SO...been a while...
Sorry...Life has been kind of rough and shitty but most of it...is not behind me.
Fuck.
ANyway, hopefully next chapter will come sooner since I have some time off.
Anyone see the new Halo trailer btw?
Hopefully I'll actually finish this before Halo Infinite...and have this set the stage for...bigger things...
SOOO...Also there's a space battle in here...It may seem off topic to the entire chapter, but tbh I wrote it to warm up my space battle writing for...chapters to come. So please tell me what you think about it and how I can improve.
REVIEWS:
rythik78: All will be revealed in good time.
EiriFllyn: Thanks for the review. And sorry to hear the parts about Mark weren't as compelling...but he is an important character...eve if he is a OC...
Guest (May 2nd): Yeah, you right. I think 33 chapters in and I've been a bit too conservative on revealing anything on ONI so I'll try to correct it. And hopefully, I'll try to update sooner. But again I said chapters will be shorter because it's easier and I have limited time to write them.
Guest (April 28th): Again, I'll try to update in shorter times
wolf master97: Don't worry, it won't get too ridiculous.
Fer82: lol. Nice little dialogue... and yeah, hopefully chapter updates will be sooner :[
Azrael the Deplorable: Lol...lengthening the story...
The Hero Named Villian: ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)
Anyway, enjoy...
Aboard UNSC Infinity
Aphelion of orbit over Menae, two-million kilometers above surface
September 2nd, 01:14
"ALL HANDS! ALL HANDS! NOW HEAR THIS! GENERAL QUARTERS! GENERAL QUARTERS! WE ARE RE-ENGAGING! PREPARE FOR COMBAT!" Roland yelled on the ship comms. The battle klaxon sounded.
Captain Lasky quickly downed his third cup of coffee. He's already been up the past… God knows how long.
Roland updated the tactical map. Geth ships had taken the brunt of the Reapers' main exospheric assault as they protected UNSC ships. Whether for better or worse, the main strategy was entirely centered around UNSC MAC guns. Autumn cruisers were the workhorses, able to eliminate groups of Reapers at a time. Frigates provided the Geth and Quarians close range support while they acted as the mainline bulk engaging Reapers in knife fights.
UNSC casualties so far were low… UNSC Everchosen, Agamemnon, and Mobius 1. As for Geth, Quarian, and Turian casualties… They were high. Dozens of frigates and a couple of capital Dreadnought ships.
But that was expected.
They've created a no man's land in the solar system, with the focal point of Menae. Geth and Turian infantry continued to battle for planetary supremacy, supported by Krogan shock troops and Quarian marine along with the specialized support from the marine and army infantry of First MEF and the 101st Airborne.
It was hell down there.
Now though, based on Roland's new map, multiple Reaper capital ships broke through the line. Information from marine recon on the surface indicates that destroyers bogged down on the surface were prepping to move up to exosphere to reinforce the incoming attack. The main goal Lasky would assume was to try and get a capital ship on the surface. If that happened, ground forces would be decimated.
UNSC Infinity, Geronimo, and the James Mattis along with a detachment of Geth cruisers were the only thing that stood between the surface and a Reaper exospheric counter attack. However, the Geth Cruisers weren't here yet. As a QRF force, they were spread about reinforcing crippling positions, only to be called when needed most. The Geth QRF was already making its way from I.P Raven to the Infinity.
MAC guns were lining up on the Reapers' predicted trajectory. Archer pods would follow with seventy-millimeter cannons in spread. Tactical nuclear mines would be deployed by Longswords to alternative possible trajectories.
The Geronimo and James Mattis lined on the Infinity's port and starboard, fronts facing at a forty-five-degree angle in opposite directions. In relation to Menae, the defensive sphere had slowed down their orbit to match the rotation speed of the planet.
They were the only thing protecting nearly four-and-a-half million UNSC servicemen on the surface. From the bridge view, Lasky could see the darkside of Menae light up with hundreds of yellow, blue, and red lights as the fight continued on the surface.
Roland was still analyzing the binary gravitational pull, trying to find a weakness. The Reapers were able to slow down nearly instantly from FTL. Citadel had said it's because of the 'mass effect field' produced by Eezo. If misread it could appear as a black hole.
Parameters were changed after Illium, shifting from utilizing UNSC and Covenant analysis to a new intel parameter based on Citadel intel and the brief combat experience the UNSC had. The Reapers were staying at the edge of the solar system. And since they didn't really need any logistics, plus with FLT flight speed, they had no permanent base of operations. Along with their ships' ability to withstand intense gravitation that would tear apart even the best UNSC ships, these factors had placed Battle Group Dakota on the defensive. If they tried to hunt the Reapers down they could simply outmaneuver them. In terms of long range combat, as in the sort of combat that's over millions of kilometers and takes hours for projectile weapons to hit anything, it was impossible.
Lasky zoomed in on the strategic topographic map of Menae. Battle Group Dakota had been able to establish a corridor from surface to the main supply group to the main UNSC Slipspace Insertion Point, I.P Storm. There was also numerous backup and contingency I.P points, with one of them being the actual Relay itself.
UNSC frigates were rotating in as many marine infantry of First MEF and army infantry of the 101st Airborne planetside. Support ships provided by Third Fleet Logistics Group were landing in as much supplies as they could. Everything was being funneled right now, making things more dangerous. But they had no other choice.
It forced them unto the defensive.
