Chapter 2 – Nobilis
July 26th, 2552 - (10:10 Hours - Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, Reach
ONI Sword Base, Viery Territory
:********:
Garrison, Bisenti and Gonzalez navigated through an increasing number of armed checkpoints setup within the winding halls of Sword Base. Squads of MPs and Army troopers had established positions behind barricades in the passages. With eyes up and guns out, they were ready to shoot whoever entered their line of sight unannounced. To avoid a lethal run-in, Garrison called ahead, contacting any nearby squad and identifying himself before he turned a corner.
They quickly let him pass so they could refocus on their sector, brandishing a host of means to delay any enemy, from basic rifles to rocket launchers and emplaced turrets. The array of weapons was almost reassuring to see. Almost.
From the fighting he'd witnessed outside, he wasn't anxious to find out how well things would play out inside.
All along the way he gave brief reports to the squad-leaders of the situation on Sword's doorstop. Before running to the next checkpoint, he encouraged every single one to send a fireteam to support those outside.
In time, he reached the main foyer. The front desk was empty. So was the long corridor behind it. The walkway was still in operation however. The usual welcome from the building's automated systems also droned through the speakers.
Garrison led his small team down the shortest route, the walkway. Its security scanner glowed beneath them as they jogged. The automated system spoke again. "Thank you, colonel, you have been cleared for access."
"I've been cleared? So, they know I'm coming?"
"Probably the higher-ranks." Bisenti said. "They must've noticed you came back."
Gonzalez grimaced. "They have eyes on the situation. If that's the case then why haven't they left yet?"
"No clue."
They took a right at the end of the walkway then right again to the wide door at the end. Detecting their arrival, the door split apart and receded into the walls, allowing them into the atrium.
A squad of troopers were waiting for them. They had taken various positions around the entrance, two to either side of the door and several more scattered behind the work desks, the nearest Covenant artifact and the pair of decorative pillars straight ahead. Though their guns were lowered, Garrison imagined he would have gotten put out of commission in a blink had they not recognized him immediately.
One of them ran out from the pillars, a sergeant by the look of him. He saluted. "We heard you were coming, sir. I was told to ask what it is you needed."
"Told? By who?"
"Brigadier General Abajjé."
He glanced at Bisenti and Gonzalez. "Well, I'm here to help get him out. Him and everyone else on the UNICOM roster."
There was a flash of confusion on the sergeant's face. "Ugh, sorry sir, you said you're here to help them evacuate?"
"I didn't stutter, did I, soldier?"
"Ugh-, um, no sir. It's just that-" He paused to listen to someone on his comm-unit. "The brigadier general wishes to know how you're still here, colonel. We tried to evacuate you earlier."
"Tried." Garrison parroted. "Didn't work. My pilot's dead. His bird crashed outside, too many Banshees. At the moment, I'm hoping the air forces we have in play will make an opening for an exfiltration craft to come in. Until then, I'll back up our HVIs with what support I can offer."
"That might be a little problematic, sir. You see-" The sergeant stopped again to listen. "Right, yessir. The brigadier general offers his apologies for the failed evacuation. They do have an exfiltration craft on the way but it will be some time before it arrives. Until then, he asks that you avoid combat and stay close at hand so you can be evacuated with them."
"Avoid combat?"
"He says he saw what you did in the courtyard."
Garrison looked around the atrium. "He's saying a whole lot but I'm not seeing a whole lot of him anywhere. Where's he at?"
"Apologies, sir. I can't tell you that."
"Is it somewhere safe at least?"
"I can't tell you that either. Our comms aren't secure enough to provide that kind of information."
"You can't? Alright then." Garrison nodded understandingly and walked on ahead, turning left into the atrium. Bisenti and Gonzalez followed. The sergeant, momentarily stumped, charged after them.
"Hold on, colonel. Where're you-"
"'Some time' is not a time at all, sergeant." Garrison replied matter-of-factly. "The guys outside and in those hallways are risking their lives in seconds and minutes that are probably feeling like hours to them. They need the peace of mind of knowing these high value officers are gone or at the bare minimum somewhere airtight. If we lose them, Reach will be that much closer to getting crushed. Now you don't want that, do you?"
"N-, no. But what're you trying to do, sir?"
"Find them of course, take them to an actual secure location inside and head back out if possible. If they're already in a good spot then I'll gladly make a U-turn. That said, I need to make sure."
"Colonel, you don't even know where they are."
Garrison stopped at the base of the nearest staircase and faced him. "I don't. So how about it then? It doesn't take comm-units to speak face to face, right?"
The sergeant shook his head. "I still can't tell you, sir."
"Then I'll keep looking. And if you want to end this little debacle of ours and get back to your men, you'll help me find them."
Bisenti and Gonzalez watched the conversation nervously while the sergeant came to, waking up to the dilemma he'd gotten himself into. Garrison heard someone start talking again in the trooper's comm-unit. The sergeant swallowed and nodded agreeingly. "Follow me please."
He turned back around and walked across the ground floor, heading towards the entrance to the north wing of the building. Garrison and his team were close behind. They ascended a short ramp into an elevated office space. Beyond it was an unfamiliar room divided from the rest by a pair of glass and metal walls, more of an entryway than a barrier. Inside was a large rectangular table which glowed the same sterile blue as the holographic screens surrounding it.
The UNICOM personnel were there. The group of half a dozen brigadier and major generals were moving from screen to screen, surveying video feeds of the battle raging around Sword Base and monitoring comm-channels to what Garrison guessed were other officers. Two of them were standing about the table, Brigadier General Abajjé and General Montague. They mulled over a three-dimensional projection playing out over its surface.
The room itself was guarded by another squad of troopers who were spread around the office space in defensive positions. They saluted Garrison and let him through.
"The colonel's here, sir." The sergeant announced.
The group of six all turned from what they were doing to see him, some with surprise, others with worry.
Abajjé left his conversation with Montague to stand between Garrison and the table. "Colonel."
"Brigadier general."
"I would say you're welcomed to join us but given the circumstances I think it's best we take this back outsi-"
"Enough with the pleasantries, Abajjé." Montague hissed. "Garrison, come over here."
