Hello dear readers, I know, I know, annoying foreword before the chapter, you probably want to get right to it (at least I hope so... *nervous chuckle*), so I'll make this quick. You know how I've repeatedly been apologizing for the length of time between updates and the quality of the chapters? Of course you do, every single chapter has a small paragraph of apologies. So what I wanted to tell you is... that I'm apologizing for the same shit again.

Enjoy.

-casquis

Chapter LVI: Headquarters

February 20, 2542 (UNSC Calendar)/

First Company, 1045th Battalion HQ, Aztlan, Eta Cassopie System

"A lieutenant colonel?" I asked.

"Yes," our pilot replied. "We're currently what you could call battalion headquarters even though the rest of the 1045th is deployed elsewhere in the surrounding area."

"Hm, never heard of an instance where a company had a light colonel for a commander," Pavel said.

"Yeah," the army pilot huffed, "you can bet that the major wasn't glad about loosing command of his company."
"Weird arrangement," I commented.

"Tell me about it, I was just fine with the major leading us."

I grunted in a noncommittal way so that the pilot wouldn't drag me into some sort of mutiny if it were to happen. Kidding. It's best not to get involved in affairs that do not involve oneself or someone directly related to yourself. That rule is golden when it comes to the military. It is right under "follow orders" and above "check your six."
The First Company's camp was something that I had never seen before. It was a bunch of tents dug into the jungle surrounding a small clearing that was used as a landing pad for the two falcon gunships and the single pelican that was currently available to the company. It gave the impression of being very crowded because everyone was so close to each other and the dense rainforest made it look like we were in a small room.

We were met at the edge of the clearing by the battalion's command sergeant major; he was a tall man with a clean-shaven face and a professional appearance. Pretty much what you would expect of the man that represented all the NCO's in the battalion. What surprised me the most about him though, was the surprisingly well-kept BDUs he was currently wearing. Hell, his pants looked like they were holding a crease under all that armor. The man had no helmet and I could clearly see a long scar running through his scalp, there was some hair on his head, but it was kept short in true army fashion. They weren't called jarheads for nothing… ignore that, he was army, it's the marines who are jarheads.

"Sergeant Major Taylor," he introduced himself.

"Hey," I said. "Staff Sergeant Castillo."
"Sergeant Klaus," Pavel offered.

The company staff sergeant nodded at us and gestured to follow him. We had to climb through a bunch of dense roots, but the foliage had been cleared when the soldiers set up here. Finally we reached the familiar design of a command tent. This one was located on a relatively wide area in between a bunch of trees. There was more than enough leaves and branches above it, but there was a camouflage net above it as well just in case. We entered the tent and found ourselves facing the same scene we did whenever we entered a command tent.

There were two people inside, one of them was a man sporting a cap with a golden oak leaf and the other was a woman sporting a cap with a silver oak leaf. They were both obviously imposing. Not in a physical way, mind me, but in that way that you are immediately intimidated by a superior officer. Those two soldiers were used to commanding men and used to receiving respect, it showed in their faces. Perhaps that was the intimidating part, they had your respect without even needing to earn it.

"Sir, ma'am," I said, Pavel remained silent while he let me do the talking.

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Corona and this is Major Afoa."

"Helljumper, can you tell me what the hell you are doing here?" the man asked.

"We jumped ship," I said. She knew that already.

"Yes, but why here?"

"Our ship was directly above this area," I helpfully suggested. I knew that it was probably best that I avoided being a smartass as much as possible, but whenever someone gives out vibes that (s)he doesn't like me, I can't really help it.

"I see," the lieutenant commander said with a commanding tone. She was about 5'8 and had her hair cut just above regulation length. It was tied in a ponytail that went through the hole in the back of her cap. She had what I would call olive skin, but it looked like shit from the countless hours that she had surely spent under this sun. Corona was perhaps in her mid-forties. All in all she could've been the mother of another college kid. For all I knew she could've been.

"And I assume that you expect my company to provide you with food, shelter, and equipment," the major said. He was a tall man, perhaps about Pavel's height. The major was a well-built man that also had dark skin and Polynesian features. I only deduced that because his name sounded Polynesian. He had an angry face and half his left ear was missing. Afoa looked like he could fit in a wanted poster no problem.

I took off my helmet before I answered his question. No doubt it made me look more human to them instead if simply an armored figure that though very highly of himself.

