Chapter 39 – Circumdate
August 20th, 2552 - (05:10 Hours - Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, Reach
Viery Territory, New Alexandria
:********:
The rain was softening up. The city's cloud cover was beginning to break and scatter. There were no rays of sunlight to peek through the haze. Nevertheless, dawn was sneaking in. The sky was a mixture of dark blues and purples, slowly mellowing into a pinkish hue as Epsilon Eridani's fiery eye peeked over the horizon.
The buildings on the west side of New Alexandria were still shrouded in the last vestiges of night. However, the shadows that clung to them were diminishing. The morning frost was settling in, painting office windows and windshields in a light touch of water and ice. The air itself was beginning to thaw, the old cold slowly warming. The downpour left from the previous hours slipped away into open drains as the sewers swallowed down the last of the pre-dawn showers. What remained in the streets were shallow puddles and ponds of floating trash which rippled aside as boots crashed through the water.
The rendezvous point came up fast. Looking ahead, Duncan spotted the same bottle-shaped apartment where they had left Lizzy. The building was outwardly unchanged, at least as far as he could tell. That was yet to be proven definitively, however.
Fireteam 4 was on the move. After returning from the sewers, they made for the apartment with all haste. Time was of the essence if they were to be in place ahead of the operation.
As they came closer to the apartment, Duncan spotted the others. Fireteams 2 and 3 were waiting outside near the entrance. They were sheltered beneath the tent of the valet post, their shapes lost within the shade to anyone not looking at them with a visor. Among their friendly green highlights, Duncan noticed a smaller, yellow figure. Daz was holding Lizzy in the crux of her arm, safe and sound.
He breathed easier. She was alive. He could see she was a little shaken by the way she clung to her new custodian. That was fine. He could live with that at least.
"Ep-1 to Ep-2," The Staff said over comms. "We see you. You're clear, over."
"Roger that." Nova replied as they crossed the road and made their way up the same sidewalk.
"Heads up," Dalton said. "Fireteam 1 inbound, six o'clock."
Duncan peered behind him, past Rico and Mito to the street they'd just left. Further down, he spotted the blue armored speck of the lieutenant commander. She was moving along at a brisk jog with Zack, Lang and Mackley close behind.
Another positive in their favor. They were all accounted for.
"Glad to see everyone in one piece." The Staff said. "Noble-2, we're good to go whenever you are."
"Roger." Kat replied. "We'll stick close for the next 100-meters then split up once we reach the M0 and Belgrád."
"Copy."
Fireteam 4 managed to reach the apartment first but not before Fireteam 1 had closed most of the gap. Kat's 'brisk jog' appeared that way from a distance, but compared to a normal person, she was actually running. It showed in the full-on sprint that the other three were putting on. Somehow, they were able to keep up. It was another one of those moments where Duncan was reminded of just how much she must've been holding back for their sake.
The rest of the platoon was already moving by the time she caught up with them. That innate difference between them reared its head again when she slipped to the front of the group without issue, leaving her former fireteam in the dust. Duncan swore he could hear the three of them breathing hard as they went.
They headed back east in the direction of their next objectives. Along the way, Daz passed Lizzy off to Nova at the little girl's own request. She hefted her onto her back, carrying her like an extra rucksack. Closer to the rear himself, Duncan took occasional glances at the scene they were leaving behind. From the line of colossal silhouettes, he singled out the corvette floating above the skyline. It was still in place. That fact in and of itself gave him a measure of peace. Their prey was sticking to the trap they'd set for it.
They cleared the next 200-meters in under a minute and saw the edges of the M0 highway slanting into view. They went straight for it, using the thinning shadows of the surrounding buildings to secure their passage against any prying eyes.
They slowed just short of where the highway cut across their route. The encompassing structures provided more than enough cover against aerial observation.
Kat inched closest to the highway, staring across to the road on the other side. Belgrád Street continued on to the east. Meanwhile, the M0 continued on their left, heading back towards the northeast.
"This is where we part ways, Team 1, at least for now." She said, turning back to them with a sudden familiarity. "I'd wish you luck, but I don't think you need it."
"Right back at you, Spartan." The Staff said, a hint of his own earnestness bleeding through. "We'll tell you how it went once this is over."
"I'll be expecting a good report."
He nodded. "And you'll get one."
"Glad to hear it." She turned back to the highway, about to leave, when she stopped short of her second step.
"And if you get the chance, find that little girl's mom." She added before saying something at a volume that Duncan almost missed. "This war already has enough orphans as it is."
Then she was moving, her stride quickly evolving into a sprint that carried her across the highway. In seconds she was moving at a speed that none of them could ever hope to match. In even less time, she was shooting down the length of Belgrád Street. The columns of empty vehicles obscured her movements and in a matter of seconds she was lost from sight.
Duncan and the others took a moment to marvel. It was no small thing to see a Spartan running at full speed. She'd covered a distance that would have taken them more than twice the amount of time to, and even that while barely making a sound in all that armor.
"We're moving, troopers." The Staff said as he jogged onto the highway. "Target building's this way. Let's get it done."
The platoon immediately followed in his wake. They were going northeast, sticking to their hours-old pattern of fast and smooth movements as they checked rooftops and windows, barreling ahead in a race against the clock.
:********:
Kat wasn't one to be easily impressed. Nevertheless, as the door to the elevator chimed and slid open, the sight that greeted her was nothing short of a surprise.
The executive landing pad of the My Tech technology firm was located near the top of the building, about 30 floors above street level. The pad was a wide one, its octagonal perimeter rimming a space big enough to host a squadron of Pelicans. Several smaller landing pads rose up from it, metal platforms that led down to the main pad via grated staircases. Crates and containers stood alone or in piles, scattered here and there where they had been laid. A handful of forklifts were left abandoned. A few were stalled atop access ramps leading to the smaller pads or stood paralyzed as they had reached out for crates. Most of them still had workers at the wheel. They were slumped over in their chairs, bearing scorch marks where plasma fire had fused flesh to uniform.
She suspected that the firm's senior executives had tried their hands at a last-ditch evacuation of the building's assets. While said executives were nowhere to be seen, the bloodied, rain-soaked remains of those they had given the order to were still in place. But that wasn't why she was impressed. It was really the much larger collection of dead Covenant that had repainted the pad in bright blues and deep purples.
Over two dozen of them lay where they had been killed. Most were Grunts and Jackals. Some were sprawled out over conjoining puddles of blood and brain matter. Others sat with their backs against the crates where they had been cornered. Nearer to the small landing pads were half a pack's worth of Brutes. Their condition as well as the manner in which they'd fallen were hardly any different, defiant snarls and howls of pain frozen on dead faces. Most impressive of all was the scene left between a pair of blackened forklifts. There two corpses, if she could call them that, were strewn about in positions that spoke of a swift death. The Hunter pair were just as scorched and charred as the vehicles with which they shared a debris field. The worm colonies that made up their innards had been reduced to an orange, sludge-like paste that had leaked out and hardened on the floor.
Team 2 had done its work well.
The clearest emphasis of that truth sat atop the pad at the very center of the landing area. As the sole aircraft on the building, considering everything else around it, the Phantom dropship was in remarkably good condition. Even now the ODSTs of 5th Platoon stood guard around its perimeter. The dropship's troop bay was open, and she could see a squad of them inside. They were crouched down, working on something she couldn't see. Several more troopers were closer, strolling through the menagerie of dead Covenant and plasma seared crates on casual patrols. One of them was already striding towards her as the doors of the lift slid fully into their housings with a muted clang.
She stepped out into the open as Captain Barrett came to greet her.
"Welcome to our private pad, Noble-2. Hope the trip over here wasn't too much of a hassle."