The colonel came up to the table. Abajjé reluctantly stepped aside for him to take a look at the projection. It was an active depiction of Sword Base and its surrounding region. The main facility was there as were the outposts, the corvette, the dogfights and the squadrons of dropships landing here and there like flies at a barbecue.
"What do you think?" Montague asked.
"Pardon?"
"Aren't you the same one who was so gung-ho about getting us to safety a second ago? I want an honest estimate myself as to when we can do that and none of us can give one for sure. Take a look and tell me what you think because we're not getting out of here until there's a solid gap in all this hostile air traffic."
"Foot traffic too." Watanabe added from a nearby screen. "Our security team at Farragut just reported in. Ground forces have taken the southeastern and southwestern buildings. Apparently, they're deploying Ghosts and Revenants all across the area. It won't be long before they take that communications array."
Horvath exhaled frustratedly from another station. "Once that happens, they'll do the same thing they did at Visegrád. We'll lose contact with everyone outside Sword. Everyone, even Lochaber, and that right there spells disaster for the shreds of airpower we're still clinging to out there."
Garrison took special note of that particular piece of information Horvath had let slip about Visegrád. So the Covenant were the cause. But that issue started up days ago. So exactly how long had they been on Reach?
Hill was the most frantic of the gathering. The major general was pouring over a series of different screens, each conveying something different. The first, a wall-mounted feed of the carnage unfolding at the starport. The second, a video-call with air traffic controllers in the starport's control tower who operated with an even greater franticness, shouting into headsets at their stations or putting out rogue fires with extinguishers. The third was also a video-call but it was still pending an answer. Garrison noticed the picture belonging to the contact: a middle-aged man in an Army officer's uniform. A rectangular head, a low buzz and deep-set eyes complimented his look of someone who was grizzled more by war than by time, a hardened soul but an approachable one. He could hardly see past Hill to the name below: 'Col. Urban Holl-'
Schneider suddenly left her station and walked to the projection, pointing to the main gate. "Phantoms just dropped a pair of Wraith tanks outside here. What's left of the security team there is being pinned down."
"They're boxing us in." Abajjé deduced.
"Making sure to isolate us so we can't send reinforcements to any of the stations or vice versa." Watanabe deduced. "Should I call for a dispatch from Airview?"
"Negative." Horvath said. "They're already hard-pressed as it is keeping our only scythe online. As things currently stand, our hands are tied. It won't be long before they send another-"
"Heads-up, secondary assault wave incoming." Schneider said. Everyone looked where she was pointing to the airspace between the base and the corvette. There, a squadron of several Phantom and Spirit dropships were making a beeline for Sword Base.
Montague turned once again to Garrison. "Well, colonel, how about that estimate?"
Garrison was not unused to such hectic tactical situations as the one in front of him. That didn't change the fact that he was utterly stumped. He had no idea when they would be able to leave or how they would retake the rest of the region. So long as the corvette was there, whatever they did aside from trying to hold what remaining ground they still controlled would be pointless.
"I don't have an estimate, sir. However, I was aiming to take you somewhere better protected." He gestured to the room. "I seriously doubt this is the best an organization like ONI has to offer. Don't they have contingencies for situations like this?"
Montague stared at him for a while before sighing. "Oh, there's contingencies alright, and Reach is in the middle of a big one even now. As for us, well," He tapped his foot on the floor. "There are several bunkers a quarter of a kilometer or so below. Most are for general use by non-combat personnel. We evacuated the majority of the facility staff down to those before your two companions back there got a chance to wake you up."
Garrison nodded. It explained why the base was so empty when he was brought outside. It was also a relief to know there was a place he could put them until the action was over. "So you have a shelter you can use. Why not withdraw to it, sir?"
"Withdraw?"
"Yes, right now seems like the best time."
Montague scratched his head. He looked around to his fellow officers and to the troopers posted outside the room that watched faithfully over the entrance. "And how would that look, colonel, if we left them here by themselves?"
"Sir?"
"Like their leadership is abandoning them, that's how it would look. Believe it or not, they don't have very many COs among them. We weren't able to procure enough in time. If we leave, who knows what that will do to their morale. If they fold, this base will fall. I might not be in naval intelligence, but I know it's never a good thing to lose a fully intact ONI installation to the Covenant."
Save for Hill who remained busy with his screens, his fellow officers shared an air of silent agreement. Montague turned to Garrison. "Do you see now colonel? It's a double-edged sword. We can't leave because of the situation outside. We shouldn't leave because of the situation inside."
"You want to keep them from losing heart, sir." Garrison admitted. "I understand that. I say this with the utmost respect for you, general, but they might fold regardless. They're out there. You're in here where you can't really help them. You said as much. You should at least help yourselves. If they find out we lost every single one of you, that's bad news for the whole planet, not just Sword."
Montague winced. The air of agreement within the room fractured. The rest of the officers looked amongst themselves, considering his point, however painful to acknowledge it actually was.
Only Hill was out of the loop. He renewed his focus on his station's third screen at seeing that the call was accepted.
"Colonel Holland, can you hear me?"
The voice of the officer rose in answer, deep yet reassuring. "Yes, I can hear you, sir."
"Good." Hill breathed easier. "I'm sure you've already been briefed on the current situation at Sword Base, correct?"
"That's correct."
"Then I can keep this short. We need your Spartans, Holland. We need them now."
Holland paused for a beat. "That corvette-led assault group will be more than a match for any forces NAVSPECWAR can send. I have to inform you that neither Special Warfare Group One, Two or Four are currently in Viery. Gauntlet, Red and Echo teams will not be available to offer support for-"
"Don't trouble yourself about the corvette. We already have a plan in place for that but we need Group Three in order to pull it off."
"I hear you, sir. I only said that to give you an idea of who we can send."
Hill nodded, a growing confidence in his stance. "Noble."
"Yessir. Will that be enough or will you need me to contact the other COs to assemble a proper task force. It's an option but it will take some time."
"Time that we don't have. No, I know their track record. Send Noble. They'll be enough."
"Yessir. I'll reroute them to your location. If all goes well, they should arrive by 10:26 Hours."
"A 15-minute wait." Hill murmured. "Alright, thanks, colonel. I'll update you on the situation as it unfolds. Hill out."
