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Chapter 8
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Part 1
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3 AIF (After Imperial Founding)/
15.08.2552 UNSC Military Calendar/
bridge
Long Night of Solace, Sh'wada pattern super carrier
Reach
Epsilon Eridiani System
Milky Way Galaxy
Most of the ships' sensors were down, scorched by the orbital bombardment, or taken out by pin-point strikes by Heretic bombers. The same was true for long-range communications. Despite that, Rho'Barutamee knew he should have been able to contact either Kantar' Utaralee, his designated replacement as Fleetmaster if he died, or another Shipmaster from the besieging the human system.
Instead, all he could contact eventually was the Frigate Shadow Strike, holding position above a distant human city.
"Report, Shipmaster! My ship is critically damaged and boarded by hordes of Heretics! We need immediate assistance! There are Demons present!" Rho'Barutamee growled at the communication console.
"The fleet is gone, Fleetmaster! Acting Fleetmaster Kantar'Utaralee led a charge against the new Heretics before being destroyed! All we have in the system are a few Frigates above human cities! We don't dare move away, or we might be smitten from orbit!" A young, inexperienced Shipmaster reported.
"Contact any ship that arrives in the system to bleed the Heretics. We need heavy reinforcements!" The Fleetmaster clicked his mandibles in frustration. He briefly considered ordering the Long Night of Solace's reactors overloaded. That, at least, would deny his crippled ship to the Heretics.
Yet, such glorious purging fire was not to be. His gaze went to the Sangheli holding a Luminary nearby. It glowed brighter than ever. A close inspection showed the Heretics boarding them carried Relics of the gods, likely as crude talismans for good luck. There were more Relics within Heretic ships nearby. Damaging or destroying them would mean certain damnation, and it would be worse than losing the Long Night of Solace to the Heretics.
"Major, keep in contact with the Shipmaster of Shadow Strike! Make sure that arriving ships would call for heavy reinforcements to recover the Relics being profaned by the Heretics as we speak! The rest of you, arm yourselves! We are going to take back our ship and recover as many Relics as possible!"
Roars of approval echoed throughout the bridge.
"But first, slag the data cores. We won't let the Heretics gain precious information on the Sacred Covenant if the Gods find us unworthy of their grace!" Rho'Barutamee ordered.
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John had been accustomed to hearing boasts from soldiers of all military branches. He thought the Imperials, for all their advanced technology, would be no different.
Skywalker wasn't boasting, and General Krell wasn't joking.
The Imperial Knight moved at speeds that would make him little more than a blur for a human without substantial enhancements. The Spartans could keep up, even though they had to go all out. Most of the Imperial soldiers didn't even try once they engaged the Covenant. They were content to advance methodically and bury in ordnance and heavy firepower any Covenant that survived first contact with the Knight, Spartans, and a handful of Imperials.
It quickly became clear that the Spartans couldn't judge the level of enhancements their new allies had by the appearance of their armor. The only possible indicator was that the Knights tended to wear lighter variants, however, they weren't the only ones who preferred that model, which allowed more agility and freedom of movement.
The Spartans faded in and out of cover, exploding into brief bursts of violence, leaving behind dead Covenant warriors before allowing their shields to recharge. Speed was life. Their shields existed to buy them time when necessary or as a safety net when someone made a rare mistake.
The Imperials had a different doctrine. The leading fire team of a squad moved aggressively, relying on their shields and armor to absorb incoming fire to get into better firing positions. They kept firing, suppressing the Covenant, allowing the second fire team of the squad to advance rapidly and take off the pressure of their fellow soldiers. Then the first team would have time for their shields to recharge, to reload if needed, and occasionally patch up damaged armor before bouncing forward, leapfrogging that way.
The tactics were similar to what the Spartans sometimes did, with less speed and more reliance on absorbing instead of avoiding damage. Another thing John noted was that the Imperials kept aiming and consistently hitting the Covenant center mass. They didn't bother going for the head or weak spots in the armor. Instead, their superior firepower burned through shields, metal alloys, and flesh alike. That would be useful to the average marine, who lacked the reaction times or durability to risk going for precision shots as long as the enemy was shooting back at them.
However, the same couldn't be said for the Imperial Knight and the squad keeping pace with him, if barely. Skywalker only had an energy blade – a single long beam of blue light coming from a cylindrical hilt. Until he engaged in combat, John thought that the Knight might have ranged weapons built into his armor.
