Aboard SSV Cairo, 500,00 kilometers above Illium, 2186 Citadel Calendar, 10:39
Captain Anaya loved the city of Nos Astra. She lived there pretty much all her life. Had some fun stories to share and even met Commander Shepard; helped solve a problem with a Justicar that almost got her killed… Well, at least she was promoted afterwards and worked her way up the chains. But in the later year the city she loved was burning under her feet as the Illium Militia desperately held off the Reapers. And as her duty as a guardian to Nos Astra, Anaya was assigned to help evacuate and guard civilians to the Relay aboard the SSV Cairo then return planet side to help with the defense.
It seemed unlikely she would ever return as she stood in the front of the crowd of civilians in the dim lights of the cargo hold. The fires haven't reached the room but she knew that it would be only a matter of time.
A baby started to cry somewhere and people started to shake from fear. She said something encouraging and bombastic to calm them down. She didn't even know what she just said. Her doubts submerged almost any thoughts. Fear beginning to encompass everything. On the opposite end of the room where they stood was a heavy steel door which was locked so the fires would be slowed down.
Goddess help us, she thought. She never really was religious but it was as good as any time to start.
Whether an answer from the Goddess or not, a red line began to run down through the middle of the door like a blow torch cutting through steel.
Was it the Reapers? She thought? Have they boarded our ship? If it was somebody else they would've just opened the doors….
The people were silent. Scared breathing. Uncontrolled and fast paced. She saw some holding on to friends and family members. Anaya, with two other Turian officers assigned to her chalk, walked forward and drew their weapons upon the increasing cut.
Her arms shook as she held onto the M-8 Avenger. Sweat began to flow down her body. Despite the fear Anaya would defend these people with her dying breath. Something at least to give back for her good life on Illium.
The red line halted when it reached the bottom of the door and Anaya tensed up, reinforcing the rifle. Instead of the doors blasting at her and the Reapers pouring through like she expected... the doors just fell forward with a thud.
And on the other side stood nine soldiers in armor she had never seen before. Obviously human, they wore green and white armor and had skull masks over their faces. They held silver and black rifles with no Alliance symbol on any of them. Five of them were in blue and white armor, taller than her, maybe even taller than a Krogan. Each one had a distinctive helmet with a mixture of yellow and orange in their visors with armor seemingly more advanced than their counterparts.
The smaller soldiers ran through the room first. Squad positions with rifles raised on the civilians. Fingers on the trigger.
"UN Marines, UN Marines!" They yelled, panicked the people to start screaming. Seeing that nobody was shooting at them, one of the soldiers walked up to her as the rest including the tall soldiers swept the room.
"Lieutenant Lucciano, UNSC. We're heres to get you out of here." He held a very distinctive accent she heard before from another human long ago. When she asked where that human came from he said: "The Heart of New York."
"Right…." She said a little dazed. They were human. It was just that, what the hell was the UNSC? Some special branch in the Alliance? If it was, she would think they wouldn't just be yelling out to a crowded room. A branch of the Citadel? A branch just formed to fight the Reapers? "….Ok, it's Captain Anaya. I'll help you get them out of here. I'm assuming you have a ship?"
"Yous bet." He said and walked to the civilians looking at the soldiers "Attention everybody!" He announced to the people, forcing them to shut up. "Peoples, we weres sent by neutral friends to get you the hells out of here. Just follow us and do exactly what we say, a'right?"
He turned to the crowd and for a second he went into complete shock. He looked upon a human family. It was a normal family. Mother, father, two kids. But his face was in disarray for a split second before it returned to a military stoicism.
"Demarco, take control of the situation. I needs to contacts the Skipper." The soldier said.
"Sir, yes sir." One of the taller soldiers responded "Alright! Everyone down the corridor. We'll lead the way! Captain Anaya, right? Make sure everyone gets out of here!"
"Ok…ok." She simple said. All she really could say. Whoever they were, they saved them.
"Everybody keep up!" He then turned to the other taller soldiers "Thorne, Madsen, stay behind. Make sure everybody gets out of here!"
They both acknowledged. Soon enough the crowd was on the move. Demarco and the tall soldiers jogged down the hallway and the shorter soldiers helped the civilians with their young, old and injured. Medics unfolded stretchers and placed the injured upon the cloth.
Luckily the path was safe. No breaches and only small fires in sight. She heard that one New Yorker Marine say something on the radio but all she picked up was Priority Directive and humans. For the moment though she didn't have time to process it. The New Yorker soldier then caught up with the group and helped another soldier with an injured civilian.
The group took a right and ended up at the hangar. The hangar was partially damaged with some fires burning across the connecting walkway to the hallway. Blue shields illuminated the metal beings of the interior as space combat continued without end. And with the bright metals gave way to the ugliest ship Anaya has ever seen.
It had four engines. Two on each side. It was a tannish green and the front looked like that of an ancient air-conditioning unit. The doors were in the middle of the ship, opened revealing the large, barren inside. More of the smaller soldiers stood guard.
"Ladies!" The New Yorker soldier said stepping in front of the transport "Injured are first, womens and childrens second, men third, and the dead last. Fill the transport up. It wills then leave and a next one wills arrive! Let's move 'em out!"
The soldiers helped board the injured onto the cargo hold. One after another, as medics bolstered IV bags for the wounded, but only for humans. They ignored the needs of Turians and Asari. Whatever the reason, Captain Anaya didn't have time to ask as the transport was filled and moved out the lock shield, disappearing into black. After a moment, another transport landed and opened its cargo doors.
"Alright, new transport, let's move its, let's go!" The New Yorker said as he and the soldiers helped the rest and continued this until Anaya, the officers and the soldiers were left. The transport filled up, left, and another soon arrived in the same fashion.
"Last one out of heres, move 'um out!" The soldier said. One by one entered they entered the transport.
The green brick detached from the walkway, closed its doors and the hissing of pressurized air followed. A small window allowed for sight, and the walkway grew out of view as the transport passed through the lock shields to reveal the burning wreckage of the Cairo
"This is Hitman two-two, all civilians ares evacuated and transports are heading back to the Infinity, ETA: forty seconds. X.X.X-X.D Directive report wills be filed once aboard."
The New Yorker turned to Anaya. "Sorry for the hasty introductions. We'll take your peoples back to our fleet and gets them food and medical attention. We promise we won'ts hurt them and if any of yous can provide any information regarding your people's anatomy so wes can help 'em out would sure be appreciated."
Well of course they wouldn't hurt them. Why would they even say that? And provide information? They had to have data regarding species' anatomy. They were rescuing people over Illium, a very diverse planet, half the population being Asari. Everyone in the galaxy knew that.
"Hey?" Said one of the taller soldiers this time, before Anaya could say her two-bits "Do you think we finally beat Crimson?"
Anaya could see the darkness lit by orange suns of shell fire. Another transport raced by them at incredible speeds.
"Better luck next time!" She heard from the taller soldier's comm.
She continued to look out the window. Why would they promise not to hurt anyone? For a moment, she thought they might be with Cerberus. But she knew they wouldn't have enough resources to stage an operation like this. They would've at least seen one Cerberus symbol by now.
