Chapter One
Spartan Ryan
August 22, 2553 (Military calendar)
Aboard Falcon Charlie 99
A featureless desert seemed to stretch out as far as Spartan Ryan could see from his spot in the Falcon's troop compartment, the only major changes appearing to be the elevation of various dunes, hills and mountains, though below them was a cracked highway the pilot was following that still held numerous wrecks of once proud cars, paintwork scrubbed off by the harsh desert climate until they were all the same uniform rust colour.
Occasionally they would fly over desolate buildings and, once, they had spotted the remains of a town. Its buildings were hollow shells, facades blackened by fire, and the streets running between them were full of rubble and Ryan would have bet good money carbonised skeletons were dotted around them, too.
It would have been easy to mistake this place as just another Outer Colony that the Covenant had glassed during their twenty-eight year war of extermination, but the truth was far worse than that.
This was Earth, or at least some strange imitation of it.
Ryan and the crew of the corvette West Virginia had returned to humanity's homeworld after taking part in a counter-insurgency operation, alongside a larger taskforce on the edges of human controlled space, only to find the planet's all too familiar landmasses covered in vast, irradiated deserts with no sign of the UNSC Home Fleet in orbit, or anywhere else in the system for that matter. In their place was a veritable field of seemingly wrecked and inert satellites bearing the flags of nations that had long since been superseded by the UEG and CMA.
Not only that, some had carried missiles which they launched towards the corvette as she closed on Earth. A combination of chaff, radar lures and her own point defence guns had dealt with most missiles before they could make contact but one slipped through, detonating close enough in to shred the port engine and damage a number of other systems, the reactor included.
Her chief engineer had said he needed to put her on the deck and power down what he could to effect more proper repairs, but that then begged the question of where which, in turn, was answered mostly by West Virginia herself. Her orbital path had her coming in shallow across what had been the continental United States, terminating somewhere in the old southwest, and with her thrust output severely diminished she lacked the capability to make any meaningful adjustments.
The actual landing zone was finalised when they detected a number of signals coming what had been California that were just too varied to be old automated messages, leftover from whatever cataclysm had occurred here, including encrypted voice chatter that had taken Artoria, a dumb AI Ryan was partnered with, almost no time to crack.
Given the military bent of the chatter it became obvious the people here were organised, possibly even technologically advanced enough to lend some assistance in repairing West Virginia given they or their precursors had achieved space flight at some point.
Triangulation of the largest source of the encrypted signals revealed a compound around a hundred miles away from West Virginia, a sign outside proudly proclaiming it to be Fort Henderson, that looked like it could have been a regimental or divisional headquarters for the local military, and thus have some line to the political leadership.
From there it was a simple matter of establishing communications, requesting a meeting, and then sending out a party to make physical contact once the leadership of Fort Henderson agreed. West Virginia's XO had been volunteered to lead the mission, with Ryan and a fireteam of Marines going along as security.
She was sat across from the Spartan and looked decidedly out of place in her borrowed set of Marine BDUs, but then all sailors seemed to. At least in Ryan's opinion they did, though he himself looked even more out of place amongst them all in his NOBLE-class Mjolnir armour, doubly so given his towering height compared to the Marines.
'You all right, lieutenant?' he said.
Clementine, who had been staring out at the desert, blinked and turned her attention to the Spartan, saying, 'Hm? Oh, yes. I'm fine. I've just never been on a world that's been glassed before.'
'Me neither,' Ryan said. 'Whilst it's being glassed, sure, but not after the surface has cooled.'
After a moment he added, 'And you still haven't, technically. This place was nuked, not glassed.'
'How comforting,' Clementine said. 'I can at least knock that off my bucket list.'
Ryan smirked inside his helmet and turned back to the wasteland below them though he had one eye on his suit's Geiger counter, watching as the needle bounced around. It was several times the normal background radiation for Earth but still within the theoretical safe limit for human habitation.
West Virginia's doctor had assured him and the rest of the crew of that when the likelihood of leaving the safety of the corvette became an inevitability, though she had warned that pockets of more intense radiation likely existed out there and strongly recommended they avoid them as much as possible, which was advice everyone was all too willing to follow.
'Five minutes to target,' the pilot called out a few moments later.
'Copy that,' Ryan said. 'Marines, final equipment check.'
Green lights winked back at him on his HUD as the Marines acknowledged, reaching for their weapons and making sure they were in working order. Ryan did the same, first checking a round was ready in the chamber of his M6G and then in his MA5C, hefting the assault rifle as the Falcon flew over another town.
This one wasn't a ruin though, appearing to have people in the streets going about their business who all stopped and stared at the Falcon, some of them pointing needlessly. One of the Marines offered a small wave as they crossed over a crowd but they were soon behind the helicopter as the town gave way to open ground again.
