heard her, kids. We've got a hot date in five minutes. Grab a full mag and as many grenades as you can carry. Hackett, pack six cans of MedGel. Farkas, pack two just in case. Yakusheva, five flash-bangs should suffice and keep your knife handy. Cavetti, grab twenty-four SRS rounds and store sixteen with Hackett."
The small squad hopped to their feet, a chorus of "Yes, sir!" filling the bridge.
"Head to your pods and strap in tight! There's hell down on Earth, and what's a bit of hell without us? Staff Sergeant Farkas, lock in the deployment mark to the pod release, then get situated as well."
Aliz nodded and set in the appropriate commands as the rest of the squad moved out, prepping their Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles. She hurried to the Deployment Deck with the rest of the squad, quickly grabbing her necessary equipment. The ODSTs sealed the doors to their SOEIV pods, normalized the interior pressure, and then waited as the countdown was projected on their Heads Up Display.
'Time to get to work.' Thurson thought to himself as he locked his helmet on. 'About damn time, too.'