A/N: Please forgive my extended leave of absence. I didn't mean to stay away this long, however school has taken up most of my day and I haven't felt the drive to write as much as I should. But don't worry, I'm here and I hope this next chapter makes up for my long absence. Enjoy everyone.
Thirty minutes earlier…
Space travel had always had a somewhat disturbing fearful effect on Captain Fest. He had heard tell that space travel, with all of its innovations, was already a safer mode of transportation than even twentieth century air travel. However watching the stars from the cockpit of his personal Hornet class fighter -one of three belonging to his unit- still unnerved him. He looked starboard at the electronically cloaked starship carrier Albatross as if he would never see it again.
The frigate was enormous of course. A carrier such as the Albatross required as much space as possible to house the various UNSC machines of war. Entire fleets of Pelican troop transports, Scorpion class tanks, Specter class single-capacity fighters, Warthog battle jeeps, Hornet fighter-transports, Mongoose personal ATVs and Mantis class armored assault droids called the carrier home, along with one hundred thousand personnel.
Of the multitudes of soldiers at the Albatross' disposal, Captain Fest considered his team of hand-selected warriors the cream of the UNSC's crop. He surveyed his soldiers' preparations with a proud smile hidden beneath his helmet.
His second-in-command, Sergeant Corellia's helmet faced downward. Her jungle camouflaged ODST armor gleamed after her second waxing job. Fest could set his helmet's time function by her waxing sessions. Once at 12:30, after her noon meal and a second time at 9:00 before lights out. She was currently sharpening and honing the blades of her throwing knives. The Japanese design was as flawless as the weapons were priceless. A replica of a dragon's body carved from emerald and protected with a layer of diamond made up the handle of her knives and a slight arc of razor-sharp steel led to a deadly point. The knives gleamed brightly even in the dim light of a distant sun. Fest could tell Corellia was ready. He knew her like nobody else on his staff and he trusted her with his life.
Private first class Hoth was sitting strapped in on the starboard side strut, his oxygen equipment in prime working condition as he stared off into space. His thoughts were always a mystery to him. He felt the middle-easterner's thoughts were more secretive than any other ODST, but his stellar war record and his immense love of Earth and his unrelenting support for Director Hargrave had won Captain Fest's great respect. His duo of submachine guns shone faintly within their holsters, one upon each arm.
On the port side strut, Private Mustafar sat with his two magnums in perfect working order, staring at the rapidly approaching planet below. Valhalla would be a new experience for the man, Captain Fest mused. He had never set foot off Earth until now and Fest knew he was looking forward to the mission and a chance to see and explore something new. Youthful Exuberance aside, Captain Fest had seen his combat scores and looked forward to seeing the Private in a live-fire ground assault.
Fest sighed and looked to Sergeant Corellia.
"The time is near. I admit I have always enjoyed shooting in and out of Valhalla." Captain Fest said, humorously.
"I don't know about this." Sergeant Corellia replied softly. The doubt was unspoken, but she couldn't hide it.
"Speak freely, officer." Fest assured her.
"It's just that we are under orders from a special agent of the UNSC. She's better than good, so the story goes. She's up against a multitude of idiots that Hargrave could care less about."
"What are you worried about? Speartip probably wants us for crowd control, maybe a little old fashioned intimidation tactic to gather information."
"Shotgun diplomacy?" Corellia wanted to know.
"What does your gut tell you?" Fest wondered.
Corellia sighed and thought a moment.
"You have always trusted my intuition…"
"Yes, I have."
"…So I'm thinking maybe Speartip has gotten herself into something more than local trouble."
"What are you thinking? This ain't a social call. She wouldn't have ordered us fully equipped, armored and ready for a simple shakedown."
"I'm thinking that maybe she's stumbled into a nest of Project Freelancer escapees."
The silence was thick in the wake of Corellia's theory. Fest whistled through his teeth. Corellia could only shake her head.
"The only remaining Freelancers we know about are listed in Hargrave's office. As a ranking military officer, you've seen those files. Only three remain and we've already tracked them."
"Only three remain that Director Hargrave knows of." Corellia reiterated.
"So we may have stumbled onto a colony of Freelancers, huh? Speartip may have bitten off more than she could chew."
"That would be my guess." Corellia answered, nodding her head.
"Well if your intuition is correct then we need to prepare for anything and everything happening. If these newcomers have Speartip scared, then we need to be ready."
