Chapter 9 – Ingressum
(7th Cycle, 20 Units - Covenant Battle Calendar), 9th Age of Reclamation
Daedalus system, Ballast
:********:
There was fear in the air.
It was pungent. One sniff and Archoneus knew exactly where it was coming from. Not from his warriors or himself, but from the Unggoy.
Scores of the diminutive methane-addicts were set loose onto the grounds of their target. They huddled together in small squads, meandering across the urban landscape, one distinctively separated from the surrounding wilderness. From their scents alone he could map out the setup of the strange human settlement that stood in their way.
For a destination whose very presence was an insult to the holy ground on which it was erected, it was also insultingly small.
The entire area held a basic circular perimeter. It was surrounded by minor ridges on which the tallest trees he'd ever seen had taken root. The shadows of their intimidating canopies hemmed in the comparatively smaller grounds of the facility. Dozens of glassy structures comprised the bulk of the scenery. On the other side of their glass panes there was a surprisingly serene sight of numerous floral species native to the planet. Greenish ferns, blue blossoms and pink sprouts lay within. In another setting they might have been appealing, despite that they were of human origin. They were nothing compared to High Charity's floating gardens, and their misplacement here made their destruction a more than warrantable action. Yet such actions wouldn't be feasible given how many of these buildings there were.
The transparent structures he presumed to be some form of greenhouses were setup in organized grids of four each, gridded by intersecting dirt roads, sidewalks and a number of paved paths here and there. Aside from the greenhouses there were large expanses of fields he presumed to be parks and roads with overhanging trees that acted as borders to different parts of the facility.
And then there were the concrete buildings.
There were less of them than of the greenhouses. The few there were stood at no more than five floors with barely any windows beyond the occasional panel of black tinted glass. They didn't follow any set pattern of urban planning but were scattered about in various places, as if they were planted here at the last minute. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe the greenhouses were placed here only after the humans built these earlier structures. After all, their walls were made of concrete mixed with granite-composites, giving them a more refined silvery-white sheen that seemed more permanent, and older, than anything else in sight. With them in mind, every other aspect had the air of being nothing more than additional amenities. Pieces of a disguise. For what?
The answer lay within, or rather below, the central building.
It stood at the heart of the area and served as the tallest structure aside from the trees. Its own perimeter was framed into a rectangular inner ground by high walls of unusually solid steel. Unusual for a civilian location. Or one without anything to hide. The building itself was ten stories tall. Each floor was ringed with the same black tinted glass panels and grated platforms that acted as balconies. Instead of a shingled rooftop, there was a strange glassy semisphere that allowed sunlight into the interior.
What exactly lay inside, he couldn't say for sure. However, he could discern what could be seen by those inside because of the pale purple lights of the ship that could annihilate it in an instant.
The heavy-corvette Divine Confession hovered several hundred meters above the building. Its sleek silhouette cast a shadow over most of the facility. Its plasma cannons eyed the afternoon skies to the north and south. All the while, the indicator lights lining its oblong underbelly cast a ghastly glow over their target.
Far above the Confession, far out of view, there were a pair of CCS battlecruisers circling their position in the planet's mesosphere, securing their exit route.
Beyond that, there was nothing.
The Fleet of Valiant Prudence was gone. Defeated. Withdrawn to intersystem space. That was the word from Tartarus at least, although Archoneus had his doubts. As trustworthy as his commander was, he and many of his pack felt it impossible for their side to have been beaten. Sure, the Sangheili were an impudent and unduly prideful race, but never once had he taken them for cowards. They were just as willing as Jirilhanae to throw both life and limb at any task for the sake of divine obedience. Hence the silence when Tartarus broke the news over their communication links.
The initial reason his bewildered mind could conjure behind the move was that Barutamee must have suffered serious losses in orbit. He thought back to the greater mission's overall objectives, how the assault's success hinged heavily upon the elimination of the orbital defense platforms on the ground. Perhaps the humans suspected their aims well in advance and successfully countered. Hence the loss.
But that didn't explain why Barutamee chose to leave rather than fight to the death. Then a less than tasteful thought slipped into his inner council. The Supreme Commander may have chosen to escape with his life because he wanted to be the one to present the oracle to the Hierarchs. Rather than dying with honor, the coward would survive off of the glory attained by the hard labor of others.
Pathetic.
Whatever the actual reason, it didn't change the fact that the Bearers of Preeminent Sanctitude were now effectively on their own. Only the two battlecruiser escorts guarding their escape route were left to help. How much help they would be against the remainder of the human fleet was a question in itself. If the whole of Valiant Prudence wasn't enough then he doubted their odds were much better.
Time was not on their side.
The humans would become aware of their presence here soon and intervene, if they weren't already. So far, they hadn't reacted when the Divine Confession descended on the facility. They did nothing as dropships streamed out, releasing scores of Covenant troops on the ground. Measly handfuls of security forces were all that stood in their way. Their feeble attempts at defense were cut down with little issue. So were the facility's population who were mostly made up of coat wearing humans and their jumpsuit wearing maintenance personnel. Non-factors beyond a practical plasma burst from an Unggoy, a needler from a Kig-Yar or a basic swipe of the arm from a Jirilhanae.
Archoneus enjoyed himself in using the bladed back of his hammer rather than the hammer-head itself. He was at the forefront of the wrath unleashed by the first wave, chasing down unarmed humans, cutting them in two or smashing them into pulpy breakage. He pursued those that fled into the more solid buildings for cover, butchering them there as well or dragging them out to do what his kind did best. Their screams were systematically cut short as spikes flew into their black-vested security forces, casually knocking them down and ending their return fire.