She nodded, watching as a passing ODST kicked the arm of a dead Grunt out of the way. "I like what you've done with the place. Although, it could use a bit more ambience."
"Well, we've got something even better. Right this way." He gestured to the Phantom.
She let him take the lead.
They walked through the remnants of the platoon's most recent firefight. Every so often, she heard her boots make a slight splash in the shallow pools of blood. She scanned the bodies they passed through with quiet satisfaction.
"Casualties?"
Barrett shook his head. "Negative, at least not on our end."
"Good work." She paused at the heels of the two dead juggernauts. Their armor was so badly burnt that it was flaking off in places. She couldn't help noticing that one of them had a ruptured arm-cannon that had been ripped uncleanly down the middle by an explosion. Its partner just a few steps away was lying with barely half of what its species called a 'head'. Their pavise shields were almost completely shattered, rendered useless by a blast that had also been strong enough to knock over the nearby forklifts.
"Can I ask?"
"Incendiaries. We had some on hand. Our grenadiers tossed a few in before they could cause any trouble for us."
"You took them out first?"
Barrett shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."
She arched a brow behind her visor. "I didn't even know we assigned incendiary munitions to this op."
The captain peered back at her, his own opaque visor not blinding her to the smile she sensed on the other side. "You didn't."
Despite the equipment oversight, Kat couldn't hold back a smirk of her own. The old part of her that had seen her through the rigors of Camp Currahee couldn't help but approve.
"Well, it pays to be prepared." She said while they moved around the remains, her boots crunching over small pieces of broken armor and scorched worm.
"As it turned out, whoever had been using those forklifts had bailed out of them pretty early." Barrett added. "Both of them still had plenty of gas in the tank. It might not have gone too well on their side of things, but it worked out just fine for us."
"Note taken."
Her quiet satisfaction took on a hint of respect. It never ceased to amaze her the way that ODSTs could clean house. They weren't Spartans, but all of those she had ever met always seemed to treat that as less of a disadvantage and more of a motivation. The Helljumpers under her command were the same. They couldn't do exactly what Noble could, but they had still managed to find a workaround, one that had turned what would've been a hard-won engagement even for the likes of Noble into a one-sided frenzy. She quietly wondered something to herself that she knew was a line of thought many other Spartans shared about those servicemen that surprised them. She wondered what other little miracles the ODSTs might've pulled off if they had the same gear, the same training, the same augmentations.
The two of them came to the stairs to the central pad. Reaching the top, her arrival earned her a few looks from the ODSTs standing watch. She spotted the squad crouched down in the Phantom's bay and saw more clearly what they were working on.
It was exactly what she'd been expecting.
The FIELD system wasn't something one could assemble on a whim. It took time, which was why she was certain that they had been trying at it for a while now. The assembly was almost complete. The round, cylindrical device stood on its base at about a third of her height. Its compact design made it so that she could fold it down even further. However, where height might change, the weight would remain the same. Carrying 36 kilograms wasn't much of an issue for her but doing it while flying was another question altogether.
She watched one of the platoon's tech specialists probe the device's protruding extensions, testing for structural soundness. As she did, another trooper approached her, holding up a jump-jet pack.
"Christmas came early, LC." He said. "Just for you."
She took it in hand and examined it. The Series 8 SOLA was a jump-set system she was relatively familiar with. While the 22nd Shock Battalion's famous Bullfrogs were using it in defensive operations around Traxus, some of the same equipment had been spared for Noble Team.
"Thanks, trooper. If you have a sleigh floating around here somewhere, be sure to let me know."
"Will do, Spartan."
As he walked off, she slipped the jetpack onto her back. A quick bleep signaled its integration with the systems of her MJOLNIR. The corresponding icon for the device's fuel meter winked on in a corner of her HUD.
"How is it?" Barrett asked.
"The plug-in's just fine. Where's your radioman by the way? I need to make a call."
"One sec." He turned to the wider landing area. "Splinter-4, get over here."
A moment later, an ODST came trotting up the stairs with a radio set on his back.
He halted at the bay, snapping off a salute to the lieutenant commander. "Who're we aiming for, ma'am?"
"Get me the rest of Noble. I need everyone on the line for this one."
"Roger."
She waited while he got to work on his equipment, finding and securing her a channel. The wait was a short one. A slight burst of static flitted through her comms and he flashed her the okay sign.
"Noble-2 to Noble Team, come in, over."
"Noble-3 here." Jun said.
"Thanks for the call." Emile replied, his characteristically subtle sarcasm dripping off his voice. "I was starting to get a little lonely over here."
"I hear you, 2." Carter replied. "Go ahead."
Kat made a quick mental run-through of her report. "My team's ready for the aerial insertion. Just waiting on your go, Noble-1."
"Same here." Emile added.
"Copy." Carter said. "Noble-3?"
"Almost there. My techs needed some extra help getting the Tick together so it's taking us a little longer."
"Any delays?"
"Not if I can help it. We should be ready in time."
Carter let out a concerned sigh. "I'll have to take your word for it, Noble-3. I just got off the phone with Major General Hoffman and Rear Admiral Hasegawa. I've got good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?"
"Let's get Hoffman's, first." Jun said. "If I had to guess, he's the one with the bad news, right?"
"It's the other way around. Apparently, he's reinforced the city's remaining missile batteries. They're rearmed and ready to go online the second we give them the all clear."
"Oh. Well, that's nice to know."
Kat felt her jaw clench on its own. "And the bad news?"
"Hasegawa's spotted another wave of Covenant air support inbound to the city. Because they're so staggard, FLEETCOM's still working on a general estimate for their arrival."
"Did they at least give a guess?" Emile asked.
"Sometime around 0600."
"Well, that's just perfect, isn't it?" Jun groaned. "They're rolling in at the same time as the op."
"A little too perfect if you ask me." Emile intoned.
"Coincidence or not, we need this done." Carter said. "The assault itself is expected to hit the parts of the city under UNSC control. They're probably aiming to assist with the breakout of those ground forces moving from the landing zones. That means that more than likely, they won't be focusing on us. Our window's still open."
Kat wondered how long it would stay that way. "Noble-4's right, sir. That timing's uncanny. Think they won't send a few Seraph squadrons to check out what's happened here? Four Phantoms suddenly going dark so close to their logistical centers would warrant the attention."
"That's only if they have the resources to spare, and they won't until that wave gets here. By then, it'll be too late for them to do anything about it."
She hoped he was right. No, she knew he was right. He usually was.
"Take out the zones, bug the ships and bail out before those reinforcements get here." Jun said. "Is that about right?"
"It's the only way to keep our missile batteries from getting distracted by that wave." Carter replied. "We'll need to make this fast."
"And what about those hostages?" Kat questioned. "Is there still a window for them to extract?"
"I wanted to ask about that too." Emile seconded. "I know 3 was the only one not to spot Brutes playing hide and seek with civilians. His sector's clear but ours aren't. My Team 1's still waiting for my signal."
"So is mine." Carter said. "And they'll get one. Those trams from the 77th will still be running on time. So long as our teams can act fast, they'll all have passengers to bring home. We're not leaving anyone behind, Noble. Keep that in mind so you can focus on the mission."
"Roger."
Kat checked her mission timer: '0 hr. 35 mins.'
She bit her lip at what was shaping up to be a close shave. "Got it, sir."
"I think I've got the easiest job here." Jun noted. "All I have to do is blow up some buildings and plant a tracker. You guys have to-"
He stopped, or rather was stopped by a sudden burst of static. It took Kat only a moment to realize that it wasn't a general signal disruption. The way that the ODSTs around her continued to operate unphased was her first clue. No, it was coming from within, from the team's private freq. After a second or two, it stopped, disappearing just as suddenly as it came.