This was way out of their A.O. Would've arrested all the non-humans and do Goddess knows what to them.
A black object shrouded them as they rode underneath the belly of a large ship. The transport lifted upwards and they were thrown into a pearl white hangar. Outside the window she could see the transports lined up to the left and right, perfectly touching down on the landing pad in front of the entrance.
Dozens of support crews in yellow and blue. Medics in white with a bright red cross stitched to their sides. But in front of them were dozens of soldiers dressed in green armor. Each one aimed a weapon at the transports, fingers barely passed the point of opening fire.
Their transport landed, opening the doors to the hangar. More soldiers holding silver weapons poured through, aiming only at Anaya and the Turians. The New Yorker and the rest of the men calmly stepped off.
"Captain Anaya?" One of the soldiers walked up to her. Unlike the other ones, he held an officer's insignia on his collar and only held a holstered pistol. "Major Reynolds. Any and all xeno peoples are to follow me immediately."
Surface of garden world
2557 Military Calendar, 10:44
Five seconds after drop
Rolling hills characterized most of the landscape with a city about two kilometers away. He saw three enemies in front of them. One very human-like while the other two had huge mouths and right arms replaced by weapons.
He didn't even observe the rest of the world or anything specific of the enemy. The Chief kicked the pod door. Hit one of the big-mouths and threw him to the ground. He grabbed his M45D shotgun, moved quickly and ducked as one of the big-mouths fired off a red and black orb of light. The Chief used his shoulders and knocked down the squid, aimed down the sights and pulled the trigger. A pulpy mess of red biomass and metals, dissolved into ash. He turned on the other one, pulled out his MA5D with one hand and unleashed round after round. Stabilization from recoil through pure strength. Bullet pierced skin or bounced off metals. Yellow little lights glowed within the blue abyss as they crumbled and dissolved.
Fireballs still fell with the rain. ODST pods still landing throughout the area. The Chief took cover near a smaller hill, black orbs passing by. He lifted himself from the ground, using the MA5D and unleashed controlled bursts. There were maybe seven of them. Big-mouths lead by a soldier with jagged armor.
"Jaysus, mate, it's you!" A familiar hyper Australian voice said from nearby.
The Chief quickly turned to find a man dressed in ODST armor. Black gear un-camouflaged within the confines of green grass. He held a MA5D rifle. The visor turned from solid grey to a clear view. A young, gaunt face with blue eyes.
"Chief, it's me! Private Dubbo? Well, actually Lieutenant Dubbo now… There were rumors, but… Oui, mate, it's good to see ya'!" He said. His pod landed about twenty meters from the Chief's, rolled against the side of the hill. Small spats of blood patterned his chest plate and knuckles. Dried blood covered his mouth.
Some sort of red bolt passed by. Caused him to stay down and throw himself against the grass hill next to the Chief.
The Chief only nodded. "Good to see you again."
Sounds of fire and trigger shots and the gusts of wind. Dubbo quickly looked around, had to yell to get anything audible out over the gunfire. "Right, mate. You the only one?"
"The enemy AA fire forced most of my Spartan squad to spread. Unknown where. At our current position I'm about four kilometers from my target. Where's the rest of your platoon?" The Chief responded.
"No, mate, I'm XO for the battalion. Ain't got a platoon, just a lot of men to look out for and to make sure Mark Stacker don't go crazy. And I think some of the AA fire killed some of my men. Bastards. If their lost hopefully they can form up with other units or with Colonel Buck… Wait, who the bloody hell's on the line?"
"Master Chief?" A voice said through his comms. A face appeared on the Chief's visor. A young soldier, clean shaved, buzzed-cut hair. "Spartan Jared Miller from Infinity CIC. I'll serve as your eye in the sky and tactical advisor today."
Spartan tactical advisor. That was a first. The Master Chief, along with a grand majority of the UNSC, only used Spartans as special forces, force recon, or advanced assault forces. There was no such thing as a rear echelon Spartan.
A lot had changed when he was gone.
"Copy that. Can you get us enemy numbers and position, and a topography map of the local area?" The Chief replied
"Roger. High-orbit drone prowlers from the Another Brick in the Wall scanned positions. You've got a lot of badies between you and the local AA guns. Your gun is the primary cannon defending the perfect topographical area for our firebases. We've picked up about a handful of UNSC tags from the Legend After about a klick out under a Lieutenant Duvall, and a few ODST pods spread about a quarter-klick. I'm directing them to your position. Link up if you can, continue to the AA gun. If you create a large enough gap I can try to peel off a Paris frigate to provide troposphere support."
A map uploaded onto the Chief's visor. Cutting through the landscape like a river was a trench half-a-klick from their position, separating the AA gun, Duvall, and the other ODSTs from the Master Chief. The other ODST landing site was northwest of their position, cradled in a flat area. About a klick out stood the AA cannon with Lieutenant Duvall's pod a few dozen meters away. Overall, there were about five men out there.
"Copy that, Spartan Miller. Standby, we're currently engaging hostiles. Re-connection imminent." The Master Chief cut the line.
"Hold on Master Chief, I'm here-" The Chief completely blocked the call.
He wasn't able to move for a moment. He just couldn't. The grass turned into a mesh of green and the clouded sky became a black void. He felt his hands shake uncontrollable. His body felt like it was going to tip over...
The gunfire turned into sounds of rushing water.
He heard a voice.
"Uh, mate...your vitals..." Dubbo said.
He wasn't her.
He turned to Dubbo. "Sir. Friendlies about one kilometer out under Lieutenant Duvall and ODSTs coming in to our northeast. There's a trench about a few hundred meters. If we can push through, we can move along the line and link up with Duvall."
Dubbo looked at him for a brief moment. The Chief wasn't sure why, but he's seen it before, on Earth, on the Pillar of Autumn. It was usually from the marines and army. It was hard to tell what it was. Fear, awe?
"Right. Right. We can move it along the trench. Uh, these guys are our first priority…." Dubbo trailed off.
His tone was almost…unsure.
The Chief didn't bother. He only nodded, rose from the ground and opened fire. He pushed forward. Orbs easily absorbed by the MJOLNIR shields. He turned to the right with another burst of bullets. Recoil seemingly nothing but a minor nuisance. A big-mouth took the blow, kneeled down into the dirt. Tried to lift himself up only to meet the hand of the Chief. The Spartan grabbed onto his face and dug inches deep into the biomass. Eyes disconnected and slushed within black liquids.
No resistance at all. A body turned to ash. The Chief pushed the thing back. He was at half-shields when he turned to face the other six. Dubbo, in all the power a single soldier can provide, opened up. He provided suppressive fire while the Chief provided fire discipline. He found an artillery crater, sprinted and ducked within. He reloaded both the shotgun and assault rifle, looking out into the grey sky. Took out the shotgun and left it on the dirt with pumped fore-end. Slowly, his shields began to respawn from the damage. A jagged armored xeno tried to get the jump, raised a rifle over the crater horizon. The Chief didn't even need to think. Reflex responded and grabbed the end of the rifle.