Instead, he used the saber to deflect plasma bolts back to the Covenant. Sharp, aggressive movements of his free hand heralded what should have been the realm of fiction. Skywalker threw Covenant around without touching them. He stopped flying needles with a gesture before discarding them like trash. Grenades flying at him halted in mid-air, then flew back at the Covenant, unfortunate enough to throw them.
Whatever Skywalker was, he didn't need weapons. He was a weapon. John was confident the Imperial Knights were more than merely soldiers with a title to honor them or their achievements. It was a designation. Once he saw General Krell or another Knight in action, he would be sure of it.
"I can't detect any power or thermal spikes when he does that!" Cortana whined. "It's like magic! Magic isn't supposed to exist! Everything I know about the universe tells me that!"
The battle muted the recognizable sound of approaching drones, allowing them to enter the large cargo bay they were fighting through unnoticed.
"Drones!" Linda warned and shot one of their leaders.
"These things again?!" Skywalker sounded less than thrilled when Cortana translated his outburst. He raised a hand, and purple lighting danced around his armored fingers. It arced upwards and struck the swarming drones, catching them in a net of purple energy.
"He can do that too?! I can't detect an electric discharge coming from him! I should be detecting the power buildup, thermal output, and the lighting itself! That's not electricity!" Cortana rambled.
The light show gave John a pause. He wanted a lighting gun now. It would be handy the next time he had to deal with a drone swarm without enough anti-air artillery.
Fried drones rained from the ceiling. Here and there, plasma grenades or anti-gravity packs detonated, throwing smoking parts of the insectoids all over the place. This didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary for the Imperials, who kept advancing without a glance at the Imperial Knight.
"John, do you think we're getting a bit overshadowed here?" Fred asked over their squad's network.
"I don't care. Play it by the book. No heroics, no one dies but the Covenant today," John decided he had to make sure everyone got the message loud and clear. He reloaded his rifle, checked the remaining ammo, and dashed from the cover or meters-tall stack of crates.
Green light lit up the cargo hold. A pair of Hunters, followed by a large pack of armored Brutes, raced to meet the Imperials head-on. Skywalker waved a hand, and two large plasma bolts fit to kill a tank splashed harmlessly into the deck, melting grooves into it. Spikes flew his way, and instead of trying to deflect them with his sword, the Knight's arm snapped up. Within moments a wall of glowing metal shards formed in front of him as the advancing brutes kept shooting.
"Blue Team, Hunters. Red Team, Brutes," That was all John had to say to guide his Spartans. Linda's sniper cracked loudly, and an armor-piercing round glanced off the head of a Hunter as it twitched at the last possible moment. A bright beam of light slammed into the shield of the second bipedal tank, melting, then boiling the thick armor. It bellowed and raised its arm cannon at the Imperials. Large red bolts hit it, damaging its mechanism. A blinding green explosion engulfed the Hunger, forcing John's visor to polarize to keep his eyes safe.
Master Chief slid towards a nearby crate, using it as cover until he could see again. Linda's sniper echoed again.
"Target down," Her dispassionate voice came over the radio.
A second laser beam hit the crippled Hunter, burning through the shoulder stump on its right.
Cloaked Zealots ignited their energy swords between the charging Brutes and raced towards Skywalker. The Imperials focused their attention on the advancing horde. Shields popped as water balloons, armor melted, and fur burst into fire. Brutes fell, yet more took their place. Skywalker laughed and ran to meet them. The other Imperials kept laying down accurate fire. The Spartans ceased their advance and took advantage of the conveniently presented shooting gallery. Precision fire burst shields and put bullets into skulls after cracking helmets.
Skywalker moved as if anticipating everything happening around him. He weaved around weapons' fire, dove under energy swords, and retaliated with rapid slashes. Spikes glanced off his armor as he became a whirlwind of death. Any Covenant who dared turn to face him got promptly shot to pieces, sometimes literally. A Brute Chieftain raised a gravity hammer, ready to squash Skywalker. The Imperial Knight slid between the alien's legs and hamstrung him with a slash before jumping on his feet. He vaulted on the Chieftain's back even before the Brute could fall on his knees and slammed the blue energy blade into the top of his head. The shield burned out, the metal helmet melted, and the blade burst through the fanged mouth of the massive alien.