A few beats passed before anyone was ready to speak again.
"Was that-..." Jun paused, just as unsure as Kat was.
"I'll check to see where that came from." Carter said. "In the meantime, get set for the operation. We're down to the wire here. Be ready for anything."
"Copy. Noble-3 out."
"See you on the other side." Emile said.
As the three of them signed off, Kat was left alone on the line. She soon signed off as well, albeit with no small bit of hesitation.
"So?" Barrett asked, reminding her of his presence at her side.
"...The missile batteries are ready."
"And?"
He was perceptive enough to know she'd left something out.
Not bad, she thought.
"And we have another Covenant assault wave due to be here around the same time as our op. Seems like our friends in purple have a dawn offensive in mind."
Barrett stared up at her for a while, cocking his head quizzically, as if she'd said something he didn't understand. But she knew he understood.
"It is what it is." She said almost reluctantly. "Now we need to be able to handle it, take it in stride."
The captain shook his head, glaring down at his blood-soaked boots. "More like a run. Anything else?"
"I'll let you know if something comes up. In the meantime, just be ready for anything."
"...Anything and everything, roger that."
He walked back towards the stairs, heading over to the scattered patrols on the main pad. Kat meanwhile strolled off on her own. She walked around to the other side of the dropship in order to get a clearer view of the area.
She peered past the towering shadows of the awakening city to the distant horizon.
"Be ready for anything." She thought to herself, but in truth, as she recalled the random burst of static on the team comm, she was really only hoping for one thing in particular. Two in fact.
:********:
Duncan set himself up in between a sedan and a fallen dumpster. The former had run off the road and crashed headlong into the latter, cracking the front hood like an egg and tossing a surge of trash onto the sidewalk. He wasn't sure what had become of the driver, but he was at least grateful for the extra cover. There was a solid wedge in between them that was just wide enough for him to stand in. The sleek rooftop of the sedan gave him a good line of sight on anything to the fore while the thick bulk of the dumpster would spare him from anything shy of a fuel rod.
Going towards the right side of the street, Yuri was closest to him. He had hunkered down behind an overturned jeep whose wheels had been blasted out from under it, sandwiching the crushed interior between undercarriage and asphalt.
Further off, Rico had found his own cover atop the back trunk of a heavy-duty truck. While the windows had been shattered through and through, the trunk offered a commanding view of the street ahead and the target building beyond.
Further down the road, some 30-meters west of their position, were the grounds of the historical society building. The rotund structure was no less guarded than it had been when they first arrived. The guardian contingent of over a dozen Brutes were back at their posts. Having long since returned from their last 'hunt', they stood watch in a loose arrangement around the perimeter, crushing the delicate flowers of the outside gardens underfoot as some drifted from place to place. Many of them weren't really standing watch either. Several small clusters of two or three each had gathered to talk. The group conversations left a little less than half their number to actually keep an eye out. Even then, their lookout was faulty. Despite the quartet of Shade turrets spaced out around the building, most of the perimeter was unmanned. The majority of their defenses were on the east side of the structure. It was one of those things that made Duncan realize they weren't truly trying to defend anything at all. Their sole interest was in waiting for the next batch of people to be brought kicking and screaming outside. They only cared about the next hunt and that was it.
It sickened him in more ways than one. Where Elites would've made a complete defense, something much more formidable, the Brutes had created one haphazardly, made to keep things in rather than out. They didn't care that their lines could be infiltrated, or at the very least hadn't given much thought to it.
They didn't care that they could be surrounded on their own turf.
He wondered if they would even care if they knew that they were in fact surrounded. Perhaps they wouldn't pay any heed to the idea until bullets started flying. But that would be for the best.
The less prepared they were, the more advantageous the rescue effort.
The platoon had them encircled. The fireteam format had made a return. Each of the four roads they had seen the Brutes use before were now under quiet occupation. The small teams of three or four were spread out within the cover of the streets, maintaining a uniform 30-meter distance from the target. By contrast, the enemy was overwhelmingly exposed, standing out in the open. They were facing overlapping fields of fire that would hit them from four different directions. Still, they didn't suspect a thing.
The element of surprise was in the platoon's favor.
Regardless, Duncan had his concerns. On a neighboring street somewhere to their left, Nova was playing babysitter. There was nowhere else for them to take Lizzy. Circumstance forced them to keep her close at hand. No one liked it but no one could find another way around it. Nova was stuck to her side in an alley just a short jog away from the line. She was ready to run in for backup if need be. Either way, so long as Lizzy was with them, her safety was at risk.
Like he had been doing for the past ten minutes straight, Duncan cast a nervous eye at his mission timer: '0 hr. 07 min.'
The comms came alive again, sparing him the torture of counting down each second. "Ep-1 to Whiskey-3 and 4, I want another sitrep on the inside of the target building."
"We got you, sir." Lang replied. "Nothing's changed. We're still looking at around 70 people in the same groups of about 15 to 17 each. One near the entrance, one in the center and two at the rear."
"Hostile count?"
"About the same as before." Mackley said. "Five, although we've got two of them on the group near the entrance."
Duncan dared to peer back to the east. About 200-meters to their rear, near the coffee shop, stood a line of apartment complexes. He spotted the one closest to the shop itself. He could just barely see the two black specks lying prone on the roof. It was as good a place as any to set up an overwatch.
"Alright, keep an eye on those two shades to the north and south." The Staff said. "Ep-6, Whiskey-5, remember, you've got the ones in the center. As soon as things pop off, get on task. I want those turrets knocked out before they even know there's a problem."
"You got it, jefe." Rico said.
"You can count on us, sir." Reznik added.
"Good. The second that antipersonnel cover is gone; I need all four of you working crowd control. We can't let them regroup. Everyone else, get ready to draw them out. Use your frags if you need to. Don't let them get too close and don't let them retreat to the building. Strike hard and strike fast."
A collective "Copy that" rang out over comms.
Duncan got a gauge on his ammunition using his HUD. Satisfied with the magazines in his pockets and the reassuring weight of the frags on his belt, he pressed his SMG back into place. He planted an elbow on the crumpled hood of the sedan, setting a shoulder against the side of the dumpster to steady his aim.
He checked the timer again: '0 hr. 5 min.'
He let out an impatient breath. It was taking too long. The jitters he always got ahead of an ambush were slowly creeping in.
He glanced off far to the right of the target building. Over 100-meters to the north of it, he could see the guide rails of the local maglev station whose tracks ran east to west at ground level.
He was wondering how quickly they could make a run for it when Mackley's voice broke the silence.
"Hey-hey, heads up, we're getting a lot of movement on the inside."
Duncan's eye shot back to the timer: '0 hr. 4 min.'
Immediately, he knew that something was about to go horribly wrong.
"What is it?" The Staff asked.
"They're getting one of the groups on their feet. Looks like they're almost ready to push them outside."
Duncan squeezed his M7's foregrip with a worried grasp. That wasn't part of the plan. They were moving earlier than they were ready for. He looked off in the direction of the landing zone. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary going on there as yet. Things were about to get far ahead of schedule. Too far.
"Leave it to the Brutes to suddenly get proactive." Dalton grumbled. "Or maybe the time the kid gave us was off. What're your orders, sir?"
The Staff's reply wasn't as quick as Duncan would've liked. "Ep-7, get me a line to Noble-2."
"Already secured, sir." Zack said, having caught on well ahead of time.
"Ep-1 to Noble-2, we've got a situation on our hands, over."
"Same here, Ep-1. Can I get some specifics?"
