Aboard the UNSC Behavioral Issues
Yes, the name of the ship was a nickname. In truth, nobody bothered calling the Heavy Cruiser that was at the current spearhead of the UNSC's operations by its original name. Mainly because it had slapped an Automaton warship silly with a MAC round when it tried swinging in and firing a few missiles at them, which got them to receive the infamous 'Temper, Temper' from one of the escorting Frigates hanging out in LEO with the rest of the ships above Malevelon.
Alessia found the sight of the Valiant-class Cruiser rather imposing, however. Though it was apparently an old beast, the UNSC Appalachia, the famed 'Behavioral Issues', was anything but old. A new coat of paint, new electronics and weapons systems and even what looked to be Directed Energy Weapons replacing some of the side-mounted twin railguns as Point-Defense.
The damn thing and her escorts even had energy shielding. She'd watched a projectile from one of the planetary defense guns employed by the 'Bots arc up and strike one of the warships meant for invasion support. The ship flared a burning auburn for but a moment, her shields catching most of the heat of whatever type of projectile, kinetic or energy-based, had struck. She didn't so much as have a scratch on her.
Letting out a whistle as she stared out of the hangar doors, she took her helmet off, finally revealing the short-haired young woman. She wiped the sweat off her brow, licked her lips and murmured, "Dear Liberty, thank you for giving us good allies..." before turning to face Johnson, who was rallying up his own men and sending the wounded out. She hummed, then turned and walked over to him.
The man nodded and said, "Gimme a sec, Sarge. Gotta help unload the wounded," before walking over toward one of the stretchers and helping the docks load the patient, a Marine who'd lost his leg, onto it. Seemed as though Triage was being done in the Hangar itself. He did that couple more times before returning to her and stating, "Alright, follow me. We'll need you and your boys to get us up to speed on what we're lookin' at... You're one of the first 'Divers we found with some seniority in this hell hole."
"Malevelon... You've seen what to expect down there. Bastard Robots coming outta the thicket like ants scrambling from the nest," The woman replied. She looked over to her Helldivers, the survivors, and gave a gentle and low swipe of her hand to the right. They all nodded and sat themselves down, allowing her to walk with the Sergeant-Major. She spoke, "Battles are going better in other places from what I've heard, but I've been in knee-deep in the black mud of this place for a while."
"You told me. Basic patrols at first, then it started getting into combat engagements," He nodded, "Havin' vets around is gonna help our boys and girls get acclimatized to it. Your current squad any good?"
"A couple of'em, I've been working with since the start. Three of them are new:A Space Cadet AT Gunner, a medic and a rifleman," She replied calmly as they walked through the halls of the ship, "I trust them, though. The gunner's dumb as a bag of bricks, but his aim with an AT Launcher's like a sniper with our Anti-Materiel Rifles. The medic and the Rifleman are... Odd... But I can live with'em."
"Looked mighty close to me," Johnson smirked, which caused the Sergeant to roll her eyes, smiling at that. Yes, they probably had their C-01s signed already from what she knew of them. As for the launcher guy, he was too stupid to even consider having kids, but he put so many rounds through his recoilless rifle against the enemy that she didn't really care, honestly.
"Whatever the case, they're a good team. Damn shame we lost some of them when we were down there. The Tree of Liberty was truly watered with the blood of patriot and tyrant alike..." She murmured, then stopped and said, "Sergeant-Major... Why do your people help us? I can't imagine it's easy, seeing another version of mankind in another Galaxy, fighting a two-front war."
"It's precisely because it's a two-front war that we're backin' you up," Johnson replied, turning to face her with his arms crossed and a surprisingly serious face now. He told her, "We've received a light briefing on your people and what Super Earth's politics are, but, honestly, a War of extermination against humans has become as much our problem as anything else going wrong in our two Galaxies."