The Bearers left in their wake a trail of blood and broken infidels. The deed brought along a mild satisfaction but not the ultimate prize. That, or he, lay somewhere below. Sadly though, that satisfaction would not belong to the Jirilhanae.
Archoneus was reminded of that when the Devoted Sentries broke into the main building and closed it off almost explicitly from the Jirilhanae. The Divine Confession's luminary supposedly detected the oracle several kilometers underground. The leader of the zealots and the most arrogant of their bunch, Ludumee, ordered for Tartarus to keep the Bearers guarding the perimeter while they extricated the oracle themselves. While they received all the glory themselves.
They weren't equals in rank, or in species, so there was nothing Tartarus could do but convey the order to everyone else in that patient and calculating way he had. Archoneus believed he had something more up his sleeve. It wasn't like his commander to not have a plan, especially in such a consequential situation as this. There had to be an intention behind all this waiting. He just couldn't tell what it was. So, he waited with his pack on the edges of the perimeter. He set them into patrols along the foot paths between the forest and the inner grounds, dividing them up into three squads of eight that fanned out over the area. His own squad trailed behind him as they maneuvered to the side of one of the concrete structures.
There was nothing to do but watch, listen and smell. There was little to see but the tree-line wafting in the wind. There was nothing to listen to but the gentle thrum of the corvette's repulsor drives. There was much to smell, however, with the odor of the dead, the smoke of their vehicles set ablaze and the ever-present sharpness of Unggoy fear. He passed by a squad of them that were carrying an ammo crate to the back of the building. They were moving quickly, their eyes more focused on his approach than their task. Their lack of focus caused two of them to drop the crate prematurely, landing it on the feet of a third who responded with a high-pitched squeal.
Archoneus bared his teeth in irritation. The temporary distraction limited his ability to listen for movement beyond the perimeter. He restrained his desire to kill while the Unggoy ran to their comrade's side and yanked him free of the crate...and straight into his path.
Archoneus stopped.
The small creature tumbled to a stop just short of his boots, growled, rubbed his head and looked up. Their eyes met, one narrowing in rage, the other widening in dread. The odor of fear grew so pungent that it stabbed Archoneus' nostrils. He genuinely wanted to yank free the hammer on his back and bring it down on the Unggoy's. But again, he restrained himself.
With a sideways nod of his head, he broke the Unggoy free of the terrified trance that held him captive. The creature jumped to his feet and waddled as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him, running past his comrades who looked on Archoneus with a similar fear. They too turned and headed off down an alleyway, out of sight.
Archoneus' nostrils flared.
Their odor diminished.
Another's took its place. It wasn't the sharpness of fear. No, it was the blunt and unyielding scent of pride. The smell drew his gaze back along the footpath he was on, around the corner of the nearest building to the other side, to its source. He knew the smell well. But it was more powerful than normal, more wanton and ambitious.
Ecstatic howls and anticipating growls arose on the other side. Their odors were growing to match the same prideful excitement as the one leading them.
It was clear that Karagim had found something.
Archoneus trotted towards the commotion, leading his squad who he could discern by their musk were just as curious as he was, though not as on guard.
He turned the corner first.
The prideful smell grew to a concerning acuteness that made his blood boil, though not as much as the sight before him. Karagim's squad stood in a semicircle on the front lawn of the building, shifting and fidgeting about with barely contained elation. Their interest was directed west towards the far off-tree line.
He came just in time to see the figure of their captain major emerge from the undergrowth. The shadows of the canopy danced off the many facets of Karagim's golden armor as he trotted down the western ridgeline. Even with the helmet covering his face, Archoneus sensed his subordinate's satisfaction at having captured new prey. His grenade launcher was still attached to his back, meaning the substantially smaller alien he was carrying had been caught without it.
As Karagim shifted through the last of the underbrush, Archoneus got a better look at his quarry. It was a human, a female by the looks of it. It was small even for human standards, obviously not one of their soldiers. The dirtied coat covering its form made that clear. The clothing type was the same he'd seen on many of those that offered little resistance as he tore them in two. A...'scientist', or a thing close to that. Unlike them, this one was still breathing.
Karagim held the bruised and unconscious form draped over his left shoulder like the pelt of a slain animal. After clearing the undergrowth, the captain major strolled confidently towards his squad. He didn't seem to notice Archoneus. The Chieftain remained at the corner to watch what he would do next.
Another round of howling and growls came from Karagim's squad. Their leader took the human female and held its limp figure by the arm like a trophy, adding his own triumphant howl to the others.
Archoneus' arms folded across his chest, his brow tightened. A northward wind carried a new scent that wafted from the human into his nose. His stomach grumbled. He ignored it. Now was not the time for indulgences, not for a task as important as this. Karagim, however, didn't appear to have such reservations as he brought the female's face close to his own.
"Didn't I say I smelt something good?" He asked once the clamor died down, his tone that of a great orator. "Which of you doubted me?"
The Jirilhanae looked amongst one another jokingly, pointing accusing fingers and brushing off the playful accusations.
Karagim laughed. "Do not trouble yourselves, brothers. All will share in my prize."
The captain major sniffed his prize, blowing back the creature's long black hair and exposing the soft, pink flesh of its face. A carnivorous grin expanded across his lips, unveiling sharpened canines.
