Chapter 6 – Especulaciones
August 11th, 2552 - (20:55 Hours - Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, Reach
Viery Territory, Classified Location
:********:
Duncan scanned the way ahead with his rifle, checking every shadow, tree, rock and railing through the crosshairs of his optics. The course of the forest trail snaked through a neighborhood of enormous sequoia trees whose red bark faintly illuminated the night. Switching on his VISR mode, they became outlined in yellow highlights. Their numbers and colors caused their shapes to intermingle with one another, creating a strong optical illusion, a kind of infinite reflection in all directions.
Two things and two things alone kept him from losing track of where he was. The first was the gravel trail which was sufficiently wide to avoid being overtaken by the elephantine roots of the trees. The second was his green-highlighted squadmates.
Epsilon was scattered along the trail with a trooper for every five meters. Their patrol route had taken them through the denser parts of the forest, increasing their need for perimeter security. Their heads remained on a swivel, turning left and right, taking aim at any suspicious silhouettes or signs of movement. It usually turned out to be little more than the local fauna skittering through the undergrowth or flying across the canopy. Animals of the more nocturnal persuasion were active all around them, chittering, chirping and shifting in the dark.
There were some sounds however that Duncan found unsettling. Every so often he heard growls, deep and guttural, that emanated from the depths of the forest. They would come at random points throughout their patrol. No one could say for sure what was causing them and they seemed to follow the squad for as long as they were on this part of the trail. Since nothing was coming of it, the Staff told them to ignore it for the time being. So long as mother nature kept her distance, they would keep theirs.
Duncan only hoped it was mother nature and not something else.
To him, every low shadow in the underbrush was a possible Grunt crouching in the leaves. Every silhouette of a bird perched in a tree could be a Jackal sniper waiting to give him a third eye. Every branch that appeared to sway against the breeze could be a camouflaged Elite moving into position. He operated as though those suspicions were fact and took aim at whatever caught his attention. Everything around him was guilty until his optics proved them innocent.
In time, the squad came to a gentle decline in the trail. They were slowly moving downhill and soon the edge of the forest came within sight. There was a collective sense of relief at spotting the not-so-distant tree line. Once tense shoulders relaxed, rifles weren't held as high and everyone's attention strayed towards the front.
Mito was point man. He was 20 meters from the tree line, just as relaxed as everyone else until he did a double take at something off to his left. He stiffened and quickly pulled up his rifle at a spot in the trees. The rest of Epsilon was immediately clued in and did the same.
The squad stopped and waited.
"Ep-9, what do you see?" The Staff comm'd.
"That...is a big boy."
"Ep-9, what are you looking at? Confirm, over?"
"Ugh-, I don't know what you call these things, sir, but its big."
"Epsilon, move up, let's see what he's got."
The squad steadily closed in to form a semi-circular perimeter around where Mito was aiming. In the undergrowth between a set of sequoias was an imposing silhouette. Duncan had trouble making it out and so did his VISR. He eventually discerned the shape of what he at first thought was a man stooping in the bushes, an abnormally large man. Then his VISR pried its full visage from the shadows. It was bipedal with strong legs, a large dad bod of a torso and three fingers on each hand of which two possessed curving claws of worrying lengths. Its skin was as scaly as a fish and the eyes in its elongated head were just as fish-like, staring back at them with a predatory fascination.
Duncan thought he was looking at a dinosaur for a second or some lost urban legend. He rechecked that idea after he started recognizing the creature. He wouldn't have even known its name were it not for Deaks. Back in the day, the corporal had told him stories of the monsters he would run into while he trespassed on their hunting grounds far outside of Falchion, searching for Moa.
"A Gúta." Nova remarked, giving voice to his thoughts. "An infant by the looks of it."
This was most of their first times seeing one up close. None of them lowered their weapons, recalling the old safety advisories they were made to read on Reach's wildlife. Duncan noticed the tusks that grew out from its jaws weren't full grown. That and it being a little more than twice their size confirmed that it really was just a baby.
"Was this the thing making those growling noises for the past 20 minutes?" Zack asked, sounding annoyed.
Nova nodded. "It must've been following us."
"It looks like it's trying to hide," Mito noted. "And failing at it. I spotted its head peeking out while I was passing."
Renni stiffened and started looking around frantically. "Oh no-no-no-no-no-no, this isn't good."
"What's wrong?" The Staff asked.
"It's an infant." She whispered. "So where's-"
A powerful roar sounded from behind them. The squad whirled about to the trees on the right side of the trail. Beyond the sequoias, a distant shadow was growing larger, roaring and pounding the ground as it charged at them.
The squad immediately spread out and took aim, everyone except Mito and Hector who kept the infant in their sights.