"This one might affect the mission, Noble-2. My overwatch just confirmed the Brutes are moving the next batch of civvies outside for another hunt. We've still got four more minutes on the clock. What would you advise?"
There was a noticeable pause from the Spartan. "Keep in mind, Ep-1, I'll do what I can on my end, but if you go loud right now, that Covenant air support will still be in play."
"...I'm aware."
"...Then you have your window, Staff Sergeant. Take it."
"Will do."
Even as the conversation ended, there was already something new to take up Duncan's attention. Something worse. Much worse.
He noticed one of the Brutes had turned away from its conversation with two of its packmates. It sniffed at the air. Its head began to shift, looking this way and that. The others nearby spoke to it, talking in a language he couldn't understand but in a tone that he could. They were asking what was wrong. The Brute paid them no heed and continued to smell the air.
Duncan felt a cold pain in the pit of his stomach. He remembered then that the rain had stopped. It was no longer dulling their senses or muting the platoon's scent. It wouldn't be long before the Brute and the rest of its pack picked up on it, if they hadn't already.
"Be advised, one of the guards is going bloodhound." He warned. "Might be trying to sniff us out, over."
Another long pause.
"Copy your last, Ep-8." The Staff said. "Keep an eye on it. Platoon, if they catch on before they bring out those civilians, open fire. We'll just have to deal with whatever comes after."
Duncan wasn't so sure they could. He watched the Brute finally begin to engage with its packmates, pointing down one of the streets as it spoke in their language. The others, those who were paying attention to it at any rate, looked where it was pointing with bewildered faces. One of them even sniffed at the air merely to shake its head in disagreement. But the Brute persisted. It kept pointing, kept arguing, until its audience was suddenly pulled elsewhere.
The doorless vestibule of the historical society came alive with activity. Over a dozen civilians came running out onto the front steps. As the last group had a few hours earlier, they stampeded across the outer yard, some hesitating at the sight of the guards, others dashing right past them. The chieftain came on their heels. Coming to stand on the front portico, it held its gravity hammer with one hand and held the other high in the air.
"Here they come." The Staff said. "Grab them or get their attention but don't let them pass you."
Duncan was ready. He kept a close watch on the civilians as they dispersed from the grounds and slipped into the streets. The way the Brutes had established their perimeter essentially funneled them towards the platoon, as planned.
Three civilians came rushing down the road he was on, two middle-aged men and a young woman. The fearful haste in their every step as they ran across puddled asphalt reminded him of Lizzy.
"I'll take the brunette." Yuri said.
Rico shot him a look. "Don't let Ep-10 hear you say that."
"Too late." Renni hissed.
Duncan had already slipped behind the back trunk of the sedan, waiting for one of the older men to get close. Once he was within range, he peeked his head out, though only so far that the man could see his visor. He watched him skid to a stop barely in time to choke down a surprised scream. Duncan made a slashing gesture at his throat and waved him over.
His new charge took one last look at the building before slipping behind the sedan as well.
"Th-, thank-, thank you." He whispered, breathing hard.
Duncan pointed to the overturned van at his back. "Get behind that. Go."
The man broke out of his moment's hesitation. Gathering his courage, he kept his head down and scurried behind the van.
Across the way, Yuri and Rico had done the same, pointing the other two civilians to safer spots at the rear. They hunkered behind what cover there was and fastened their heads under their arms. They must've picked up on what was about to happen.
"Platoon?" The Staff called.
One by one, the ad hoc fireteams reported their catch. None of the civilians had managed to slip through their net.
"Good goalkeeping, troopers. Now for the hard part."
Duncan could see the 'hard part' as clear as day. The Brutes hadn't budged, not yet. The main holdup seemed to be the same one that had smelt the air. All of them, even their chieftain, were now listening while it pointed to the streets, speaking in a tone that was as cautioning as it was demanding. The chieftain didn't take too kindly to it. It barked dismissively, saying something along the lines of 'stop being ridiculous' in their boisterous tongue. The Brute with the sensitive nose could do nothing but watch while their leader raised its hand again. The rest of the pack ignored the protests of their comrade as they readied themselves. Muscles tensed, fists tightened, clawed feet scratched backwards over concrete like fingers over chalkboard as their owners hunched over, preparing to launch themselves forward.
Then the chieftain's hand fell.
A wave of bellowing howls ripped through the Brutes as they unleashed a stampede of their own. They charged into the nearby streets with a speed indicative of a meal in waiting, leaving behind only the chieftain and the sole outlier: the whistleblower of the pack. The latter refused to move. It looked on furiously at its kin while they carried on without it.
Duncan spotted four of them careening down the street towards him. With fangs bared and eyes ablaze, it was an unsettling sight to say the least. He returned his M7 to his harness. With his hands free, he pulled out both of his grenades, hooked his thumbs into the pins and held fast. He glanced over at Yuri who nodded back in turn, showing off his two flashbangs like prizes he'd won at a carnival.
The howling, baying quartet were within 10 meters of them when the Staff's one-word order arrived.
"Now!"
The rain and thunder had long since ceased when the lightning came. In a blink, Duncan became aware that something had flashed overhead, confirmed by the echo of a secondary explosion.
Rico rose up and fired his grenade launcher with a loud THWUMP. The projectile sailed on at an arcing vector even as Yuri wheeled out from cover, tossing a flashbang into the open.
Duncan braced.
A blast of light and sound struck the street. He heard the surprised yelps of the Brutes and rose into position. The four charging giants were now stumbling, slamming into vehicles as they struggled to see. Safety pins pinged off the ground even as he made one toss and then another, spacing them out one behind the other.
If the Brutes noticed the pair of grenades that bounced and rolled into their midst, they paid no attention until the blast. Twin-explosions of heat and shrapnel erupted into growling faces and exposed backs. The first ripped armor from fur and flesh from bone, earning cries of pain from each. The second doused them in percussive force, lifting the rearmost Brute clear off its feet as a severed leg spiraled after it. It crashed down onto the roof of a car, caving it in with a burst of shattered glass.
Duncan's muscle memory kicked in and he had his submachine gun in his hands faster than he could remember picking it up. He already knew the one on the car had died on impact, setting his sights instead on the three survivors that looked haggardly about them, desperately whipping spike rifles from their belts to aim at shadows.
Another flash of light flickered overheard.
Another heartbeat.
Another explosion.
Then he was shooting. Yuri was with him. Without a word, sheer instinct had directed them both to the same target, the closest Brute. It immediately staggered back as a wave of 5-millimeter rounds crashed into it, stabbing its center of mass with the fury of a beehive. In less than a second it was reeling, firing its spike rifle haphazardly so that superheated tungsten gouged and ricocheted off the street. It raised a hand to cover its eyes, earning it a burst to the foot from Duncan that shot the leg out from under it. Even as it fell, a burst from Yuri caught it in the head, shifting its descent so that it twirled on one leg. It crashed down on its back, dead before it even hit the ground.
Their spent magazines hit the street at the same time. As they wheeled back behind cover to reload, a hail of spikes shot past, thrusting by with such speed that they looked like oversized tracers.
"Ep-5!" Duncan yelled, flinching as a spike impaled the ground near his boot.
"Do you even need to ask!?" Yuri said, practically laughing. His M7 pressed against his chest, he dexterously pulled the pin on his last flashbang and tossed it in the same motion. It spun through the air and into the depths of the street, going off in a familiar flash. More cries of pain ensued.
Duncan finished slapping in his next magazine and pivoted back into the line of fire.
