Happy 50k views, Wolfgang!
~Husky
For a moment, all was silent. Someone banged on the hatch that sat in the middle of the floor, making the dense metal echo lightly.
"I get it. You think I'm infected. Well, I'm not. This," Johnson said, patting his chest as well as he could with John's arm in the way. "Is one hundred percent grade-A Marine... and nothin' else."
"Explain how that's possible." John said. He wanted to believe Johnson, but he had to make sure. If the Flood were to come back, there would be no stopping it, no matter how many they killed.
"They got us all right, those little mushroom-shaped bastards. They ambushed me, Jenkins, and... Keyes." He said, softening his tone when he mentioned the captain. "They swarmed all over us. Jenkins and Keyes were taken... but I guess I didn't taste too good."
"The Flood doesn't 'taste' anything." Cortana shot back. "The Infection Forms rewrite a victim's cellular structure and convert him into a Combat Form, then later a Carrier Form - an incubator for more Infection Forms. Based on what we've seen, they certainly don't just decide to pass up a victim."
"Well, I've seen different." Johnson said, fishing a cigar out of his pocket and placing it in between his teeth. "They 'passed me up' like I was undercooked spinach at a turkey dinner."
That didn't sound right. The Flood consumed every living organism it could overpower, including things much larger than it. The statement that Johnson survived seemed quite a bit strange.
"Cortana?" the Chief asked. "Is it possible?"
"If what he's saying is the truth, then I want to ask this magician how he did his trick." Six said. "Because it's pretty god damn impressive, and hard to believe."
"It... might be?" Cortana replied, obviously not quite sure. "But it's also highly unlikely. Give me a moment."
For the longest thirty seconds the three had met in days, Cortana scanned Johnson's biological makeup from top to bottom. After she double and triple checked the Sergeant, Cortana decided that it was safe to let him off of the hook, at least for now.
"Well, according to the readings from the Sergeant's biomonitors, his story checks out. I can't be one hundred percent positive until he's been cleared in a medical suite, but preliminary findings indicate that he is clean of any Flood parasitic infection. He's obviously not a mindless, half-naked alien killing machine."
That was good enough for the both of them. John lowered his magnum, flicking on the safety as he rested it in its holster, and Six released a breath that he didn't remember holding.
"All right." John said. "But I'm having you checked inside and out the first chance we get. We can't risk letting the Flood infection spread."
"I hear you, Master Chief. Looking forward to those Navy nurses. Now," The Sergeant said, floating himself towards the hatch. "Let's get the rest of the crew on board... I see you've already picked up a few stragglers."
John looked at the pods. "They'll have to wait. It'll take half an hour to thaw them out without risking hypothermic shock." He said. "We don't have that much time left before we reengage the Covenant."
"Reengage..." the Sergeant said, savoring the word. He wasn't one to be far from action.
"Good. For a second I thought we were running away from a perfectly good fight." John said.
Johnson popped the hatch open once again and raised it up, opening the Pelican back up to the Longsword. Immediately, the sounds of an argument came from below.
"Dave, stuff a sock in it, alright?" A familiar male voice said. "Whoever it is, I wouldn't get too excited."
"So... what? You're just going to admit the we're dead meat?" Another voice said, also male. "Come on, bro. Have some hope!"
"Yeah, I guess you're right." The familiar voice said. A DMR barrel raised up through the hatch, which Johnson grabbed, and a marine pulled himself up. He grabbed the hand of the other man, also a marine, and pulled up, grabbing his DMR with the other hand.
"Thanks for th-" The marine said, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the two Spartans. "...wh-whoa!"
"What?" The other said, turning around. He pulled off his uncomfortable helmet and revealed his black army buzz cut, as well as the dark determination in his eyes. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw the Spartans, and his face went from surprise to joy in under a second flat.
Only one transport made it off of Halo. Six knew he recognized Polaski from somewhere, it was from when Cortana had listed off the names of escapees of the ring. Among the rest were Sergeant Johnson, a PVC David Shulmer, whom Six could only assume was Dave, and...
"Clancy?" Six asked with a grin.
"Six! Long time, no see!" Clancy replied, arm outstretched. The two made a motion to high five, but Six instinctively tried moving his left arm, which, at the moment, was still a metallic stump. "What happened to your arm? Er... again, I mean."
"It's... a long story." Six replied.
Six was happy to see the marine. They hadn't had any contact since the snowy area of Installation 04, when he had been injured during the cave fight. Afterwards, Six and John left to find Captain Keyes, and since then hadn't seen or heard anything from each other.
"Clancy... you know them?" Dave asked with awe.
"Yeah." Clancy replied. "We're good friends, us three."
"Are you two pansies up there yet? Jeez!" A voice said from down below. Clancy sighed.
"I've gotcha." Johnson said, reaching his hand down into the hatch.
He pulled an assault rifle up and into the floor, and then grabbed a hand. He pulled the person, a marine corporal, up, and they stood up, grabbing the assault rifle almost mechanically. He was bald, clad in black combat armor, and had a name stitched on his uniform in gold.
Locklear.
He aimed his gun around the interior of the Longsword, looking past everyone around him, then lowered it. "Clear!" He yelled down the hatch for those still in the Pelican to hear.
"At ease, Corporal." John said.
Locklear's shifted his vision towards John's voice. Six couldn't tell if he was greatful, or if he was just aggravated. "Two Spartans?" He muttered. "Figures. Outta the friggin' frying pan, and into the fire."
Six recognized the combat armor after a moment. It was ODST standard issue, without a single doubt. The ODST, also known by their nicknames, Helljumpers, were the next best fighting force to the Spartans. They were still pretty far from perfect, though, and they were more powerful in numbers, one of the advantages that the ODST's had over the Spartans for the moment. Alone, they were still deadly, though.