"It is only common courtesy major."
The man looked ready to clock me one in the jaw, but to his credit he kept himself under check and didn't even say anything about my dear mother or my heritage. Most men I met weren't this composed.

"But don't worry," I continued. "The sooner you can link us through to a Marine officer or an ONI spook, the faster that we're out of here," I informed them with a smile.

"Yes, of course. Battlenet is a mess right now, but we'll get in touch with whoever you need as soon as possible," Corona said. "Then you can leave."
It didn't take a genius to make out that she did not want us in her camp. Afoa had pretty much said the phrase word by word himself.

"Thanks ma'am, that is all I ask."

Pavel and I snapped to attention and gave a crisp salute that the officers lazily returned. We turned around and went past the sergeant major and left the tent without further ceremony.

"They were kind of mean," I said with fake sad tone.

"Frank, she is named after a beer, the most common beer on this side of the galaxy. She has the right to be angry at the world," Pavel said in a tone that a lecturing father would've used. Or lecturing uncle in my case, I barely remembered anything about my dad.

I laughed loudly and managed to quiet down when a few soldiers gave me nervous looks, as if they feared that a banshee patrol would come strafing the camp after hearing my laughter.

You see, I've got respect for the UNSC Army, trust me, I do, but in a way, they suck. I mean that in the nicest way possible, but sometimes they do. Most of the time Army units are simply volunteers with more training and equipment than colonial militia and no combat experience at all. Army units were usually based and operated in one same planet. Sometimes in two if the system had more than one colony. They were well trained and disciplined, but they still lacked combat experience. Sure, there were certain units that were assigned to Navy ships and functioned pretty much as a marine unit, but those were rare and not easily found.

I sighed and tried to wash those thoughts away from my mind. Instead I sat on a branch that had a surprisingly comfortable shape that fit my butt and back. Normally, I would've looked for the ever-present game of poker or of dice, but marines have a hard time accepting Helljumpers as it is, not to mention army types. It seemed like Pavel and I would simply have to talk about whatever direction we imagined this battle would take.

We knew for sure that the Inconvenience was fine, it always was. You didn't even need to ask to know that. We also knew that there was a sizeable number of enemy troops already on the ground nearby, probably sent here because the covvies thought that they had seen a weak point in the loose cordon protecting the cities or simply because they decided that the weather would be nice in here. That meant jungle warfare, and I am not glad about jungle warfare, it is even worse than urban warfare. Ok, maybe that's a stretch, but it is still pretty bad.

"So?" I asked.

"Loose," Pavel said.

"Ever the cynic," I replied. "But I agree with you."
"Yeah, I say that we make it about three weeks or so before we retreat, say about 60% casualties for the Navy, 35% for the Corps, and maybe 80% for these guys."
"Ouch, that's a little bit steep isn't it?"

"Nah, it's simply true because by the time we retreat there won't be enough slipspace-capable ships to transport all the civilians and the soldiers. Their casualties are based on lack of transport more than lack of skill. Ours are based on being under overwhelming odds."
"Makes sense… I think. I say about 75% civvies dead."
"Yeah, probably around those numbers," Pavel agreed. "How many would that make?"
I did a quick operation in my brain.

"Round twenty-two mill. Big colony," I said.

"Yeah, pretty big," my friend agreed.

We switched the topic to a less depressing one and had a decent conversation with a few laughs for about half an hour before a bored-looking private came to us and told us that there was a pelican inbound to pick us up. We thanked the man after our signature intimidation and headed towards the clearing.

I made sure that every piece of equipment that I had brought with me was still with me and only then did I shoulder my rucksack again. I didn't know whether I should be grateful that I had brought all the spare equipment or annoyed. I could just as easily have use for it as not. Right now I could only think that my rucksack was heavy and annoying to carry in the tight quarters of the dense jungle. Not even cities have spaces so enclosed. And this section of the jungle was cut down so that it could be turned into a camp. I had absolutely no desire to go in there again. Not that that would ever come true, I would most certainly have to fight in the jungle before I left this rock.

We sat at the edge of the clearing for a few minutes before a pelican arrived. It had the words "UNSC Marines" painted on its side in white paint over an olive coating that covered the entire craft. As soon as it started positioning itself to touch down in the little extra space in the clearing we started moving towards it. It touched down and the rear hatch opened. Two soldiers went inside and emerged carrying crates with no discernible markings on them, supplies of some sort. They did two more trips and emptied the pelican of the crates. By that time both Pavel and myself were sitting down and urging them to work harder while they glared at us.