Back down the street he saw one of the last two Brutes standing out in the open, its eyes clenched shut from the stun effect. On the other side of the road was its comrade who had gotten to cover behind the back of a jeep. A blast of electrified fire briefly lengthened their shadows. Farther behind the pair, both Rico and Reznik's 40-millimeters finally bounced into their targets. The mirroring detonations tore through the open carriages of the closest shades, hurling the Grunt gunners free of the controls in bloody expulsions. They were the last to fall after Lang had reduced the first set to a pair of smoking pyres.
Duncan took in everything with one breath and addressed it in the next. He traded the Brute out in the open for the one hiding behind the jeep, a jeep left aflame by his grenades. He fired at the vulnerable engine block. Two tentative bursts stitched the hood with bullet holes, a third finally setting it off. The resulting explosion punched the jeep off its front wheels like a whinnying horse, bucking the Brute back into the middle of the street. It landed hard on its spine, its momentum barreling it face first into a heavy-duty tire. It struggled to pull itself up, barely getting halfway before a wash of fully automatic fire sliced through face and throat alike. It collapsed in a gargling heap while the stream of gunfire switched over to its friend.
The last Brute was too exposed to hope for a miracle. Still, it got one once Duncan heard a dry clack from his M7. A mere second passed between him realizing one weapon was empty and unloading the next, whipping out his M6C magnum to rejoin his efforts to Yuri's.
The lone survivor strained under the weight of the onslaught. It raised its spike rifle to fire blindly into where it thought they were, striking out a streetlight in a shower of glass and sparks. Duncan spent two rounds into its shoulder, knocking it off balance.
"Reloading!" Yuri shouted.
"Covering!" Duncan upped the ante and angled a shot at its face, catching it in the mouth. Its head whipped aside as teeth flew out in a spray of blood. He got off two more shots into its cheek before Yuri was back in the fight. It turned its back to the automatic assault, letting its flank tank the damage while it reached for its belt. It spun back around with enough force for an overhead swing.
Duncan almost didn't see the toss for what it was, or the yellow flare flying towards him for the danger that it posed.
He predicted its descent and threw himself behind the side of the dumpster. He heard the spike grenade jab into the ground where he'd been standing. It sizzled like a campfire a split-second before detonating, spewing a constellation of crisscrossing spikes. They ricocheted off one surface and thudded into another. He heard more than a few skewer the thick metal of the dumpster at his back.
Once he was in the clear, he got up and opened fire from his new post, hitting nothing but air. The Brute was already folding in on itself as Yuri finished it off, stenciling a fine grouping into its chest. It finally gave in and collapsed with a groan.
There was another loud THWUMP followed by a mirroring sound from an adjacent street. Rico and Reznik sent out their next salvo of grenades. The projectiles rose and fell in a clean arc before exploding directly above their targets. Two corresponding eruptions ensued, the remains of the last pair of Shades flying apart in a blaze of debris.
"Shades are out of business, Ep-1!" Rico said.
"Copy! Platoon, push up! Overwatch, keep your eyes on the sky! We'll need a heads up if that air support arrives!"
"It's already here, sir." Mackley said, a hint of doubt in his voice. "I've got about three Banshees heading our way from the direction of the landing zone, 300-meters southwest and closing, over."
Duncan checked the skies on his left. Moving against the clouds to the southwest of their location were three slowly expanding dots. Purple dots.
"Whisky-4, I need aerial interdiction on those flyers!" The Staff ordered. "Don't let them get in close! Platoon, get-"
The Staff was cut short by a new tidal wave of spikes that crashed into Duncan's position with a sudden fury. He pressed himself back behind his makeshift cover. He edged his visor around the front tire of the sedan, sneaking a glimpse of the source.
Two of the Brutes who had chased after the civilians had gone running back to the target building, firing behind them as they went. Further back, the front steps of the building had been reoccupied by six more of their kin. Four of them had come racing outside, abandoning their charges in the interior for the sounds of battle. They unleashed their spike rifles with surprising coordination so that no street on their eastern flank was left unattended. Joining the bark of its grenade launcher to their fire was the outlier, the whistleblower that the others had ignored. It let out a howl of vengeful vindication while it squeezed off an unrelenting stream of projectiles in the Staff's direction.
Nova's worried yell took over the comms. "Ep-1, you still there!?"
The Staff came back coughing. "Yeah, still here. That thing just set off my minivan. Heads up, Ep-4, I'm switching cover! Platoon, let'em have it!"
Duncan crouched over to the other side of his sedan, slipped a new magazine into his SMG and popped up for another round.
The others were issuing a rising flood of return fire that drilled into concrete, chipped away at armor and burrowed into flesh. The Brutes took the renewed storm of lead head-on. They didn't so much as waver, not even as the bullet-riddled corpse of one of their own came barreling down the steps. Duncan scoped in on the one with the grenade launcher and bore into it with steady three-round bursts. The way other rounds stabbed and sparked off its frame showed that a few others were doing the same, trying to pull its fury in every direction.
"Ep-6, Whiskey-5, where's my crowd control!?" The Staff demanded.
"On it!" Rico replied.
Rico thumbed his next grenade into his M319 and snapped the chamber shut. He raised the barrel at the right angle and let loose, Reznik following suit in quick succession.
Duncan didn't see where the projectiles landed as his sight was drawn away of its own accord. The flash of hypersonic munitions overhead naturally pulled his eyes to the stimulus. By then, the cockpit of the closest Banshee had already evaporated. Liquified debris ballooned out along the vector of the exit wound as the miniature vacuum in space punched the wreck into a death spiral. A heartbeat later and its neighbor disappeared in like fashion, its remains falling away in a fiery rain. The last flyer managed to catch on in time to dive down on an evasive maneuver.
He didn't get the chance to feel hopeful about the situation before Mackley's alarm killed it. "I've got another heads-up, Ep-1! I'm seeing 12 Banshees inbound from the northwest! Looks like an incoming patrol, 350-meters and closing!"
Duncan snuck a wary look at the skies to his right. Sure enough, against the purplish-blue hue of the brightening clouds were a dozen shapes, each of a matching color and yet bearing distinct silhouettes. The squadron was arranged in a high-low reconnaissance formation so that six of them were flying watchfully from above and six more were flying below. The latter were closer to the rooftops, more than able to strike down anything that their lookouts detected. Their shapes were growing in scale, becoming more detailed as they neared striking distance.
For what seemed the one billionth time that day he checked his mission timer and held his breath: '0 hr. 1 min.'
:********:
Kat had a hard time seeing the appeal of a Phantom dropship. It had no seats for one. It barely had anything to hold onto for another. She had to prop her prosthetic hand against the wall of the troop bay, the other being busy with holding up the weight of the FIELD system. She had it cradled in her arm like an infant, a 36-kilogram infant. A combination of her MJOLNIR and her own physique made it so that the strain was nigh non-existent. However, that wasn't her main concern. It was the jetpack on her back. She needed to be able to generate as much lift as possible if she hoped to get in close. In pursuit of that goal, she had traded in her weapons and ammo so as to lighten her load.
Save for the steady thrum of the twin impulse drives and the gentle sway of the floor, the bay was quiet and still. If she hadn't known any better, she would've thought that the whole of Team 2 had vanished. But they were there at her back, sitting or standing where they could find room. Over two dozen ODSTs were at her beck and call. They were ready to step in if she needed them. As grateful as she was for the backup, however, they would be good for nothing at all if they were compromised. She could say the same for herself.
She stood close to a doorway. On the other side lay the support platform of the starboard plasma cannon. They'd left it unmanned on purpose. The view was perfect for her to gauge their speed as they made their final approach.
They were already half a kilometer above ground. The upper elevation cleared them of most of the urban canopy of rooftops, raised venues and overhanging eaves and put them on par with the tallest skyscrapers. It also gave her a front row seat to the enemy airshow.
