Soldiers, sailors and airmen of the UNSC First Expeditionary Fleet!

You are about to embark into the greatest battle, that toward which we have striven these many months. After the untimely betrayal of our representatives, the United Citizen Federation, an enemy to freedom and liberty within the confines of both our and their Galaxies, has proven a stubborn enemy, one careless for even the lives of their own men and women. On our side, your families, your brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers are praying for you daily for a swift victory against the hostile nation that took the lives of our fellow citizens and for the return to peace and security for all.

... Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy had time to prepare, to dig in and re-equip themselves, while their political officers fill their heads with beliefs of an unachievable victory.

They will fight savagely.

But our enemy forgets that it was you, the men and women of the UNSCDF, that single-handedly sent them packing across the dozen worlds we've seized and liberated. You have inflicted upon them great casualties and sapped the will of their population to resist by showing a kindness and compassion their corrupt system has refused to show, rather showing their blatant disregard when even outright sending children to needlessly die against us. With each world they lose, their fighting capability, be it in war materiel or willpower, diminishes greatly. In the meanwhile, you are armed with the finest weapons free man can produce and bear the will of all free people of our galaxies. We are fully confident that the battle on Zegama will be the straw that breaks the warfighting will of our enemy under its weight andnd we have full trust that you will bring victory.

Godspeed. And may we see you all home soon.

-Lord Terrence Hood, UNSC Fleet Admiral at the start of Operation:THUNDERBOLT

The UNSC Task Force deployed to engage the Federation's 200-strong fleet over Zegama was made up of forty UNSC ships. Twenty Frigates and ten destroyers provided screening and hunter-killer duty, while the five Cruisers, two Carriers and three Phoenix-class support vessels would provide the meat of the invasion. Aboard the UNSC Omaha Beach, the first Phoenix, the Third Platoon had joined their new parent unit, the 2/5th Marines. 2nd Battalion, 5th Division. Aboard dropships ranging from the stalwart and strong Pelicans, to the superheavy base-carrying Herons, nearly twenty thousand Marine riflemen awaited.

Ten thousand ODSTs were sat in their pods as well, the final leg of the journey coming close. They'd be dropped first at preselected landing sites that the SPYSATs had pinpointed, courtesy of ONI. These ODSTs included Spartan-IVs who decided to join the ranks as part of the Special Forces strike groups deploying ahead of the formation to clear a path. They would take out the least defended Anti-Air sites to allow for the deployment of the massive ground assault force.

... And this was just the first wave. Twenty more Phoenix ships would arrive in-system at D-Day+5 Hours to help reinforce the beachheads, bearing several extra divisions and the equipment to support them in the advance. In return, Zegama was reported to have approximately ten of the Mobile Infantry's most well-equipped and battle-hardened divisions, plus dozens of auxiliaries and mixed-in units that now included armor and artillery.

In total, a hundred thousand UNSC men and women would square off against three hundred thousand Federation soldiers. Jake sat aboard the modified Pelican of the 101st Transport Squadron, UNSC Naval Aviation, one with an extended blood tray that now housed a little over a Platoon's strength instead of just twelve men. He looked around, the red light in the hold.

His entire platoon was here, meaning they would have one hell of a drop. He checked his HUD for the timer, noting they were still a good thirty mikes out from in-system arrival. He told the others over the radio in his sealed suit, "This really feels final, doesn't it...? Reminds me a little of the Ark..." as he almost religiously re-checked his gear to make sure he had it all at the ready.

Everyone else simply gave murmurs of approval. Word of mouth was that the staff was expecting the fighting on Zegama to be the worst. The Resort World had varied biomes, much like Earth, which meant a need to adapt to every single patch of ground they'd be fighting over, no matter its size. Add to that most of the area was resorts, hotels and such, some on fortified mountaintops, others on hills and many around the beach with only one avenue of assault and the Admirals and Generals were expecting higher groundside casualties than in any previous operation combined.

He gave no thought to the quiet, simply shifting uneasily in his seat. He felt his stomach churn, a moment of pause, then realized they were through the Slipspace exit. He braced and started praying as the distant thumps of decoupling drop pods echoed. Outside, much to the surprise of the Federation fleet situated above the green orb of Zegama, thousands of drop-pods rained from the warships.

