ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: ALTER. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: JUPITER. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: HAWK. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: EYES. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: AGAMEMNON. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: AEGON. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: ARES. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: ODYSSEY. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
ACTIVATION ALERT. CALLSIGN: HISPANIA. CODE PHRASE: [REDACTED]
Emergency Response Team One HYPERION [EN ROUTE]
Emergency Response Team Two PANGEA [EN ROUTE]
Assault Team Three HADES [EN ROUTE]
Assault Team Four ICARUS [EN ROUTE]
Command Team Five SPEAR [EN ROUTE]
"Team one reports green," A voice stated as the makeshift transport shift skidded by the hull of a UNSC Autumn-class cruiser. Its immense black hull nearly blocked out the tangent aurora of light from the Serpent Nebula. Rows upon rows of guns, protecting a hull dozens of meters thick, seemed to be pointing directly at them. They eventually passed by the name: UNSC Scipio Africanus.
"This is Icarus, we're aboard," another voice informed. "Standing by... Will this gear work?"
"Well, we didn't spend millions of credits for nothing," Another one said.
Ever since the UNSC had arrived, Citadel traffic had increased thrice fold as more refugee ships were able to make it to one of the last few safe places in the galaxy. Now, UNSC ships laid docked in the arms of the space station, acting like rocks that interrupted the great river of inpouring and outpouring civilian and smaller military ships of various factions. Ahead, surrounding the inner ring of the Presidium, was a contingent of UNSC frigates and two Elite corvettes. Their main cannons, their fronts, faced outwards... towards the Citadel Defense Fleet.
He wondered how many UNSC ships and ground troops were on standby, waiting to jump in-system through 'Slipspace.' All the more reason why they had to be careful.
"This is Spear, we're aboard and setting up shop," a female said.
"This is Citadel Space Traffic Control to cargo ship Roundabout, transmit your credentials and state your intentions," a traffic controller replied. He recognized it.
"Roger, CSTC. Stand by for transmission," he sent the credentials. "State: thirty souls aboard. Refugees inbound from colonial world Eden Prime."
"Copy, Roundabout. Prepared to be scanned."
By who? He wondered. The Citadel contained so much traffic now that one ship getting lost in the fray or possessing a false scanning report wouldn't be noticed.
Still, a Turian frigate moved up the starboard side. He slowed down the throttle enough to make a slow pass, allowing the shabby cargo ship to be scanned.
"Roundabout, stand by," the Turian captain reported to him. Sensors indicated an eezo and lifeform scan was being performed. Good thing there was no eezo aboard in the important cargo. "Roundabout, you are clear. Thirty souls aboard. No weapons found."
"Okay, Roundabout," CSTC said. "Please proceed to docking bay Echo eleven-F. I'll place a marker for your radar. Please follow your graphed trajectory and do not deviate from this course. Transmitting flight path now, Roundabout."
The marker was placed. A cargo bay aboard the Presidium, very near the Council and UNSC quarters.
"Roger that, thank you CSTC. Roundabout out," with that he cut the horn and proceeded to maneuver through the thousands of ships contained within a few dozen kilometers. The majority were civilian and decommissioned military freighters desperately cobbled together to get the hell away from the Reapers.
After passing by an Asari cargo cruiser, they finally made their way onto the hanger and proceeded to dock. They passed through the airlock curtain shield and lined up with the clamps. The clamps reached out and attached to the rusty metal hull.
"Hyperion reports green. Onboard," he said into the comms.
"Roger, waiting on just Pangea now," Spear replied. "Hyperion, ready up and move to your designated RV. You got a small window. Clock's ticking."
"Roger, Spear," With that, he unclipped the harness and moved out of the cockpit. He put on his helmet and snapped on the pressurization seal. Despite being augmented a few weeks ago now, the gear still felt heavy. He had to remember that he was now a lot stronger than he was. The thudding sound on the metal deck reminding him each time he took a footstep reminded him of this.
A teammate handed him a weapon. Another thing to get used to. Plasma rifle. Currently deactivated in order to conceal movements in the dark. (It shined ultra blue. It's hard to keep underwraps.)
They readied up. One of his teammates had a grappling hook attached to his arm. Reinforced threaded titanium. If they went two at a time it'll hold their weight.
They begin to hit each other on the shoulders. This is it they were telling themselves. What we trained for. Mission one. All of Humanity depended on us.
"Remember," the Captain of Hyperion commanded.. "This is for the species, ladies. Get in, get out, no fucking about.. This is what we all trained for. Watch each other's back and stay low. Remember your training, remember why you went through what you went through. This is bigger than yourself now!"
With that, one of his teammates opened a compressed hatch on the bottom floor of the main corridor. He had to be careful, partially maneuvering around his own bulky armor. He wasn't sure how the originals handled it, but then again the originals had decades to streamline the process. At the very least, they got the survival rate up to eighty-seven percent. Near the end at least.