"Huh... What is your people's stance on Managed Democracy?" She asked with a flat tone, arms lowered by her hips. Normally, she'd comment on the fact that they were dissidents or something, but she really didn't feel like shitting on her own parade by not showing the common courtesy of not pissing off one's host here. So, whatever answer he'd say, she'd take at face value.
"Bit weird, but we can live with it for now," Johnson shrugged... Well, the man didn't wanna admit he lied, so he kept as good a poker face on as he could. He thought to himself, too, that it was better not to piss off the alien human species by tellin'em they had one of the dumbest definitions of a democracy known to man, outright fascistic even. They were all footsloggers. And that was what he added. "We're all slogging through the mud, vines and shit together down there. Politics don't matter when you gotta trust your foxhole buddies."
"... Amen," She replied, content with that answer, "Thanks again for saving our asses."
"No problem," The man nodded, then hummed and checked his wristwatch, "Probably should get back to your ships, eh? You can call in your bird to land in the Hangar and the Captain will give a green light for it," Before snapping a quick salute, "Take care, Sergeant."
"You, too, Smage," She smirked, then gave a Super Earth salute. Despite that, the two left off on good terms. The woman sighed deeply as she walked back toward her gathered squad, noticing the smothering of oil and black mud all over their frames, their capes dirty. She approached them, looked at her TACPAD and started tapping in the communication sequence. Sliding her helmet back onto her head, she spoke, "Pelican One, this is Black Actual. Requesting shuttle back to our Destroyer squadron, priority Alpha."
"Roger, Sergeant. Glad to hear you're all alright," Pelican-1 replied coolly as the engines of his transport shuttle audibly revved in the background.
"Not all of us, Pelican..." She sighed, "Black, out," then she approached her team-mates. With one sign from her, they all stood to their feet and stopped talking, with the AT Gunner immediately slinging his weaponry onto his back, the backpack he used to haul ammo currently half-empty. Beside him, the team Medic, clad in a white armor that was stained black by oil and a slight red by the blood of her comrades, whom she'd tried tending to. Beside her sat her comrade in arms.
Lynch was probably being treated by the UNSC's medical personnel, alongside the wounded Marines. As Pelican-1 came in for landing, she told them, "Let's keep it steady, Divers... We might get another job in a few," before she motioned for them to board the landed, black-and-yellow shuttlecraft with the 40mm mounted in its nose. The back hatch popped open, revealing the open seating plan and the dim blue light within. The pilot, Pelican-1, turned to face them, arranging his helmet as he did so.
Pelican-1 looked them over and said, "You folks look like hell..." before swiveling in his seat and activating the aircraft's engines. They turned about and left the hangar, with him also commenting, "Didn't expect them to have that much stuff set up in the Hangar. Everything in order, Sarge?" as they sped toward their own Destroyer Formation. Around them, other Helldiver Destroyers rained hell down upon the surface from their cannons and guns.
"All's well, Pelican One," She replied, then checked her gear. The aircraft swung in for landing at the rear of her Destroyer, the Founding Father of Democracy. Touching down aboard it through the main hangar doors, the group was soon allowed to dismount. Eagle-1 was the first of the crew to greet her with a smirk and a quick Super Earth salute, which the woman replied to in kind.
"Glad to see you made it, ma'am. You and the crew..." The female pilot offered, then looked past the woman and sighed deeply as she saw they were reduced to six people. She continued, "At least, most of'em..."
"Indeed," The Sergeant replied with a nod, taking her helmet off and letting out a sigh. She told the pilot, "You did good. Thanks for the air cover down there," before walking with the woman to the barracks area. The rest of her crew followed close behind, too, as the woman explained to her CAS Pilot, "These UNSC folk aren't... Bad. They don't view things the way we do, but one of their Sergeants told me they're fighting for the survival of our race, so..."
"So, we turn our heads the other way while cooperating with them... The Political Officer ain't gonna be glad about it," The pilot shrugged, then said, "We keep to ours and they keep to theirs, I suppose."