The xeno idiotically tried to hold on, body pulled forward and stumbled over the descending dirt. The Chief used his other hand, grabbed the pistol grip of the shotgun and shoved it into the xeno's chest. He pulled the trigger, modified choke unleashing shell rounds into metal armor and biomass. He trucked forward, nearly lifting the xeno body into the air.
It was still alive. The Chief used the momentum and kept the xeno as a body-shield. The squid covered his upper body and head, multiple black orbs hitting their fellow soldier. The Chief was nearing one of the other big-mouths; his body shield lost its glowing white eyes, legs beginning to dissolve into ash. The Spartan tossed the body at the big-mouth, barely stunned the squid.
It was Dubbo who took him down. A sudden burst of yellow light that twisted the big-mouth, knocked it on its back. Dubbo rushed in, aimed down and unleashed whatever was left of his clip. He got hit by a black orb. The lighter yellow shields of the ODSTs taking the shot. He jumped into the Chief's crater with face turned towards the hills.
Three left. The Chief turned to find more orbs firing, and something else coming over the horizon.
"Reinforcements coming in! Friendlies on your four, watch yar fire!" Dubbo yelled out.
One individual crawled over the hill covered in ODST armor with red and white markings holding a rocket launcher in one hand by the handle and a Marksmen rifle in the other with a holstered MA5D. Rain splattered upon his modified shoulder pads. The entire uniform looking worse for wear.
"Holy shit, they sent fucking him." Lieutenant Mickey said. He walked down, carefully through mud and shaken grass. Orbs barely missed him. But he didn't care. "Holy Christ. I can't…fuck me. Righto. Right on, my brothers. I think I saw one of those fucking AA cannon thingies firing that same blue light stream that was hitting our pods. See a few bad guys between us and them."
More ODSTs appeared. Black armor pouring in, maybe around nine or ten of them, armed to the teeth. They joined in the overwhelming victory, stayed low and moved from cover to cover. The big-mouths were no match, quickly dispersed or turned to ash.
Lieutenant Mickey and another ODST approached the Chief from his leisure walk. Dubbo joined them, climbing out of the crater.
"Roight, mates." Dubbo began. "Mickey, who you got?"
"Ten guys from different companies. They were in a irregular unit under Staff Sergeant O'Brien." Mickey introduced the ODST. A young, angry-looking face with bright red hair. "We're all organized, and combat-abled on your orders."
He referred to the Chief, not the actual commanding officer.
"First Lieutenant Dubbo is the highest ranking officer. Thus he's in charge of the mission." The Chief turned to Dubbo, who only stood still for a long while.
"Sir? I mean, we can always reorganize the table of command-" Mickey began.
The Chief caught faint sounds of distant fire, rocket launchers and high-pitched screeches. On the map Commander Palmer was rallying local forces in the area, moving forward to eliminate the AA despite the heavy losses. And farther out, Colonel Buck organized all ground troops, securing positions in the open fields.
No one expected the AA to be that accurate. To have mechanisms reposition a fire vector that quickly. Even deploying marine force recon might not have brought this up. And, they were out in the open without armored support. The ODSTs are battling one-sixty squid ships with nothing but small arms and rocket launchers, and maybe orbital support.
...This was not a good plan.
And he wondered if Lasky thought the same thing. He had too.
He could vaguely see the giant squid ships in the distance. Standing upon tentacles with the every-once-and-the-while beam of red and black light.
"Someone for Chris' sake get Spar'an Miller back on the line." Dubbo said.
The small tactical screen displayed the Spartan's face again. Dubbo spoke. "Spar'an Miller, this is Deacon...actual, whatever callsign we're using. We've meet up with an irregular, reorganized platoon under Lieutenant Mickey. Multiple hostiles down. Be advised, we'll be regrouping with Lieutenant Duvall and proceed to AA target. But we don't have the equipment to take it down, hal copy?"
"Copy on all, Dubbo. Lasky managed to peel off some Shortswords to act as Wild Weasel teams. Possible firemission available on your laz'. However, Palmer's calls are priority. Especially with those ground squids."
That was the best option available. With those squid ships acting as essentially Scarabs or Krakens, tropospheric bombers would be the barren-bones to possibly take it down.
Essentially for the moment they'd have to pull off on their own. Try to focus on actually getting there.
A stream of blue light erupted near the city. It made a low-hum sound. The same stream of light that attacked their pods.
"Sir?" The Chief said, looking to Dubbo. "Like I said, we can use the trenches. It's the fastest and safest way to reach Lieutenant Duvall."
Dubbo slightly nodded, turned to other faces. They only waited.
"Right…" Dubbo said. "We march on through, like the Chief said. Connect with any friendlies we see and kick some ass along the way. Hopefully we can reach the AA soon, before the flyboys start bitching."
…
Forty-five minutes after drop
There's was always the common...what word to use, mythology around the Spartans. People either held them in high esteem or dehumanized them, and in rare cases an odd mixture of both.
Dubbo had served with the Chief wherever he went since Installation 04. He survived the War because of him, witnessed his full capabilities. The rumors going around that he was alive was pretty much the talk for the past three days. Ironically, people were the ones to keep babbling their mouths, the Spartans just shut theirs. The Chief specifically always stayed quiet, talking only when dearly needed. Few sparks of conversation to Johnson, both Miranda and Jacob Keyes, and Cortana. Dubbo just didn't really know what to expect, even how to react. Happy for the moment, bewildered possibly…
Maybe that's how it would've been in a non-threatening situation. Out here, he was glad that he was serving under… that the Chief is serving under him. Guaranteed mission success and a lot of his men getting out of here alive. But still, he worried for the Chief, even if he was a Spartan. Despite his distance, the few cold words...the vitals. But still, the Spartan fought on despite the hell that would've broken a lot of people.
"Watch your left!" Someone yelled. There was an explosion, vibrating the metals of Dubbo's armor, sending two ODSTs flying in the air along with grass and dirt.
Screams and cries from the two, trying to crawl out of the way to the others. Dubbo could see the blood seeping through one of the soldier's leg armor, gear disjointed and revealed a red mesh underneath. For all he knew, his leg might've been entirely ripped off saved together by the gear.
"CORPSMAN! CORPSMAN" One of them screamed in a hoarse voice, sobbing in between words, violently shaking on the ground.
Dubbo rushed over, holstering his rifle. Reaching the soldier, he forced him to stay on the ground. Dubbo removed one of his shoulder plates, writing underneath on the uniform for blood type and other medical information. Someone else rushed over, slide on the grass. She had the medical cross on her shoulder plates along with hospitalman third class. She had a large gear bag and no visible weapon on her.
"I got 'em, sir!" She said, rushed to remove a gear plate to get to the flesh.
He silently nodded, lifted himself up and hunched over as he moved on.
"This is Deacon actual. Interrogative. Where the fuck are the Shortswords?! We have heavy resistance and multiple causalities! We are not combat operational, I repeat we are not combat operational!" An 0621, Specialist Isaak Amos, screamed into the comm. line, lying against the side of a hill with others as they opened fired.