The plan was to try to trap the incoming Reaper ships into a killbox. Unleash barrages of MACs and Longsword strikes which will hopefully at the very least incapacitate the incoming group.
"How can I help?" Miranda asked.
"Really want to help? Stay out of the way." Lasky responded, maybe a bit too hostile but at the moment he didn't care.
She didn't seem to take much offense. She only shrugged as she stepped away from the holo-table and crossed her arms.
Miranda went on and off the bridge throughout the passing days. Lasky did have orders from higher to at the very least keep any non-UNSC personnel aboard 'entertained.' The order was...restricted in favor to maintain combat readiness. Lasky hadn't told her that Roland had adapted scanners to track motion disturbances emass, almost like the Spartan's motion trackers. For now, it helped if Miranda thought she was doing this all on her own… But Lasky doubted she didn't know. She seemed way too smart for that.
"MAC ONE, FIRING!" Warrant Officer Watkins yelled. The ship rumbled. The engines increased output, combating the momentum from the round as it ignited from the standard MAC. Captain Lasky would hold off on the super MAC until the enemy ships were locked unto a specific trajectory.
The Reaper capital ships, four in total, were on a direct course to the Infinity. Increasing velocity, one million klicks out and closing.
The MAC missed by a few dozen kilometers, traveling out into the void never to be slowed down until it hit something.
From the screen, the Reaper had predicted the trajectory and adjusted.
"MAC TWO, MAC THREE FIRING!" Watkins yelled.
Two more MAC rounds, each triple repeating, would fire and either hit or at the very least force the Reaper capital ships to a more desirable approach vector.
The Infinity shook again as six MAC rounds fired off along with multiple rounds from the Geronimo and James Mattis. Streaks of yellow light raced into the darkness.
Five-hundred-thousand klicks and closing. The engines pushed the Infinity forward. Lasky felt the gravity shift toward the back of the bridge. Archer pods began to fire and disperse, surrounded in massive plums of smoke. Increasing speed, they reached their intended targets. The Reapers' point-defense weapons eliminated a decent portion of the barrage. Small chunks of metal were ripped off their arms and body by the few missiles that made it through.
Two-hundred-thousand klicks and closing. The three ships continued to fire MAC rounds and began to unleash controlled fire of fifty and seventy-five-millimeter cannons. Sprays of cannon shells peppered the black void.
Another salvo of archer pods fired off. It spread out, targeting specific Reaper ships. Again, a decent portion were eliminated by their point defense cannons. Whatever was left hit weak points throughout the hull. A tentacle came off the nearest ship. Geronimo began to fire its MAC again. Repeating round. Through the barrage of fire, the capital ships had less room to maneuver. One of the rounds hit the middle section of a capital ship, tearing the upper half off and cutting its momentum. Tentacles and pieces of the hull flew in different directions. Red explosions lit across the rest of the hull, further tearing the Reaper apart.
Three more to go. Incoming one-hundred-thousand klicks. They began to fire their main lasers. RCS engines lit across the hulls of the three UNSC ships. They dispersed, maneuvered their fronts so MACs were still on target. Geronimo and James Mattis formed two separate inverse arcs, creating a semi-circle to try and surround the incoming ships. The Infinity pushed upwards in a wedge arc, front still directed towards the Reaper ships.
The Reaper ships began to peel off. One capital ship directed towards each UNSC ship. One laser round pierced the shields of the Geronimo. It scarred the hull.
Streaks of yellow light kept racing throughout the darkness as MAC rounds kept firing. Red lasers began to scrape the hull of the Infinity. Seventy-millimeter guns peppered the Reaper hulls or were deflected by the shields.
Fifty-thousand meters and closing. Roland automatically launched the Rapier and Howler pod silos. Right as they launched, they dispersed into dozens of missiles. Two tentacles were ripped off and metal embers dispersed. Sparks emitted after each connection from a missile or seventy-millimeter round. The Reaper ship was overwhelmed. Piece by piece was torn off. The main base was splintered into dozens of shards. All that was left was burnt wreckage pushed forward by momentum.
The Infinity twisted its roll axis, dodging metal. Parts of the Reaper capital ship bounced off the hull.
"UNSC Infinity, this is Geronimo actual, we are green. Contact eliminated. Standing by." The ship relayed on the Infinity's horn.
"James Mattis actual, transmitting green. Contact eliminated. Standing by."
The adrenaline drained out of Lasky's body. He didn't even notice the increased gravitation on his body. He noticed his hands were shaky. He gripped the railing of the holo-table. Underneath it was a coffee machine some poor E-3 installed a couple of weeks ago. Lasky shakily reached down and grabbed a styrofoam cup. He downed it.
And it was moments like these that Lasky was reminded of his tiredness and weariness. That he looked around the room and saw a nearly identical reflection in the crew, and deep down he knew he couldn't fall asleep like the boatswain at the analysis station in the corner of the bridge. Or break down like some grunt who saw too much. He was in command. He had to keep pushing.
It was just the lack of sleep was the one thing that gets to him. Sure, they trained him at CAMS and North Point Naval Academy, but it seemed like you never got used to it. At least he never got used to it. Everything seemed to just chip away at him. Chipped away until one day he couldn't handle it anymore.
"Caffeine isn't a substitute for sleep you know," Miranda said. She stepped forward from the table, gasping for air. Lasky noticed the rest of the crew was too.
It took him a minute to interpret what she said. He heard it, his mind just couldn't process it. It sounded like English but it sure as hell didn't seem like English.