Moments later, it was over, with the last Brute literally flying apart under focused fire.
Skywalker waved in encouragement and pointed at the far end of the cargo bay, where Grunts and Jackals were rapidly retreating.
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Part 2
=RF=
3 AIF (After Imperial Founding)/
15.08.2552 UNSC Military Calendar/
CSO Long Night of Solace
Reach
Epsilon Eridiani System
Milky Way Galaxy
For the first time in his life, John felt sorry for a Hunter. Skywalker used one as a club to smash Covenant troops that tried to hold another corridor junction. Tons of armor and orange flesh squished a Jackal that uselessly tried to hide behind its shield. Elites with fuel-rod cannons attempted to turn the corridor into a killing ground. Still, they failed when the battered body of the Hunter moved to intercept the relatively slowly moving plasma. The resulting explosion immolated the Hunter, melting armor and cooking flesh. Green fire warped the walls and floor.
Skywalker finally discarded his improvised weapon by throwing it at the Elites, intercepting their next barrage. More explosions shook the deck, and alien screams echoed throughout the compartment.
Having Imperial Knights lead the charge radically changed the tactical equation, John understood. Conventional defensive tactics served to slow them down at best. They could crush choke points or provide mobile cover, allowing supporting infantry to clear strong points with near impunity. While the Imperials suffered casualties, that almost exclusively happened in open spaces within the ship, where the Knights could not distract most enemy warriors. Snipers were somewhat effective, but not against the Knights. Skywalker twisted and dodged as if he knew where the Covenant sharpshooters would aim before they did. Energy beams splashed against the shields of the Imperials following the Knight, and a few did burn through, melting armor. Wounded troopers fell back, awaiting reinforcements and medical attention.
The sheer toughness of the Imperial armor was something else as well – it could tank damage in excess of what the Spartans could survive. They saw that again and again. The Imperial shields lasted longer and recharged faster. Needler shards bounced off armored plates when in contrast, they could bite into the titanium alloy protecting the Spartans and detonate, causing nasty wounds. The same wasn't true for the flexible glove below the plates. Every so often, an unfortunate Imperial got hit in the wrong place, and the resulting detonation mangled them in fountains of blood.
A stark contrast was the Imperials using their heaviest armor John had seen to date. Their flexible layer was some metal alloy, which the needler shards failed to penetrate. However, the drawback of those armors was the relatively slow speed of their wearers. They found it much harder to avoid Covenant heavy weaponry. While they could shrug off glancing hits, a direct strike from fuel rods killed more than a few after caving in chest plates or cracking helmets. The upside of those armors was that light weapons were almost useless against them. John saw one of those soldiers walk into a hail of fire that would have been enough to kill most of his team and shred a dozen Elites with some energy mini gun. When the dust settled, the armor was mostly intact, even though it had visible craters where concentrated fire had melted parts of the heavy plates.
"We are less than a kilometer from the reactors," Cortana informed them. "Covenant forces from all over the area are converging to block our progress."
"We are getting low on ammo," Skywalker pointed out after consulting with a couple of Imperial Officers. "We should take a brief rest and get resupplied and reinforced before pushing through to the objective," he suggested.
"Thoughts?" John inquired through the Spartan's tactical net.
"We're down to using Covenant weapons. Resupply wouldn't hurt," Fred noted. "Besides, they can reinforce faster than we can kill push forward anyway. We'll have a tough fight on our hands anyway."
They were advancing across a relatively narrow front due to the need to secure their lines of communications, resupply, and medical evacuation. The reinforcements reaching them were watered down by the need to slowly expand the perimeter controlled by the allied forces and reinforce corridor junctions and elevators to ensure the Covenant wouldn't cut off the advancing units. If this were a mere raid, the Spartans would have pushed forth regardless, relying on speed and aggression to get in, do the job, and get out. Trying actually to capture the ship required an alternative approach. The more Covenant that came to them, the less they would have to hunt down later through the labyrinth that was the super carrier.
Besides, once they reached the reactors, they would have to be sure to hold them. Otherwise, the Covenant might decide to do something most unfortunate.