The first thing to catch her interest was the myriad of Covenant elements that had come to occupy the skies. Scores of Banshee squadrons roved the lower elevations. Each of them half a dozen strong or more, they moved like expansive fishing nets along the seafloor, searching the streets for signs of an easy catch. Further above them were the larger, faster Seraphs that prowled the higher elevations. Their V-shaped formations made them apt at combing the local airspace for signs of a threat from above. It also incidentally created the shape of a massive, arrow-patterned halo, one which circled high over the outer edges of the landing zone in a clockwise rotation. The peripheral patrols of the Banshees below and the inner holding patterns of the Seraphs above contributed to the overall feel that the landing zone itself had created: that of a giant clock, one counting down to the demise of the city and everyone in it.
Scattered in between all of that was the regular air traffic. Incoming and outgoing dropships made their appearance from parts both distant and far off. They came in seemingly from every direction and went wheresoever they chose. Some moved in groups like schools of hammerheads coasting near the ocean surface. Others went alone as solitary great whites gliding alongside the coast. Each craft carried with it an air of innate danger that bordered on predatory. For the time being, however, that nature seemed to be curtailed for the sake of mundane errands, supply runs, troop deliveries and other tasks.
At the focal point of the buzz of activity was the corvette, her objective. It floated in the air with that same unnerving stillness that she had come to expect of it. Its imposing shape was set against the backdrop of a purple blue dawn. The consequence was that the clouds of the early morning melded almost seamlessly with the matching sheen of the ship's hull. It acted similarly to the traditional camouflage implored by the navies of old Earth. If it weren't for that same stillness, the slight silhouette and the web of lights dotting its underbelly, she might have had a hard time seeing it altogether.
In equal fashion, she would have had a more troubling time of it with spotting its kindred neighbor. Further off to her right was another corvette. It had laid similar claim to the skyline just a kilometer and a half to the northwest of the one they were heading to. In an eerie mirror of the scene she was approaching, the ship also had a cloud of Seraph fighters patrolling its perimeter in a rotating defense. Its entourage was further complimented by bands of Banshees that dipped in and out of view as they moved through the lower parts of the city. She still couldn't quite see the other landing zone which the ship undoubtedly hovered over like a mother bird with her nest.
Jun and his team would be the ones cracking the eggs on that front.
She left the door and crossed to the other side of the troop bay, listening as the wind howled against the Phantom's hull and found its way inside. The airflow coming from the portside door was far fiercer. The morning had seen the regional winds change direction and come up from the south, pushing against the port of the dropship in arrhythmic bursts. Her armor spared her from the icy breath of Viery as she put a steadying hand to the door and looked outside.
Two more scenes akin to the first two were present in the south. The other pair of corvettes spanned out over other sectors of New Alexandria. They were oriented in such a way that the formation of the entire battlegroup possessed an alignment which slanted towards the southwest. The landing zone of the closest of the pair was being handled by Carter's crew, the furthest away by Emile's.
Boots clanked over the floor of the troop bay and stopped at her side. Captain Barrett said nothing for a while as he took in the view for himself.
"It's almost time."
Kat instinctively checked her mission timer. '0 hr. 3 mins.'
"That it is."
"I just spoke with Splinter-2. He says the air traffic control is telling him to descend to 200-meters for final approach."
She looked over her shoulder at him. "He put in for a refueling request?"
Barrett nodded, and she realized then that he was holding his helmet against his hip, allowing her to see his face for the first time. Exposed to the wind was a diamond jaw and a square-shaped head of black hair, both framing a ghost of a smug grin that was there even when his expression seemed neutral.
Nothing in her demeanor betrayed it, neither did her visor expose any detail of her own face, but she winced. The motion was so subtle that she nearly missed it herself.
Then the moment of mistaken recognition faded away and she saw the captain as he was, even though none of his features had changed. It didn't stop her heart from fluttering with a kick of anxiety.
For an instant, a painfully slow second, she thought she'd seen a ghost.
But the captain was no ghost. He reminded her of that fact as he carried on the conversation she was only just remembering that she was a part of.
"Yes ma'am, as ordered. They're letting us dock at the corvette. Thankfully, the sheer amount of traffic is keeping them reliant on automated systems. They're not really looking into anyone right now. Works out just fine for us since nobody here speaks Covie."
"Right. We'll maintain that façade up to the last second and kick things off before we get too close."
"Sounds good to me."
She maintained her composure, not showing how much the uncanny resemblance had unsettled her as she turned back to the other corvettes. "And one more thing, 5-Actual-"
She was on the ground.
She wasn't sure when she'd gotten there, but she was suddenly aware that she was lying flat on her back.
Her spine pulsed with pain, one of many different agonies she felt rippling through her entire body.
She flitted open her eyes. What she saw was a fractured sky that seemed to crack at the seams as smoke billowed up all around it. Explosions tore at the air and shook her aching bones. But then everything flickered out into a dark nothingness, only to flicker back in again, back out and back in as an erratic stream of sight. She quickly put the pieces together. It wasn't the sky that was fractured and broken. It was her visor, her helmet, her.
The last thing she remembered was a green flash, the world turning end over end before finally slamming back down on her.
Her chest was tight. She could barely suck in a breath and had to wheeze in the faintest traces of air. Something moderately weighty had been cradled in her left arm. She was sure of it. Her right arm was a different story. She couldn't feel it at all.
Something was beeping.
It sounded almost like a heart monitor but operating at twice the speed. At first, she thought it was her helmet, only to realize that it was coming from outside her armor. It was somewhere close, right next to her even, but she couldn't find the strength to lift her own head.
She had been trying to do something. She was sure of that too, but she couldn't remember what it was, something important.
The beeping continued.
Its repetition stung her with the feeling that she was failing, that she needed to get back on her feet. The message, however, refused to reach her legs.
Then, louder than the explosions, louder than the tracers and plasma whizzing overhead, were a pair of footsteps. They were coming towards her. She spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. She strained her neck just enough to turn her head.
Another Spartan stood over her.
Even in a daze, she could recognize the armor of her teammate. He was a statue, motionless against the deadly fireworks that raged all around him, his V-shaped visor giving an emotionless stare that nevertheless conveyed everything.
She wanted to call out to him, to warn him of what was about to happen as she remembered what she'd been carrying. She couldn't say a word. Her mouth wouldn't even budge, so she used her head instead, tilting it the other way towards her right.
The Spartan didn't say a word, but she knew, she knew he understood.
He didn't waste another second as he reached down to grab at the thing she'd dropped. He came back up, holding the FURY-class tactical nuke like a football. It continued counting down in his hand as he turned his back on her. Her visor made it so that he seemed to glitch around as the thrusters of his jetpack extended out and fired at full force. He shot off into the air at high speed, heading towards the dark, distant visage of a Covenant battlecruiser.
There was no goodbye. Time and experience had taught her that there usually never was.
But she wished there was.
She wished for it even as she watched him fly into the cruiser's gravity lift and disappear into its belly, even as she watched the ship erupt in a cascade of explosions from the inside, even as its fiery remains raced towards the ground in a furious meteor shower.
She wished for it even as she waited for him to come back, knowing full well that time had not been on his side, something he must have understood well enough on his own.
"You never could let anyone else take the risk for once, could you?"
The question slipped out as naturally as a breath of air, almost as quiet as one too. But she already knew the answer. She remembered it as clear as day even after the friend whose actions had shown it to her had become nothing more than a memory, an empty spot filled again and emptied again.
"Noble-2?" Barrett asked, suddenly reminding her that he was there, that she was in fact on Reach and not somewhere else.