"As you will share in them when I am Chieftain." Karagim raised the human further up, grasped its other arm and prepared to pull it loose from the rest of the body.
"When I am Chieftain?"
Karagim stopped mid-pull as his words were echoed back to him. He and the rest of his squad slowly turned about to face Archoneus, their eyes widening once they realized he'd been standing there the whole time.
Archoneus never took his eyes off Karagim, the latter of whom looked just as surprised as his squad. Then his gaze sharpened as the two held each other in an icy stare.
At length, Archoneus stepped out across the lawn. Each footstep left a deep impression in the grass behind him as his own squad came up to witness the affair.
Karagim's squad parted before their chieftain, rightly recognizing who held the true authority between them. They shrunk away to the sides and looked down while emitting pheromones that signaled their humility. But there were several Archoneus smelt that were not so humble. Karagim was the worst among them.
The brown-furred chieftain stopped five meters short of his black-furred second in command. If it came down to it, he could cover the last distance between them in two quick strides. He would only need one to bring his hammer out. Another to bring it down. He stayed put, however, letting his proximity, his erect shoulders and most importantly his horned headpiece drive the point home.
Karagim took an uncertain step back, stopped the limb halfway and willed it to stand firm beside the other. He released his grip on the arm that he intended to pull free from the human and held his catch at his side. The other hand moved to rest on his utility belt, ready to flash to the launcher on his back. His attention routinely shifted from Archoneus' eyes up to his hammer.
Archoneus stared him down a moment longer. "Tell me, you spawn of a Teash prostitute, you son of many fathers, how you plan to become a chieftain." He pointed to his headpiece. "I don't remember ever saying I would part with this. All I said was that we would settle our quarrel."
Karagim scowled. Then he arched his head and fortified his defiant grin. "Fool. If I win, I take it. Simple."
"You...take it?" Archoneus shook his head. "You're the only fool here for assuming you would live. I offered you a challenge, not a victory."
Archoneus heard worried shuffling and mumblings from those behind him. Karagim growled and moved to speak again but his chieftain cut him off.
"But that is neither here nor there. What is vital now is the recovery of the oracle and its safekeeping." Archoneus pointed to the human. "Not your gut."
Karagim moved to speak again. Again, he was roughly cut off.
"Did I order you to go into those bushes and hunt humans or did I order you to stay on your patrol? This is no time for sport but for dedication to the way of our Gods and to the will of their prophets. Here, my word is their will. So hear me well, whelp, put down the human and return to your duties."
Karagim looked to his charge then back to him. "And...if I do not?"
"Then I will do to you what you plan to do to it."
Karagim glared at him. Archoneus held his stare. Neither wavered, and as the wind howled between them, it carried the increasingly concerned scent of their subordinates.
There was an air of finality to Karagim's next move as he held out the human and slowly released it, letting it fall into a heap at his feet. Then his gaze locked onto Archoneus', or more specifically his headpiece. "Heresy". A hand moved to the grenade launcher and pulled it out to brandish it across his waist.
Archoneus immediately pulled out his gravity hammer one-handed. He thrust the staff into the ground in a burst of earth.
Karagim met his chieftain with a resolve of his own. "You dare to compare your word with that of the prophets? Of the Gods? Heresy." His defiant grin returned with a vengeance. "I should strike you down where you stand, heretic."
Archoneus tightened his grasp on his hammer. "I am your chieftain. This is your last warning. Get back on patrol or I will take you and I will break you. Do you understand?"
The words merely served to widen Karagim's already oversized grin. "How can the words of a heretic be those of my chieftain?" He looked to the others. "How can a heretic be our chieftain? Brothers, this blasphemer compares himself to a prophet and a God. Am I not more worthy of that headpiece than he is?"
Archoneus peered over his shoulder at them. Despite the captain major's adamancy, none of their pack moved to speak. They stood as statues of blue armor, unresponsive and untouched by the harshening wind. He couldn't tell what they were thinking since the air began blowing their scents away from him. That said, he could sense the growing confusion from the one that stood upwind from him.
He turned back to Karagim whose confident mask was slowly cracking beneath the weight of his brothers' silence. Confidence shifted to confusion and then to a flare of angry snarls. "I am more worthy than-"
"You gambled too early."
Karagim winced. "What?"
"Your arrogance blinded you. It made you believe you had more sway than you really did. You're a fool, Karagim, but one I am willing to forgive if you do as I have spoken." Archoneus pointed his hammer left towards the southern end of the facility's western sector.
Karagim clenched his jaws. His hands balled into iron-tight fists. They shifted to their proper places on his rocket launcher. He pulled his feet back into a combat stance as he brought the barrel to bare on Archoneus. "I will have my meal."
Archoneus pulled up his hammer and held it two-handed at his side. "And I will have your head."
He reeled back and was prepared to leap when Karagim's gaze suddenly turned skyward. His grip on his launcher immediately loosened, as though he were trying to hide his intentions.
Confused, Archoneus stopped short of his leap. He traced his gaze past himself and upward, until he was caught in the stoic glare of Tartarus.
The white-furred Jirilhanae stood on the rooftop of the building at their backs. Two other Bearers stood to his side. His face grim, his amber eyes glanced between the two below, pinning them firmly in place as well as the rest of their pack. Archoneus watched his hands to see if they would move to the staff of the stony Fist of Rukt, if he would leap down from there and deal out judgement, though on who he couldn't say for sure.