"Shortswords have been engaged by squid interceptors, or are currently deployed under Spartan Palmer's command. I'm talking to the Navy, trying to peel off a frigate to provide stratosphere bombardment support but right now Captain Lasky needs everything we've got out here." Spartan Miller reported back from the comms.
Who would've thought the day would come where the people die while the Spartan sits behind a computer screen? Sure, unfortunately they were used to being screwed over with no support. But never had a Spartan only sit back and watch.
Another sharp soundwave, caused the ground to shake like an earthquake. The squid AA battery still kept a constant check of the sky with a stream of violent blue light. It looked similar to the squid ships, top mantle replaced with the opening for the cannon. Stood loosely on four legs about four-hundred-fifty meters out.
Dubbo could see the desolated grouping of fox holes and artillery craters occupied with about five marines spread throughout. Only a couple dozen meters away, bullet after bullet as they tried to create a gap for the ODST group.
The Master Chief leaped from the trench, assault rifle firing at will. One of the bug squids was fired on, a few rounds bouncing off static shields. Rounds of orb fired from the bug, each one making a sonic popping sound with a shockwave that jolted the skin and bone underneath.
The Chief turned attention towards him, reloaded and charged forward. There was a split second gap for the bug between the loading sound and the fire off. Whereas no average person with that amount of time could dodge it, the Chief stepped out of the way with ease. The only thing hitting him was the flying dirt and a few sparks that bounced off his shields or passed through and singed the armor.
"What the hell is he doing? He has no cover!" O'Brien yelled through the squad comms.
"Push forward! Spread out and-" Mickey began.
"Negative, stay in position and scrape off the enemy. The Chief's got it, just provide him covering fire!" Dubbo said, cutting off Mickey. He switched over to the radio operator's channel, up to Spartan Miller on Infinity comms. "Infinity actual, this is Deacon actual, we're meeting heavy resistance. Target is in sight, about a few hundred meters. I can get laser guidance on there. Interrogative. Is there not one available Shortsword? Possible Wild Weasel assets?"
"Negative. The Wild Weasels we've got are trying to engage but that AA is too precise to get our ships anywhere near it. We'd have to have a low strike, about two-hundred meters away from the deck, which isn't exactly a bright idea. I can try to get some of Colonel Buck's men to provide support, but they're pinned down by heavy pour of squid forces from the west."
The Chief knocked down the bug, created a corridor to the foxhole. The marines were getting shredded. Black and red rounds from random directions knocking up dirt. One of them stood too high, hit in the chest by a orb and sent flying across the hole.
"Chip! What the fuck is the Chief doing?!" Mickey yelled.
The Chief was breaking platoon line-up tactics. He charged forward, switched out the rifle for the shotgun. It was one of the rifle-holding squids stuck in a trench. The Chief jumped down, a full ton smashing down on the poor bastard. Dubbo didn't see what happened to the body, only the Spartan climbing out of the trench without using a single shell.
He reached the marines, straining the platoon perimeter as it collapsed. More and more ODSTs being hit out.
There was only one option. Goddamn it. Dubbo yelled out through the comms. "Form up on the Chief! We'll hold onto a perimeter in the foxholes, get the wounded in the center. Now!"
Usually, moving a blob of people from one area to another under fire wasn't exactly a good idea as far as maneuver tactics go. But then again, it might've been the best decision. The squids kept appearing from everywhere, over random hills in every direction as they kept moving forward in the trench to get to this position. Sometimes the group would meet up with a couple ODSTs, but mostly it was overwhelming squid contact. Hunkering down with the Chief wasn't the worst idea, and either way, they had to link up with those marines.
Dubbo was the first to get up. The others soon followed, some with injured carried on their backs. Instead of announcements of confusion or "disagreement" (for the lack of a better term), there was only replies of compliance.
"Lieutenant Muhammad Duvall! UNSC Legend After! Thank Christ you guys got here!" One of the marines yelled out as Dubbo got closer and closer. He seemed to notice the Chief for the first time. "Christ…It's actually him."
Dubbo leaped into the trench, armor hit the dirt. He looked out to the other ODSTs, about four abled-body, the corpsman, and four wounded. They moved into the craters, readying defensive positions under the fire. He grabbed Duvall's collar guard, pulled him face to face.
"Roight, mate. Lieutenant Chip Dubbo, UNSC Infinity. Our mission is to knock out those AA batteries, create a hole for the cavalry to land. We'll get you out of here!"
"Right. Our pilot flew our pod completely off trajectory in order to avoid that fucking thing and its laser. We'll help you however we can! We have a weapons stockpile. A few Spartan Lasers were saving up, a few other rifles, and ammo coming out the ass!" He said.
Dubbo acknowledged, pulled off to set up positions. The craters provided decent cover, rifles aimed in all directions under the AA. The Lieutenant crawled towards the center of the defensive position to the wounded as the corpsman tended to them.
"Sir! Hospitalman Piper Özlem, third class! Seventh platoon, UNSC Infinity group!" She said, a young voice that almost sounded like a teenager. Dubbo knew her. Knew almost everyone in the battalion. A young kid working up for medical school"Stuff's eating at them, but it ain't as bad as plasma wounds! I got biofoam in them and plasma fluid hooked up about. They're stabilized for now!"
He nodded, looked around for the nearest forced volunteers. "Right, Özlem you're on me. O'Brien!" Dubbo called out. O'Brien turned around, holding a sniper rifle with a holstered battle rifle. "We're peeling off, see if there's a structural weakness within that AA we can utili-"
There was a loud, agonizing scream. Of complete pain and horror. Roared and echoed throughout the rolling hills. And the fire seemed to silence, the rain provided that thunderous beat. A scream so familiar, of dying women found upon the Covenant glassings. The strain of their vocal cords, near breaking. But this scream was un-human, a tortured body begging anybody to end its life, synthetic and deafening.
Its owner walked over the hill, boring the blue eyes that the squids held. The horrifying scream did fit its owner as a tortured body, deprived of any food and had a belly sticking out as if strained of protein, pushed forward. The stomach looked like something was surgical forced in there with a single disgusting line traveling down the center of the skin. Sickly pale-blue skin. Lesions of lights at random intervals throughout the body. Her arms were augmented with giant claws that reached her feet. Robotic centers patterned her blue body as tentacles stuck out the back of her head. With every step, it lumbered as if she were in severe pain masked in a face of absolute anger. Tubes traveled along her body, suddenly depressing into her skin surrounding her hips, and passing the barrier of organic and synthetic. Collar bones that stretched from the neck and possessed most of the shoulders, skin barely able to cover it.
Skin, uneven, diseased almost. Dubbo could see its teeth, brittle with only molars. Those same lesions filled with blue lights, scarily human-like facial features.
And it didn't move when it reached the top of the hill. Standing still, a chest heavily expanding under every breath.
It seemed to multiply, splitting images that morphed in and out of its original body surrounded by a black and blue veil of energetic light. It disappeared, replaced by a blur traveling from hill to hill, a body in the midst that was unmoving. Appearing from a new ridge, moving to the next through the traveling blue curtain.