"Better that than shooting at each-other," The Sergeant replied, which caused the female pilot to blank. The Sergeant then continued, "Their vessels have energy shielding. It'd take a dozen of our Destroyers to take them down from what I've seen... And they've been taking blasts from the Automatons' surface-to-orbit batteries right in front of my eyes."
"Sweet Liberty," Murmured the pilot.
Alessia nodded in understanding, then patted her on the shoulder and said, "Get some rest. We'll probably be dropping in a couple hours and I want my pilots in top shape..." to which the woman smiled and nodded. She stepped off toward her dorm room and sighed deeply, dropping onto her bunk as she stared up at the ceiling. Her auburn eyes locked to the poster of the Super Earth Air Force pilots.
She smiled, lifting her hand toward it. It was one of the few possessions she was able to bring over from home and one of the reasons she even chose to drop bombs on the enemies of Managed Democracy. It was a rather wonderful job, just soaring through the skies, dropping payload after payload onto the enemy's forces, hitting their drop-ships outta the sky with strafing runs and just making sure the enemy had no respite from either heaven or Earth.
... It was why her heart began to race when the enemy had an actual counter to her. So far, she had been used to dropping bombs unopposed, with the rare enemy mech shooting a rocket or the arm-mounted autocannon at her. The lock-on alert that screamed in her ears now proved nothing short of a heart-wrenching sound. She spoke over the radio, though couldn't hear her own voice, knowing very well that if the missile hit, she would be knocked out of the sky and, if she managed to eject, falling in the middle of enemy territory.
She felt her airframe rumble as flak from the enemy's anti-air batteries struck around her. She felt the weight of the Gees pulling her into her chair. She felt her ragged, quick breaths as she tried to maintain oxygen flow through to her brain while the flight suit constricted around her, keeping her blood close to her extremities to ensure she wouldn't pass out. A second lock-on alert screamed in her ears as she dumped flares.
She jinked right. The missile jinked with her. She looked back and saw the trail of the missile in the dark sky, the flame belching from its rocket motor and the baleful red eye that tracked her. She tried to utilize flares again, turning left, then swore to herself loudly as the missile struck. Her Heads-Up Display died, engine flaring and burning as the shrapnel tore into the fuel lines and set the aircraft ablaze. She tried to find the nearest enemy outpost and line up with it.
When she was sure she had, she pulled on the ejection chords. The air kicked out of her lungs and she felt her brains pinned to the bottom of her skull as the rockets of the engine roared in her ears. She felt herself start to free-fall, then suddenly felt the last few breaths she took quickly blow out as well, the harness of the chair cutting into her ribs. She grabbed onto the sleeves of the gravity chute, a jetpack, then began guiding herself to touch down among the trees, even as the blur in her eyes began to fade.
She felt herself land feet-first, then belly-flop into a body of water. With a groan, she murmured, "Fuck... Me..." as she turned onto her back and breathed. Detaching her harness, she looked up at the sky as Destroyers up above began raining hell down on the enemy's positions. She put her hand up to her ear and tested her com system, calling out, "Any allied units, any allied units, this is Eagle One transmitting in the blind... Requesting EVAC on my position, Over?"
Static scrambled her communication system. She swore to herself as she undid the last of the Harness's restraints. She must've landed dead close to an enemy jammer in the region. She groaned, straightened up again, then checked the pack she'd landed with. She found a P-2 Peacemaker within, pulling it out and racking the slide to chamber around, she retrieved magazines, an IFAK full of stims and bandages and a mess kit with two survival meals.
Not the best tasting things, she thought, but just enough to keep her going. She stood to her feet, holding close her pistol, then ran a hand through her sweat-laden hair. She looked around at where she'd landed, noting just how thick the forestry was. Trees marked by bullets and old bloodstains. She sighed deeply, then started walking, pistol at the ready just in case.