Eventually, Tartarus spoke loud and clear. "Save your quarrel for later. The last thing our mission needs is your pack's division. If either of you makes a move for the other's throat while we're here, I will kill you both. Perhaps the Gods might even seek to punish you further with eternal separation from the Great Journey should you seek to sabotage our efforts to recover their oracle. Do either of you wish to rush to your own damnation?"
Archoneus carefully shook his head and lowered it in submission. Karagim reluctantly did the same.
Tartarus looked between them and spotted the human. "Secure your prisoner and return to your patrols." He said nothing more as he turned away and walked out of sight on the rooftop.
Archoneus turned to his rebellious second-in-command and found him staring back intently. It seemed that Karagim used all his willpower to return his grenade launcher to its place. He took one last look at the human before moving off to the south. The rest of his squad silently fell in behind him. They maintained a wise distance from him all the while as they continued their patrol.
Turning to the human, Archoneus went over, picked it up by the arm and dragged it over to the concrete building on which Tartarus held his vigil. He ordered two of his squad to stay behind and watch over their new 'prisoner'. He very much doubted his captain major would see it the same way. Karagim was too stiff-necked, too stubborn to repent of his folly even when rebuked by someone as powerful as Tartarus.
He had always had a one-track mind that way. That was how Archoneus remembered him being when they were young juveniles growing up in the same village on Doisac. Always rushing into the hunt, always the first to throw his spear at a thorn beast, always the first to get injured. To think that he once looked up to him for that trait, as he did to another before he lost him too, both to the same cause of too much ambition and too little strength.
How time changes things, he thought as he led his remaining patrol onward, believing enough time had passed to get a suitable distance between his squad and Karagim's. He looked once more upon the unconscious human lying against the wall of the structure, to the two Jirilhanae standing guard to either side of it. It would be a trap. If after finishing a cycle of his patrol Karagim chose to disobey orders and seize the prisoner, it would definitely get Tartarus' attention above. Then it would be hell to pay...for Karagim alone. There was always a chance he would take the bait and get himself killed, making a duel to the death between them unnecessary.
Archoneus sighed at the unlikelihood of the idea panning out. However callous his packmate was, he just wished that he didn't have to see the loss of yet another brother for the cause of the same headpiece. If only things would pan out that way. But if the past was anything to go on, he highly doubted it.
:********:
The Pelican's constant rumble finally smoothed out to a dull roar in the background of the conversation. Duncan was quietly surprised at how their transition from the mesosphere to the stratosphere was so gentle. It was usually the most difficult part of the journey down due to the latter being the layer typical of entry burns. In the dropship he could barely feel anything beyond the weak grumble of the hull compared to the thunder and flames of a pod.
Because of the pilot's skill, he like everyone else could listen to their comm units as Colonel Garrison laid out the specs of their Eagle-Echo-Charlie-4-1 mission. Hearing out the details confirmed that it was just that.
"The ONI emergency beacon was activated shortly after the first Covenant ships entered the atmosphere on this side of the planet. Its signal's coming from a remote location called the Kassarina Nature Preserve. As you can imagine, if its ONI, it's not what it sounds like."
Duncan caught Zack's eye who shook his head back at him. "No kidding."
"Due to orders from the fleet admiral, what's left of the defense force is mostly holding over Ballast in case any more Covenant show up. That rules out any immediate air support for the time being. UNSC forces groundside are also too far away for us to deploy them in time. You'll essentially be on your own. Furthermore, the last battlegroup of Covenant Navy are hovering over the target zone. Two cruisers are patrolling the space above the site, most likely to ensure their escape route. The third, a heavy corvette, has taken up station directly over the preserve. Its acting as the primary means of extraction and firing support for their ground forces. As for those ground forces, satellite imagery suggests we're looking at an incursion force of 400 strong inclusive of Grunts, Jackals and a few scattered Hunter pairs. The usual. Where it stops being usual is the abnormally high number of Brutes that have been deployed. They're normally not this concentrated but observations suggest we're dealing with close to 80."
Someone whistled. Duncan traced the sound further into the bay to where Hector sat. Although he didn't say anything, he was looking more worried by the second. There was a similar sense from everyone else. That many Brutes in one place was nothing to scoff at. The only two ODSTs not showing any signs of concern were the Staff and Deaks. It took a lot more than that to ruffle the Staff, but for Deaks, he seemed to hone in closer to the light pouring in from the cockpit at the mention of the Brutes.
"Troopers, your objective here is long range reconnaissance and recovery. Your goals are twofold. One is to infiltrate that preserve and to assess its condition. The other is to investigate the ONI beacon, to track down and secure its source along with any possible surviving personnel you find. For your information, this beacon is a kind that is not used lightly. Its sole purpose is for extreme emergencies as it relates to the security and or recovery of special, highly classified UNSC assets. The normal response force we send in these cases are Spartans so let that sink in. Whatever you find in there, keep in mind that its 'special' enough for the Covenant to come after personally as well as 'unsecure' enough to warrant ONI being honest with us about their needing help. That doesn't happen every day so its sufficient premise for me to tell you to be on your best behavior out there. You'll be representing the family's best so wipe those noses, shine those boots and prepare to make me proud to call you Helljumpers."