"Not according to the Navy." Lasky needed to take those circadian rhythm pills soon. He had a dreadful feeling he was going to pull double overtime. "You don't even look tired."
"It's the genetics," Miranda responded through gasps.
The Geth QRF force, comprised of ten ships, were now only one-million klicks out.
"You okay?" Miranda asked.
She was looking at his hands. Lasky noticed they were still shaking.
He looked around. The crew was working at their stations, doing inventories and damage assessments. Not even Roland noticed as he updated the tactical map.
"I will be," Lasky replied.
Surface of Menae
September 2nd, 13:47
The plan had changed. Ninth Combat Legion would take too long to mobilize. But still, with the combination of railguns and Air Force bombardments, it was a helluva a show.
Too bad it was over.
The engines roared as the hogs pushed over the berm.
The entire vehicle bounced as it landed on the surface, pushing forward as the guns of other hogs opened up.
"All vics, maintain spread of fifty meters. Machine guns, focus on infantry. Gauss cannons, hard targets." Dutch ordered on comms.
The hog jumped again as it ran over a Reaper cannibal. The driver kept pushing forward towards Burning Dog. In the dim orange static light of the HUD, Dubbo could see the outlines of the Mammoth about four-hundred meters away. Shimmers of light, burning fires and bursts of flak outlined the inner cordon they had been able to establish.
A burst of yellow light erupted from the Mammoth's mini MAC. The round raced towards one of the distant hills, ripping apart grey earth and chunks of rock. The flash left a ghost image in Dubbo's HUD.
"Burning Dog, to all hands. I see numerous vics coming in. IFF tags confirmed. Hold your fire to the south of the cordon." A voice said on the general comms.
"This is Task Force Assassin, Oscar-two-Delta," Dubbo said on the local comms. "Burning Dog, get me a sitrep. Over."
The hog swerved out of the way of a large ravager. Dubbo could see IFF tags in the distance. Blue diamonds. Army infantry from BCT two.
"Oscar-two-Delta, this is Burning Dog Actual. First Mammoth has been hit hard." The same voice replied. "Second Mammoth is barely operable, but we're running out of ammo. MAC rounds are low. We're storing most of our casualties in the Mammoths."
They passed through the outer defense that second BCT and reserve elements of Task Force Assassin were able to establish. Pockets of Reaper infantry had broken through. They were engaged by units located within the inner cordon. Who knew if the outer cordon was even holding out anymore.
"Roger that, mate. Out."
They drove past the first Mammoth as it fired another MAC shell at the unseen swarm of Reaper troops coming from Hill 535 and beyond. The hogs began to slow down as they encountered larger groups of friendly soldiers and marines. Soon enough they reached the first Mammoth. Medics and corpsmen tended to the wounded either stacked up along the Mammoth or in some sort of defilade nearby. Next to the wheels of the both super vehicles were rows of black body bags.
"I don't think we brought enough 'hogs." Dutch said on the team comms. There had to be hundreds of wounded from Burning Dog, Second BCT and Task Force Assassin. Christ, mate. They vastly underestimated the casualties here. And this was the first fuckin' Mammoth.
At least the area between the two mammoths was mostly secure. For the time being. The few working grizzlies they had manned the perimeter. Comm teams were coordinating with the rest of the force near what Dubbo assumed was the makeshift C.O.C.
Dubbo, Technical Sergeant McKnight, and Second Cabal Team stepped off the hogs.
"Who's in charge here!?" Dubbo yelled out. The echoey sounds of weapons report drowned out his voice.
Absolute chaos. Dubbo saw the Spartan team disembark, heading towards one of the Mammoths.
He had no idea where to even begin.
"Dutch, Rookie… Try to find the lead corpsmen. Anyone with urgent priority, prep to get 'em out of here." Dubbo said. He looked to Lieutenant Kandros and her men, "set up your mates along the ridgeline. Standby for firemission."
Kandros nodded and began to set up her mobile arty. Dubbo waved for Technical Sergeant McKnight to follow him.
There had to be hundreds of soldiers here. All just one big target for the Reaper forces. Hell, probably the only reason a destroyer or capital ship ain't here was because the Navy was barely holding on in exosphere.
Christ, mate… Probably to the flyboys upstairs, to HIGHCOM and all the old fuckers, sure...we were winning. Reapers were taking one punch after another… But Dubbo had to look around and wonder what the fuck was going on.
It makes him wonder why he even decided to stay in… He could be back home… Fuck, man. He already done enough. He helped end the last fucking war only to start another one. Sometimes he wondered if the higher-ups really cared. It seems sympathy only goes as high up as Colonel Buck...and even then, Dubbo still had questions.
Dubbo walked through the clusterfuck of staff and medical personnel. The natural formations of dirt and rocks created a barrier a few dozen meters in front of the Mammoth. The few grizzlies left filled in the gaps.
If there was any coordination here, any chain of command, he couldn't see it. Dutch, Rookie, and the few corpsman they brought along with them began to select the worst out of the wounded. As for the Air Force JTAC, he got to work. He ran over to the army comms center and began to take charge.
Fuckin' army.
"WHO'S IN GODDAMN CHARGE!?" Dubbo yelled out again as he trudged along the chaos. Someone responded this time. He stood up from the group of medics. Dubbo saw a dark golden bar on his flak vest.
"Sir? Second Lieutenant O'Conner. Second BCT, Easy Company. Most of the command staff is either MIA or KIA...so I'm it…" An unsure voice said under a heavily armored brown helmet and gator neck.