"Be ready." She replied. "Our happy hour is just about up."
"Roger that."
'0 hr. 2 min.'
She looked away from the timer while she checked their descent. Splinter-2 was a convincing pilot, no doubt from years of experience fighting and perhaps even commandeering such aircraft. She watched while they went down at a gentle decline and a gradual turn to starboard.
Eventually their landing zone came back into view. So too did the corvette. She peered up at the ship, at the Seraph fighters that stalked around it like a flock of vultures. In that moment, however, she couldn't help seeing a battlecruiser floating without a care over exploding skies. In the distance, she almost thought she could see the small speck of a Spartan flying into its gravity lift.
She wondered if it was her turn now.
She had to force her mind to stop making one too many comparisons. In so doing, she recalled what she was actually trying to ask before.
"Secure me a line to the rest of Noble. We'll keep this in sync."
"It's already secured, ma'am." Barrett replied. "Splinter-4 stayed a step ahead."
"Perfect."
She rifled through the available comm frequencies and settled on the one that had already been established. "Noble-2 to Noble Team, come in, over."
"Hear you loud and clear, 2." Carter said. "Alright, everyone's here. Listen, Noble, it's time to wrap things up. Detonators out. I want a synchronized activation. We don't need the Covenant having even a second to figure out what's going on."
"All together now." Jun kidded before his tone characteristically sobered up. "Copy. We're doing this a little ahead of schedule, right?"
"One minute ahead." Carter confirmed.
Kat was aware of the reason for the changeup. She was the cause of it, or rather her Team 1 was. After Staff Sergeant Atell had called in to update her on the situation with the hostages, she'd convinced the commander to cut a minute from their countdown. She hoped it would at least speed things up for them.
"Wouldn't mind doing it now." Emile said coolly. "It's been a long night, sir."
"And it's almost done." Carter replied. "Another 30 seconds isn't much of an inconvenience, is it Spartan?"
"Depends on the 30 seconds."
"About 25 now." Jun cut in. "I'm all set."
"Same here." Kat said, slipping a hand into a compartment of her armor before pulling out her detonator. She wrapped it in a firm grip, its indicator light coming alive at her touch. She flicked off the security cap and fastened her thumb over the button as it pulsed with crimson light.
"Ready, Noble-4?" Carter asked.
Emile answered with a nonchalance that was as steely as it was reassuring. "Born ready, sir."
"Then let's not keep them waiting."
Kat peered back outside to get a good look at the landing zones, even her own. The mission timer reached the last minute and ten seconds. The atmosphere in the troop bay tensed as every ODST in Team 2 watched the next few seconds tick away.
The first buildings surrounding their landing zone were only 200-meters ahead of them now. She could clearly see the heights of the Triad Community Center growing closer by the moment. She took one last eyeful of the corvette before panning down to the world below. Within the confines of the landing zone was a marching army. Line upon line of Covenant vehicles were assembled in long columns that filtered through the roads of the camp. There were dozens of Wraiths, Ghosts, Revenants and more. Each armored column was accompanied by hundreds of infantry. Thousands of enemy soldiers, Grunts, Jackals and Brutes were following alongside the procession towards the perimeter walls, towards the eastern gates.
Their next advance was already here.
Unbeknownst to them, however, so was the UNSC's counterattack.
She glimpsed her timer again and raised the detonator, counting off the last three seconds with her heartbeat even as Carter led the charge.
"Three...two...one...NOW!"
Her thumb slammed down on the button with such force that she feared she might've broken it. The detonator gave a three-note chime and the outside world rumbled.
She saw the moment of truth in all its glory.
Thunderclaps shook the city, the rising light of Epsilon Eridani momentarily forgotten as several dozen new suns exploded into being, clustering around the landing zones. She watched as multiple detonations ripped through the very foundations of the Triad Community Center, Naphtali Corp Building, Imbrium Machine Complex and World Cuisine HQ, gutting their lower levels, spewing shockwaves of flame and vaporized cement into the air and across the landing zone. The blast waves reached their targets first, supersonic tsunamis of wind that scythed into structure, vehicle and individual alike, submerging everything in a frost of overlapping pressure waves.
In a blink it was over, but only just beginning.
She could see partly through the forest of black smoke that was now sprouting in an uneven ring around the landing zone. The haze clothed the bases of the four target buildings in curling cloaks of fumes, flames gleaming through their shattered windows like numerous glowing eyes. Beyond the buildings themselves was a vision of hell, an inferno that had spread over much of the old Memorial Park. The shattered remains of Covenant structures jutted out from lakes of fire like metal bones. Throngs of figures ran, limped and crawled through the flames of burning streets in an audible panic. They passed by hundreds of dead bodies and person-sized candles, a sea of Covenant troops left broken and burnt. Flickering pyres danced off of maimed Wraiths and eviscerated Revenants that had cratered the ground where they'd landed. The explosive maelstrom had hurled many of them clear of their armored columns, tossing them high into their air before they came crashing down, crushing unlucky infantry as easily as their own buildings. Puffs of debris from landing vehicles had merged with sparking secondaries from compromised ordnance. The carnage covered the outer edges of the zone, causing it to resemble the aftermath of an artillery barrage.
That was just the first phase.
The second phase began with a new noise. The wailing of wounded giants filled the air, growing sharper in pitch as warped infrastructure tried and failed to sustain the flaming gaps in their frames.
The first to begin its descent was the Triad Community Center. With a scream of stressed metal, it finally yielded to the strain and gave way. The cloak of black smoke around its base now ballooned into dark clouds as it began swallowing up the building. Whole floors caved in on top of one another, belching discharges of pulverized concrete that trailed after the center as it collapsed. As planned, the building went down at an angle so that the entire thing leaned forward.
The struggling throngs of survivors below hardly had the chance to realize their peril before they found themselves engulfed in a titanic shadow. The upper floors of the center exploded across the eastern face of the landing zone with a resounding boom. Hundreds of Grunts, Jackals, Brutes and Hunters alike weren't even able to get to cover as a seemingly slow-moving avalanche of debris thrust towards them at the speed of a freight train. A wall of devastation whipped across surviving columns in a blink, engulfing them in a high tide of dust and tumbling rubble.
By that point there were scores of screams ringing out across the rest of the zone. Choirs of voices had their chorus of shock and awe disrupted as their members were caught in the path of the Naphtali Corp building. The cylindrical mass of its upper heights thundered over Covenant structures as its ruined foundations crumbled from underneath. Even as the south side of the area was crushed into clouds of smoke, the northern side was slammed into oblivion by the full weight of the Imbrium Machine Complex. The sheer tonnage of destruction created a corresponding tremor that shook surrounding buildings, fanning the burgeoning forest of debris clouds into a swirling vortex of ash and dust. The manmade tornado closed in on the primary landing zone at the center. The unfortunate loading crews that had gathered there were quickly thrown into shadow as the vortex consumed both it and them. The conflicting winds of displaced air finally met and drove the tornado into a collapse, causing the artificial phenomena to spew skyward with volcanic force.
At first Kat felt an instant of catharsis at the scene, a feeling quickly stolen by a sudden pang of worry.
On the north side of the zone, the World Cuisine HQ was still standing. Tails of fumes bled from its lower levels, but it otherwise remained upright.
Her concern didn't last long. Neither did the building.
Seconds later its superstructure released a death groan of yielding girders. Its base disappeared in rising plumes of dust. It fell several stories straight down into the earth before its structural weakness arrested its descent, instead directing it into a tilt. It leaned forward, falling slowly at first then all at once.