Fleet Admiral Joseph Harper gazed upon the battle data streaming through from every ship and the SPYSATs positioned nearby the enemy's own fleet, not to mention the Prowlers that had arrived on-site beforehand. He spoke, "All ships, Red Alert. Enter combat formation Theta. Prepare ALPHA STRIKE..." The holographic display table showed the gathered enemy fleet above Zegama, not to mention a singular command post station far in the enemy's rear that the Prowlers would quickly take out.

He watched the warships take a certain safe distance from one-another, the Frigates and Destroyers already preparing their payloads and MACs. He ordered, "Carriers, launch fighters..." as he noted the scarlet slew of dots that represented the Feddies' TAC Fighters. The UNSC's Longswords and Broadswords left the bays of their transporting vessels, barreling toward the enemy's own fighter-bombers on an intercept.

The Admiral continued to look over the map, taking a puff of his corncob pipe and pointing to a grid sector. He stated, "Initiate Phase 2. ALPHA STRIKE orders. All ships are to link firing data with the Bunker Hill, fire in synch with us. Missile and MAC Barrage, interspersed with nuclear warheads. Redirect squadrons twenty through forty to escort and planetside support duties."

The deck crews replied affirmative and various commands and communication replies echoed on the bridge on which scarlet lights flashed. The Admiral marched up to the front window, watching as lasers pulsed beside tracers and the enemy's warships, some of which were newer, attempted to engage their fighters. The UNSC vessels slowly closed the distance, weapons finally reaching their optimum firing range.

"... Fire," The Admiral ordered.

The swarm of missiles that soon filled the void, not to mention the void-splitting slugs of the Mass Accelerators, struck the forward line of the Federation fleet like a hammer blow, shattering several ships on impact and damaging a multitude more. Nuclear detonations lit the horizon, the enemy's point-defense overwhelmed. The flashes caused a few of the crew to look away and, when they dissipated, the enemy fleet had lost a quarter of its strength.

Back within the confines of the Pelican, the Marines tensed as the timer counted down the last few seconds. The Pilots began pre-flight checks, the hums of a thousand engines roaring in the ears of the crew, the vibrations reverberating within their very chests telling. Jake quietly counted down to himself. On three, he made sure his harness was tight. On two, he made sure his weapons were properly packed. On one, he ensured that his rebreather was on.

The Pelicans took off from the ships and pushed into the void beyond. Hundreds of drop-ships banked for the planet, squadrons forming up under the escort of Longswords and Broadswords while tracers and flak flew overhead. Jake could swear he saw the 50mm Ramparts of the Omaha engaging the enemy fighters trying to dive down on them as they descended. Parisa called out to her platoon, "TWO-FIVE! RETREAT?!"

"HELL!" Barked the men, Jake included.

"RETREAT?!"

"HELL!"

"SHOW THESE INNIE WANNABES WHAT THE FUCK IT MEANS TO BE UNSC! MARINES! OORAH!" She roared, grinning ear-to-ear. Her marines all replied with a loud 'OORAH!' as they prepared themselves. Turbulence started to hit as the Pelicans dived through the atmosphere, each Marine hanging onto their harnesses as wisps of fire heated the outer hull. Outside, missile engines roared as the Fighter-Bombers escorting their units fired their munitions.

Breaching through the atmosphere had proven rather unsurprisingly turbulent, however the UNSC crews braced for the deceleration, which was the worst part. As the dropships vectored their engines for landing, they moved upright, the weight of planetary galaxy pressing the Marines into their harnesses at first. The flight radio crackled to life and the Marine officer in charge of the landing reported, "First wave touching down in two mikes, all units, red light..."

The first signs of enemy Anti-Air Artillery came. Plumes of white smoke trailed behind launched SAMs, while high-caliber autocannons fired proximity-fuze munitions toward the aircraft. The previous turbulence only seemed to intensify, irregular clouds of flak sending burning-hot fragments of steel lancing out. Such fragments pinged off the hulls of the Third Platoon.