"Jaysus, fuck, mate, finally." Dubbo replied. "What's the situation?"
He took a shaky breath. "Everything here has been a giant clusterfuck. When BCT Two dropped in their sticks were scattered in the wind and most of the Marine reinforcements landed either near or outside the outer cordon. Outer cordon is stopping the larger enemy waves, but there's massive gaps. Inner cordon handles them…"
There was an enemy round that hit one of the rock formations. Dubbo and O'Connor ducked down. Debris rained from above.
"Let me guess. Massive gaps in the inner cordon also?"
"Yeah. We stopped coordinating firemission towards Hill 535. They just keep fuckin coming. We're doing danger close firemission near and inside the inner cordon."
"Any friendly fire?" Dubbo asked.
"...Maybe." The Second Lieutenant turned and headed to the front of the Mammoth. "Our communications with any elements is spotty at best…."
"We'll try to help you clear out the space between the inner cordon and 'ere." Dubbo motioned to the Second Cabal team. They were setting up what looked like small power generators. A few seemed to be stretching. "Direct fire. Highly accurate."
"Yeah, we heard about them. Casevac is our main priority." O'Connor looked to the other mammoth in the distance. Its outline was barely illuminated in orange light. "What about the Spartans?"
"Cole Protocol, mate."
"Fuck…" O'Connor looked from the Mammoth to the outer formation. "Alright. We ain't got any firefinders. Grab some volun-tolds. We'll line up targets for fire."
O'Connor headed towards the edge of the safezone. The thin defense line the berm formed.
Dubbo didn't even look. He grabbed the three nearest Marines he found and ordered them to follow him. Lieutenant Kandros also tagged along.
They meet O'Connor near the ridge. He was leaning over cover as he peered out with binoculars.
"Turians know how to translate our grid coordinates, right?" O'Connor asked.
"Let's hope so." Dubbo peered out and turned on his HUD. It was just a mass of dead land.
Dubbo looked back to the friendly ridgeline stacked with cobras nearly a klick out. There were flashes of light from each railgun. It impacted against the land or traveled and hit Hill 535 so far away.
New IFF tags began to appear on Dubbo's HUD. Air Force Short Swords. They passed overhead, flying low about six-hundred meters off the ground. The roar of the subsonic engined drowned out the small arms reports and artillery bombardments. They began to drop their payloads on precision targets only a few hundred meters out.
Looks like that technical sergeant already locked down grid coordinates. Hopefully soon they can at least clear the area between here and the men trapped in the outer cordon.
"Dubbo…" Dutch's voice said on tac-comms. "Hogs are 'bout loaded up. Most of the land between us and MSR Bronze should be cleared, but rev up that arty unit just in case."
"Kandros…" Dubbo spotted something with his HUD. Large group of Reapers identified by local friendly units. "Let's test out ya unit.
"Ten digit grid coordinates: November-Uniform eight-five-zero-zero-four tac four-zero-three-three-zero. Five guns."
Kandros took a moment to translate the coordinates from standard UNSC to whatever the hell the Turians used. She inputted the coordinates and sent it to her team.
"Target confirmed. Standby for fire." A scratchy and deep voice replied.
Dubbo couldn't help but look. A dark blue light began to form at the base of the Mammoth, eating away the darkness and illuminating the soldiers around them. Blackish-blue embers formed around these light sources, and soon enough they launched into the sky
"Still like the fuckin' force, mate," Dubbo said as he saw more embers forming in the hands of the Turian soldiers. They launched them into the darkness, and the light sources sped away towards their target.
"Message to observer: Five guns, two rounds, H.E delayed effect. Quadrant three tac eight, grids five by four by zero. Target number: Juliet Bravo zero-zero-one-five-niner. Splash: twenty seconds. Stand by. Over."
Dubbo activated four times magnification on his HUD. Looked like they targeted a group of ravagers supported by Reaper infantry. Cannibals, husks, and the odd marauder around three hundred meters out. They seemed to be in heavy engagement with a local Army unit in defilade. Soon enough, the blue biotic lights smashed into the enemy position. Dust and debris flew into the air. The space around it ignited in white flame, leaving yet another ghost image in Dubbo's HUD.
Body parts of Reaper troops flew in the air, quickly turning into ash.
Target.
"Nice shot," Dubbo told Kandros.
"How much do you want to clear?" Dubbo asked O'Conner.
"Problem is they're so spread out and we don't have the resources to hunt them down. Either way I ain't sending my men out into No Man's Land. I guess if we take out the larger pockets with direct fire it should be alright."
Dubbo looked to Kandros. "You take over then, mate."
Dubbo and O'Connor left Kandros and the three marines to it.
A stray Reaper round hit the first damaged Mammoth near the center wheels. From the other side, the round continued to travel. Fire burst from inside. The mass of radio chatter and screams began to flood the local comms. Another Reaper round pierced the front, right below the cockpit.
More of those rounds began to hit the protective berms. Dubbo instinctively grabbed O'Connor by his collar and dragged him down into cover.
Dubbo spoke into the tac-comm. "SOMEONE GETS EYES ON THAT FUCKER! LAY DOWN FIRE!"
He never saw a round like that before. At least from the Reapers. It completely obliterated the Mammoth.
The round turned into a beam of pure electronic blue light surrounded by black, and started to sanitize the berms.
Dubbo realized what it was. The fire from those Reaper AA cannons. Hades cannons. Where it was coming from he had no idea.