"Captain Fest, none of us has ever encountered anything like this. If the one Freelancer Speartip is hunting is dangerous, then a garrison of them would be impossible for us to defeat."
"It will depend on the number of Freelancers in question. There can't be that many left. We have pinpointed three already, not including this agent Missouri. That doesn't leave a whole lot of unknowns."
"Well if there are more than, I'd say two… then we had better be prepared to lose people." Corellia said cryptically.
"Well, if we can't take care of it alone, I'm sure Specialist Coruscant will even the odds." Fest said reassuringly.
"It'll be a hell of a short ground war if he can't." Corellia sighed.
"Still though. I'm glad we brought him along." she concluded, staring out the starboard window to the Hornet flying nearby, which housed Coruscant and two other ODSTs on loan from another garrison.
"As am I, Corrie. As am I."
BBBBBBB
Captain Fest frowned when his Hornet came within view of the battle on the ground. He witnessed the unmasking, the shock and woeful surprise registered in the teal soldier's body language and the soundless conversation between the woman he knew as Speartip and the unknown disbelieving woman before her.
"Who is that?" Corellia wondered aloud, "She isn't registered to either the reds or blues. Neither team has a female among their roster."
Fest sighed in resignation.
"Once again your insight has proven correct. Notice the color and type of her armor, not to mention that helmet. You were correct. We are dealing with more than one Freelancer." Captain Fest confirmed.
"Time to see if Specialist Coruscant is all that Director Hargrave claims him to be." Corellia said, a smile in her voice at the thought of the unique challenge she would endure.
"Pilot," Captain Fest announced, addressing the man sitting behind the control stick, "Take us down and set us near that battle."
"Roger." The man said before setting the command into his console.
Captain Fest grit his teeth and prepared for the long day ahead of him.
BBBBBB
The battle raged as explosively as the glowing blue grenade that Carolina sent hurtling toward the other former freelancer's head. 479 ducked at the last instant and the grenade missed by a hair's breadth. The explosion dizzied her though and she was slow to block an incoming haymaker from the teal warrior. The punch dented 479's helmet and sent her smacking backside first into the hard ground.
Carolina retrieved her pistol and fired three shots toward 479's head, but to her surprise all three killing blows missed as 479 was already up and running toward her. Carolina retrained her pistol on the white and blonde blur as she charged her, but hadn't the time to pull the trigger before being lifted from her feet and deposited on the ground from the colliding force of 479's shoulder.
Carolina grunted at the sudden impact driving the air from her lungs. 479 stood slowly from the ground before aiming her sidearm, a holdout pistol, at Carolina's head.
"Last chance, Carolina. Either join me in eliminating Missouri or die." 479 threatened in an emotionally hollow tone. She gripped the pistol prepared to end Carolina's part in this campaign.
"I can't do that." Carolina responded.
"Damn it!" 479 cursed, "What is so special about a runaway freelancer and a rogue AI?"
"You don't feel remorse," Carolina replied in a low voice, "You'd rather hunt and kill the people who were at one time your friends. You don't know the emotional hell that being sorry for something you could never truly take back can bring to you. How could you? You're pointing a weapon at a woman who used to consider you a friend. But as of right now, 479er, you can drop dead."
479 appeared unable to speak. Her eyes showed slight regret, but her weapon never wavered.
"I don't have a choice, Carolina. They have him." The agent designated Arkansas said at last.
"You do have a choice. You can kill a man and his best friend and you can kill me, a woman you once called a best friend. Or you can drop the weapon and help us defend this place and I promise to help you free your husband myself." Carolina offered, her tone steely.
"How did you…" 479 wondered, breathless for a moment.
Carolina thought back to her own defining moment. The moment when she knew she was becoming irrevocably human. The moment she knew she was more than just a killing machine, trained to take life. She had still been the steel-clad bitch she had believed herself to be, but she had started to feel once again.
She had wanted to damn Epsilon a million times over for forcing her to feel once more. She had wanted to cry, and had, although she would never have let Epsilon know that she had let herself go like that. She had thought for so many years that her humanity, her loving and feeling self; totally devoted to her team and her friends; had died alongside New York.
Once York was gone, there was nothing more in her life to feed that crawling, hunting void in her life other than vengeance against her father; in many ways her creator; Director Leonard Church.