The crew of the pelican happened to be two very attractive young ladies who made it their goal to make us feel as awkward as possible during the duration of our (thankfully) short trip through the use of double entendres.

"One of you man your turret," the copilot said. "Oops, I meant the turret."

"I'll do it," Pavel told me.

"It's not loaded," the pilot said, "make sure the round slides right in smoothly."
I almost groaned. Pavel actually tripped on the way to the turret. One of the pilots must've been watching, because the next comment was pure gold.
"Easy there champ, don't go tripping over yourself with those big feet."
"Well, you know what they say about men with big feet…" her partner said.
"They need big shoes," I helpfully interrupted.

"Suuure, let's go with that," the copilot said.

After that, the copilot started asking me rapid-fire questions about myself , my ship, my mission and whatnot. Unprofessional as hell, I was beginning to think that both of them were stoned up to their balls. Metaphorically.

"Please," I snapped. "Stop pumping me for info," I regretted it the instant I said it.
"What? You want me to pump something else?" she asked bluntly.

"Uhhh," was all I could come up with. Maybe they were actually stoned.

There was a moment of silence before the two pilots burst out laughing. They kept at it for a few moments before they attacked again.

"So, you, the big guy." I assumed they were talking to Pavel. He was slightly shorter but bulkier than me.

"Yeah?" he asked in an almost scared tone.

"You've got a big gun, is it easy to handle?"
"It's not that big," Pavel made the mistake of saying.

"Oh, don't be so modest, it looks big from where I'm standing. Is it hard to handle?" she asked with a definite emphasis on the word hard.

"Well, sometimes," he started doubtfully.

No, no, no! You idiot.

…the kickback is strong sometimes," he added.

Actually, I think this might be good.

"And it sometimes sprays wildly…"

Only then did I realize what he was doing.

"How wildly?" one pilot asked.

"Well, all over the place," he said. "It's also powerful enough to make someone scream with just a couple of pulls." He waited a moment. "Of the trigger that is."
I tried really hard to hold back laughter, but Pavel wasn't finished.

"But don't worry, we're trained for this, I can give any covvie a lethal blow," he said proudly.

"That's what she said," I helpfully suggested. And so it was that Pavel's long streak od double entendres was broken by himself. Talk about being hoist by your own petard.

The two pilots laughed but decided that they weren't done yet.

"So, a lethal blow to any covvie eh?" one of them asked. "Is it easier to do that from behind or in front?" she asked.

"Whichever's fine," Pavel said. There was no way out of that one.

The two pilots proceeded to torture my friend for a while before they finally calmed down a little after a fit of laughter almost caused the pelican to do a triple barrel roll or something like that, after that little incident the two airwomen were more careful with where their hands went. Ha, see what I did there.

"How much farther?" I asked.

"We're almost on top of the base," the pilot said.

"Yvonne, you always did like being on top," the copilot said.

This time there was no witty comeback and I could've bet money on the pilot blushing, but she wasn't facing me so I wasn't able to see her face. On the copilot's side, it had been a pretty sweet comment. After fifteen seconds the pilot spoke once more.

"We'll be landing soon, finally reached my private spot." Obligatory moment of awkward silence. "Parking spot that is."

After that none of them said anything else while the pilot maneuvered the craft and landed it neatly in between two other pelicans. It was a sweet landing I'll give her that, most pilots simply hover about two meters above the ground then simply turn of the craft. It gets annoying after a while. The rear hatch was open, so Pavel and I hopped off the ship while a mechanic rushed in past us.

"Oh, Yvonne, I'm glad you came," the mechanic started.

"Well, I'm glad I came too."

I laughed loudly at the comment but was secretly glad to never have to see those two women ever again in my entire life. Few people had the ability to make me feel nervous, and I'm pretty sure that none of them are petit women of about 5'3 each with oversized flightsuits and helmets.

"So, did we win?" Pavel asked.

"I don't know about myself, but you sure as hell lost," I informed him. "Giving a man a blow, what were you thinking?"

"Slip of the tongue."
"That doesn't make it any better," I said, trying to get him to notice what he had just said.

"You're disgusting," he complained.

"Hey, there's this saying that goes: If you're hungry, you think about bread. It means, you think about what you want. I am rather unsure of how to act around you right now," I said, faking nervousness.

"Fuck. You."
"See, there it is again," I told Pavel.

"You know what? I won't even answer that."