Another man grabbed the edge of the hatch and pulled himself up. He wore a neat, smooth black uniform, and he had a Covenant plasma pistol in a holster at his side. His hair was red, and he held a cool look as he looked at John. He saw Six, and he nodded at him. On either side of the collar of his black uniform were the enameled bars of a first lieutenant, the steel glistening in the pale white light of the Longsword.
"Sir!" John said, snapping off a crisp salute. Six saluted as well, but much more casually. If this guy was a first lieutenant, then that meant he was Six's equal.
"Adjusting burn and angle." Cortana announced. The Longsword and Pelican tilted relative to the moon on the pilot's screen. "That should give you a little more than one gee on the deck."
The lieutenant lazily returned both salutes. "I'm Haverson." he said. He looked both Spartans over with moderate interest.
"You are the Master Chief, SPARTAN-117." Haverson said.
"Yes, sir." John replied. He sounded a little surprised.
"And you. You're Noble Six. SPARTAN-B312."
Six nodded. This guy was good. Even the most experienced officers didn't know every Spartan's name, much less have the ability to identify them on sight. How did he do that?
Six saw the round insignia on the man's shoulder. It was a black and silver pair of eagle'a wings over three stars of the same colors. Inscribed above the wings were the Latin words SEMPER VIGILANS—Ever Vigilant.
Haverson was ONI.
"Good." Haverson said. "With you two, we might have a chance." He reached into the hatch and pulled a final person onto the Longsword.
This last person was a woman, and she wore a pilot's flight suit. Her blonde hair was tucked into a grey cap, and her fingers were twitchy, like she couldn't wait to fly something. She saluted the Spartans. "Petty Warrant Officer Polaski, requesting permission to come aboard."
"Granted." John said, and returned her salute.
Stenciled onto her coveralls was a flaming fist over a red bull's-eye, the insignia of the Twenty-third Naval Air Squadron. That was the same insignia that Captain Carol Rawley, callsign Foehammer, had stenciled on her uniform. She had died attempting to evacuate the two Spartans from the Pillar of Autumn.
"So what's the story?" Locklear asked. "We got something to shoot here?"
"At ease, Marine." the Sergeant said, putting a hand up to the ODST's chest. "Use that stuffing between your ears for something besides keeping your helmet on. Notice we're not floating? Feel those gee forces? This ship is in a slingshot orbit. We're coming around the moon for another crack at the Covenant."
"That's correct." Six said.
"Our first priority should be to escape, not to blindly engage the Covenant." Haverson objected. "We have valuable intelligence on the enemy, and on Halo. Our first priority should be to reach UNSC-controlled space."
"That was my intention, sir." John replied. "But neither this Longsword nor your Pelican is equipped with Shaw-Fujikawa engines. Without a jump to Slipspace, it would take years to return."
"That does limit our options, doesn't it?" Haverson said, raising a hand to his chin in thought. He turned his back to the Chief and paced.
The Master Chief respected the chain of command, wnich meant that he had to obey Lieutenant Haverson. But, officer or not, the Spartan had never liked it when people turned their backs to him. And he certainly didn't like the way Haverson assumed he was in charge. The Chief had already gotten his orders, and he intended to follow them, whether or not Haverson approved.
"Pardon me, sir." John said. "I must point out that while you are the ranking officer, Noble Six and I are on a classified mission of the highest priority. Our orders come directly from High Command."
"Meaning?" Haverson asked, wondering where this was going.
"What it means is that we have tactical authority." Six said. "Over this mission, these ships... and you."
Haverson turned. He didn't look too happy about that, especially considering that he was having this information delivered to him by an equal and a subordinate, but there wasn't anything much that he could do about it.
"Of course. I am well aware of your mission, Chief. I'll do anything I can to assist." Haverson said.
He knew about the Spartan's original mission to capture a Covenant Prophet?
Who the hell was this guy, exactly?
"So what's the plan?" Locklear asked. "Slingshot orbit, then... what? We just going to talk all day, Chief?"
"No." John replied. "Get onto the Pelican. We only have a few minutes while we're on the far side of this moon. Grab anything we can use: extra weapons, ammunition, grenades. Keep linked up to my COM so you can hear the briefing."
Locklear just stood there, glaring into John's visor.
Sergeant Johnson was about to intervene, but Six made a subtle gesture with his hand, telling him to hold his thought for the moment. He wanted to see this.
John took a step closer to Locklear.
"Was my order unclear, Corporal?" He asked.
Six could tell that Locklear didn't like that one bit. But there wasn't anything that he could really do about it. He swallowed his pride and looked away.
"No." He said, clearing his throat. "I'm on it, Master Chief." He went to the hatch and dropped into the Pelican.
To say that this team was a mismatched, volatile train wreck was almost an understatement.
"So how do we get a Shaw-Fujikawa drive?" Polaski asked.
"We don't." John replied. "But we go after the next best thing. This is our objective."
He was pointing at the screen of the ops console.
At the flagship.
Haverson knit his eyebrows. "Chief, if we approach that ship we'll be blown out of the sky before we can even think about engaging them."
"Normally, yes." Six replied. "But we're going to rig the Pelican as a fireship. We load it with Moray mines and send it out ahead of us. We'll have to remote-pilot the Pelican, but it can be accelerated past the point where a crew would black out. It'll draw enemy fire, drop a few mines, and let us slip through the flagship's defenses.
Polaski frowned.
"Is there a problem, Warrant Officer?" Six asked
"No. I just hate to lose a good ship. That bird got us off Halo in one piece." She replied.
"So we get close to the flagship..." Haverson said, crossing his arms. "...Are we going nose to nose with a ship with a thousand times our firepower? Or are you planning another flyby?"
"Neither." John said.
"That's our LZ."