Across from him Clementine took a steadying breath and closed her eyes for a long moment, preparing herself, and when she opened them again Ryan said, 'Don't worry, X. I've got your back.'
'I know you do,' she said.
Ryan gave her a nod as the Falcon banked into a turn and when it levelled out, the buildings of Fort Henderson came into view.
They were arranged in a loose U-shaped compound around a courtyard, in the centre of which was a flagpole that had the local standard strung all the way at the top that flapped in the turbulence kicked up by the Falcon as it came into land at the far end of the courtyard. It was difficult to tell but to Ryan, it appeared to be more or less the same as the original state flag of California Artoria was helpfully displaying on his HUD, that of a bear on a white background, but once the wash from the rotors died down it went back to hanging limply in the still desert air.
He waited until the Falcon's engines had come to a full stop before exiting, panning his gaze across the area in search of any threats the inhabitants of Fort Henderson might have set for them but saw nothing beyond a platoon's worth of soldiers, waiting by the main building's entrance.
They appeared to be more or less human, meaning the radiation hadn't adversely affected them to the point of creating a wholly new species, and dressed in identical uniforms consisting of khaki brown tunics, pants and boots. Their main armament seemed to be a rifle with wooden furniture and no scope, plus a small pistol for backup strapped to their thighs.
One of them, an officer or senior NCO judging by the beret they wore rather than a helmet, began marching over towards the newcomers and Clementine, who had exited the Falcon after Ryan, straightened herself and did the same.
'Stay with the bird,' Ryan said over TEAMCOM. 'And keep tight trigger discipline. Only open fire in self defence.'
Again a bank of green lights winked back at him as the Spartan took off after Clementine, staying a step behind and to the left of her until she met with the chosen representative of Fort Henderson, offering him a salute and saying, 'Lieutenant Amelia Clementine, executive officer of UNSC West Virginia, UNSC Navy.'
The soldier paused for a moment, caught off guard by the salute, but duly returned it.
'Lieutenant Carl Anderson,' he said. 'NCR Army.'
'Pleasure to meet you, lieutenant,' Clementine said, holding her hand out for Anderson to shake, which he did, before turning his eyes to the augmented supersoldier standing behind her.
'Spartan Ryan,' he said, slinging his rifle and removing his helmet. 'UNSC Spartan Branch, attached to West Virginia.'
Anderson just nodded at that, seemingly unsure of what to make of Ryan which served to only reinforce the current theory he and the rest of the crew had that this was a parallel Earth to their own.
Even if a nuclear bombardment had occurred in the four months West Virginia had left Earth, the people here would still recognise a Spartan when they saw one. They had, after all, become something of a rallying point in the face of the alien hegemony that had sought to eradicate them from the galaxy.
'If you both would like to follow me,' Anderson said.
Spartan Ryan
August 22, 2553 (Military calendar)
Fort Henderson
'What do you make of them?' Clementine said. 'These NCR people.'
'They're organised,' Ryan said. 'And judging by the fact they've got standardised equipment, a decent manufacturing base behind them, too.'
The pair were waiting in one of the fort's many meeting rooms, left there by Anderson who had gone to get someone higher up the chain of command after Clementine gave him a brief rundown of their situation. She was sat at the table and taking the occasional sip from a glass of water a mess specialist had brought up as Ryan stood by the room's window, staring out to the courtyard.
A platoon of NCR regulars was still there, likely to keep an eye on the Falcon and its crew as they waited for new orders, or just for the situation to take a turn against them. Both sides seemed relaxed and their weapons weren't pointed at the other, though professionalism kept them from putting them away in the presence of a potential enemy.
There were even a pair of soldiers flanking the door leading into the meeting room, visible through the glass portion with rifles slung over their shoulders.
Ryan gave the courtyard one final glance then moved to the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall seeing as how none of the wooden chairs looked liable to support the weight of him in his armour.
'Let's just hope they're amenable to an agreement,' Clementine as the two sentries outside the door snapped to attention, announcing the arrival of a senior officer who strode into the meeting room and appraised its inhabitants.
'I am Colonel Lyle,' he said. 'Commanding officer of Fort Henderson.'
Clementine stood and introduced herself and Spartan Ryan in short order, and the two officers sat down at the table as Ryan continued to lean against the wall, looking up from the pair when Anderson and the mess specialist from before re-entered the room. The latter carried an urn of what smelled like coffee, plus mugs, whilst the former sat down next to his commanding officer with a pen and notepad.
Once drinks had been served the mess specialist departed and closed the door behind them, sealing the four of them off from the rest of the fort's inhabitants. Lyle took a sip of his coffee first before speaking.
'Lieutenant Anderson has told me what you told him and, quite frankly, it sounds fantastical,' he said.
'I can understand that, sir,' Clementine said with a small smile. 'But it's the truth.'
'That you came from a parallel world?' Lyle said.