Marta grit her teeth, eyes closed as the explosions thumped around them, shaking them to their cores. Jane gave her an elbow and said, "Keep calm and carry on, Marz! We got this!" before an explosion that came particularly close shook the Pelican. Jake peered over past the door that led to the cockpit. She could see them angling up for the landing as the plumes from advanced SAMs, probably rebuilt from the ground up, followed.

More explosions rocked the boat. In the distance, the man could see some of the enemy's SAMs detonating against flares and chaff. Some struck their marks, detonating just in front of the UNSC Pelicans and spraying their cockpits and forward engines with shrapnel. Some Pelicans did go down to the hits, unsurprisingly. Parisa murmured a prayer for all of them as they continued their descent.

All of them felt their spines slightly compress as the aircraft hit its thrusters, decelerating just as the cluster munitions launched by the Longswords struck their targets, silencing multiple anti-air guns and missile sites and opening a corridor. Parisa hit her Harness release, grabbed her rifle and racked the bolt of her battle rifle, feeding the first round into the chamber.

The group tensed as the aircraft slowed enough for them to stand to their feet as well. They grabbed their rifles, properly checked and fed them ammo, then prepared as the outside erupted in gunfire. The green light winked on, with Parisa calling out, "GREEN, GREEN, GREEN! OUT! Move your asses!" just as the door propped open. Over the Radio, reports of losses echoed, but minimal. One or two Pelicans damaged, one downed, maybe less, for now.

They'd know when they found the wrecks, Parisa thought as they charged out. Heron dropships landed behind the Pelicans, disgorging the armored fist of the UNSC as artillery began landing around them. They'd landed amongst a clearing, the artillery coming for them sporadic, poorly aimed and lacking. More bombs exploded in the distance as Marine platoons formed and moved forward.

Machine guns fired from the trees, bullets striking armor, bulletproof glass or both as the Pelicans with gunship modifications took off, their 40mm Chainguns letting loose into the treeline, FLIR cams scanning for targets while the Marines, Grizzlies, Saddlebacks and Scorpions rolled forward. Mako Artillery set up at the rear, counter-battery radars coming online and immediately allowing the UNSC's counter to the enemy's artillery.

Parisa and the Platoon pushed up to the front line, where bullets whizzed past their ears and punched through trees. Ahead was a fortified hill, an outpost as per map data displayed on their HUDs. The woman stopped in front of the leader of this section of the front, a UNSC Major, as he spoke over long-range, "Charlie 2-5, requesting MAKO 1-9er and all batteries redirect to grid 509-222-227, times ten HE shells per gun, times one ranging..." before looking to the Lieutenant. He spoke to her, "Bastards are dug in like ticks! We're looking at MG nests, mortars and about sixty infantry in that bunker alone!"

"We waiting for the Arty and tanks to roll up, sir?!" She asked, then poked out and fired a burst from her BR.

The man nodded, "Damn Net's clogged up with noise! To nobody's surprise, though, this shit is the widest naval landing operation we've undertaken in centuries! The last hit we had like this was the Jovian Moons! Not to mention the bastards managed to warp in Navy reinforcements on our ships' flanks!" before ducking as the thunder of a 120mm cannon from a Grizzly echoed. The tanks rolled forward as Gunships moved in overhead to support, all while the enemy's Flak batteries countered, keeping them at bay. He then growled and demanded, "Mako, where the fuck is my arty!"

"Charlie 2-5, this is RAPIER HQ, be advised:All MAKO batteries are currently indisposed in your area as they're casting a wider net to ensure advances in breakthrough sections of the front. Will redirect a battery in five mikes at best," The HQ, who operated aboard one of the Phoenix-class warships in orbit, replied. The Captain scoffed and scratched his cheek.

"Well, that's fucked," Murmured Parisa as she waved her platoon into cover beside her. She looked to the officer and said, "We'll take a flank! Have the tanks wail on the sons of bitches to keep their heads down!" before pausing as she watched a Marine ahead take a bullet straight through the face, collapsing dead onto the floor. A second was hit by a 12,7mm round, then another, then another. His armor buckled and the bullets pierced, sending him tumbling to the floor.