Fuck, he had no idea the Reapers could even get them to aim at a ground-based target.
Radio chatter began to burst through on every channel. Panicked, gargled voices that seemed to be arguing with each other.
"Lieutenant Dubbo!" A voice screamed. It was from Lieutenant Kandros. She ran to cover. "We can get arty on that target-"
Another beam came from the darkness and hit the first Mammoth in a different spot. Dubbo could see pieces of the front axle flying off.
Dubbo activated his HUD. He saw red outlines of enemies maybe five, six-hundred meters out. Couldn't see that fuckin Hades AA gun.
"This is oscar-two-delta to any nearby exospheric assets, hal copy?" Dubbo screamed into the tac-comms. "We need goddamn MACs down here ASAP! Our position is untenable! We are about to lose the highway!"
Fires began to disperse on the first Mammoth. Soldiers rushed in to grab the wounded and pulled them out.
Well, at least they didn't have to worry about Cole Protocol.
"O'Connor!" Dubbo yelled. "Load up as much men as you can onto the hogs! We got to get the fuck out of here!"
Two short swords flew overhead. The Hades cannon switched targets, fired a beam of light that completely engulfed one fighter and ripped the wing off the other. They both went down in blazes of fire.
In the distance, the warning sirens of the Elephant positioned between the two Mammoths went off. The clamps around the hull unlocked and the ramp door began to close. Christ, mate. The driver was probably panicking. He was about to push out of here.
"Dutch!" Stop that fuckin' Mammoth! Load it up till full and then get it outta here!"
No one responded on the comms. Lieutenant Kandros had her arty unit fire another salvo.
Fuck. He probably already egressed back to MSR Bronze.
Shit, it was about to become a fuckin' shitshow. They were about to be boxed in.
The Elephant kept pushing forward. Another Hades round fired, scarring the top of the first Mammoth and ignited another fire.
"Fall back! Fall back to the MSR Bronze!" Someone screamed on the radio.
Jaysus Christ. This was a mass retreat with no one covering it. This was an utter gagglefuck.
Task Force Assassin was too small an element to clean this up. And with them and BCT Two scattered, he doubt anyone could get on the line to unfuck this…
Oh...Oh Jaysus…
He looked to Lieutenant O'Connor… Fuck, man. Jaysus, fuck… He didn't notice the burst of Marauder rounds that hit nearby… That created plums of dust and scattered rocks… One of the rounds had hit Lieutenant O'Connor… Pierced right through his flak vest. He laid there, face down on the berm…
He looked around… Soldiers, marines, and sailors were scattered, running around in a sea of absolute confusion. At the very least, some were trying to prep the wounded for evac….
He didn't see any other officers or high-ranking NCOs anywhere...Lieutenant Kandros was trying to keep her cabal unit together… Tech Sergeant McKnight was barking orders to the few radio operators that were listening…
Holy fuck… There was no one else here to take charge…
The grizzly near his position, about two-hundred meters out, was beginning to roll back. Providing some cover fire, canisters were ejected and five-five-six rounds ejected from the machine gun.
...Someone stepped near him. A metal foot. Dubbo looked up… One of the Spartans on Locke's team. Dark red armor. Green visor. She had a battle rifle, raised confidentially, firing at individual targets with extreme precision.
Dubbo felt sweat drip down his face. His nose pressed against the visor of his helmet. He looked around… He was surrounded by five Spartans. Locke's team. Under those helmets, none of them looked scared.
"Lieutenant!" Locke said. He kneeled down. "Peel off a section, reinforce us and we'll hold off the Reapers for you to retreat. Get Tech Sergeant McKnight to coordinate fire. Get the rest of the men back to MSR Bronze!"
Dubbo was like a deer in headlights. He didn't...he…
He remembered back on Illium when he first saw the Master Chief again in nearly five years… Fuck. He couldn't...couldn't do it.
He wasn't made to do this…
A lot of good people died on Illium… He...he didn't…. He wasn't able to take charge with the Master Chief… He was incompetent. And people died… for no point...
Fuck.
Dubbo nervously nodded his head and scrambled back to the center of the Burning Dog. He dropped his rifle and sprinted to the Elephant.
"STOP YOU BLOODY WANKER!" He sprinted alongside the Elephant, pounding on the hull with an open fist. He ran in front of it, and it immediately halted.
The ramp opened up, and a crew member rushed out. "Sir! Get the hell out of the way! We're-"
"NO! STOP THIS PIECE OF SHIT NOW! YOU LEAVE AND I'LL HAVE ARTY SEND YOU TO 'ELL!" Dubbo screamed. "OPEN UP AND LOAD UP ALL THE WOUNDED YOU CAN!
"UNDERSTOOD!?"
The soldier had no idea what to do. He took a step back, a little speechless.
"AYE, SIR! OR SOME SHIT!" Dubbo added.
"...Y-yes, sir." The soldier stepped back and began to set up lockdown procedures.
Dubbo took a breath then sprinted to the clusterfuck near the first burning Mammoth. Up close, it was even worse than he thought. Way worse. The corpsmen and medics were sorta organized, tending to as many wounded as they could. As for the marine and army infantry, some were prepping to retreat, some breaking down in fear, and some trying to organize a defense.
He looked around. Someone rushed by him… He saw chevrons and a rocker. He grabbed him by the collar.