The call ended and the major general rounded on the rest of the room. There was relief in his eyes, relief which quickly evaporated upon seeing something on the projection. Garrison saw it too, several streaks of light erupting from the corvette. They raced for their target but not towards the starport.
"GET DOWN!" Garrison shouted and fell to a crouch, pulling Montague with him. The other officers failed to react in time as the plasma mortars struck.
The building trembled with each successive impact, knocking them off their feet as well as the squad outside the room. The projection on the table vanished. The lights around them dimmed then slowly flickered back on. When the rumbling finally ceased, Garrison got up and helped Montague to stand. The rest of the group were scattered on the floor or were thrown over their stations.
"How do we get to one of those bunkers, general!?" He asked as he went around helping each of them to their feet.
"There's an elevator on the fourth floor, north wing! It'll take us down!"
"Then let's go!"
His insistence combined with the salvo was sufficient to get the officers moving. They dashed out of the control room, turning into the corridor that ran alongside it. Their armed entourage followed as did Bisenti and Gonzalez. They passed through another office space and used the bridge to cross the atrium to the second floor.
They were about to round a corner when the sound of plasma weaponry rang out above them. Gunshots seconded them, growing swiftly from a few discharges to a full-on firefight.
They stopped at the threshold of a room with an open balcony.
Garrison rushed ahead to a corner of the room and peeked outside. There was indeed a fight raging above them. Bullets, plasma and needlers crisscrossed each other as a trooper squad on the third floor fired back at the fourth. It was too far up for him to see exactly what they were shooting at. Nonetheless, he could hear the shouts and growls of the Elites, Jackals and Grunts only two floors away.
"Looks like they breached the building!"
Bisenti and Gonzalez moved to the next corner and Abajjé tried to take a look. "That must've been those mortars! They probably blew a hole in the upper floors and gave them a way in!"
"If that's the case, let's speed up! Contact those troopers over there! Tell them we need some cover fire!"
Abajjé held up a finger and spoke into his comm, getting the soldiers on the adjacent side to comply. Gunfire thinned out from the third floor. Abajjé gave him the thumbs up.
Garrison led them out of the room and down a short passageway to the next bridge, stopping with Bisenti at his side and everyone else right behind. There were a pair of troopers standing by in the entrance to the third floor. He turned to Abajjé, signaling him to give the troopers the greenlight.
The firing resumed with a coordinated vengeance.
Garrison sprinted up the stairs, Bisenti on his heel and the rest of the group close at hand. Despite being a minor distance, the other end seemed far away. By the time he reached the third floor it felt like he'd finished the longest race of his life. He pivoted and crouched at the threshold of the entrance with the troopers, Bisenti doing the same and Gonzalez joining in while the officers ran past. They traced the troopers' line of fire to the balcony, to the squad of Jackals and Elite majors there, and joined in. Garrison singled out an Elite with two long bursts of plasma fire that blew out its shields. It bellowed with rage but a concentrated barrage from several troopers finished it off.
The Jackal snipers beside it responded in kind. Ignoring the attempts to suppress them, they targeted the tail end of the group rushing to the third floor. A precise needler struck the rearmost trooper in the back of the leg. He tumbled forward, howling from the pain.
"Cover!" Garrison shouted. He reactivated his stolen defense gauntlet and ran out for the man. He held up his shield to let the needlers smash against its protective circumference while he made the approach. As the help from his backup forced the Jackals to take cover, he reached the trooper. He hooked an arm around his in order to get him off his stomach. He pulled him onto his shoulder and dashed back. The snipers returned. Needlers lightninged into the floor of the bridge, cracking at his feet, shattering on the railings to either side of him. He pushed through and reached the safety of the entrance. He passed the trooper over to one of his comrades and pointed the gathering onward.
They headed through another office space to a wall that split the room in two, one side remaining level while the other ascended in a staircase to the fourth floor. The troopers on the former were raising hell for the Covenant on the other side of the atrium. The Covenant did the same, repaying blood for blood. Garrison saw a plasma burst fly straight into a trooper's face, blowing his head clean off his shoulders and sending it spiraling into the wall. Another took one too many needlers to the shoulder. The colonel turned away from the subsequent explosion and made his way to the final staircase.
Arriving at the fourth floor, he found two doors, both locked. He checked the rest of the floor including the lounge area off to his left. He dared to lean out into the passage that ran past the lounge to the bridge. The enemy was right on the other side of it. Though none were in the room directly opposite him, he was sure they would maneuver that way sooner or later.
"Is this our exit!?" He pointed out the doors to Abajjé.
"Yeah, the one on our right! I'll need a second to get us access!"
Garrison grimaced. It was the same door that faced the unsecure room. To get into the elevator would mean briefly exposing their backs to the enemy's line of sight. "Bisenti, Gonzalez, get up here and man that door to the bridge!"
The two MPs got to it, moving cautiously up the length of the passageway until they reached the end. They buried themselves into the corners to flatten their target profiles as much as possible. The room on the other side of the bridge remained empty.
"Brigadier general, you're up!"
Abajjé rushed to the door. He held his hand over the wall beside it. A section of it slid apart to reveal a projector lens inside. It emitted a holographic keypad that he quickly typed into.
Garrison flinched at the sudden sound of plasma fire, close and rapid. A burst of green lashed into the passageway, splashing the walls. Abajjé barely ducked in time to dodge a bolt to the back. The colonel whipped his plasma rifle out and spotted the trio of Grunts waddling into the opposite room. They growled and chanted in their language, heading for the bridge with pistols raised.
"Take them down!" Garrison's order was met with action from the MPs who mixed their bullets with his plasma. The return fire blew the lead Grunt's mask off its head and drilled it full of holes, burned off the face of the second and sent the last running away in a panic.
"Keep up the fire! Don't let them try that again! Sir, you alright!?"
Abajjé was already back to typing into the keypad. "Never been worse!"
Garrison maintained regular bursts across the bridge with Bisenti and Gonzalez, keeping an eye on his rifle's temperature gauge as he grinned. "Don't you mean better!?"
"I really don't!"
After several seconds the keypad gave an affirming chime. The door slid open and Garrison saw the large elevator waiting inside.
"Good to go!" Abajjé said.
"Alright, everyone in! Bisenti, Gonzalez, we go last!"