To what the Captain was about to protest, he could only nod. Raising his hand, the man motioned for the tanks to roll forward with a 'come hither' order. More explosive and canister shells detonated, striking the enemy's lines and pinning them down, while Parisa turned to her platoon. She smirked and said, "Guess we're doing the crazy bid and punching out on our own! We're hitting the left flank! Marta, Aada, I want sniper fire on the enemy's MGs on that side, Junttila, Jake, you're our HE experts! Hit them with grenades and Jackhammers. Everyone else, bounding assault across! We take out the hill and the supporting AAA and our birds can start hammering the shit of whatever's beyond it! Marines, Retreat!?"

"HELL!" They roared once more, all grinning proudly.

"RETREAT?!" Parisa smirked.

"HELL!" They belted out again, weapons at the ready. Parisa gave the hand signal and the group started moving across to the left flank as the tanks and several dozen Marines around them popped out to provide covering fire. Overhead, an anti-tank missile streaked out from the wingtips of one of the Pelicans nearby, striking a distant target. The thunder-crack of cannons echoed in their ears as the Marines pushed through the treeline, Parisa in the lead.

The MG nests on the side of the Hill they were planning to take, which Parisa soon recognized as one of the local fortresses, Hill 214, opened up on them. Bullets cut through tree trunks, leaving deep gashes and gauges as the Marines scrambled and took cover. Two mortars swiveled about and started firing on their position, their shots wildly inaccurate as the other side of the hill started exploding.

Parisa poked out next to Jake and fired, ordering, "Teams of two! Teams of two! Push up and maintain spacing! I want us at the base of the Hill where the MGs can't angle to hit us in two!" before she shot a burst at one of the turrets. The bullets pierced the thin shield and struck the gunner, sending her tumbling back. She called back to the other scattered Marines of her platoon in the brush, "Don't get bogged down! Hit these bastards with everything you got!"

"Grenades, going up!" Jake called out, loading a forty into the tube and launching. As the first grenade arched in, he loaded the next, while Junttila stepped up with her launcher and opened fire. Twin missiles streaked forward, plumes of smoke trailing, before both impacted an enemy MG Nest and detonated it. Parisa called a battle cry that the Marines answered as they leapt out of cover and charged up toward the hill, bullets whizzing past their ears as they advanced.

Niko dropped onto his belly first, firing bursts from his MG to keep the enemy pinned down while the other Marines lobbed primed grenades up top. Parisa took cover, dropped her spent magazine and slapped in a fresh one, before ramming the bolt home and standing up. She and Jane fired back at the Feds on top of the Hill's walls, while the anti-aircraft guns above let loose flak.

In the distance, several hill and mountaintop positions also went quiet, courtesy of ODST and SPARTAN sabotage teams deployed earlier. Jake checked the time on his helmet's HUD. D-Day+30 Minutes. Been on the ground all of thirty mikes and shit was cooking off already, he thought to himself. He waved Jane over as he fired a Three-Strike at the enemy above, casting it in a forty-five degree angle. He dumped the spent long casing, then turned to his childhood friend as he said, "Any wounded?!"

"Bisenti and Nelson got hit, but they're walking wounded!" She replied, "I'll call for CASEVAC the moment we can get them the fuck out!"

"Damn bastards and their fifties!" Laughed Jake. He looked over to the Lieutenant as she crouch-walked up to them, before asking, "Aada and Marta doing good!?"

"Sniping the life out of the enemy's own shooters!" The woman replied, then poked out and fired. A couple bullets sparked off her helmet, forcing her to crouch. She lifted one finger in an arcane and rather rude gesture, which made Jake and Jane burst into laughter, before she ordered them, "I'm gonna need another barrage of grenades straight down the middle, Jake! We're making this a charge right uphill and we'll need the enemy suppressed!"

The three then turned to the treeline and aimed their weapons as silhouettes appeared, before resolving into Marine riflemen. HUD tags ID'd them as part of 2/5th as well, meaning Division had landed relatively well along their chosen LZs. The Lieutenant of the Marine platoon of forty that now marched up to them called out, "Captain Tomas's orders are we back you up!"