"STAFF SERGEANT! GET THIS GAGGELFUCK IN ORDER NOW!" Lieutenant Dubbo ordered. "GET A MACHINE GUN TEAM TO LAY DOWN FIRE, AND GET EVERYONE HERE TO BEGIN TO LOAD UP WOUNDED ON THE MAMMOTH!"
"Sir, I can't. Right now-"
"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT! THAT IS AN ORDER, STAFF SERGEANT!"
He slowly nodded. "Aye...aye, sir."
He rushed off and began to do the same thing to other marines and soldiers. Grabbed other NCOs and did the same thing. Spread the word, began to fill out orders. Every once and awhile, Dubbo grabbed another NCO to get shit organized. Dubbo stumbled over through the mesh of bodies to the makeshift comm center with Tech Sergeant McKnight.
"GET AIR FORCE TO GET EYES ON THAT FUCKIN' HADES! IF THEY CAN'T, THEN TELL 'EM TO LAY DOWN SMOKE!" Dubbo yelled. "WE'RE GONNA COVER THE RETREAT!"
He stepped out. Saw that an army team began to set up SAWs and lay down heavy fire. Corpsmen, medics, and other men began to grab wounded and loaded them onto the Elephant.
"What about the wounded on the Mammoth?" Dubbo yelled to no one in particular.
"Spartans already got 'em out!" A marine yelled as he carried another marine without an arm.
They began to fill up the Elephant. Above, a Shortsword dodged a beam of light from the Hades cannon. It began to drop its payload. Fire burst across the land near Hill 535. Now, the absolute blackness of the dark side of Menae was lit in a orange, warm glow.
Dubbo got on the local tac-comms. "Peel off whatever grizzlies you can, and load up whatever wounded you can!"
The Spartans, supported by an army machine gun team, and a single grizzly, held the line. Kodiak artillery began to fire in an actual coordinated attack. Arty rounds came crashing down, creating a complete field of fire.
That was their smoke.
The last of the Corpsmen exited the Elephant, and it began to close up. Dubbo could see it was filled to the brim. A few grizzlies were pulling back, stopping to quickly let men fill their tops with wounded. Afterward, they continued their push back to MSR Bronze.
"All units within the AO, we are abandoning Burning Dog and falling back to MSR Bronze. Cole Protocol has been initiated. Burning Dog will be purged in five minutes. If you are hearing this, you are ordered to fall back to MSR Bronze. All-"
A general order. Spartans must've wiped out all the data aboard the Mammoths. Air Force Short Swords will do the rest. Cole Protocol was about to be initiated. Higher ups didn't care if they were still here or not, MAC strikes will come down.
Shit, mate. Hopefully, the outer cordon will retrograde back to the line in time.
Fuck this shit.
"FALL BACK!" Dubbo yelled. He hoped everyone actually remembers their fuckin' training and will commence a covering retreat.
MSR Bronze was half a klick away. Fuck, it would be a helluva a run. They got the wounded on. That's all that matters.
Something hit Dubbo in the back. Hard. He was knocked to the ground. He felt something had pierced his backpack. His armor felt like it was locking up.
Something grabbed his collar and dragged him to MSR Bronze.
Aboard UNSC Infinity.2186 Citadel Calendar, 01:49
September 2nd
This was definitely not an Alliance cruiser. There were no inertia or gravitational dampeners. Every shift, every movement, every drop and increase in speed, weight of the room constantly shifted. When they were in battle they could feel the course of the conflict.
God, Miranda didn't think she would get sick from stuff like this, but after a few days she wanted off. Captain Lasky and the crew seemed used to it. They didn't have a choice but to adapt. She had a newfound respect for these people. While people like Joker were certainly skilled pilots, she doubted he could maneuver the Normandy while experiencing nearly seven to eight Gs of pressure over prolonged periods of time.
Advantages and disadvantages. When humanity found the relays it completely projected them in a different direction. It was as if this other side of Humanity continued to build off the progress before that, focusing on how to utilize ancient technology such as RCS systems and lead-based weapons to advance into the future. There was no spontaneous solution for them like with the Systems Alliance and Eezo. Comfort and practicality were obstacles they had to work through. Physical barriers that didn't hinder the mission were left untouched.
It was in this observation that something clicked… Something she would surely discuss with Liara after the usual initial conversation where they were both throwing insults at each other.
….Anyways, she absorbed information like a sponge. For better or worse. And that wasn't her bragging. Every computer system and design she saw, she couldn't help but analyze it. She was able to seep in every detail and logically connect it to how it worked within the ship. But all she had to go on though was just surface observation. She was under constant surveillance from either Roland on the CCTV systems, crew, or from Captain Lasky himself. No way she was going to dive deeper.
But she was learning more and more about the UNSC, making logical deductions and reasonings. For example, these people were a very grim bunch. Yet unlike the Turians, their inherent burden of duty was not out of tradition or honor, but necessity. No one truly wanted to be in this fight yet here they were.
There were very few traits that were unique. Secretive like the Batarians, inquisitive like the Salarians, the only thing truly unique quality unlike anything she had ever seen in any other group of people was the nervousness. Of course, they were in combat, but even in the calm moments, there was an indescribable tension that possessed the crew. And these were older people, in their late thirties, forties, and even fifties. It reminded her of her studies. Evolutionary psychology. Inherent self-preservation that seems to now dominate their psychosocial framework. They were constantly under attack.