"What the fuck is that thing?" One of the ODSTs yelled out, rifle held down, trying to find a target path. "Sir, what the fuck do we do?!"
The ODST was right. What the fuck was that thing?
What the fuck do we do?
Dubbo didn't even have time to respond. Whatever the fuck that thing was reached the edge of the defensive perimeter, right in front of the screaming ODST.
It grabbed his chest plate with one arm, lifted the entire body in the air. The squid was maybe seven feet tall overall. The ODST dropped her rifle on the floor, squirming in vain as the squid kept its grip. Everyone turned to it, unloading clip after clip, bullets bounced off a protective blue shield or pierced through to fall off the sickly skin. It shoved its claw through the ODST's armor, metal providing no barrier as dark red blood began to ooze out and pour down the sick, bony hand.
The body didn't seem to stop moving. The squid tossed her aside like a ragdoll, finally turned to the rest of the platoon as if it suddenly noticed them. It shadowed back into the blur, from crater to crater, appeared right in front of Özlem.
It happened so fast.
It tried to reach down for her. Piper screamed and fell on her back, crawled the hell away from it. Before the squid could even bend down and reach her, it was tackled at thigh point.
It was pushed on the ground, a stiff and rigid body trying to get its bearings. It produced something within its claw, a small blue and black shining lights. It expanded, moving past her fingers.
The Master Chief lifted himself up, tried to grab the squid before it could do anything.
Another deafening scream. Dubbo could feel his eardrums on the edge of bursting. It was louder than fucking gunshots. He opened fired, along with O'Brien and Mickey as Özlem scrambled for a rifle. Everyone else turned to the main defense, trying to avoid the squid creature.
The Chief tried to grab its arm but the blue light was smashed against his helmet. He was forced off, the yellow light igniting across his body, signaling rapid shield depletion. The Spartan's shields were still acting as if it were being hit, and finally the yellow coding broke off the armor. It tried to use its claws, thinking it can perform the same maneuver used against the ODST.
The Chief pulled out the shotgun, pumped it and fired off into the belly. Pieces of blue liquid and biomass dispersed into the dirt and against the Chief's armor. Dubbo finally noticed the thin blue line that took place of the visible yellow shields. He checked the squad vital meter again. O'Brien and Mickey were already linked in along with Özlem for whatever reason. Vitals normal. Panicked heart rates for obvious reasons, but otherwise normal. But the Chief's vitals were dropping. A slowed heart rate in the yellow just like when he talked to Miller...
Just like when Cortana screwed with his head near the end of the War
Whatever that blue shit was integrated into the gear. Hurted him. As if Cortana was still talking to him...But she wasn't here. Who the hell knows where she was, but she wasn't here.
The fucking monstrosity tried to form another blue ball, only to be stopped by the bullets from Dubbo's assault rifle.
The Lieutenant finally noticed the perimeter collapse. In a mere forty-five seconds of fighting, those weird weaponless squids were trying to storm the perimeter only to be held by the few ODSTs grabbing shotguns and SMGs. A makeshift fireteam formed around a marine armed with a railgun. Squid cannon bugs bombarded the dirt, barely missing the men. Craters lost one by one as the ODSTs fell back.
There were about seven men left.
Bullets pierced through the squid monster's skin, throwing out the same degree of biomass and blue liquid as the other squids. It kneeled on the ground, screaming louder, blue and black shrouds surrounding it. Dubbo was about to move up, unleash whatever was left of the clip within its face. And then it disappeared, leaving only a EMP-like burst that distributed his and everyone else's shields.
Another fire off of the AA cannon. Ruptured the ground. Dubbo caught where the monster went, behind the enemy frontal assault, pulling out from any further damage to itself.
"Mickey, hold the line! O'Brien, grab a sniper, armor-piercing rounds, see if you can soften up those bugs!" Dubbo said. Turned to the Chief and saw he was heading back to the weapons cache.
Christ.
He also headed to the cache; he wasn't going to let that wanker get away with killing one of his men, and nearly killing another. The Chief was fine for the moment, his vitals still staying in the yellow. Weapons stashed in green crates, lined up neatly. He traded the assault rifle for a railgun.
"Piper! Form up a fireteam, provide me covering fire!" Dubbo called out. She was in the crater over, defending the wounded with a Marksmen rifle.
"Right! Who would've ever thought those guys can use the force, am I right?" She said over the comms.
Dubbo didn't even know what she was talking about. His shields loaded back up; he stood upon the evened grass at the edge of the crater. A stray black orb hit him, absorbed by the shields. He aimed down the scope, looking at the face of the squid.
It stared him back. And the black and blue shroud erupted, the squid disappeared again. Reappearing on places throughout the battlefield.
And if Dubbo knew this bastard, he knew where it was going.
"Chief! Chief!" Dubbo called out.
The Spartan turned around. Immediately disappeared. The world was suddenly blocked by blue and black. The body of the squid right in front of the Lieutenant.
He jumped out of the way and the Chief finally broke through the seemingly KIA state. His vitals were normalizing, turned to the squid with his weapon and charged forward. Dubbo crawled back, tried to get to a safe distance to use.
A dozen meters would suffice. The Chief punched in a few rounds, and they broke through the skin. Dubbo called out, telling him to get the hell out of the way. And it was only a glance through the side of his helmet. The Spartan jumped back.
Dubbo locked in and fired off the gun. The recoil caused the stock to collide with his gear. Sent a stinger to his right shoulder. The slug ripped off an entire arm. Blue liquid splattered everywhere. The thing stumbled onto the dirt, legs trying to regain balance. The Chief reengaged, multiple rounds in the face this time.
Pieces of matter spread onto the dirt. And the startling face along with a dead blue eye was completely ripped off. It was on knees, panting. Dubbo could see it slowly turn to ashes. It looked up. One last defiant screech and outstretched claw as it tried to grab someone in vain.
Dubbo didn't even bother to watch it. He turned back to the defenses. The perimeter was being pushed slowly but surely back. Another earthquake from the AA, shaking everything off balance and painting it in a blue glow.
They didn't have the necessary gear to take that thing out. Wild Weasel assets were a no go, so were any other available bombers, any exosphere support…
One of the artillery squids appeared out of the herd. Opened fire and knocked a few ODSTs off their feet. One of them didn't get back up.
The Lieutenant and the Chief ducked down into the crater.
They were down to six abled-bodies. And from what Dubbo saw, the squid horde was only getting bigger.
…
The sterile air made Shepard's nose hurt…again. The detox from high levels of adrenaline to only medium levels of near panic. No rush of fresh air from Illium, only recycled nitrogen-oxygen. It made the Commander uncomfortable.
All around, rifles pointed in three directions. One of the Cerberus soldiers tried to hand back Kai Leng's blades. Before he moved an inch, Captain Florence simply uttered a command to this… "Contradiction", and the nukes switched from cold to hot. Apparently those tiny hexagonal suitcases the grey uniformed people carried out were the nukes.