Duncan smiled. A small bout of proud laughs passed through the bay as Garrison continued. "Like I said before, this is reconnaissance and recovery. That means stealth will be your modus operandi. Once you reach the preserve, take no immediate action against the ground forces except what's absolutely necessary. Evasion is preferable, and I'd rather you all pull this off without having to fire a single shot. Remember, that Corvette will be hanging over your heads the entire time so you don't have much in the way of cover aside from the tree-line on the outer perimeter. However, Hood will be dispatching a battlegroup to the area in a few hours once he's certain no more Covenant reinforcements will be arriving. Another reason we're sending you all rather than a larger interdiction element is because we fear the Covenant might destroy whatever they're looking for if we come in force. We want to know what they're looking for and to bring it back intact. If they want it, we want it more. It's that simple. Overall tactical command will fall to the 2nd Lieutenant. He'll brief you on the specifics of your roles in this mission. That's it on my end. I'll see when you all when you get back. Neptune out."
The comms changed over to Baelson.
"Listen up, troopers. Here's the layout."
An update notification flashed in Duncan's HUD. He selected it and his TACMAP opened, revealing a rolling landscape of forested hills, shallow ravines and small rivers and creeks that flowed like bloodstreams through the picturesque view. A Nav point appeared on the center of the landscape. He zoomed in to get a closer look at what turned out to be the double-hour glass shape and collaring exterior brace of a heavy corvette. Its faintly purple hull was translucent, allowing him to make out the circular gridwork of a small human settlement beneath it.
"This is the Kassarina Preserve here, along with the corvette. The signal is coming from the main observatory building here, or rather 2.5 kilometers below it."
A pulsing red dot appeared within the building directly beneath the corvette, the largest by the looks of it. "Since the source is below, that tells us we're dealing with some kind of subterranean facility. Whatever it may be, its location makes our job a whole lot easier than it would be if it were on the surface. That rules out the corvette, at least for those of you who are going down there."
Five more NAV points appeared at different spots in the wilderness far to the west of the preserve. From north to south they were labelled 'LZ Alpha', 'LZ Bravo', 'LZ Charlie', 'LZ Delta' and 'LZ Echo'. "We'll be flying in low and landing 5 kilometers short of the preserve's outer grounds to avoid detection. We'll be splitting into two groups. The first will be comprised of Squads Epsilon, Kilo and Lima under the direction of Ep-1. You'll be the recovery team. Everyone else is with me as part of the extraction team. We'll hike the rest of the way to the facility and setup sightlines downwind from the grounds. No one's to fire a shot unless the recovery team reports a contact and has to go loud. Worst case scenario, we'll have to hold the enemy's attention outside to keep them from reinforcing those inside, buy time for the recovery team to escape then run out of there for a hot exfil. Considering that corvette, I'm sure you know what I'm asking of you."
Baelson let a brief, contemplative silence past before he made his next move. A new Nav point appeared over a body of water just 300 meters west of the preserve. "Recovery team, this pertains to you specifically so listen up. This is Lake Ladoga, and what I've highlighted is the entrance to the sewer system that runs directly beneath the preserve. From the schematics we've got on it, it will take you into one of the hydroponic chambers of the main observatory. From there, you're to search for the source of the signal, recover any special materials and surviving personnel, and conduct a Cole-Protocol wipe of any remaining databases if needed. Likewise, this will be your exit route. Once you've finished the job, we'll withdraw to the Pelicans and evac. There's enough fuel left to get us to Havenwinter. From there we'll link up with the rest of the battalion back at Vallejo." He stopped then added. "Any questions?"
Despite that he appeared half-asleep behind his polarized visor, as he often did on flights like these, the Staff was still alert and asked the first question. "Should we be expecting any variables?"
"Variables?"
"Environmentally speaking. The subterranean part of this facility doesn't register on the TAC. My guess is that our satellite can't give us a view, probably because it doesn't have any records of what's really down there. It sounds like we're walking into this blind."
"It sounds like you just answered your own question, Staff. Unfortunately, you're right. We don't have any eyes down there. I can't say what you'll find or what you'll be made to carry out of there either. What I can say for certain is that someone set off a beacon, the Covenant have an interest in this place. We need to find out the reason why for both before we book it back to Havenwinter. Sounds good?"
"...Good enough, sir."
"Can I rely on you to find your way through it?"
The Staff glanced at Duncan, then over at Renni. "Don't worry. If it comes down to it, we have our ways of getting around."
"Good to hear. Also, I'm going to need to ask a favor."
"Shoot."
"I'll need to pull your radioman and sharpshooter. Those two are best suited for the extraction team. You copy?"
Zack looked to the Staff. Deaks, his face fully visible, gritted his teeth in visceral disappointment and shook his head vehemently.
"Understood, sir. I'll send them your way after touch-down."
Zack shrugged. Deaks looked livid but held his peace.
"Thanks. An extra set of sharp eyes and communications is what we'll need. Are there any other questions?"
Silence answered.
"Alright then, once we land, move out. Recovery team, Lake Ladoga. Extraction team, defensive perimeters on the southern, eastern and western approaches to the preserve. Let's take this nice and slow, 4-Actual out."
As Baelson signed off, Zack let out a sigh. "So ONI's made something super top-secret and super hard to get into." He turned matter-of-factly to Renni. "Is there something you want to tell us, Ren?"
She shook her head. "Don't look at me. I've been out of the game for too long. Besides, I didn't work for any subsection that disguised massive facilities as eco-tourist traps."
Zack pretended to cup his chin and appear suspicious. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, that's so."
He grinned. "Well, then I guess you can say we're...ahem...flying blind into this next op."