"Glad to have you here, Ionescu!" Parisa shot back. She pulled a frag off her belt and lobbed it, then told them, "We're gonna be punching straight down the middle! Tell your Grenadiers to suppress these bastards! Most of their force is busy on the other side, facing the brunt of Two-Five and Three-Three!" just as a Canister shell washed the other face of the hill to make a point.

"You heard the lady, boys!" The other Lieutenant snapped at his men, "Frags out, fangs out! MOVE!"

"THIRD, UP THIS HILL!" Parisa barked. Forty new grenades flew into the trench line, including Jake's and his fellow grenadiers. The Marines then switched to firearms, Aada and Marta grabbing their SMGs off their belts as the Platoons pounced on top of the hill. Assault weapons barked as they met grey-wearing bastards on top of the hill. Some such bastards charged back, bayonets affixed to their Moritas.

Niura met the first man to charge her with a shotgun blast to the face, which turned his skull into nothingness. The corpse slumped over to the side as the Marines advanced into the trenches, some detaching from the group to take out mortars and Triple-A Positions. Belts rung through Niko's Machine Gun as he gunned down Feds trying to get to them with their bayonets.

Jake blunted a man's charge, parried his bayonet and slammed the butt of his MA40 into his nose, breaking it and sending him tumbling to the floor. He then put the barrel of the weapon against his chest and fired until his mag was spent. He dropped the empty magazine while Jane advanced beside him with Aada in tow, then reloaded. He then pushed forward with the others, deeper into the interconnected network of trenches and toward the side of the hill that was under allied fire. Radios blared within the friendly lines, telling the gunners to cease fire while they cleared the area out.

Bullets continued to fly within the trenches, one Marine catching a bayonet to the throat, only for his killer to be filled full of lead by Niko and Jake. Aada and Marta engaged in CQC with their SMGs, aiming for headshots with the caseless-firing assault weapons. More casualties were sustained by both Third and their supporting elements, though, the fanatic Federation soldiers in the trenches fighting tooth and nail with blade and gun.

... As the guns went quiet and the sun of the system dropped behind the Horizon at exactly D-Day+5 Hours, the Marines packed the bodies of twelve of their own dead for forty-nine dead Feds. Six other Feds managed to fall back after their anti-air guns fell silent and, overhead, Pelicans hovered, dropping supplies and extra troops to reinforce the 2/5th. The AAA guns were wheeled away by supporting IFVs while the Makos were rolled up the hill to establish a firebase.

Every piece of Feddie equipment was stripped from the trenches and thrown into a pile in front of five surrendered Feds, all of whom were later dragged away despite their injuries, taken aboard a Pelican and moved back to the staging areas where the UNSC forces had landed. Jake stared up at the sky, a cigarette between his lips and his eyes slightly glazed over as he watched new stars flash into view.

The other Phoenix-class vessels had just jumped in and, going by the disgorging flashes of light swarming toward the planet's surface like self-guiding meteor showers, they were already deploying most of their support elements to help set up FOBs and makeshift Starports. Jane hummed, leaned back-to-back with him and eating a chocolate bar as she stared up, too.

"Fucked-up day, huh...?" Jake asked, voice low. Congealed blood pooled at the bottom of the trench as Jane looked around, lit only by the faint light of the heat lamps that the rest of the Corps was installing. The Corpsman replied with an affirmative hum, before both looked over as Parisa's voice resounded through the trenches, calling them for chow. Jake hummed, straightened up and turned toward the treeline, taking a deep puff of his cigarette.

Jane would nominally have asked him what he was staring at and Jake almost seemed to know someone was there. Captain Thompson... Iris... Felt a chill shoot up her spine as Jake stared straight at her through the scope, her mouth slightly agape. She murmured to herself, "No... No, no, no..." as she flinched, only to then watch Jake turn away and walk with Jane to their team.

"Ma'am?" A Feddie trooper assigned to her raised a brow. A spotter.

She shook her head, "RTB... We've got Warhound Platoon on-site..." then she stood into a crouched position and started moving away, her thoughts turning into a jumbled mess. Jake was here, alongside the rest of his platoon. She swallowed, feeling her mouth dry up at the thought of having to face old friends in combat. Trying to clear it didn't help at all.

She'd deeply hoped this wouldn't happen... And yet...