The one man who was an exemption to this definition was Captain Lasky. Calm, confident, he reminded her way too much of Shepard…. At least Shepard's old self in ways… As the war continued she was worried how long Shepard will be able to hold himself together without finally breaking down and never getting back up. Liara couldn't see it, or maybe she was denying it herself… It was going to happen. Little things (relatively little) were making him lose control each time… Just the right event at the right time will do it...
That thought scared her enough to jump back into reality.
Lasky looked across the holo-table. "You don't even look tired."
"It's the genetics." Miranda said.
After UNSC Infinity moped up the Reaper group, they moved back to the rear with the logistic ships to refit and refuel. After nearly a day-and-a-half of pure conflict, the ship was severely depleted on everything according to Roland. But they weren't going to get rest. There was something happening on the surface.
Lasky grunted and downed another cup of coffee. "So you have family out there?"
"Ah. No. Not what I meant, mate. I was born in a test tube. Quite literally."
Lasky slowly nodded. Maybe he wasn't sure how to take it, wasn't sure what to say, but more than likely he was extremely occupied as Roland displayed ammunition and fuel intake, and other statuses of important issues aboard the Infinity.
Miranda would've deployed on the surface with Garrus, Kasumi, and James, but quite frankly she was only here because at the end of the day the Citadel governments had absolutely no trust in the UNSC. At least Shepard and Admiral Hackett didn't. The only thing Miranda could do if the UNSC went overboard was try to negotiate Captain Lasky. Luckily, that hasn't happened yet.
"What about you…?" Miranda asked.
Lasky took a moment to respond. "Mars… Grew up in the military schools. You?"
"Similar… Not a military school, but same regimen I guess."
"Yeah...zero-five PT every morning?"
"Some things are worse, Captain."
"Fair enough." Captain Lasky stepped over to Roland at the end of the holo-table. "Status?"
"Quarter loaded, sir. I'm trying to rotate as much personnel also, but as usual we won't don't have enough time for full rotations."
"Do what you can." Captain Lasky opened up a screen on the holo-table and viewed statues about the main cannons. "Make it quick. Task Force Assassin is requesting immediate assistance. Ricky tick."
"Aye, sir."
Miranda internally sighed. It looked like she was gonna have to endure more Gs and gravitational shifts.
Her Omni-tool began to vibrate. Two shifting tones indicating a news report alert. Might as well. She opened it up….
"Oh no…" Miranda said aloud…. "Captain, take a look."
Captain Lasky moved around the holo-table to her. He looked at the news report. His eyes widened. "Roland, raise the horn with the UNSC Citadel detachment immediately."
"Transmission delay time is twenty-six minutes, sir…." Roland said.
"And the last time you received an update from the Citadel?" Captain Lasky asked.
"Fifty-eight minutes ago."
He's probably wondering why the UNSC hadn't sent an emergency message. Why they were only hearing about it now. If Miranda guessed right, the attackers were blocking direct communications. Extranet comm buoys might've still been operational. In emergencies, news and Citadel staff had priority bandwidth. She saw it was last updated fifteen minutes ago… They probably destroyed the buoys after that.
"We need to extract our detachments and get back to the Citadel. HIGHCOM staff is present." Lasky looked at Roland. "Get Colonel Buck on the line. Tell him to pack up Task Force Assassin, we're leaving theater."
"Sir?" Roland said, confused. "We're not done refitting and refueling. All of Task Force Assassin is engaged. We can't just peel off from theater."
"Contact Colonel Buck, get it done," Lasky ordered. "Peel off a ship from Third Fleet Logistics Group. We'll refit and refuel on the way. Task Force Assassin's status?"
"Large elements are bogged down on the dark side of Menae. They're the ones Colonel Buck requested immediate relief for. Turian and Geth ships are battling for it tooth and nail." Roland reported.
"Prepare for an oval eight orbital pass around Menae. We'll extract most of Task Force Assassin on the way… We're gonna have to figure out how to replenish our ground force. Get XXX-XD messages to HIGHCOM and FLEETCOM. See if they can spare any ships to assist. What's the fastest way back to the Citadel?"
"Slipspace will take hours, at the very least…" Roland said.
"The relays are the fastest way." Miranda interjected. "You slingshot to the relay, it's quite literally a straight shot to the Citadel."
Lasky nodded, looked to the AI. "Make it happen. Lockdown all personnel and cargo."
"Aye, sir."
Miranda looked at the report.
She began to realize what Long Night of Solstice was.
...
"Theater station report. All personnel, be advised, this is UNSC Infinity actual. We are making a sweeping orbit, low troposphere. Clear the area. MAC rounds have been authorized for use in atmosphere. All personnel, if you are hearing this, retreat to minimum safe distance. MAC rounds have been authorized for atmospheric use."
In the darkness above, lit only by the sparse explosions of red and blue lights, something broke the shadow. Something that flew above them, maybe a klick or two above, shattering the noises of artillery and the constant bombardments of Short Swords. Lights danced around the hull, displaying the name UNSC Infinity. From its undercarriage, a MAC cannon fired directly at Hill 535. Instead of merely scarring the surface, it completely obliterated the hill. The mountain was engulfed in yellow light. Rocks and dirt raised hundreds of meters into the air, disappearing in the darkness.
Dubbo knew it was a friendly hand that was dragging him. He felt disoriented and sick. His entire body felt numb.
"All UNSC forces, be advised. Burning Dog will be sanitized in three minutes forty-five seconds. You have three-minutes-forty-five seconds to reach minimum safe distance or a hardened structure. MAC rounds have been authorized for atmospheric use." The voice said on all comm channels.