Beside the Staff, Nova sighed in exhaustion. On the opposite side, Yuri held up a warning hand. "Please don't disrespect my ears with joke like that again. That was awful."
Hector laughed. "Makes you glad the lieutenant's taking him off our hands. Deaks, how does that make you feel?"
Deaks spared him a sharp glance that said it all.
"Don't worry, corporal." Mito said. "With you gone, I get to keep all the CQC work to myself. And considering that it's looking like this will be a close quarters game, you'll be in your element outside," He knocked on the handle of his katana. "And I'll be in mine inside."
"Yeah, no, none of that." The Staff intruded. "Not if you can help it."
"Not sure if it can be helped, sir."
"Nah, that's not it." Duncan added. "He wants the Brutes. The way I see it though, he'll have a better chance of getting his hands on a few if he stays topside."
There was a collective moment of realization from the rest of the squad as they turned on the corporal, understanding what he was hoping for. Then Deaks caught on to what he was saying and connected the dots for himself, dispelling the air of disappointment and returning him to a determined state.
"Yeah." He said more enthusiastically. "What he said."
"But he can't shoot any of them, remember?" Nova noted. "Extraction is only to engage if we need the help. Even then, they run the risk of getting absolutely roasted by that corvette."
"There's that." Zack laughed with obvious nervousness.
Deaks' determination dimmed. "Hey, Nova, you're killing my vibe over here. I need you to not kill my vibe, okay?"
"Just laying out the facts."
"I didn't ask for your facts."
"Just saying..."
"Yeah, Dama Roja, let him have his dream." Rico chided as he ran a graceful hand over the top of his grenade launcher. "Besides, if they do end up on the offensive, the good news is he'll finally stop complaining about his collection back at Falchion being incomplete. I wouldn't mind him shutting up about that, would you?"
Nova thought about it and eyed the Staff. "Fair enough?"
Epsilon's leader nodded in turn. He peered over at Rico's launcher. "Hey, remember that thing's not to go off until we either need to EMP an obstacle or to dispatch an entrenched enemy. Emphasis on 'entrenched'."
Rico traced a loving forefinger over the weapon's forward barrel. "Same difference, isn't it?"
"Not this time." The Staff looked around. "Don't get cocky out there, guys. We won in space. That doesn't mean we've won overall. Not yet. Be on your guard. There's no telling what we'll find down there or what the Covenant's sent down there to retrieve it. This is ONI we're dealing with after all. No offense, Renni."
She shrugged. "None taken, sir. I'm ODST now."
He nodded back. "That's the right mindset to have. We're ODSTs. No premature celebrations. Let's wrap this up first and call it a day. Copy?"
The rest of the squad responded in kind. "We copy, sir."
There was silence for a time. Then Zack perked up. He turned back to Renni with a mischievous glint in his eye. "By the way, I know you're probably not going to bring this up yourselves, but are we just supposed to ignore how you and Matchstick were giving each other some serious facetime back on Vallejo?" He grinned, arching a suggestive brow. "If you know what I mean?"
Renni rolled her eyes but kept looking straight ahead. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about. Yuri, do y-"
Yuri glared daggers at the radioman. "You mind own business you overpaid antennae boy. If you did, maybe you'd finally get smooch from woman yourself, huh?"
Hector, Mito and Rico burst out laughing. Renni lay her face in her palm, pinching her brows in silent annoyance while Zack turned an embarrassed red. "Hey-hey, hold on a sec." He stammered. "Don't go throwing around baseless accusations like that, okay Rusky? I've gotten plenty of...smooches in my time, alright?"
"Really?" Yuri pried. "Name one."
"What?"
"Name one woman that gave you time of day."
Zack swallowed. He bit his lip as he thought. When a memory, or perhaps an excuse came to mind, he moved to speak.
Yuri cut him off. "Other than your mat."
"My what?"
"Your mother." Renni reluctantly translated.
Zack rounded on Yuri, only for the words to get stuck in his throat. He ultimately grimaced. "I hate you."
The rest of the Pelican broke into another round of laughter. Zack grew even redder. He turned to the one person that seemed detached from the entire exchange. "H-, hey Staff, isn't this against the rules? I don't know, isn't there supposed to be something in the codebook about what these two are doing?"
"There is one." He replied, unmoving. "I can tell you it verbatim."
"...Well?"
The Staff turned to him and said in no uncertain terms. "It says: 'Mind your own business, Zack', with love, the admiralty."
The laughter in the cargo bay returned with renewed energy as they got off on the high at Zack's expense.
:********:
The sounds that marked the end of their journey were synchronized to go off one after the other. There was the diminishing of the roar from the fusion drives, the gentle rumble of the Pelican's fuselage as it slowed and turned starboard followed by the ding of the pilot's comm-link activation.
"Ferret-2-3 to ODSTs, we're hitting paydirt in five."
The troopers of 4th Platoon performed their last-second equipment checks, sliding bolts, chambering rounds and polarizing visors. Baelson checked the '36' on his BR's ammo counter. Pleased with the count, he ran a hand over his armor's midsection to feel for the other magazines. All four were securely in place. He prayed he wouldn't need any of them as the Pelican landed. Despite the jostling of the bay, the troopers unlatched their belts and hopped onto their feet. They piled into two lines with weapons ready, their focus set on the door which slowly yawned open like a jaw.
Baelson was at the head of the leftward column. Today, he would take on the least favorite position of any long-range reconnaissance patrol: point man.