On the other end of his rifle, Duncan saw his VISR highlight a hostile red shape, another Gúta. This one was much, much larger, at least twice the size of a Hunter. The way it smashed through the undergrowth on its way to them almost reminded him of an angry, hairless gorilla.
"Ep-1!?" Rico called.
"Fire a warning shot!" The Staff replied. "See if that throws it off!"
"It won't, sir!" Renni explained. "That'll only piss it off more and it'll be on top of us before we can bring it down!"
"So, what are you suggesting!?"
"Crouch, sir!"
"What!?"
Another roar resonated through the trees, overwhelming their helmets and rattling their eardrums.
"Just do it!"
The squad crouched down. As it drew near, they braced themselves. The creature came to a sudden stop just between the closest trees. It towered over them, an intimidating presence despite that the whole squad was ready to light it up where it stood.
It stooped its head towards the nearest of them, Hector, and sniffed. He remained still as it looked at his gun. The creature traced it to where he was aiming, spotted the infant and growled at him.
"Ep-1 to 4 and 9, lower your guns."
Hector and Mito slowly lowered their weapons. The Gúta raised its head away from them though it continued to growl. It held its arms out wide, extending its claws as it bared its fangs at them.
"It's just a threat display." Renni said. "We should get going."
"You don't think this thing is seriously about to let us go, do you?" Zack whispered, palpably unsettled.
"Yes, actually. It's telling us to get lost."
"We've overstayed our welcome, people." The Staff said. "Ep-10, you seem to understand these things the best. How should we move?"
"One at a time, and slow...very, very slow."
"Alright then. Ep-9?"
Mito gave them the thumbs up. With deliberate slowness he rose back up, purposefully making himself look smaller by stooping himself. Seeing that the creature made no moves to end his life, he took one careful step towards the tree line then another. Again, the creature made no reaction other than a low and threatening growl.
Once Mito was five meters away, Yuri went next, followed by Zack. Then it was Duncan's turn. He moved with a careful swiftness. He felt vulnerable until he had a line of sight on its right eye. If it made any moves, he would be able to pull out his weapon and partly blind it before it could wreak havoc. However, it remained where it was.
The others came afterwards without issue, leaving behind the growling beast and its curious infant. They hustled out of the tree line and jogged to get a few more meters of distance between them and their unwitting neighbors.
They came out into an open area where the trees abruptly ended and a sprawling carpet of green meadows took their place. The meadows rolled up and down with the terrain but generally trended downward towards the bottom of the hill, one of dozens that surrounded their mission site.
At the center of a gradual decline in the surrounding wilderness, a very well-manicured wilderness, was a five-kilometer square area of civilization. A series of security fences encompassed the open fields leading up to its perimeter wall, giving it the appearance of many picture frames set around an individual picture. Within the center of that frame was an active military installation.
An ONI installation.
There was an architectural circuitry of administrative buildings, communications centers, storage facilities and more. Clustered at the heart of the installation were five pentagonal buildings. They were oriented towards each other in such a way that the space between them also resembled a pentagon. In the middle of each structure was another interior space of the same shape, inside of which was set a single, massive sphere. Their white sheens, ghostly pale in the light of Reach's fraternal moons, made them look like a handful of dazzling pearls. They were the experimental facilities that made the testing site so secretive. They were also a very on the nose inspiration for the name of the location.
Pearl Base was the most recent military facility that the 7th Battalion's Bravo Company had been sent to guard and protect. In the last two weeks since their unexpected return to Reach, they were dispatched to and diverted from installation after installation. They worked all across Viery, assisting in the evacuation of military personnel and assets deemed vital by HIGHCOM's secret procurement order. Said order was relayed throughout small parts of the UNSC, namely those operating within Viery, that they were to be removed to a different part of Reach or off the planet altogether. The battalion was split up into its component companies and provided security for these locations until all required personnel were removed and every 'sensitive asset' was secured or destroyed. For all intents and purposes, they had become a glorified moving service.
The battalion was not out of the loop on what was happening. It was obvious to anyone who was paying attention that there was an imminent threat to Reach. Colonel Garrison even said as much, but little else, secretly confiding to his company commanders that he was not permitted to give any more information than that. Despite his gag order, when pressed on how close the enemy was by the commander of Delta, word had it that he replied by pointing under his nose.
'The Covenant are right under our noses' was the clearest translation of his message. What that meant specifically was up for interpretation. Duncan figured that it meant the UNSC, most likely the Office, uncovered some secret Covenant operation in Epsilon Eridani. The enemy was somewhere in the solar system and most likely needed to be stopped before they made it to Reach. The very thought of it was frightening beyond words. Ever since that day, he hadn't stopped thinking about Erica and Noah. He needed to reach them and tell them in no uncertain terms to get away from Reach. As much as he wanted to call home, he was not allowed to.