'Like I said, it's the truth,' Clementine said. 'As near as we can tell, at least. We don't, as yet, understand how we came to be here. I promise you that.'
Lyle regarded her for a moment then turned briefly to Anderson who gave him a small look and a shrug, his opinion on the matter, and said, 'Okay, so let's assume that you are telling the truth. What is it that you'd need from us?'
'At the very least, somewhere safe to land our ship,' Clementine said. 'The engineering crew has to power off some critical components to effect proper repairs. Beyond that, I would imagine maybe some material assistance in the form of parts, or just the resources needed to manufacture what we need.
'If that were to be the case, I'm sure a fair exchange can be made between our two groups.'
'And what might you have to offer?' Lyle said. 'If that were the case.'
'I honestly couldn't say, sir,' Clementine said. 'West Virginia's a warship, so she carries no cargo that might be of value to you. I suppose military assistance could be one avenue, either from boots on the ground or even just technical support. You are engaged in two wars, if I'm not mistaken.'
Many of the civilian radio broadcasts had included news snippets between songs about daily life here, with some of the few things that piqued the interest of West Virginia's crew being updates on battles currently underway against two different factions, one called the Brotherhood of Steel and the other going by Caesar's Legion.
'We are,' Lyle said.
'Then perhaps we could lend a hand with one or both,' Clementine said before gesturing to Ryan. 'Spartan Ryan here is very adept at combat, and could well be a deciding factor in any engagements you're struggling with.'
Lyle looked to the Spartan with that, taking in all seven feet of the Mjolnir-clad supersoldier with an appraising eye, and said, 'That true?'
'Yes, sir,' Ryan said. 'Wouldn't be the first time a Spartan turned the impossible around.'
'Bold claim,' Lyle said before pausing a moment, thinking.
Eventually he said, 'It's a tempting offer, lieutenant. Very tempting. I am, however, something of a cynic, as are my superiors and political masters. We would require some proof as to your claims, of Spartan Ryan or your ship, before agreeing to any kind of deal. Would that be acceptable?'
Clementine smiled. 'Certainly, sir. Our ship can be here within the hour.'
'Excellent,' Lyle said. 'I look forward to seeing her.'
Spartan Ryan
August 22, 2553 (Military calendar)
Fort Henderson
West Virginia came to a slow halt above the compound, appearing to dominate the skyline even though she was a lowly corvette and not something truly massive, like a frigate or cruiser, or even Infinity, and when she had Lyle turned to Clementine and said, 'Lieutenant, you have my apologies for doubting the sincerity of your claims.'
'You have nothing to worry about,' she said. 'I'm sure I would have done the same in your position.'
'Thank you,' Lyle said before turning to Ryan. 'Of course, this also means you've got a lot to live up to now, Spartan.'
'I'll deliver, sir,' Ryan said.
'Let's hope you do,' Lyle said.
He craned his neck upwards to look at West Virginia as the Falcon that had delivered Clementine and Ryan took off, touching down on a waiting landing pad high above them on the corvette's side. She had started off life as a Gladius-class heavy corvette before an urgent operational request was made by members within UNICOM, including the soon to be Spartan Branch commanders, for a small vessel that could support covert teams in denied areas.
Their request cited ONI's well-established reluctance to part with any of their small pool of prowlers for anyone outside of their shadowy organisation, and the fact that the size of frigates made hiding them on the surface much harder.
The request was granted and the UNSC's design bureaus went to work, with a temporary stopgap measure being the conversion of existing vessels to meet their needs. So, West Virginia and thirty or so of her sisters were brough to Mars where they had a forty-meter extension installed roughly amidships.
Now dubbed the Xiphos-class, the corvettes could accommodate both a full platoon of Marines and either a single Pelican or, in West Virginia's case, a flight of Falcons and Hornets, plus a small complement of ground vehicles, and deliver everything much more discretely to contested theatres of war then before.
There were still drawbacks to the class, more an ad hoc reaction than a permanent solution, namely the size. The new Xiphos-class corvettes clocked in at nearly 300 metres in length, almost two-thirds that of a standard frigate, and lacked many of the stealth features found on all prowlers. Despite this, West Virginia and two other modified corvettes had proven their worth during the operation, providing fire support in situations that where it might have been difficult to deploy a frigate or destroyer.
Ryan looked up as well, paying particular attention to the shredded portside armour where one lucky missile had evaded their defences long enough to do its job. If not fully, then well enough to wound West Virginia to the point her speed was badly compromised and, now she was own on the ground, keep her from reaching orbit again given the reduction in thrust.
A few minutes later Charlie 99 remerged from the hangar bay and touched down a few dozen meters from him and Clementine, allowing Lieutenant Commander Flynn to disembark and approach the duo and their NCR escort.
'You must be Colonel Lyle,' Flynn said, exchanging salutes with the officer. 'I'm Flynn, West Virginia's captain. I trust you've been appraised of our situation.'