More people ran past him. Soldiers and marines getting the fuck out of dodge.
He saw warthogs rush in the opposite direction, towards Burning Dog. Hopefully, they were being deployed to extract the outer cordon…if there were any people left.
He felt something run down his face. It stung his eyes. It dripped down his mouth. Warm blood… Made it hard to see.
He tried not to think about how fucked up he was. He looked back. Burning Dog was growing farther away.
He felt the rumble from UNSC Kodiaks as they got closer to the berm. Fuck, this couldn't be any marine or soldier.
...Fuck, mate.
"All UNSC force, be advised. Burning dog will be sanitized in two minutes…."
In what must've been record fucking time, they reached the berm. He was dragged over it into the UNSC defense line.
There had to be hundreds of UNSC servicemen here. All evacuated from Burning Dog.
The hand let him go. Dubbo finally had a chance to look up… He was right. It was a Spartan. Spartan-IV. Lieutenant Locke.
Fuckin' Christ, mate.
Someone quickly walked up to him and kneeled down.
"You good, son?" Colonel Buck asked. He took off his helmet.
It took a moment to even register what he said. Dubbo shakily took off his helmet… He felt nauseous… He felt like he was gonna-
He leaned over and began to vomit. All over his pressure vest.
He felt his body shake. The adrenaline evaporated from his muscles. Fuck this shit, mate.
"Rah, sir." Dubbo said through gasps of air.
"Lieutenant," Buck said. "Glad you made it back.
"Task Force Assassin is packing up. Get on comms with Major Stacker. We're rodgering up back to the Infinity."
"...Sir?" Shit… He didn't have a concussion, did he?
"Menae is no longer ours or the Infinity's priority. Commander Palmer's and Garrus' team are already on board."
Dubbo was dazed. He looked around. His vision blurry, but he was making out the macro details…
Everyone was packing up. Not just Task Force Assassin, but everyone. Turians, Krogan… They were ready to disembark from the surface. It looked like the Kodiaks, and Army elements were staying behind.
"We've got an emergency directive…" Buck said. "Menae ain't our theater anymore.
"We'll do a debrief enroute." Buck grabbed Dubbo by his harness, lifted him up.
Dubbo didn't know how to respond… He didn't feel sick strangely enough. He just felt exhausted. He just wanted to stop. He just wanted to fuckin' sleep.
"We don't have enough bodies, sir." On the top of Dubbo's head, Task Force Assassin had secured their plateau section in the original landing. After they handed it over to the Second and Tenth Imperial Legion, Dubbo knew there were task elements bogged down and scattered.
"I know." Buck nodded to the Turians and Krogan.
Dubbo realized it was those skater fucks, Ninth Legion that was going with them. Better late than fuckin' never.
"You okay, son?"
"...Yes...yes, sir."
...
He was not okay.
Ten minutes to disembark. The Infinity had deployed heavy drop pods and Albatrosses to scope up the clumps of Spartans, Marines, Turians, Krogans… and now Dubbo had just learned elements of Quarians and Geth forces along with Asari special attachments were coming too.
All of it to replace the depleted bodies of the Inifnity's ODST, Marine, and Spartan detachments.
Dubbo was grouped in with other junior officers, far beyond MSR Bronze… Waiting for the Albatross to touch down. A corpsmen attended to his wounds, unfucked all the cuts on his forehead...
What the hell was the point of this?
This stupid bullshit. This shit that won't even be remembered. That at the end didn't even fuckin' matter in the big picture. It's all bullshit. People died here, and some shit was happening on the Citadel. Command didn't really care. They didn't give a shit if they were tired and worn out to hell.
There was no point in being here.
"Lieutenant…." Dubbo turned to find Colonel Buck. He nodded him to come over, away from his fellow peers. "Roland formed up an after action report."
"You know, sir, I think we got bigger worries than a fuckin' after action report. So frankly, fuck you, dude." Dubbo couldn't look him in the eyes. At this point, he didn't give a shit if he was gonna be ninja punched for telling an actual officer to fuck off.
Buck crossed his arms. "Rah."
Dubbo looked back up. Buck grabbed his cammies, ripped off his silver bars. "Pretty brave out there. Your PFT scores are shit, and you've never done a PME to save your life, but I don't give a shit. I talked to Major Stacker. He felt like you deserved it.
"You already have one bronze star with valor pin and combat action ribbon. Maybe a silver star?"
Dubbo wasn't sure what he was saying. He was still worn out and angry, but admittedly confused.
"Old fashion meritorious promotion." Buck brought out a pair of fucked up, chipped double silver bars. Looked like they'd been in one too many tours. Blackened. Clipped. Grunt style bars. "These used to be mind… I was automatically promoted to captain because of my experience...But, yours now."
"...No promotion ceremony, sir?" It was all Dubbo could think to say.
Buck smiled as he put on the bars. "I don't believe in that POG, garrison, peacetime bullshit."
He didn't put on the turtlebacks. He smacked down on the bars. Hard. Dubbo felt the needles stab his collarbones. Something wet formed underneath the pinned area.
Dubbo clenched his teeth as he did the other one. The sting. The needle as it buried in the skin and touched bare bone.
Dubbo took a breath. "...Sir?
"Why did you stay in? The fuck's the point, sir?"
"Ask yourself that, Captain," Buck said. "Maybe I'm just too stupid to get out. Rah?"
"Rah...sir," ...Captain Dubbo said.