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Noble Six finally reunited with his team in the middle of a firefight. Imperials, marines, ODST, and two Spartan teams were pushing through an enormous, kilometers-long transit space in the ship's heart. The Covenant fought desperately to retain control of the place. They forced thousands of Grunts to advance as cannon fodder, followed by Jackals moving as a solid phalanx, followed by Brutes and Elites. Hunter pairs provided heavy firepower. Anti-air turrets put on stacks of supply crates offered additional firepower.
They were fighting in the open, with only corpses of friends and foes providing any semblance of cover. Without artillery or air support, the marines paid with blood for every meter they took. The ODST, with their slightly more advanced armor, were doing a little better. Casualties were mounting, with medics desperately doing triage while plasma flew overhead.
In this environment, shielded power armor shined. The Spartans had the durability, speed, and agility to avoid much of the incoming fire and tank that hit them. The Imperials waded through waves of plasma, whole platoons leapfrogging in front of each other as the shields of those in the front depleted. Imperial Knights provided brief respite with their blades and powers. Clouds of needler shards froze in mid-air, then fell over the heads of the Grunts, showering them in crystal shards. Heavy plasma bolts went off course, blasting the deck or walls. Periodically corpses flew up to intercept them, resulting in aerial explosions and fiery debris raining everywhere. Missiles and grenades slammed into the Covenant lines. Explosions blossomed, tearing apart Grunts and Jackals in showers of gore. Now and then, the Imperials deployed light-yield tactical weapons that vaporized everything in a few hundred meters radius and left the Covenant beyond it as charred corpses. Snipers kept shooting as fast as they could, silencing Covenant turrets and seeking the bright armored forms of enemy commanders.
Six ran out of bullets for his rifle and pulled up the blaster the Imperial Commander gave him. He finally had an opportunity to use it. He aimed and squeezed the trigger. The weapon jerked in his hands. A bright energy bolt struck a charging Grunt in the head, blowing it up like a ripe watermelon. The short alien swayed in place, and its hands reflexively kept waving the live plasma grenades in them. The following explosions vaporized its body and cleared a hole among the Grunts, climbing over the bodies of their friends.
Plasma splashed over Carter's shield. Noble One emptied the magazine of his rifle in the approaching horde, then slid under the dubious cover provided by a pile of mangled Grunts. Six joined him after executing two more suicide bombers.
"You're alive, I see," Carter nodded. "Jorge?"
"The last I saw him, he threw me off a hangar on this very ship," Six still felt bitter about that.
"Well, the ship's somewhat intact, and Jorge's kind of hard to kill," Carter removed a grenade from his harness. He threw it over his shoulder in the general direction of the Covenant.
Six used the brief respite to let his shields recharge and grab a Covenant plasma pistol. He held the trigger, overcharging a bolt, then sent it downrange over the corpse pile. An Imperial platoon leapfrogged forward, reaching their position, and laid down heavy fire downrange. Six nodded at his CO and went back to killing Covenant.
The only silver lining of this mad situation was that any Covenant warrior fighting and dying here wasn't in a position to hold another part of the ship.
The transit shaft a kilometer or so away lit up with overlapping explosions. The Covenant counter-attack faltered, and the Imperials wasted no time pushing against them. Six glanced over the gruesome cover. His helmet automatically zoomed in, showing more Imperials entering the compartment from side corridors. Their strike teams were flanking the Covenant and about to cut off a large chunk of the alien bastards. He could see Imperial Knights with their distinct glowing swords, leading heavy infantry slice through the surprised Covenant.
Six and the other Spartans joined the push. Without more bodies to replace their massive losses able to come forward, the Grunts melted under concentrated firepower. Elites and Brutes fighting on two fronts came next. Automatic grenade launchers barked, sending scores of grenades flying both ways. Most of those launched by the Brutes once again froze in mid-air before returning to rain on top of the Jackals, shattering their formation. In various places, an explosion rocked the Imperial lines. Yet, in most cases, the power-armored soldiers merely walked through the detonations without slowing down.
Only a handful of troopers fell due to already compromised armor being unable to handle the over-pressure waves of grenades blowing up in their face.
More explosions tore through the Covenant ranks, destroying any semblance of coherence. Individuals and small groups tried to charge the allied lines, yet they no longer had the numbers to delay them, much less push them back. Brutes and Elites burned alike when touched by dozens of blaster bolts.
The Spartans raced forward on the heels of the Imperial Knights, ready to take the rest of the transit shaft.