Shepard's crew primarily had their weapons aimed at Kai Leng. A few, such as Garrus, aimed at the UNSC. Shepard didn't hold a weapon, neither did Liara while Tali still held her shotgun, readying to fire at point blank on Cerberus. The able-bodied surrounded their wounded, tended by their own and Doctor Chawkas, reluctantly let in with a rifle directly aimed at her skull as she scanned their wounds and distributed limited amounts of medi-gel. Cortez was in the medcenter. He was stable for now, and should be fine for a few hours.
The Normandy began to pull out of the city, as reported by Joker. Inertia dampeners smoothing the ride as the pitch turned from troposphere to stratosphere at nearly eighty-five degrees.
"Set off the nuke we left in the Pelican, send the squid bastards to hell." Mark ordered to Contradiction.
"Belay that." Shepard interjected, as if he had authority over Mark's crew. "There might be civilians still down there. We'll not have a nuke go off in the city."
"UNSC assets were left behind, and we'll not have the enemy acquire them. This decision isn't up to you, Shepard." Mark stepped a little to his right, showing even more hexagonal briefcases that Shepard didn't even notice brought aboard. "...Nor is it up to me. If you have an asset aboard the Normandy that can take out the Pelicans, then by all means we can turn around and knock 'em out."
He almost said the last sentence sarcastically. Shepard tried to ignore it. "We do. We can turn around and eliminate the transports with a controlled missile launch from the Normandy. You don't have to eliminate an entire city just to take out a few things. Either way, is it really a good idea with your soldiers deploying on the surface?"
Mark didn't say anything for a moment. He looked back to his men, and nodded. "Turn around then."
Shepard activated to ship's comm. link. "Joker? Turn the Normandy around; eliminate all first-contact transports on the building."
His voice echoed throughout the hangar. "Right…just turn from a straight-shot up. Aye, aye, Commander."
That would delay transportation for at least half-an-hour. There was a limit to the amount of strain the inertia dampeners can remove. They'd have to readjust the pitch, and then make a swooping arc within upper troposphere.
The nukes deactivated. No one even moved to press a button.
And for the longest five minutes there wasn't a word. Chakwas and other UNSC medics (corpsmen, actually. Some of the lingo the soldiers used definitely indicate they're marines) tended to the wounded, with the occasional groan every once and awhile. The corpsmen tapped on small data-screens, moving it over body parts.
"Doctor Chakwas, how are they?" Shepard said, still looking directly at Florence.
"I don't understand how they lasted as long as they did, but they won't last any longer without emergency medical attention. I've got internal bleeding, minor organ rupture, and severe blunt trauma wounds. There's some type of yellow pus-like substance developing in their wounds, which seems to be holding them together…"
"Biofoam. Essentially the trauma bandage for people with no medical experience." Contradiction said. "Only thing holding them together. We have a couple of canisters left, but you're right. They need actual medical attention."
"We can take them to the hospitals aboard the Infinity." Captain Florence said.
"Your ship has fully staffed and equipped hospitals?" Chawkas asked, slightly patronizing, still moving around from soldier to soldier.
"Multiple. Fully equipped, full time staff including specialized personnel and facilities primed for any major surgeries. Burn units and psychological centers. The Infinity has to in order to stage an invasion like this. Hell, they might've brought in the Hopeful." The Captain said.
Technically, fleets do have medical staff to handle a variety of injuries, but anything truly horrific, a.k.a anything involving pressurization, would've killed any sailor in the confines of depressurized space. The only fully equipped hospital in space, was of course, the Citadel, being the only space-faring object to have enough power and resources to contribute to such 'miscellaneous' needs. And now they're taking on entire divisions of causalities. Nearly overcrowded, running off of the scrapes. So if Captain Florence had that much confidence in this Infinity, then it had to handle whatever amount of troops were in those five kilometer to six kilometer ships. Who knows how many men those ships held within their storage. Thousands, tens of thousands?
But then again, in sense of space/ground warfare, it was only in the matter of a few hundred, sometimes a few thousand deployed at a time to take over strategic points to conquer a planet. Despite this, invasions were one of the hardest things to pull off in matters of logistical strategy. That's one of the major reasons the Reapers were able to push so far. Their troops could be compacted in tight spaces, no food or water needed, no medical attention, if in need of reinforcements the Reapers have enough pull to bring in another fleet or just transfer the losses of the enemy into assets of their own. If cut off, they'd be fine. No need for supplies, able to stretch thin unto the most distant habitable and uninhabitable and hostile worlds without ships constantly coming in and out.
Very few units are trained to handle the environments alone for long periods a time. Even with N7 training, there was a close limit.
And it seems the UNSC can pull out dozens of ships at will. Seemingly have the logistics to support it all.
"Captain, sir, but… Is it really the best idea to try and contact Captain Lasky within an unidentified ship, with them?" One of the blue soldiers said. His name was Tom.
Captain Florence nodded, talked to Shepard. "Usually, in UNSC protocol you'd all be considered rebels and the Infinity would probably shoot your ship down, but we don't exactly have that luxury to make everything black and white."
"Why?" Shepard merely said.
"We don't have the luxury?"
"That'd you consider us rebels?"
Mark was silent for a moment, suddenly observing the hangar bay. Noticing every individual. "I'm still trying to figure out what's going on. But under the weird, complicated laws we installed a few decades ago, all of Humanity is under UNSC jurisdiction. And by definition, the establishment of new governmental and/or militaristic institutions that is not under or has been approved by the UNSC is direct rebellion."
He said it quietly, almost casually. This wasn't an example of claim, this was an ultimatum. And that sentence only gave a larger insight into the condition of this UNSC. Shepard didn't even know how to respond. This law so arrogant to say the least.
It was Liara who responded of course. "Captain, the… ambiguous morality is questionable to us at the moment. And frankly, I won't even begin to argue the dilemma."
"Yeah… Me neither." Florence said. "But that's what's implied. As for your Xeno allies, I'm not even sure what they'll do with them."
"If you're worried about them posing any threat, I can guarantee you that they won't harm you or your allies." Shepard said. "Liara, Tali, and Garrus Vakarian." He finally introduced the Turian. Garrus made a small mocking bow as he still held the rifle. "They 've worked over the past two years with human allies. They can be trusted."
"Maybe, Commander." Mark simple said, he eyed EDI. Didn't say anything beyond that about her. "And what about you, Lieutenant Leng? You've been awful quiet."
"Yeah, well as long as you're all for human superiority. Which from the looks of it..." Tali mumbled.
Leng was about to defend himself before he was interrupted by Ashley. "You keep your goddamn mouth shut!"
"Let him speak." Mark said, collective.
Leng only eyed-off Ashley, a brief silence before speaking. "Captain, I understand your concern. But you can find that Cerberus is no threat. We can be allies."
"Just deliver our men to the Normandy, or any other UNSC personnel. UNSC isn't looking for allies. We already have enough fucked up ones already. But, I appreciate the offer-"
"Our... objectives are similar. Ensure the safety and advancement of Humanity." Leng said, daring to interrupt the Captain.
Silence. Rifles remained steady. EDI calmly stepped forward, unafraid. It was a long while, a Captain still holding a hard-ridden face as he spoke. "What?"