The exoskeleton helped him move the dense, extremely heavy armor as the team readied up. They shot the wire across the hanger, hitting the wall near a large ventilation shaft. The first two in the team attached on and repelled to the wall. The wiring twinged under nearly four tons of weight.
He looked out the starboard window. A customs officer was discussing semantics with one of the cargo ship's crew.
He wasn't sure how long it'll stall them as they slowly crossed two at a time above the abyss.
Worse comes to worse, if they went loud they're confident in their gear and training. But that wasn't the point of the mission.
No one spotted them as they were shadowed in black and purple light while the shining globes of neon blue and orange pitted them into darkness.
Their adaptive gear, Semi-Powered Infiltration Armor (SPI)- another borrowed aspect from their suppliers - had no eezo trace elements, save for the modified biotic PRAETORIAN armor. Even then, the photoreactive panels presented on the armor would be invisible on live video feeds and scanners. As for the Eezo in PRAETORIANS, it would be mere blimps on any eezo scanner, ignored for possible natural emission streams from various sources.
"Almost across, keep holding them off," the team commander said to the civilian crew. They didn't acknowledge, but they knew the civilian crew continued their best to hold off the customs team.
Soon, it was their turn, him and the commander were to be the last ones across. They attached to the repel line and pushed across. Nothing below but stories upon stories of docks and hangers filled to the brim with starships.
The two reached the ventilation shaft. Their teammates pulled them in and retracted the repel line. Once everything was in place they resecured the ventilation shaft.
It took years to route out the Keeper tunnels throughout the Citadel, and there are many dark places that one could get lost in for months. Yet, their intel team had the foresight to map out the critical corridors that would lead them to their objective. It might be crawling with activity...but that was the job.
"Move, Spartans," the Commander ordered. The team moved up in groups of three, taking it slow and observing all possible ambush vectors.
"Spear, can we get the status on Pangea?" The Commander asked.
"Negative, Hyperion. Pangea is being held up in exosphere. Trying to maintain contact, but if they continue to hold up we may have to consider scuttling the ship," Sparta replied. "Prepare to improvise, Hyperion."
"Roger, Hyperion receives," they continued to push through until it was pitch black. Night vision activated. Each corner and edge was outlined with orange lines, and the world received a bright static that painted the room and made it visible.
"Detecting something on motion," the lead reported. "Unknown IFF. Either Keeper or civilian."
"Rog. Keep moving."
The team moved down and turned right on a perpendicular corridor. Up ahead, a Keeper worked on a neon orange terminal, typing in alien commands.
One of his teammates took the shot from a suppressed UNSC-styled DMR. Right in the head. The Keeper's head tore apart, spraying biomatter in the opposite direction. The alien itself fell to the floor.
"Confirmed down."
They moved forward. Deeper into the Presidium.
"Icarus in position."
The team passed by a one-way glass window. The crystal pane looked out into the pillared hollow corridor that separated the Presidium from the thousands of docking bays and external exit ports. Hundreds of air cars buzzed by on designated travel paths. In the corner there was a glassed wall that ran along one of the travel paths, displaying the outer arms and wards of the Presidium.
They pushed forward two-hundred meters. Minimal contact. Only a handful of Keepers were immediately slotted. They were lucky, picking the corridor with the least amount of traffic.
He wondered how the other teams were doing. More than likely they've received civilian contact.
They passed by all the air cars. Lead stopped, putting up the hand signal to freeze. The team leader got on comms.
"Spear, Hyperion is in position."
"Roger, Hyperion. Icarus and Hades are standing by. Pangea is about to pull a runner and scuttle its cargo. We're going to have to proceed without them."
"Copy, Spear."
This was it. There's a good chance they may not come back alive, but each one knew what they signed up for. This was the reason why they were here. To secure… To ensure a luminous future for every single Human in the galaxy. To ensure a bright future for every single human in the galaxy.
The team readied up their weapons and did a final gear and weapons check. He checked his own gear first. Three Plasma grenades, checked and primed. Flash bangs, three, checked and primed. Breaching explosives, four packs worth, checked and primed. Armor lock systems, checked and primed. Stealth camouflage configuration, checked and primed. Plasma pistol, checked and primed. He activated it. It emitted a bright neon green glow that slashed through the blackness. Boosters, checked and primed. Plasma rifle, checked and primed. He finally activated it. The rifled emitted an electric blue light that intermorphed with the plasma green.
Emergency sidearm. Lotus submachine gun. Loaded and primed. And finally… 'Last resort.' Micro-explosives located throughout the armor undersuit. Plasma-based claymore mines. When activated, it had an explosion radius of four meters, along with a shrapnel radius of around ten meters. However, besides the armor system acting as shrapnel, superheated plasma would immolate anything into ash within that ten-meter radius.
The rest of the team activated their weapons. A mixture of gas-powered lead rifles and plasma based weapons and Needlers.
On my motion scanner, multiple red IFFs stood beyond the breaching point.
The team commander spoke. "Remember your training. Remember the brothers lost. Humanity is at stake here. If we fail, then our species may be wiped out. We cannot let that happen. Our duty, as soldiers, is to protect Humanity. Whatever the cost."