"A leader has to lead by example, not just dictation. Otherwise, he's a dictator, not a leader. You might not be able to tell the difference but your men will."
The words of his old OCS instructor rung true in his mind as the afternoon light shone into the bay. He silently agreed with the sentiment as he did when he first heard it in the very first seminar on combat leadership he'd ever attended. He willed his legs to follow the lesson and dashed down the ramp once it settled with a muted thump.
In two seconds, he gathered a near panoramic understanding of where they'd landed.
LZ Alpha was an elevated meadow. The weeds being pushed back by the dull thrum of the Pelican's fusion drives came up to his knees. Their blood-red and sky-blue buds blew back in waves, confirming that the landing zone was really a poppy meadow two acres in size. It gently declined at its edges into the beginnings of an encircling tree-line.
Baelson sprinted 10 meters ahead to make sure the line-up was clear of the bay. He looked back to make sure. The ODSTs of his half of the platoon were well away and following after him. At 15 meters, he held up his fist, bringing them to a stop. He made a circle with his forefinger. On his HUD, his troopers flashed their acknowledgement lights. They collectively and simultaneously spread out before crouching into a semicircle. Their rifles scanned the tree-line for signs of movement; a cony shadow waddling about, a birdy silhouette that seemed too tall or a gargantuan object with an ape-like disposition.
Spotting nothing, he took a second to turn left then right down the length of the formation. He could sense the acuteness with which his troopers were tuned in to their surroundings. Some of them were watching the tree-line with SRS-99s. Others observed the afternoon sky with SPNKR rocket launchers aimed high. They had everything they needed to respond to a basic assault and then carry out their own further down the road.
Ten seconds of searching yielded no reports of an enemy sighting. The skies remained clear as well. That was good. The enemy hadn't seen them come in and likewise hadn't bothered to send out any long-range patrols. Either their commander was lazy or they were just lucky. Maybe both.
Feeling more positive about the way things were going, he moved to give the next order when he noticed more aspects of the flora, specifically several unexpectedly large aspects. There were at least three trees of note; one to their immediate front and one to either side of the meadow. Their bark looked closer to the texture of churros. They had a ruddy brown color that made them stand out from the predominantly black and brown bark of the other trees.
Then there was their height. They were massive, towering above the forest floor at over 100 meters with girths of 6 to 8 meters. Being so tall, their leaves were clustered together closer to the top so that their canopies cast larger shadows over their surroundings, even to the edges of the meadow.
Sequoia trees.
Beech trees, maples, oaks and elms far below either gave these three titans a wide berth in order to catch sunlight or created their own work-arounds. A few grew upwards along the sequoias' wide bases like snakes strangling the throat of a larger creature, all in an attempt to reach for the light they were hogging up. They gave him the impression of large treehouses waiting to be used as lookout towers. They would have made good vantage points for Jackal snipers. Again, thankfully, their commander hadn't thought to send anything out this far.
Rethinking it, Baelson realized that the Covenant left on Ballast were probably aware that their fleet had just abandoned them. They were likely sticking close to that corvette so that they could have a fast retreat the minute they got what they came for.
Amidst his search he spotted the road that he'd seen on his TACMAP. The dirt path was wide enough to host a Warthog and possessed a set of aged tire tracks to prove it. It wound its way rightward around the base of the closest sequoia and continued east. Their main Nav point pointed them in the same direction.
"Area clear. Let's move up." He was the first to rise and start their collective jog. The platoon quickly fell in behind him.
Rather than move straight for the road, however, as they reached the edge, he held up two fingers together then parted them.
The troopers flashed their acknowledgement of the order. He dashed left. The leader of squad Killer, Killer-1, went right with the rest of his squad. Baelson's personal team, King, moved in behind himself. The two parties parted ahead of the road. They leapt into the undergrowth and started filtering through the vegetation that bordered the path. Tactical wisdom in this case made it clear that walking straight along the road was a guaranteed way of getting spotted or ambushed. Better to use it as a means of direction rather than passage.
What followed was a constant push through head-high shrubbery, navigation around person-sized boulders and trees all under the cover of dense foliage. There was an endless rustle from leaves brushing over the armor of the onrushing ODSTs. The sound made it difficult to listen for signs of an enemy presence ahead. For the most part, Baelson was forced to rely on his eyes and his TACMAP.
He pulled up the TAC every so often to check on the progress of the other squads. The yellow clusters of the rest of his force showed them streaming out from their respective LZs. They were passing through the first kilometer of ravines and streams that lay between them and their destination. They were moving at relatively the same pace and would arrive close to the same time.
Their coordination would need to be as airtight as possible if they were to do this right.
The image of that corvette remained glued to the forefront of his mind. Those cannons on its port and starboard sides would have commanding views of the landscape should things boil down to a firefight. Everyone's chances for survival in the extraction team depended on whether those going inside could keep their heads down. This would be an op mostly out of his control. That unpredictable component to the mission gave him the butterfly sensation he felt burning in the pit of his stomach. Dousing it would require the certainty of knowing they'd gotten what they needed and were well away. There was no telling how long it would be before he got that certainty. Until then, he would have to suffer in silence.