He subconsciously lowered his rifle, muzzle at the floor. His face beginning to stray in disarray from the usual stoicism.
"What they say is true." EDI said.
"EDI…" Shepard replied, unsure whether to keep her quiet or let Florence know the true nature of Cerberus.
"Shut it." Mark said, quietly. Shepard could barely hear it. "Let whatever the hell...she is speak."
EDI took no offense -at least physically shown- to his words. "Cerberus is a human paramilitary organization developed in response to the current political strife within humanity due to their lacking place within the galactic community...as some humans feel. Their main objective, as stated, is the advancement and protection of humanity at any costs, by any means necessary."
Shepard was about to call out what Cerberus really wanted. To control the Reapers, to give themselves power which everyone knew wouldn't work. They might be able to justify themselves that it was for the sake of humanity, but from what Shepard saw…
If Captain Florence knew what Cerberus did, would he accept it? The unneeded sacrifices for advancement?
"Well, maybe, we should figure something out first." Contradiction said. A small glare appeared on the short soldier's visor. A bright horizontal line moved downwards across the glass and removed the color coding to reveal a female face. As Contradiction spoke, the face stayed still. "Humanity… the UNSC, and our recent allies have only created a sorta pseudo-community only a couple years ago. So, you obviously don't know anything about the UNSC. About the War?"
"When you say the "War", the only the war that can possibly correlate to what you're talking about on file is the First Contact war. A three month conflict between humanity and a species known as the Turians." EDI said. "It was humanity's unfortunate introduction into the galactic community."
"Okay…" Contradiction said. "Yet…That isn't the one I'm talking about. See, our war didn't last three months it lasted nearly thirty years."
He was silent for a moment, his voice coming back on. "Cap, I've got a local secured channel. UNSC frequency. Sounds like it's from the Helljumpers."
He trailed off, let the Captain speak. Florence also had the same odd expression that analogized with Contradiction's tone. "Get them on line. For the most part, I'm as much interested as… Doctor T'Soni, and the rest of you, on figuring out what's going on. We'll get whatever injured on both sides to the hospitals, and see what those ODSTs need. Contradiction, establish a priority line with Captain Lasky.
"Lieutenant Leng, if you bring back our men and if what you say is true, then my superiors would most definitely like to meet with you."
…
It took them a while to patch into the UNSC frequency. One particular reason as stated by Contradiction is that the ODSTs were on the Battle Group Dakota communications net, far different from UNSC networks with Forerunner technology without proper clearance. That, and the merely just didn't have comms. But soon enough they got into battle networks piled with orders, request, and interrogatives all encased in the hellfire of war.
"...This is Battle Company, I've got multiple boogies. Someone pick up the fucking rocket launcher!"
"-rrogative, do we train our soldiers to at least fucking float in water?!"
"Church, Church, can you even shot straight?!
"How do you zoom on this thing!?"
More and more chatter. ODSTs doing their best as the elite shock troopers had no support. Contradiction located a single channel of a voice belonging to a very young lieutenant.
"This is Lieutenant Chip Dubbo, Deacon actual of Infinity ODST group to Commander Palmer! We are pinned down by enemy squids, and cannot move. "Spartan" Miller isn't budging to give us firing support! I have multiple causalities, and do not possess the equipment necessary to take out the AA. Requesting immediate reallocation of any available air support!"
Mark listened on. There was no reply back, just static. The Lieutenant continued. "Goddamn it. Commander Palmer, Colonel Buck, are you there? We are pinned down. We need reinforcements! Sierra-117 is trying to hold them off, but we can't reach our target! He's fully operational… but I don't know. He's fighting, but acting really weird. Vital KIAs, breaking up tactics."
"Sierra-117?" Lieutenant Banks said, disjointed and confused. Eyes widened as he lowered his rifle.
Some of the others turned from the perimeter. About twenty-five minutes into the standoff, everyone either had their weapon lowered or was sitting down, or both. Marines and sailors turned from the xenos, looked to the captain. Even Tom and Lucy, cloaked in the discipline of Spartan, possibly lied within the shade of ONI, turned around, visors visible to show their unsure faces.
Everyone forgot about Shepard and his crew, and Kai Leng.
It was surreal. It didn't seem possible. Everyone heard the rumors but most of the time when they think about it, it just seems like false hope.
He's...
"Sir… He's alive?" Morganson said sitting next to one of the wounded.
The Captain didn't know what to say. Shepard said something, but the Captain couldn't make it out. "Yeah, Sierra-117. I don't know if it's him, or…something else."
"Sir…I'm pretty sure on the news Lord Hood officially retired that specific designation after…" She didn't finish the sentence.
"Jesus Christ." One of the wounded said. He tried to get up, pushed down by Shepard's doctor. His face was joyful despite the tremendous pain. "He's here… He's alive. We're… we're all going to be alright!"
Small commotion. Spirits immediately rose with as a confused Normandy crew stood and watched. Captain Florence couldn't help but be a little happy. Just a small smile as he looked to the men. Sierra-117… the Master Chief. The millions of memorials on Earth, with a decent portion dedicated to him. It was actually a huge surprise (and some controversy) on naming the Infinity anything else but UNSC Sierra-117. And now he's here…
Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117. One of the last of the actual Spartans.
He survived…after five years. The recent rumors correlating along with whatever the fuck happened with the Installation 03 research station and that strange battle over Earth against God knows who.
All the stories… Even if they were some propaganda machine by ONI, some of it was true. The Captain was present during the First Battle of Earth, after evacuating from Reach aboard the UNSC Borderlands. He saw the Chief with the Covenant bomb, single-handedly destroyed a Covenant battle cruiser. Everyone saw that. That wasn't fucking falsified or over-exaggerated. Without hesitation, he destroyed half the Covenant invasion fleet. Destroyed the Covenant home space station. Was there when Captain Keyes fell to the Covenant assault force near a Forerunner ring. Ended the Prophets in the final steps to end the war.
And that was in the last couple of years of the War. When the UNSCDF was falling, the Chief still fought, punching holes in the Covenant and drove them back. And Mark figured he played a major role of stopping the recent assault on Earth.
And he can do it again…
…
"Shut it, marines. They're in trouble. Dubbo reported they have multiple causalities. Get them on the line." The Captain ordered.
"Wait, wait a second, Captain. Who the hell is Sierra-117?" Shepard said.
One of the marines was already on the line, with him and Contradiction (Lucy…whatever they refer her/him to as) kneeling on the radio.
"Commander, because of him we're all still alive today, and now he's in trouble. We can use the Normandy and have it act as a Wild Weasel unit, then we can casevac-"
"Captain, hold on. Let's get something straight. I will rescue those men, but I won't have you strong arm me and threaten my crew. I want the same audience with your superiors as you're giving with 'Lieutenant' Leng." Shepard said, sternly, maybe more hostile than usual.
The Captain was silent, looked at the distance as he still held that small smile. He couldn't tell what the Captain was doing, thinking of course, but from the odd facial expression alone it was hard to tell. "I thought it was already implied that both of you would have an audience, Commander. Believe me you will once we reach the Infinity, in due time. Our men are on the ground, and they're getting their asses kicked. I ask you to save our men, and think about it like this: it'll give you a decent boost up with my superiors."