"Copy!" Bisenti replied.
The three of them continued their suppression fire, working so that two were always shooting when a third had to reload or cool down. The officers went inside. However, the troopers that accompanied them moved in behind the trio. Their squad leader, a corporal, came beside Garrison.
"We've got your back, colonel! Go on ahead!"
"You're staying here!?"
"There's still a base to defend up here, sir! Now that our HVIs are out of the way, we'll take care of the building!"
"Roger that!"
The squad advanced into the passageway, spilling into the lounge off to the side in order to lay down their wounded or to remain on standby. The rest stood ready to take the two MPs' positions.
"Bisenti, Gonzalez, fall back to the lift!"
They moved aside to let the troopers take over. They didn't take more than a step before enemy reinforcements came into view. Four Jackals armed with energy shields entered the other room and immediately pushed towards the bridge. Worse yet, Garrison saw a flash of yellow armor. A horned helmet crested over the heads of the Jackals. He found himself looking at two worrying things at the same time: the dark eyes of an Elite general and the curved barrel of a fuel rod cannon.
The troopers reflexively responded by battering the Jackals' shields, slowing them down but doing nothing more than ricocheting off of them. Garrison saw the real threat for what it was and acted on reflex as well, putting aside his rifle to take out his plasma pistol. He held down the trigger to summon a ball of overcharged plasma. Bisenti and Gonzalez were right in its path.
"DOWN!"
The word itself seemed to push the duo down to a crouch as Garrison released the trigger. The bolt zoomed over them, crossed the bridge as a ghostly specter and slammed into the face of the Elite as a demon seeking possession. Its energy shields shimmered but refused to burst at the wave of crackling green energy that forced it a step back.
Garrison tossed his pistol aside in exchange for his rifle and backpedaled towards the elevator. The two MPs got back up and ran inside, getting in ahead of him. He was crossing the threshold when the Elite reappeared, enraged. Garrison made it inside and fired at it full-auto while he waited for the door to close.
The Elite wasn't so patient. It hefted the cannon to its shoulder and spewed out two fuel rods. The balls of emerald death raced after them. The door was closing as the troopers nearest the bridge vanished in a deafening flash of green. Their corporal leapt aside as the last rod streaked through the haze towards the elevator, heading straight for Garrison. But the door finally slid shut and the resulting impact tossed him back into the others. Abajjé and Montague caught him.
Garrison barely felt them begin their descent. He was unsteady. The resonance of the impact rang in his ears. Abajjé and Montague helped him to right himself and he relied on the interior railings like everyone else to remain standing.
"That," Watanabe said, "Was cutting it awfully close."
Garrison silently agreed as he sat down in a corner of the elevator.
Gonzalez smiled warily at him. "You sure you're still a grunt, sir?"
Garrison restrained a laugh and smiled back. "That split-jaw certainly thought so. Now, how long is the wait on this thing?"
"Not long." Abajjé said. "About two minutes."
CLANG!
The sound of metal on metal made Bisenti and Gonzalez look around, as did Garrison.
CLANG!
"Don't tell me they found a way in." The colonel said under his breath.
"No, it's not them." Abajjé assured. "It's the security lockouts."
CLANG!
"The what?"
"Barriers, Titanium A. They lock into place in the case of an emergency descent. They make sure nothing follows us down the shaft."
CLANG!
Garrison let his head rest against the wall and allowed himself to feel some measure of peace. The repeated echoes from the security lockouts made it difficult. "How much longer do we have to wait for those reinforcements?"
"Ten minutes or so." Hill answered.
The elevator rumbled. The lights flickered. Garrison realized the whole building itself was shaking from the corvette's newest salvo. He braced himself for what was sure to be a long ten minutes.
:********:
After a few minutes, the elevator's descent came to a stop. The door opened again to a long, metal hallway lit all along its length by overhead lights. On the other end were two-meter-tall titanium doors.
Garrison was the first out. As always, Bisenti and Gonzalez followed. They guarded their charges all the way to the other side.
Green indicator lights winked on along the doorframe. The doors steadily separated and receded into the walls.
More lights gradually activated within the space beyond and illuminated the chamber as they entered. It vaguely reminded Garrison of an old control room with its iron walls. There were several descending rings of stations partitioned in two by a single staircase. Their projection screens activated simultaneously with camera feeds and other tactical readouts, culminating in the large display on the far wall showing ONI's insignia. The bunker could have held 50 people. Today, the less than ten that made it down would be using it as a shelter.
Garrison and the MPs stayed at the doors and waited for them to shut. The rest of the group settled themselves at various stations around the room, pulling out everything they needed to both observe and manage the situation on the surface.
Abajjé turned in his chair to face the colonel. He eyed the plasma rifle in his hand. "That's not going to detonate, is it?"
Garrison checked over the weapon. He felt a pang of concern over how low he might be on ammo. There was no concern however for the weapon itself. "Doubt it. Why do you ask?"
"I saw you when you first came over the wall, what you did with that plasma pistol that had the dead-man switch. You're really something else, colonel. I've never seen anyone use it like that. Never. Then again, I don't see too many Covenant guns with those boobytraps to begin with."
Garrison shrugged. "They mostly use those on special missions, mainly on gear for troops who have a high chance of getting killed and having their weapons fall into the wrong hands."
"Like Grunts and Jackals?"
He nodded and ran a hand over the smooth surface of the rifle's top plasma generator. "These, not so much. Elites are too much of a pain to deal with, plus they're not the type to be interested in boobytraps."
"I see..." Abajjé trailed off as his attention flickered between the screens and the entrance, only stopping once the doors were fully closed. Then he relaxed into his chair and rested his face in his hands. "The Winter Contingency, colonel, do you know of it?"
"Sir?"
"The Winter Contingency, have you heard of it?"
Garrison dug around in his memories of UNSC protocols and conventions. He didn't have to dig far. It was much too important to ever forget. "An emergency protocol arguably on par with Cole's, right?"