'I have,' Lyle said. 'As outlandish as it sounds, but on seeing your ship I'm more inclined to believe you. Shall we head to my office?'
'By all means,' Flynn said, gesturing towards the fort's buildings. 'Lead on, colonel.'
Lyle nodded and made for the entrance with the three UNSC personnel in tow, Ryan taking up the rear. As they walked the topic of conversation turned, inevitably, towards West Virginia with him saying, 'I assume she's capable of travelling to other worlds, captain. Other than parallel ones, I mean.'
'That she is, colonel,' Flynn said with a grin. 'All UNSC ships are. On a good day she's managed to cover three or four light years in a single day. If you want I can show you a list of the colonies in our world.'
'I would like that,' Lyle said. 'You know, if she were fully operational, there are many here in the wastes that would literally kill for a chance to take advantage of that capability. To leave this blasted wasteland behind and start anew on some unspoilt world.'
'Yes, well, that's why we have Ryan here,' Flynn said, looking back over his should at the Spartan, who nodded. 'Though any help you might provide for those times he's absent would be welcome.'
Lyle chuckled. 'Of course, captain.'
He opened the door to his office when they reached it and ushered everyone inside, the officers taking their seats as Ryan stood at ease by the door, glancing around Lyle's office. Behind his desk was the flag of the NCR, a two-headed bear on a white background, and one of the old United States. That one was a little tattered and faded in places, possibly originating from before the nuclear war that had occurred.
Both Lyle and Anderson had explained what they could about this world to Ryan and Clementine as they waited for the corvette to arrive, including the Great War as it was known that had turned the world into the irradiated wasteland it was today. Roughly two hours of conflict where every nuclear capable nation on Earth had turned to key in one final act of mutually assured destruction.
Only it hadn't been so total, as small holdouts and enclaves of people survived and emerged into the new world to repopulate and rebuild, laying the foundations for the groups that filled the wastes today.
'I've spoken with my superiors and they're willing to deal,' Lyle said. 'And they or their representatives should be arrived sometime tomorrow to work out the full details. I'm only authorised to promise so much, but I can at least provide your ship with safe anchorage.'
He pulled out a map of the area and laid it on his desk for everyone to see, placing a finger on their current location at Fort Henderson, and then another some way to the east on a place called Fort Irwin.
'There's an old pre-war military base here,' Lyle began. 'We don't have much for use for it because most of the infrastructure was taken away in the aftermath of the Great War, but it's not too far from one of our major trading centres.'
Lyle traced his finger southwest of Fort Irwin to a spot marked as the Hub before running it along the old I-15 highway towards the Mojave Desert.
'And,' he added. 'there's always a stream of troopers moving along this route should you need assistance in repelling a foe, not that there should be anything hostile to you there. All our problems with the Brotherhood are over here.'
The finger jumped to the west, way to the west, and Ryan peered down at the region knowing it would likely be his new area of operations for the next few weeks and months, but he had to ask, 'And the Legion?'
'Out Arizona way,' Lyle said.
He pulled out another map, this time of Nevada, and when he spread it out it was clear to everyone it had been thoroughly abused in its life. Various marks littered the surface to denote the position of both friendly and enemy units as they obviously fought for control of the region. Lyle made a slashing movement across the eastern edge of the map where the states of Nevada and Arizona met before motioning to the Arizona side of the line.
'They're out that way,' he said. 'Whatever's left of them, anyway. We dealt them a major blow a couple of months back, killing both their leader and his right hand man. They're in the process of splintering into warring tribes, last I heard.
'Honestly, most of our focus in the region is just making sure they stay on their side of the line.'
'Good,' Ryan said.
He leant past Flynn and Clementine and aligned the two maps so that they roughly matched up, gauging the distances between what Lyle had said were the danger zones. It was easily several hundred miles in either direction, all of it through what must have been populated areas, or what passed for them after the apocalypse. Moving through them undetected wasn't impossible, quite the opposite, but doing so in numbers large enough to gain control of West Virginia was another thing.
Ryan also liked the idea of potential reinforcements passing by with regularity for those instances when he was away from the corvette, though it was still a good forty miles from the Hub to Fort Irwin. Help wouldn't be there for over a day by his estimation.
Still, short of examining the expansive area the NCR held for himself and balancing it against the needs they themselves still didn't know, he couldn't have picked a better location to put West Virginia down at.
'It all sounds good, sir,' Ryan said to Flynn. 'I'll have to give the area more thorough examination once we get there but yeah, it seems like it'll meet our needs.'
'If you're happy with it, Spartan, that's good enough for me,' Flynn said. He stood and held his hand out to NCR officer, who quickly reciprocated. 'Very well, Colonel Lyle. We'll be happy to lend you our aid until such a time our ship is repaired.'