No one said anything. They were ready. This was it. A few nodded their heads. This was the reason why they were alive.
"Breach it," the Commander said.
The lead placed breaching explosives and primed them for thirty seconds. He cleared the blast zone. The team, forty-five SPARTANs, readied to breach and clear.
Twenty seconds passed. Ten. Five.
Four.
Three.
Two. One.
The explosives ignited, sending metal flying across the opposite room. Two Spartans threw nine-tails into the breach. They flashed, leaving vague imprints of bright white lights.
"PUSH IN! GO GODDAMNIT!" The teams moved. On the other side was the enemy. Dressed in light green 'dragon armor' (as they called it), they staggered and stumbled, blinded by the flashbangs.
The enemy, UNSC Marines, were no match.
They all had designated firing vectors. In highly controlled pairs, with precision accuracy beyond any standard Cerberus troop, they took out the platoon of security marines in clusters. They dropped like rocks, with no time to respond.
In record time, less than five seconds, twenty-four marines laid dead in the blocked corridor. The team moved behind their defenses. A marine slumped over his turret encampment, warm scarlet trailed from his wide-eyed face.
He checked his armor status. Exoskeleton was working optimally. Shields holding. First contact and it was an utter success.
A handful of Spartans started to quickly collect bodies and spent lead shells while others began to secure weapons, just in case.
"Hyperion inserted into UNSC area. Pushing ahead," the team leader reported.
"Hades inserted. Pushing ahead."
"This is Icarus. We've inserted. We're the nearest to Pangea's objective. I'll split my team and send one half to secure Pangea's objective. The other half will push forward."
"Roger, Icarus. I'll also divert a combat element from Hades," Spear replied. "Citadel and UNSC comms about to be blacked out in thirty seconds. Agents in position. Hyperion, maintain comm silence."
"Rog," the leader cut the line and the team immediately pushed ahead. One of them activated a sensor for radio waves. One-hundred meters ahead.
The team had access to UNSC comm channels, provided by their clandestine allies. Agents were in position to knockout relay traffic. On one of the marines' radios buzzed off. Panicked voices. The teams wanted the UNSC to know they were here.
"What the hell was that?"
"Control, we have reports of an explosion and small arms fire-"
"Hostile contact. All units ready up. Prepare to initiate Cole Protocol and evacuate all command staff-"
Hyperion pushed in to the door. Different breaching protocol. PRAETORIANs were up first, followed by the heavily armored IMMORTAL class Spartans, armed with shotguns, reinforced energy shields and Centurion-styled riot shields. They stacked up right behind the PRAETORIANs.
They readied up. Breaching charges placed on the doors. Ten more seconds.
"Spear, be advised, we're about to go loud."
"Roger, Hyperion. See you on the other side
Two seconds.
"BREACHING! BREACHING!" The charges exploded and the doors pushed outwards. Just like before, the team quickly pushed in and aimed at predetermined firing lanes. The UNSC Marine defenses were already ready. Someone rapidly fired from a machine gun turret. The PRAETORIANs opened their biotics, forming a shield around the team while the IMMORTALs moved up to protect the biotics themselves.
The Marines were barricaded behind heavy reinforced shielding. Spartans armed with DMRs took shots right through the see-through slits in each of the armor plating, leaving dead or blind Marines as bodies dropped to the floor.
He finally got a good look around. It was a disused section of the Presidium, abandoned long ago when Sovereign hit the Citadel. Now, it's a UNSC defense barrier armed with two machine turrets and another platoon of Marines. No heavy weapons. The UNSC wasn't expecting this. The machine guns unleashed their full salvo while the rest provided coordinated fire discipline.
A PRAETORIAN unleashed a singularity right in front of one of the machine gun positions located on the left. A black ball outlined with blue shadows opened up. It tugged and dragged away the sandbags that made up the shield wall. The machine gun tipped forward. The marine manning it pulled back on the handles, trying his best to maintain his firing sector.
He leaned out enough to get a firing angle. Someone on the team took a shot. The DMR round pierced right through the marine's goggles. He slumped over and was fully dragged into the singularity.
One of the IMMORTALs charged into the Marine firing line. Standing nearly a foot-and-a-half over each Marine along with a tonne weight difference, he began to rip them into shreds. He grabbed one Marine and threw him against the back wall of the room. Then, he took out his ka-bar and smashed it right through the helmet of another marine. His helmet echoed the slaughter to his ears as the blade cleaved through multi-filament composites, kevlar, and organ-matter.
The Marines screamed for help and reinforcements into their comms, only to find static was the only response.
One of the NCOs yelled something at a Marine. That Marine immediately ran towards the door.
They're sending a runner.
One of the regular Spartans, a HOPLITE, sprinted through the firing line and took aim with his plasma rifle. He fired a pair, followed immediately by an incineration burst from his Omni-tool.
It all hit the Marine, and combined with plasma and eezo burns the body was reduced to a blackened husk of a corpse.
The rest was all too easy to mop up.