"Right. Discovering evidence of Covenant activity, evidence of damage only capable of directed energy weapons or being directly engaged by Covenant forces, these are some of the prerequisites for declaring it." Abajjé raised himself up so that Garrison could see the man's tired eyes jailed behind the bars of his fingers. "Cole's idea was to try to prevent that. He made his own protocol retroactively if you think about it. The admiral thought it best to stop the Covenant from finding worlds in the first place, and after everything that happened at Harvest, who could blame him? But this one deals with what happens once they're found. Information mitigation, selective field deployments, civilian evacuations, the works. Cole's is more effective because it delays the inevitable, but Winter is the inevitable."
"...Are you good, sir?"
Abajjé sat upright and shook his head. "No. I don't think I ever will be again either. This is Reach, colonel. Reach. Do you understand what that means?"
Garrison gave a slow nod. "It means we can't let it fall."
"It means we can't afford for it to." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Earth is right there. Earth, Garrison." His gaze fell to the floor again. He slouched over at some deeper comprehension of what he'd said. Once again, his hands caged his face from the world around him. "My God. It's really...right there."
The colonel sensed the heaviness in the air. Despite not looking at their colleague, Garrison knew the others had listened to him. It showed in their faces, sullen and downcast but trying to escape it all by focusing on their individual tasks. Even Bisenti and Gonzalez showed hints of having overheard.
"And if we win?" Garrison asked.
Abajjé peered up at him. "What do you mean?"
"If we hold, if Reach holds?"
Abajjé sighed. "What happens here is bound to happen on Earth as well. They're just that interlinked. In that regard, this will basically be the same as fighting for Earth. And even then, it's not like we're just fighting for two planets but-…"
"Mankind..." Schneider whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
"You didn't answer my question, sir." Garrison said, drawing the brigadier general's attention away from the floor. "And if we win?"
"Win?" Abajjé smiled cynically. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"
"How else do you think I've lived this long, sir?"
"A little bit of expertise, a whole lot of luck."
"Right. Which is why we can do the same here as we did with Ballast. We have the advantage of greater resources too."
Abajjé held out a pleading hand. "One moment of fortune does not a lucky streak make, colonel."
"No," Hill butted in from his station. "But maybe some Spartans will. Guess who just arrived?"
The rest of the group stood up, each one anxious for good news.
"Put it on the main screen." Montague ordered.
A second later, the room's forward display switched to a camera feed from a corner of the courtyard. The entire yard was awash with tracers and plasma fire as the Army troopers Garrison left on the surface continued the fight, this time against a second wave of Covenant. Above the yard and far off to the east were two dark dots that quickly grew into a pair of Falcons. They flew above the inner yard. The view switched to another camera in a corner of the outer yard. There the Falcon in the rear made a quick descent to the landing zone.
Two figures leapt out.
They were dressed in a familiar armor, one a dark gray steel, the other a light blue, one male, the other female.
The Spartans whipped out their weapons, an M6 sidearm and a DMR. They started across the yard, linking up with a scattered trooper element before sweeping through a band of oncoming Grunts. They advanced into the inner yard with astounding speed. Garrison could hardly keep track as they engaged Covenant forces there alongside the troopers, each doing the work of a squad of ODSTs. Despite a barrage from a passing Phantom, they took little time dispatching reinforcements that leapt out of the troop bay. Grunts were cut down as were the Jackals. The Elites suddenly found the tide of battle turning against them and prioritized the two Spartans. Plasma and needle rifles tried to track them across the yard albeit with miniscule success. The Elites in turn and those that remained were transformed into bullet-sponges. Not even the concussion rifle of an Elite Ultra could stop them from bulldozing it.
Garrison watched wide-eyed while the Spartans did what only Spartans could. They pushed to the road leading to the main gate, slaughtering an ambush of skirmishers before making their way outside.
The pair of Wraiths patrolling the area were shortly reduced to flaming wrecks after succumbing to a hail of missile-fire from above. A quick Warthog drop-off from a Pelican then gave the pair a decent set of wheels.
From there, things unfolded far faster than Garrison could have anticipated. Sure, they were Spartans, but they began accomplishing the kinds of jobs he would usually reserve for a platoon or two. They succeeded regardless.
Hill switched from feed to feed so that they could observe each objective taken. Despite drop-offs from several Phantoms and Spirits, the Covenant were eradicated from Airview Base in minutes. The local M71 was reactivated and immediately got to work turning a nearby Phantom into a puff of violet flames.
Farragut station was next. Eliminating a pair of Ghosts guarding the route there, they reached the station and straight away began cleaning house. A Revenant in the area put up a brief fight before the M41 on the back of their Hog riddled it into fiery debris. A Spirit dropped in a squad of skirmishers to give them trouble. Despite their good positions, they were picked off one by one, as were the Elites, Grunts and Jackals within the buildings. Soon the generators were turned back on and the comms array was reactivated.
A Pelican drop-off of a Gauss Hog just outside Farragut was the perfect addition to their firepower. Trading in their battered and bruised vehicle for this newest one, they proceeded to a dirt road that skimmed along the northern shores of the plateau. They were returning.
Garrison was in awe. He was amazed at their efficiency, particularly that of the steely gray Spartan who didn't seem to bat an eye at killing the kinds of Elites he himself would've thought twice about approaching. That raised another question.
"Where's the rest of their team?"
"Inbound." Hill said. As he said it, he switched to two different cameras. One was in the outer yard. There a Falcon made a fast descent. Two more Spartans leapt out. Their armors were much similar in color than the first two; a greenish sage. That was where their similarities ended. The first wielded an SRS-99 and parts of what looked like a ghillie suit around his neck, the bearing and appearance of a sniper. His comrade was noticeably bigger and less stealthy. So big in fact that he looked closer to the type of Spartan Garrison was used to running into and occasionally asking operational favors from. His bulky size and armor attachments, combined with the modified M247H chaingun he wielded with the ease of a purse, made him look like a walking tank. If his teammates' previous actions were anything to go by, he probably was just that.
The pair crossed the yard. They ascended the closest stairs and entered the building.
"I've been in contact with Navy air controllers, Air forces from Lochaber and Special Warfare Group Three." Hill said. "We've settled on a plan to push that corvette back."
"When did you do all that?" Watanabe asked.
"Back when we were running and screaming our way to the bunker."
"Oh."
"Good work." Montague said and focused on the second camera feed. Another Falcon slowed down along an upper section of the building that had been blown apart by the corvette's earlier salvos. It hovered close to the gaping maw of torn girders, glowing metal walls and flames. The next member of Noble team jumped out onto the shattered remains of the building's fourth floor, a rocket launcher on his back.