Before I could answer we got the usual escort to lead us to the headquarters. This camp was home to a whole marine battalion. There was a bunch of tanks and hornets in addition to warthogs. We were on a less dense part of the jungle since we were closer to some important city of sorts. The tanks would most likely take the role of artillery while the warthogs would simply serve as scouts like they usually did, but the hornets would take over the main role and fly recon missions. That is, provided this battle lasted long enough for a stable front to develop.

Our guide showed us inside the tent and then he left. Once we found ourselves inside I wasn't surprised at all to find myself facing none other than Lieutenant Williams. That guy seemed to be everywhere, besides, he was also creepy as fuck sometimes. He was standing in full armor with his helmet under his arm and an MA5 slung behind his back. I rarely ever saw that guy armored, so he surprised me even more by carrying a gun.

"Sir," I said acknowledging the colonel in command of the battalion, "Lieutenant."
"Staff Sergeant," the colonel said gruffly. He glanced at Wilkins. "I'll leave you three alone," he said as he left the tent.

Suddenly, I was feeling very sweaty.

"Staff Sergeant, it's good to see you're alive," he told me. "You too Sergeant Klaus."

We nodded at him but said nothing.

"Have a sit, I just traveled across this damned rock only to meet with you two."
"That's… flattering… I think."
"Have a sit," he repeated."
We both sat down on some folding stools and the lieutenant did the same while giving us a long hard look. His rifle bumped against the back of his chair so he removed it and placed it on his lap. That man seriously scared me even more than Major Albaf. He had this psychotic look to him that made me want to turn away from him sometimes. Only sometimes though.

"Well, as you already know, the planet is now under siege. Well, as close as it could be under siege. We are shipping civilians into cargo freighters as fast as possible, but we can't get them out of here without some sort of military escort or before we take out those corvettes and cruisers," he explained.

"Makes sense," Pavel gruffed.

"Right now we are dangerously overwhelmed by enemy numbers," he continued.

"We?" I asked.

"Sorry, I meant the Navy, you know, as in Office of Naval Intelligence, the branch I work for. There's a big patch on my chest, you know?"

"Ok, what do you want us to do about it?" Pavel asked.

"Oh, about that? Nothing, the ground forces can handle that task well enough."

"Then?" I asked.

"We might need you on a different mission," he said. "Assassination."
"Assassination?" I asked. "We're not really cut for assassinations."
"I believe I recall a certain incident in… Creek. Paradiso was it?"

"He's made a fine point Frank, we did kick that mission's ass."
"Ok, who do you want us to take out?" I asked. I was annoyed at being sent to shoot humans when I could've been helping in the real war effort.

"I don't think you could call it a who," Wilkins said.

I swear, my eyes lit up for a minute and I might have or might have not broken into a huge grin.

"We want you to eliminate a high-ranking covenant officer. Not a military target, but a very valuable political one. Or so our annalists tell us."

"So?" I asked.

"We want you to take out two prophets," he stated. "Ministers, I believe the appropriate term for this two in particular would be."
"Two?" Pavel asked. You could tell he was surprised. "There hasn't been a mission to assassinate more than one prophet since we found out they existed, and even those rarely succeed."

"That is true Sergeant, I am glad you are aware of relevant statistics about our war effort."
Pavel took the hint and appropriately shut up.

"As I was saying, you will eliminate two prophets to shake the enemy's resolve and morale. Said action will ultimately help in our goal to win this battle," Wilkins went on.

"Very well lieutenant, any additional information we might need?" I asked.

"Right now we don't have time for a full debriefing, you'll receive that en route. All you need to know is that this is an semi-long term infiltration mission-"
Pavel groaned, I almost did too, but was able to keep myself in check. Practice from my unintentionally spoken thoughts had made sure that I managed to keep certain actions in check.

"And," Wilkins continued after eyeing Pavel, "you'll be alone with no support. I might get a nuclear strike from orbit if you manage to plant a beacon close enough to the prophets for our ships to target it."
"Nuke?"
"Yes, we can't really use one accurately right now, cloaking and interference," he explained.

"Ah."

"Regardless, it would be preferable if you used two bullets instead of a nuke to take out the prophets. You'll be out of here in a few minutes. Report to landing area three. You'll be transported from there and receive additional intel on the way."

"Sir," I said after we both saluted.

"Good luck gentlemen."
I'm glad he said that, you can never have enough luck. Especially when it comes to handling stuff like this.