Its shade expanded over the north side of the zone just ahead of its arrival. The touchdown was meteoric, pummeling any surviving structures and troops. What was essentially 40-stories worth of a giant, concrete fragmentation grenade came apart over the area, crashing down hard on exactly where the primary landing zone had been. In so doing, it crushed the first upthrust of debris clouds along with everything beneath them, replacing them with a mushroom of airborne ruin that rose to nearly twice the height of the first.
An artificial earthquake shook New Alexandria to its core
A matching display of destruction unfolded at the other three landing zones. Like giant dominos flicked by unseen fingers, smoking buildings had fallen in on themselves, sending walls of onrushing debris plummeting onto the unsuspecting armies below. Fleeing infantry and armor were chased by house-sized pieces of rubble that rained down on them in meteor showers of annihilation. Puffs of red and blue lights flickered across them, marking where Covenant vehicles and infrastructure met their end beneath the roiling haze.
The devastation was complete and total. Kat looked down towards the miasmic aftermath of her own target. Within the span of 20 seconds there was nothing left of it save for a sea of swirling dust and black smoke that was slowly seeping into the surrounding area. It was a lot like looking at an eyeless hurricane from above. Erratic cascades of blue and red lights bloomed and disappeared beneath the surface as more secondary detonations went off.
Her comms crackled in her helmet, breaking her silent revelry.
"Noble-1 to Noble Team, move to phase two. I repeat, move to phase two."
She hardly needed the encouragement. The Phantom was still on the move. It reached within the last 50-meters of the zone. At such close range she could see the first fruits of their labor.
The air traffic was in utter chaos. Multiple Seraph fighters broke away from their encircling patrol overhead. They descended towards various sectors of the ruins that had once comprised their center of operations. Most stopped short of passing through the veil of smoke. They opted instead to hover over the smog, surfing past the tallest ruins like search boats through a flooded town, scouring for survivors. Others still went off in random directions, perhaps looking for the most likely spots where they deemed the perpetrators would be. The dropships moved in a more confused manner. Having been on supply runs or troop deployments mere seconds earlier, many of them elected to move away. They mounted emergency landings atop neighboring skyscrapers or circled the area in hesitant holding patterns. Further off, the scattered Banshee patrols were beginning to turn back around. They trickled in from the wider city like packs of stray dogs that had finally had the good sense to return home, only to find their owner's house demolished.
Above everything, the corvette retained its reserved stillness with the same apparent indifference that it had shown before. But Kat knew better than to think everything was fine. Its bridge crew were probably in a panic, trying to understand what in the world had just happened.
It was that kind of frenzied, discombobulated command structure that she could work with. They wouldn't be expecting the icing on the cake that she had now come to deliver.
The Phantom picked up the pace, though not going so fast as to make themselves stand out. They passed over the spot where the Triad Community Center had once stood. The open air left in its place was thick with the fog of vaporized materials. They skimmed just above the surface of the gloom, gliding on into the general airspace of the zone. Seraphs, Banshees, Phantoms and Spirits floated past them within the uncoordinated ecosystem. The former two tended to boost by along scattered search patterns. The latter on the other hand tended to drift aimlessly, at times even coming close to flying into them as the air traffic control fell apart. More than ever, she was grateful for the pilot who managed to steer them out of harm's way on each occasion.
Almost to the heart of the zone, they began to rise. The smoke clouds grew less dense the higher they went before disappearing entirely.
In no time at all they had fallen under the shadow of the ship's nose. They kept a respectful distance even then. Flying beneath its underbelly, they were bathed in a myriad of pale lights that glowed perpetually along its frame. It was with a gradual ascent that they finally drew in towards a point on its hull some 700-meters aft of the bow. The stern was in sight as well as one of the launch bays, inverted Banshees that had been rated for space flight peering out of the latter like lines of cocooned moths.
Kat felt the moment that they pulled to a stop. She made a mental note to give her compliments to Splinter-2 for a smooth flight. She gauged that her own flight would be about 10-meters straight up.
The door to the portside gun platform was already open. She shared one last nod with Captain Barrett who, to her quiet relief, had put his helmet back on.
The platform was already set at a slight slope so that her running start gained even more momentum. She leapt off into the open air, letting the first burst of her jetpack arrest her descent. The second burst boosted her upwards at high speed. She rocketed towards the belly of the corvette, cutting her thrusters at the last possible second to stop just shy of slamming into it.
Her freehand shot up and struck the metal, giving the magnetic grip she held the chance to connect, locking its clasps onto the hull with a loud clank.
Gravity returned with a vengeance. She felt the full weight of her armor and her charge pulling down on her grip. She bit her lip against the strain as she heaved the FIELD system up to the hull with her other hand, timing it with another burst from her jetpack. The device nearly yanked itself out of her grasp once its own magnetic clamps sensed the hull. With a muffled clang, it slapped onto the ship like a metallic leach.
The loss of the extra weight made it a little easier on her. Still hanging on, she placed one hand on the grip to free another, reaching for the small keypad at the device's center. Her robotic digits were always the most dexterous, typing in the four-digit activation sequence in less than a second.
Two succinct beeps preceded a stable green glow from its indicator lights. She watched the keypad retract into a slot in the device. A moment later, the entire thing came alive, its components unfolding from its sides like a budding flower. The two small platforms that extended out from its midsection each released a pair of prongs that curved around its circumference like claws. Its piston-like top thrusted out from the main body, prompting the indicator lights around it to strobe a continuous blue. Without further ceremony, its active camouflage systems activated. She watched it flicker out of sight, transforming into a semi-translucent mass that could barely be distinguished from the rest of the hull.
The job was done.
She switched off the magnetization on her grip and let go.
One last thrust from her jetpack stopped her fall and carried her over to the dropship. She landed back on the turret platform, the plasma cannons cicada-esque features giving her enough leverage to pull herself back inside.
"FIELD System deployed, let's get out of here."
"Roger." Barrett said, passing on the message to the pilot.
Right then, the tense atmosphere in the troop bay melted into both relief and anxiousness. It was time to go.
In quick succession, the dropship's drives ramped back up. It swung hard to port, giving her another panoramic eyeful of the chaos she had unleashed. The masses of Covenant aircraft were now gathering about over the area as flies drawn to a corpse, buzzing everywhere in numbers they couldn't possibly hope to match. She was grateful at the very least that their cover hadn't been blown. If it were, the flocks of flyers, fighters and fellow dropships that they passed along the way would have stopped them in their tracks. But they didn't. They let them pass on by at a steady exit vector, unknowingly letting the killers of their own kin escape without a single shot fired.
The carnage of the hazy, smoking hell they had created down below continued to billow and burn, much to her satisfaction. The fact that the corvette would no longer be able to use its shields against what was about to come was an added bonus.
"Noble-1 to Noble Team, report."
"Our Tick's secured and our LZ's thoroughly smoked, commander." Jun said. "Looks like Sodom and Gomorrah down there."
"Ours too, sir." Kat added. "Tick secured; LZ neutralized."
"Good. Same on my end. Noble-4?"
"Could've gone a little heavier on the charges." Emile said. "Otherwise, we're in the clear, sir."
"What happened? Is your zone still intact?"
"No, I was just trying to cave in the ground beneath them too. What we've got going is good enough I guess."
"You know, I'm really starting to think that maybe, just maybe you were a war criminal in your past life." Jun said. "And I appreciate that about you."
"Makes sense, but it doesn't count as a crime if you're the one laying down the law. Good luck to whoever has to clean this up."
"Alright, move to extraction, Noble." Carter ordered. "That missile strike shouldn't be far off. Let's get moving."
The team sounded off in agreement. However, as her dropship slipped out of the area of the landing zone, Kat settled on running one last errand.
Circumdate - Surround