Garrison looked closer and winced. He was probably the most visually different and unorthodox looking Spartan the colonel had ever laid eyes on. He was covered from chest to waist in 40-millimeter grenades. He had a large pauldron with a curved kukri blade attached to it that closely reminded him of Epsilon's late marksman. And yet that wasn't what made Garrison feel a twinge of intimidation. It was his visor, not the face behind it but the face carved into it. It was a skull, a sharp and sketchy impression of one that made him think of the old, legendary monster called the wendigo.
The Spartan briefly looked in the general direction of the camera and Garrison felt a slight chill. The supersoldier refocused on a pair of Jackals meandering about the ruins. He brought up his M45 shotgun and fired off a shell, striking one of them in the back. The last managed to turn around with its shield. A second blast blew its hand off, sending its plasma pistol clattering to the floor. It screamed. The Spartan rushed forward and swatted its shield aside in order to kick it in the stomach, breaking armor and bone. Another scream followed and was cut short by a flash of metal.
In the split-second it took Garrison's brain to catch up to what had happened, the Spartan was already withdrawing his kukri from the alien's temple. The Jackal's eyes rolled back into its shattered skull and it collapsed at its killer's feet. The Spartan whipped the blood off his blade and returned it to its sheath. Garrison hadn't seen him take it out.
The skull-faced soldier turned towards the skies and to the scores of Banshees maneuvering around it like a mosquito swarm. He climbed his way onto the decimated remains of the fifth floor and found a perch. He switched out his shotgun for the launcher on his back. Taking careful aim, he fired off one rocket then another that curved after a passing Banshee, catching it off guard and reducing it to flames. The other flyers quickly took notice of the new threat. Strafing runs commenced, plasma cannons were fired, rockets flew out and a one-man anti-air battle ensued.
Out the corner of his eye, Garrison saw Bisenti marveling at the scene. Gonzalez was too.
"That's Spartans for you." He laughed.
"I've never seen one this close before." Gonzalez said. "I mean, I would be close if I was still outside but I think that's the last place I want to be right now."
"I didn't know they were like this." Bisenti said, slack-jawed.
"Yeah," Garrison's voice fell to just above a whisper. "Neither did I."
"What exactly is your plan, Hill?" Horvath asked.
Major General Hill gestured to the screen. "They're my plan."
"Can you be a bit more specific than that?" Schneider queried.
"The current strategy revolves around getting that corvette to move. To do that, we need to reestablish a certain amount of air superiority in order to convince its shipmaster that they don't own the skies anymore." Hill used his station to bring up three feeds on the forward display at the same time.
The first on the far left was of the first Spartan pair that secured Airview Base and Farragut Station. They were presently maneuvering through the maze of boulders and dirt paths outside the main gate, whittling away the last Ghosts and Revenants attempting to resecure their hold on it. A few thunderous poundings from the gauss cannon won each engagement, turning both vehicle and driver into small infernos.
"The one on the gun is Noble-2, the team's resident cryptanalyst. She's also a pretty crack shot with that cannon. The one behind the wheel is Noble-6, a recent addition. He's a bit of a dark horse but he's good."
Watanabe arched a brow. "A dark horse?"
"Listen, I can't say too much. None of us have the full clearance for it and I'm the one we usually leave to handle the Special Warfare Groups. Let's just say he's popular in higher circles of ONI for dealing with troublesome entities."
"Okay, and you say he's recent? How recent?"
"Remember that after-action report I briefed you all on about Fumirole, about the little mishap involving that cruiser?"
"Yes, I-...oh...you mean..."
"Yes, he's that recent. It was a pain and a half trying to go through all the paperwork and back channels just to get Noble back to full strength. Anyway, those two reactivating Airview's M71 will help clear the skies a bit as well. With our communications back in shape, we won't have a problem staying in contact with the orbital defense platforms."
The second feed in the middle of the display was of the skull-faced Spartan engaging the Banshees. He was soon joined by a handful of other troopers armed with launchers that attempted to assist. They didn't last very long and very quickly he was alone again, swatting down flyers, bracing himself at strafing runs and ducking behind steel girders at the occasional fuel rod.
"That right there is Noble-4, the team's CQC expert. As you saw earlier, he likes using that knife of his even when he doesn't have to. Thankfully, he's also good with explosive ordnance. He's currently working on neutralizing the Banshees in this sector. It'll clear the way for our Longswords to push that ship away from Sword. Once that happens, we'll have an ODP take it out from a safe distance."
The last feed on the display's right side showed an overhead view of the building's atrium. The fighting had moved down to the ground floor. There, the bulky Spartan and his sniper counterpart were engaging a number of Jackals and Elites. The marksman utilized the decorative columns for cover while the walking tank stood out in the open, hosing down the enemy and keeping them at bay.
"As for these two, the big guy is Noble-5 and his friend there with the SRS-99 is Noble-3. I don't think you need me to explain what they do."
Garrison saw Noble-3 slip a round through the brain of a Jackal sniper on the fourth-floor balcony as though it were a duck hunt. "No, it's pretty straightforward."
"They'll be resecuring the rest of the building along with Noble-2 and 6 once they get back inside. I'll need to ask their commander for an escort later. I've got a Pelican planned to come in the second this place is safe enough."
"Their commander?" Garrison asked.
"Noble-1. He's a commander alright, has been from the start of the team. He's more than worth his salt. That's my opinion at least. He's keeping an eye on things from his Falcon."
Garrison nodded. They were already highly trained soldiers. To have this level of specialization as well as the perfect environment in which to use it made them a formidable force for the Covenant, not contenders but butchers and the best kind at that. He made a mental note to thank them for their help if he got the chance.
The battle continued to tilt in the UNSC's favor, or perhaps the Spartans'. They pulled their weight and everyone else's in each engagement they ran into.
Noble-2 and Noble-6 finished the last Covenant forces outside the gate and passed through to the courtyard. They rolled back and neutralized a group of late arrivals before pressing into the subfloor garage. There they contended with some stragglers including an aggravated Hunter pair. The Spartans addressed them with the same lethal precision and destructive accuracy that they did everything else.