The occasion's high risk, high return circumstance made him think back to times when things weren't so risky. When he was a Marine Sergeant operating out of a sleepy military base on Sargasso's least populous and most troublesome continent. When Sargasso was still a planet at least. The jobs were a lot easier back then. Making rounds on-base and patrolling the growing town of Belisk's nighttime scenery was part of the laxer aspects of his life. He wasn't too fond of his assignments in the reserves like his fellow non-comms were, mainly because he wasn't a slacker, the type that his outfit tended to attract. It was a shame to think that men and women wearing the same uniform were living and dying on the frontlines, and all he was doing with it was cleaning some officer's desk as part of his daily chores. That insultingly easygoing life only came to an end when the Covenant started making more serious progress towards the inner colonies. Their advance forced the upper echelon to active his reserve unit, utilizing them as onboard security for frigates escorting intersystem shipping.
During that lengthy stint as a Merchant Marine was when he first came into contact with the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers of the 105th. They were 7th Battalion personnel no less. Their meeting marked the first time in years that he felt inclined to do more, and the first since basic training that he'd gotten his nose broken. In the long run he was able to appreciate the damage that was dealt for the lesson it taught him in return. The pain made him brave enough to ask for more.
So here he was today; an officer in the ODSTs.
This was the life he'd asked for. The one he'd chosen. There was no taking it back now, nor did he wish to do so. He reminded himself of that whenever the image of the Corvette's plasma cannons came to mind.
He'd asked for this, a chance to do more. And that was exactly what he planned to do.
The 5-kilometer-long jog to their target passed by in a blur of shallow ravines, gently rising escarpments and rolling hills. The path slithered continuously through, over and past the natural depressions and inclinations in the landscape. He took special note that the further in they got, the more sequoia trees they came across. He wondered if there were more of them closer to the facility. The natural giants might make good cover against the corvette's cannons. With them, maybe the risks of their approach wouldn't be so high after all.
At 4 kilometers, he ordered his troopers to stop. They halted in the bushes while he scoped in down the length of the path. Near a bend in the road there was an imposing sycamore tree. Two silhouettes were crouched beneath its shade. They stuck close behind the bushes that crowned its trunk so that he couldn't get a solid bead on them. He lowered his rifle after noting the key details; namely that one was carrying equipment on his back with an antenna. The other was aiming out further down the road with the well-hidden barrel of an SRS-99.
"This is 4-Actual to Ep-3 and 7, is that you up ahead, below that sycamore?"
The figure with the back-mounted equipment straightened then turned left and right, searching. Over the comms, Epsilon's radioman replied. "That's a positive on our ID, sir. I convinced Ep-3 to take two so you guys could catch up."
Across the road, Baelson caught a shake of the head from Killer-1.
"Roger that, we're coming up 20 meters to your west.
"Copy."
He nodded to Killer-1 and they both carried on ahead. Halfway there, Epsilon's marksman and radioman dashed from their cover and fell in beside Baelson's line. He nodded to them then set his sights on the NAV point.
The '1 Km' reading was promising since his legs were starting to feel the burn. Simultaneously, he watched the two new additions to King. To him, they seemed fresh. They were able to keep up with no issue. Not to mention that they must have double-timed it ahead of everyone else in order to be here, waiting for them. ODSTs were already tough, but Epsilon regularly made him think they were cut from a different cloth altogether. As one of the most experienced squads in the battalion and among the top in terms of repute, Garrison's use of them as his special purposes go-to was beyond understandable. He was glad to have them on the mission.
Matthews' and Deaks' presence here made him that much more confident he'd made the right choice with the assignment for the rest of their squad. And if their presence was anything to go by, he assumed Epsilon was already where he needed them to be.
:********:
Lake Ladoga was a mirror-smooth image of the afternoon sky above and the array of cony pines that rimmed its outer edges. With the shape of a well-fed amoeba, its southwestern end distended into two prongs around a narrow islet while its northeastern end rounded out into a distinct lightbulb shape. It was on the eastern banks of the lake that squads Epsilon, Kilo and Lima had found their objective.
The sewer entrance existed within the face of a small hill that sloped several meters into the lake. Today it was their way in. One way in. One way out.
The ODSTs found their way in front of the rusted grating using the thin slice of land between the lake and the threshold. The small incline they needed to climb was a slippery slab of cement. A light stream of water was still slipping through the sewers into Ladoga at their backs, making it slippery to boot. A couple of running starts helped Nova and the Staff overcome the incline. They tied a pair of ropes to the outer grating. Fastening them, Nova took out her blowtorch. She got to work burning through the innermost bars while everyone else took up a defensive posture to watch the western approach.
Nova tossed the carved-out bars over her shoulder. The Staff helped her, pulling lose those she seared through that were harder to budge. The debris fell into the lake, hissing steam on the way in.
Soon the way was clear with a hole in the bars two-men wide. Giving it a closer look, Duncan saw that the sewer tunnel itself was wide enough to host three persons moving shoulder to shoulder. However, the roof was too close to stand. They would need to move at a crouch. The idea of crab-walking the next 300 meters was nothing short of undesirable. He judged the others were thinking the same thing with their hesitant stances as they looked on.
The passage was pitch black beyond the threshold. Flashlights could only do them so much good, especially if the enemy found them in there.
"One way in." Duncan quietly exhaled. "One way out."
Seeing that it was relatively safe, the Staff didn't waste a heartbeat as he pointed two fingers down the tunnel. He pulled out his M90, switched on his helmet-lights and went in. Nova came after him. The rest of Epsilon grasped the ropes and pulled themselves up into the passage without a word. Baelson's Squad Kilo came up next. Lima left two of its troopers to guard the entrance before they went in, taking the rear of the formation in their progress through the dark.
Ingressum - Entry