All it had taken to shake loose the human being that Carolina hadn't considered herself was Epsilon's event horizon and a few holo-journal recordings from the man she had loved once upon a time. And after the major event of confronting –and eventually forgiving—the Director, she had ceased to be the cold as ice killer who never knew how to let things go. She had become a person once again. She eventually earned the forgiveness of the reds and blues and became a friend rather than a hindrance.
Carolina remained still even as she repeated the words which had changed her life.
"Because I know what it's like to spend your life chasing ghosts."
479 tensed right before she pulled the trigger. She cried out her venom through her tears as she pulled the trigger time and time again, rapidly emptying her clip into Carolina's head and body damning and cursing her until her weapon started emitting rapid clicks evidencing the fact that her clip was empty.
She threw the pistol down to the earth as she turned to leave. She made it four steps before the sound of a rifle erupted, three of the five bullets piercing her shoulder. She fell to the ground with a loud cry of pain.
Among the fusillade and the sounds of her own pain racked voice, she heard a melody. It was low but seemed to pick up volume every few seconds. She listened intently to the sounds of a happy Mexican song, a polka, filling the air and she wondered if she were finally going crazy. As the sound reached more brilliant volume she heard a gruff voice yelling maniacally into the Valhallan air.
"Hold on Carolina! The reds are comin' to save the day!"
Just then before 479's eyes a warthog jeep roared her way, hit a rising hill and the two ton vehicle of war took flight, sailing toward her.
"Oh…" she cried.
479 rolled forward, barely missing the speeding steel bumper of the reds' warthog.
"…shit!" she yelled as she hit the ground, the thump sending shockwaves of pain through her abused shoulder.
Agent Washington leapt from the same hill the reds had previously jumped followed by Tucker and Caboose. He aimed his battle rifle at 479, the same battle rifle that had sent its hot lead to injure her and prepared for the killing shot, the fury in his eyes unabated.
479 prepared to meet her maker. She was surrounded and helpless except for a battle rifle that lay not far from where she had taken Carolina out of the battle.
Suddenly bullets rushed toward the reds and blues and agent Washington, causing each and every man to hit the ground and crawl toward safety.
"Damn it, Grif! If you don't start killing the people I order you to kill, then I'm going to turn driving duties over to Simmons!" Sarge yelled at the orange soldier who was currently cowering behind the warthog.
"Yeah okay, you do that, Sarge. Then at least I know we'll never get to these stupid battles!" Grif retorted.
"Well hell, Simmons is a better driver, a better soldier… well just all around a better human than you are Grif! So why in the name of General McArthur would Simmons do a worse job of killing assholes, and blues, with tons of steel than you?" Sarge wondered.
"Two words… train tracks." Grif responded.
"Hey, that happened one time!" Simmons cried out as he ducked low and provided cover for Sarge.
"No. No it didn't." Grif responded.
"Fuck you, fat ass!" Simmons yelled indignantly, "You just think about that the next time you need to be patched up!"
"What? Doc did that!" Grif responded.
"Hello! That's my job, think nothing of it." Doc said as he ran out from the cover of the thick tree he was hiding behind.
"If you were anything better than a medic you'd be using that green light gizmo-thingie to kill the enemy!" Sarge yelled.
"I've told you before it's non-lethal!" Doc reminded the red soldier, "But don't you worry. I'm sure that with heart and self-determination we can all make it through this. Just believe in…"
A grenade landed near Doc's feet causing him to stumble backwards back behind his tree before the explosive detonated.
"Son of a bitch!" he yelled.
"Doc! You pansy, yellow-bellied box of Grifs! I order you to un-pussify that weapon and shoot these soldiers!" Sarge demanded, as he took aim and fired fruitlessly with his shotgun at the ODSTs taking positions behind their hornet transports.
"It's unlethal! What part of un-lee-thal do you not understand?"
"It's the general concept. You might as well speak to him in German!" Grif yelled.
Doc was silent a moment before he cleared his throat.
"Well, I know German." He said.
"Nobody cares!" the reds and blues yelled unanimously.
"I hate you guys." Doc whispered with a sigh.
A/N: Ahh, that was a lot of fun to write. I wanted to introduce the ODSTs for a long time, but I had/have a definite plan for the lot of them. As I said before school is getting in the way and when I leave school I'd just rather chill out and watch funny YouTube videos rather than write, but I am thinking and writing down my thoughts, such as this chapter you've just completed. I hope you enjoyed and don't be shy to drop me a line and let me know what you thought of it.