The Commander noticed how he at least didn't mention that 'he's the only way they can get to the Infinity' or 'you will save our men, or I'll blow the fucking ship up'. That was a small step in a decent direction at least.
Joker announced a few moments beforehand that the transports were taken out. The Normandy was a few klicks out of the city, prepping for an excursion into exosphere.
Shepard nodded, then looked to the intercom and spoke. "Joker, belay exospheric entry. We're going to engage a Hades Cannon and help out Captain Florence's men."
"God, I just need a tape recorder of all the insane crap you always say, Commander. I can sell it for millions."
…
"Deacon three-four, this is Captain Mark Florence of the UNSC Legend After. We've locked in on your channel. We are combat ready and able to provide air support."
Jesus H. Christ. The Captain was still alive. His voice was drowned a bit in static, but Dubbo could make it out as he buried himself in the dirt of the fox hole with Lance Corporal Amos as whoever was left held the line.
"Oh, thank Christ. Copy that, Cap'in. I'll lock on the AA for your ship. Be advised, danger close. Danger close." Dubbo quickly said.
"Copy, Deacon. ETA: six minutes. We are aboard frigate-sized UFO Normandy, I repeat UFO Normandy. We will not have IFF tags, repeat, no IFF tags. Do not fire open."
"Roger, Deacon out." Dubbo hung up the line. Out of all the people, useless "Spartan" Miller, and a silent Commander Palmer, it was a flyboy helping out the Helljumpers…on a UFO, apparently.
"Heads up, incoming air support! Friendly UFO! Danger Close!" Dubbo yelled through the squad comms. "Watch your left, mate!" He yelled to Piper. She responded by digging deeper into the trench, fired her pistol at the avian squid soldiers. Shells dispersed into the air from the magnum, smoking hot and lite in the rising sun.
Shore their position. That was what they had to do. Piper stabilized the men decently enough, now she helped out with defense. Dubbo looked to the men, saw shaking arms. So far in fatigue and faces bearing physical pain from tired muscles. And exhausted breaths with military conditioning only going so far, ammo evaporated shell after shell and clip after clip. Soon enough, they'll have to resort to hand-to-hand combat. And do that against these squid bastards wasn't tactical smart.
Weaponless squids charged the line, supported by avian-like squids and those bug artillery squids. Ultimately, they were barely holding them off. And the horde filled the entire local area. A small sea that ended over the next hill line.
Christ knows how long they can hold out. Definitely not six minutes. They had more wounded than abled. Seven wounded, five still able to fight.
The Chief noticed it too. He finally backed down into cover, near Dubbo. He spoke through comms. "Sir, stay down. Get as many wounded out of here. I can hold them off and defend the remaining wounded!"
"Chief, maybe you ain't seeing what I'm seeing, but they're putting on the Zerg-fucking-rush mate! We're with you! We'll hold them off-"
"Sir. With all due respect, the enemy will overrun our position any moment. We've already lost enough men. I'll paint the target while the rest of you escape."
"Chief, I'm ordering that we hold put. Most of those casualties lost are because we kept moving positions-"
What was going on with the Chief? He wasn't okay… He's stretching his limits. Defend the wounded and hold off a few dozen squids? The vitals were fucking up again. He didn't respond. But from the small physical movements. The fingers twitching, the shoulders adjusting, he seemed angry.
"I can hold them off." The Chief said. "We'll use a few of the Spartan Lasers, and open up a path to the east. Take whatever wounded you can. Move from cover to cover."
The Lieutenant didn't know what to do… Usually, complete insubordination on the battlefield was execution without trial. Always has been in history. But it was rarely used past the 20th century. Dubbo never had to use it at least; Johnson never had to use it. He never witnessed anyone use it… No one…
What the fuck was he even thinking? What the fuck was Dubbo thinking?
The Chief knew what to do. Despite Dubbo outranking him, the Spartan had decades of experience. And he was a Spartan. They never die. The Chief was literal, living proof of that theory. This wasn't insubordination. He knew what he was doing…
"…Roight, mate. We'll punch a hole, and fall back. Hold 'em off, 'roight?" Dubbo said, a shaky smile through the visor.
The Chief nodded, stood up with a Marksmen rifle and began to fire off disciplined shots. He got up from the crater, and pushed forward.
"A'right, mates! We're pulling out. O'Brien, Amos, grab a Spartan Laser and knock out a few squids, we're going to then grab as many of the wounded as we can and pull out. The Chief 'ill defend the rest and paint the AA."
An orb barely missed him, caused him to duck down and take a panicked breath.
Shore up your position. You're a goddamn officer, not even a fucking E-5, a fucking O-2.
The Chief knows what to do.
"Why the fuck are we pulling out!?" Lieutenant Mickey called out
"What the hell are we doing?" O'Brien yelled as he ducked into the crater next to Dubbo from oncoming fire.
"We've already lost too many men, and we don't know the blast radius of the UFO's weapons!" Dubbo replied
"Fuck me!" O'Brien replied, dropped the sniper rifle and headed towards the weapons cache to grab a Laser.
"Piper, prep the wounded for movement! O'Brien, aim for the bug squids! Once they won't have covering fire, we'll punch that hole!"
The kid complied, started aiming at artillery. Dubbo looked up, firing off the assault rifle as orbs passed him by, every once and awhile a round hit and absorbed by his shields. That's one of the reasons he joined up with the ODSTs. Being shot hurts a helluva lot less.
They peeled off one squid at a time. Prioritizing nearest squids and left the covering fighters to the Chief.
"Sir. Some of the wounded are able to move." Piper reported, digging into the crater right next to Dubbo. "Do you even know where we're running to?"
Good question, Corpsman. Dubbo opened up the tactical display on his helmet. From their whole route, there's a trench maybe about sixty meters away. Emptied, and running along to UNSC pseudo-territory.
Dubbo relayed the information, and Piper acknowledged.
"O'Brien, Mickey, Amos, grab the wounded! Piper and I will provide covering fire! Prep to make an exit!"
Spartans never die… The Chief's been in worse before. The Lieutenant saw the massing squids. Mostly unarmed, human-like zombies charging like idiots and being gunned down. But, with larger numbers they might finally pose a threat…
"Dubbo, the Chief can only take so much. Why the fuck are we leaving?" O'Brien said through the comms.
"O'Brien's right!" Piper said. "Moving the wounded is too risky. While they're stable to move I don't know how much more damage they'll take." A red and black explosion rung near her position, set the grass to flame and rained dirt upon the entire platoon.
The Chief fired off enemies in their direction, and from what Dubbo could tell the hole's been opened.
But he could see the squids… could see with all the cross fire that they can't make it to the trench without causalities.
The Chief… Christ, they can't move that fast with the wounded. He couldn't hold them off.
It had to be called off. There wasn't any way…
"Sir! You okay?' Piper yelled.
There was barely a hole. He already got a lot of men killed by moving because the Chief…
He didn't have to make the hard decision. The explosion did that for him.