The behemoths succumbed one after the other, mostly thanks to a lot of maneuvering on the part of Noble-6. A short elevator ride later and the pair were clearing out the foyer and the security corridor there as well.
Before long, they reached the main atrium and linked up with Noble-3 and 5. What followed was an avalanche effect of organized death. The four Spartans moved from floor to floor, saving a growing number of Army troopers and adding them to their ranks.
Soon the last of the Covenant forces inside were flushed out. Even the Elite general that nearly killed everyone in the elevator was brought down.
Only a single feed was left. It was focused on Noble-4. As he continued his assault against the enemy flyers he was joined by Noble-6 who took up a launcher and did his part.
Seeing the Banshees begin to fall at a faster rate to rocket fire, Garrison got a strange feeling about the recent catalyst for their hastening demise. Noble-6 was good. He was almost too good, even for a Spartan. A shadow of a memory encroached on his thoughts. He remembered the Spartan known as the Master Chief and the handful of his feats he'd personally witnessed over the years. He considered the comparison.
In a last-ditch attempt to stop their being pushed back, a Phantom dropship flew onto the scene. It laid down suppressing fire from the plasma cannons in its troop bay while several shimmering figures jumped out into the breach. Again, a slaughter ensued. The stealth Elites sent to eliminate them were themselves eliminated. The same went for their Phantom which disappeared in an explosion from one rocket after the next. The last of the Banshees suffered the same fate in short order.
"The ship," Hill said excitedly. "It's stopped firing."
Garrison examined the corvette and confirmed it had indeed ceased its bombardment of the starport. The ship slowly steered to starboard, turning away from Sword Base. It eventually completed the turn and was facing back in the direction it came from. Its repulsor drives flared and it commenced a southward flight, leaving Sword Base in its wake. It was abandoning the tattered remains of the elements it had deployed across the area, escaping.
On the camera, two Longswords flew in from the north. They followed the larger vessel but did not engage, instead tailing it until it was well over the waters. Then they banked off and got their distance.
The reason why came first as a dull roar and then a bolt of white light that shot through the corvette and crashed into the ocean beneath. The supersonic impact of the MAC round was an awesome sight to behold. The corvette spewed fiery gore from the gaping wound in its underbelly. The momentum of the house-sized slug punched it off course so that it nosed down towards the ocean. Its drives flickered and failed.
Cheers erupted in the bunker. Garrison was cheering as well. He watched gleefully as the ship dove into the ocean. Its metal mass slipped halfway beneath the waves in explosions of fire and steam. Then like the seafaring ships of old, it slowed down and its descent into the depths took on a more gradual, satisfying speed, allowing those who survived its assault to savor its death throes.
However, Garrison was no longer focused on the sinking corvette. His attention drifted to the view of the Spartan, Noble-6, standing just off to the right of the spectacle, watching with reservedness. The largest Spartan, Noble-5, came alongside him and put a hand on his shoulder. Though he couldn't hear their comms, Garrison knew how to read body language. 'Good work'. For a moment they seemed almost normal, like an older and younger brother.
Something must have happened because the two of them purposefully turned from the sight and started back inside, leaving the screen.
The cheering turned to an air of relief. Garrison sensed everyone's elation. Elation became anxiousness. The victory was sorely needed but so was their extraction.
Sword Base was compromised. There was no doubt about that now. They needed to leave and as soon as possible.
"Hill," Montague called. "Did you get in contact with Noble-1 about that escort?"
"No, not yet. Contacting him now." Hill typed his way through a communications terminal and opened a direct link to the commander in question. "Noble-1? Noble-1, can you hear me?"
A pause and then an answer from a man with a voice matching his rank. "I can. Identify yourself please."
"This is Major General Hill, service number 25676-34990-KH. I'm here with several UNICOM personnel in need of immediate evacuation. I'm requiring some of your Spartans for an escort, I've got a Pelican on the way and I need security for an HVI extraction."
"Copy that. Where are you now, sir?"
"Emergency Bunker 4. Entrance is on the fourth floor, north wing. Door on the right. Can you lend a hand?"
"Hold tight, sir, you've got a hand incoming. I'll send two of my Spartans to assist. Is there any special access required?"
"Don't worry. We'll come out to you. Just have your guys in place."
"Roger that, sending them now."
"Thanks for the help, commander. Hill out." The major general ended the call and pointed the gathering to the doors. "Let's get those open."
:********:
The elevator ride up felt shorter than the first ride down. There wasn't the same degree of stress or fear of imminent death along the way. The ascent was smooth and the elevator chimed at its arrival.
At the opening of the door, Garrison spotted their escort.
Noble-5 and Noble-6 were standing in the passageway outside. The former kept his heavy weapon trained on the bridge ahead while the latter observed the stairs on their left.
Noble-5 finally looked their way and nodded to them.
"Good morning." He said, his accent straddling the lines between British and Australian. "Heard you needed bodyguards."
"Is the building secured?" Montague asked.
"Just about. There's still a few left in the air but groundside's clear for the most part."
He pulled up the barrel of his gun and hoisted it across his shoulder as though it were a rifle. He turned to face them while Noble-6 synchronously, and wordlessly, moved past to cover the bridge. The biggest of the Spartans stopped in front of the officer-filled elevator. Though Garrison couldn't see past his golden visor, he sensed a friendliness radiating from his demeanor, a characteristic that set him apart from most Spartans he'd met before.
"We have a bit of an appointment that we're running a little late for so we'll have to make this fast." Noble-5 said. With his freehand, he gestured down the stairs like a chauffeur opening the door to a limousine. "Your safest exit route is through the garage on subfloor-1. We know that way's clear, don't we, Six?"
Nobe-6 gave a stoic nod and continued his silent vigil of the bridge.
Montague smiled approvingly. "Lead the way, Spartan."
Noble-5 brought out his chaingun once again. He held it at the ready and descended the stairs. The others followed him. Garrison purposefully fell to the back of the group with Bisenti and Gonzalez. However, they were not rear security. That job fell to Noble-6 who walked circumspectly behind them.