Trudging through the water and then through the mud nearby the puddle she'd landed in, wet as a cat after a bath and armed with only a sidearm, the woman didn't feel that confident about surviving behind the enemy's lines. Still, she pushed through the shrubs and thick trees, keeping her ears peeled for enemy units. She decided to take a moment and breathe, taking cover behind a tree.
Sliding with her back against it, she dropped down into a seated position, rubbing her eyes and murmuring, "Liberty, I swear, they don't pay me enough for some of this stuff..." before cocking her head over to the left. She gasped as a rumbling series of voices echoed through the mist, then watched as dark-red eyes peered through the fog, an entire twenty pairs of'em, it looked like.
She curled up behind the tree, cradling her pistol close, her eyes wide and breaths shallow, her heart racing. A patrol of 'Bots marched through, past the tree she was hiding behind, close enough for her to smell the fresh oil they'd used to make sure their servos didn't creak or whatever. She peered out, holding her breath as she watched a platoon of Troopers and two Devastators armed with cannons marching by, their feet thundering as they dug into the dirt and flattened the shrubs.
When they were far enough away, the girl scrambled to her feet and ran perpendicular to the patrol route, keeping her pistol close as she dodged the trees around. Her mind decided for her that this was a time where she'd need to keep at least one bullet in the chamber for herself, if the Mechs surrounded her. While she disliked defeatist talk, she figured it was better to mentally prepare herself.
Sacrifice begets victory, after all. She sighed deeply, then continued moving through the fog and shrub and darkness, farther either into enemy territory, or out to safety. It didn't matter much. She'd tried her com twice more, but found it was still filled with Static. Through the canopy of the trees, she could see the enemy firing upon their Destroyers, hell raining down upon the enemy in response from gun batteries and orbital railguns.
She continued creeping forward, barely dodging another patrol as she did so, then dropped to her stomach and went completely dead quiet as a Trooper broke off from the patrol at the Commissar's orders, rifle at the ready. It scanned the surrounding area while chittering in its alien, distorted language. Its siblings and squadmates disappeared in the distance, the woman considering if she should aim the pistol at it and get this over with.
She aimed, deciding it best to dispatch the Bot as it started scanning the place, but her hands trembled. She steeled herself and decided to remain motionless, watching as the 'Bot marched around, scanning the place and murmuring something to itself. She felt her nose tickle and whispered to herself, "Fuck's sake, not now..." then covered her mouth, feeling the itching grow exponentially worse.
She couldn't contain it. At the worst possible time, she let out a sneeze. The 'Bot hissed and turned to face her, aiming its rifle. It, however, didn't get to do much as a blade pierced the side of its skull, cutting into the central processor unit. She gasped, eyes wide, as she watched the life drain from the machine's eyes, the lights darkening as the metallic corpse dropped with a thump in the underbrush.
The figure that had stabbed it appeared ahead of her, materializing out of thin air as what looked like a heat haze peeled back from their form. She could barely make out the colors, but the armor... It looked like something made by bots, almost. Or, hell, a combination of human and machine, though it bore the well-built frame of a human male. It was darkly colored, almost green from what she could see. Boots, dirtied by the mud of the planet, sunk into the ground. The orange visor of the helmet seemed to peer at her.
He stowed the strange, curved blade he'd used to stab the bot into the bent sheath on the massive left pauldron, then walked up to her and offered his hand. She looked up, awed, right into the narrow orange visor of the strange helmet, then gripped his hand. She felt him lift her to her feet, then heard him speak, "You the pilot that went down in this area?"
"Yeah..." She nodded, then swallowed empty and introduced herself, "Eagle-1."
"I'm Noble Six. UNSC," He told her, then drew his rifle off of his back and said, "Stay close. I'm getting you out of here..." before he turned about and showed her to follow.
Surprised, she nodded and decided to follow the man that had decided to save her life. As they pushed through the shrubs, she asked him, "... What are you...? Do the UNSC employ Bots?" before she walked over to his left side. He shook his head, to which she was about to ask what he was. The man grabbed her and shielded her as scarlet rounds struck his armor.