Garrison was quick to discern their strategy. Noble-5 took point because of his size. If any surviving enemies leapt out at them from the front, the officers had a walking human shield to protect them. If any ambushes came from the rear, the smaller yet likely nimbler Noble-6 would be able to address it before it got out of hand. Though he was a head shorter than his teammate, he was a head and a half taller than Garrison himself and he kept that head on a swivel. Still, it interested the colonel to think that 5 was so much bigger. Were he not keeping watch on the shadows in the corners of passing rooms and overhead balconies, he would have taken the chance to consider if there were actually different kinds of Spartans. But that would have to come later. Safety came first.
Bisenti and Gonzalez were similarly interested. Whenever they could, they snuck peeks at the Spartans like kids meeting their superheroes for the first time. More than once Garrison had to call them out for it and refocus them on the current task. If the odd glance from their charges caught the eye of the supersoldiers, neither of them showed it. They remained watchful, probably having long since grown accustomed to such curious looks.
The different floors were each a bloodbath. There were dead Covenant scattered here and there. They ranged from bullet-riddled Elites and Grunts with caved-in skulls to the still sizzling corpses of troopers. Garrison was mindful not to linger on the faces of the latter. Experience taught him such a thing was never wise. He was grateful however that the majority of bodies they came across were those of the enemy. There was more blue blood than red. While not always a sign of a victory, today it was.
Nevertheless, it almost wasn't.
Had Hill not made the call, had Noble Team not arrived when they did, Garrison suspected the death and damage would have proved more one-sided. Thanks to them, he saw troopers making patrols along the different floors. They checked the dead, secured the wounded and put extra rounds in the heads of any Covenant that still twitched. They would see the passing train of officers and salute, voicing their thanks or giving a cheerful quip to the Spartans. It amazed Garrison then to think of how many lives Noble took and how many more they had saved in the process.
All things considered, a team of six had just accomplished a mission he would have personally entrusted to a whole company.
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
They reached the ground floor of the atrium and walked around the broken bodies of Elites and Jackals. They were passing the bronzy pieces of Covenant artifacts at the atrium's center when Noble-5 got a good look at them.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Speak your mind, Spartan." Montague replied.
"I'm not much of an artist but I'd like to make a recommendation, if you have half a mind to hear it." He pointed to the artifacts. "Seems to me like these are going out of style. I think a stabilizer fin from a Wraith or a drive from a Phantom would make a good fit. Better yet, you can fill the whole place out with a troop bay from a Spirit. There's plenty of those in stock around here. What do you think, sir?"
Montague stifled a laugh. "Sure, the troop bay sounds best...if you think you can pull it in here for us."
As they approached the exit, Noble-5 gestured to the glass ceiling. "Just make a hole in there for me and I'll drop it right down. Me and Six here can help you with the renovations after."
"Interesting. Alright then, we'll give you a call sometime."
"Happy to hear it, sir."
They left the atrium and navigated through the next corridor to the foyer, from there there to the elevators. They came out into the sub-level and walked to the exit, passing the dead Hunter pair slain earlier. Outside wasn't much better. There were dozens more dead Covenant littering the courtyard than there were when Garrison went inside. There was the occasional trooper in the mix as well. The living saluted the group. Meanwhile, their casualties were brought together near the bridgeway and covered up. Among the row of dead, the colonel noticed a few familiar faces, some of the same ones he'd left behind to secure the UNICOM personnel. A few MPs were also among them. Bisenti and Gonzalez saw them. They too recognized some of the faces and it showed.
They came out into the inner yard. Several shadows passed overhead accompanied by the fluctuating drone of fusion drives and the choppy whir of rotor blades. They turned skywards to the Pelican that came flying down to the yard. Four Falcons attended it, one to the front and rear and one to either side of it. They stayed in the air whilst the Pelican slowed enough to descend to the landing zone. Its entry ramp fell open for them.
Their escorts guarded them all the way to the dropship and stood watch while they went inside. Garrison was the last in. He relieved himself of his point defense gauntlet as well as his plasma rifle and tossed both away. He finished securing himself in his seat and looked to the Spartans of whom Noble-6 was the closest.
"Great work, Spartan." He said. "You saved our lives back there."
The Spartan responded with a placid, albeit slightly personable tone. "Only completing the mission, sir."
"Yeah, and you were good at it too. Keep it up, and pass on my thanks to your commander for me."
He nodded. "Will do, sir."
Garrison sat back in his seat. He allowed himself to relax for the first time that day. Even so, there was more to be done. Much more. He watched the exit ramp rise as the Pelican lifted off. He took a final eyeful of Sword Base, of the smoke and fires rising from it. It was damaged, it was invaded but at the end of the day it still belonged to humanity.
The battalion came to mind. He needed to find a way back to them. As the cargo bay was fully sealed and the Pelican's drives accelerated, his every thought revolved around two things alone: returning to his troopers and killing every single Covenant uglie on Reach.
:********:
Six watched as the Pelican flew off with its Falcon escorts, leaving the airways above Sword Base. They swung through the skies to the west where the corvette had once taken position and then angled to the south.
His comms came alive as Carter, Noble-1, spoke. "Jorge, Six, how's that extraction looking?"
"They're away, sir." Six replied.
"Not much hostile air anymore either." Jorge, Noble-5, added. "They should be fine from here on out."
"Roger that." Carter said. "Good work. The rest of us are already in the basement. It's just you two. Speed it up so we can get this over with."
"Yessir," Jorge said. "And one more thing, commander. Try to enjoy her company, would you? She's nice if you're nice."
"So you say. I'll test that theory out. Hustle it down here, Spartans, on the double."
"Copy."
They waited a little longer until they were sure the Pelican was well out of sight. Once it was gone, Six looked to Jorge.
"Are we set?"
"I'd say so." Jorge hefted his trusty chaingun which he affectionately named 'Etilka' across his shoulder and walked over to him. "Ready to see the good doctor?"
Six shook his head. "I don't feel sick."
"Oh, that's a shame." Jorge started for the stairs to the closest entrance. "No worries, she'll fix you right up. Now hurry, we're late."
Six could sense his new teammate smiling behind that visor of his. Jorge was happy to be seeing an old face again, that was for sure. Six checked around the courtyard one last time before slapping his DMR onto his magnetic harness and following after him, all the while wondering what this 'Dr. Halsey' was really like.
Nobilis - Noble