The shield on his body flared, causing the woman to gasp. She felt him lift her up and take her into cover, before aiming his rifle into the darkness and squeezing off a burst toward an advancing trio of Mechs. AP rounds tore through the three enemy Troopers. It was, however, when a Devastator surged forward, firing its cannon, that the man took cover.
He aimed and fired again as the Devastator focused on him, rounds striking and tearing through the monster's chest armor. It balled its left hand into a fist, cocked it back and threw a punch that staggered the soldier, sending him skidding back and giving a sizeable dent to his shields. Six, however, simply walked off the hit. More-so ran it off, charging the mech as it aimed its arm-mounted cannon at him.
It fired and the Spartan dodged right, much to the girl's surprise. The mech swung for him again, but he dodged under it, then slammed his entire frame against the beast, denting armor and causing one of its servos to malfunction. It swung down on him and the armor and metal fist clanged against each-other audibly, but the soldier moved, undeterred, pushing into the machine.
Eagle-1 lifted her pistol and fired at the back of the machine, causing it to stagger and miss its next swing, before reloading her pistol and taking cover as more Troopers moved in toward them. Six drew his pistol, put it into the belly of the machine and fired until his magazine run dry, SAPHE rounds bursting the body of the monster aflame. It collapsed, legs swinging wildly into the sky as the Spartan reloaded his own sidearm. The girl watched him charge the Bot Trooper Platoon, pin the Commissar down and rip its head off.
The girl also poked out again and snapped off a headshot against one of the troopers, causing them confusion for a moment as to where the shots were coming from. Six, meanwhile, drew his rifle again and swept high, firing his weapon on full-auto. Rounds tore through the thin armor plate of the Bot troopers, one of which aimed and fired a rocket launcher that just about hit Six, had he not moved out of the way.
The battlefield fell quiet, the girl breathing heavily as she dropped the spent magazine of her pistol onto the floor and loaded in a new one. She breathed deeply, dry-heaving almost, then looked to Six as the man marched forward. She quickly followed him along, stepping past bots and, terrifyingly enough, the corpses of Helldivers and SEAF Soldiers. She looked over the field of dead, noting that they'd been torn to shreds, much like she and Six had just torn asunder a squad of Bots.
He spoke quietly, "Damn shame..." before approaching what seemed to be the Jammer ahead, a pulsating radio antenna of a small size, with vents around. Priming a grenade and pulling it from his belt, he tossed it inside one of the vents, then stepped away, watching as the blast shattered the structure and sent the antenna falling into the brush with a metallic thunk.
The girl spoke, "... Not bad... You're Special Forces, right?"
Six nodded, "A Spartan," then he crossed his arms, "You'll probably meet more of mine if you get shot down again."
She snorted and said, "I don't plan on it," smiling at him. She heard her radio come to life and turned to check on it, speaking, "This is Eagle-1, transmitting in the Blind! I'm alive, requesting EVAC on my current position! Be advised, Friendly units in the AO!" before turning and starting, "Six, c'mon. We gotta get outta-..." only to pause as she saw he'd vanished.
She blinked, sighed and said, "Nice talk..." before pulling out a beacon and activating it. She set it down, only to immediately see Pelican-1 coming down toward her and touching down as he fired his autocannon. Quickly boarding the transport the moment the hatch came down, she said, "Let's go, brother!" before sitting herself down and putting on a seatbelt. The rear hatch closed, Pelican-1 lifting off as fast as he could.
He asked, "You alright, sis?"
"Yeah... Had a guardian angel down there," She smirked, "I'll tell you and everyone else everything when we're aboard..." before leaning into her seat to get comfortable for the flight up. She asked, "Sergeant Veratti know I'm back?" and got a thumbs up. Sighing in relief, she said, "Good. Shit, I think I scared the crap out of'em when I went down..."
"And how..." Pelican-1 murmured... Great.
She felt a pay dock coming cuz she lost her bird...