Under the conditions that the battalion was operating in, the so-called 'Winter Contingency', no one working with the knowledge of its declaration was allowed to contact the civilian sector. Even communications with other units outside the contingency were restricted and intra-unit communications for those in the know were being heavily monitored. Renni explained that last part to them after the battalion was briefed on the contingency's most recent activation. Anything they said to anyone in any other battalion or company was now free game for Section II, if it wasn't already.
He felt like he was being encased in a steel trap with water coming in. He was unable to scream for help, or in his case, unable to help the ones he wanted to most. The best he could do was hope that Erica had acted on his advice after their last call.
The dull roar of fusion drives yanked him out of his thoughts. A Pelican passed directly overhead, soaring northwest towards the base. It joined a host of other aircraft that swarmed the skies above the location. The numerous craft were on retrieval runs to Pearl Base as they had been for the past two days straight. They maneuvered through the busy airspace, landing at and lifting off from its landing zones which had expanded beyond the fences in order to match the rate of arrivals. Classified cargo in dark, unmarked container crates were driven out and loaded into their waiting bays.
Pearl's groundside situation was no better. The lanes of its interior highways and streets were filled to bursting with transports in need of room and supplies in need of transportation. Most of the buzz on the ground and in the air surrounded the five testing facilities at the heart of the base. What lay inside of them was of the upmost importance. No one involved in the security process was allowed to know what was housed within or what precisely was being tested here. That didn't stop the rumors from circulating among the Marines and ODSTs.
Some said there were special weapons systems being made for the Army. Others said that the Air Force was developing new aircraft and they were just shipping out the components needed to make a new fleet of them. Still, some said that the UNSC were merely the facilitators for a company that was actually using the site. Misriah was the main suspect and many believed they were developing technologies related to Spartan armor. Those rumors started after a couple of Jarheads sighted special markings on some of the cargo units and even saw the inside of a few of them by accident. Their stories were beefed up by another which the Staff had heard from none other than Gunnery Sergeant Singh. According to the latter, his squad was on patrol the day before when they stumbled across what looked like a training site in the forests northeast of Pearl. They found target dummies bearing wounds typical of close quarters combat. However, there was too much damage done to them to have been inflicted by normal people. Not to mention a race track they discovered where the footprints were deep and far apart, as if someone with long strides had treated a concrete strip like it was made of mud.
For the present, the truth was hidden away in those crates. Their secrets were kept so by tight-lipped personnel as they themselves and the products of their labor were escorted into waiting transports.
The evacuation continued at a relatively stable pace. It was suspected among many in Bravo Company that this would be their last night here. Hence why Epsilon's most recent run-in with the local wildlife left Duncan a little shaken. He didn't believe in omens. That said, coming so close to being mauled to death by a hairless goliath on what could be their last night on patrol was unnerving.
The trail they were on cut a path straight down the meadows southeast of the base. It ran through another small patch of forest before connecting to the dirt and asphalt roads that spiderwebbed the area outside Pearl's perimeter walls. Epsilon kept on jogging. The Staff and Nova covered the rear, making sure the creatures didn't follow them.
"Someone want to tell me what those things were doing there?" Mito asked. "'Cause none of the other patrols logged any ogre demon sightings in this area."
"Don't know, Ep-9, how about you ask the Gúta whisperer back there?" Zack quipped.
"How about it, Ep-10? Are they native to this part of Viery too?"
"I'm surprised Hotel never saw them." Renni explained. "Yes, they are native but I figured they wouldn't be in this area for obvious reasons. ONI's out here, and they wouldn't just let those kinds of animals have the run of things around their toys. That's not their MO at all."
"So, what else is going on around here then?" Duncan asked.
"Couldn't say for sure. It's almost like the wildlife knows we're leaving this place. Those things might've picked up on that and decided to start moving in before something else did, new open spaces and what not."
"By the way, what was thing you made us do back there?" Yuri questioned. "Why did we need to pop squat and not blow mama bear's head off?"
"Well, for one, it wouldn't be very nice to kill a mother in front of her child, would it?"
"No, you're right. It's best to kill mother and child. If we consider the feelings of both then that would be kinder thing to do, yes?"
"You're joking, right? I know you're not serious."
Yuri glanced over his shoulder, sparing her a look that said he couldn't disagree more. "What is second reason?"
"...Right, I forgot who I was talking to. Anyway, second, crouching is a show of submission to them. They're very territorial as you saw back there. Once they see you do that in response, it instinctually tunes down their aggression and they resort to threat displays instead. That way they can push you out of what they see as their turf without having to risk a fight. If we hadn't done it, it probably would have gone straight for Ep-4."
"Who would've put a knife in its throat and cut it open before it could bite my arm off." Hector said matter-of-factly.
"And I would've put two in the head of little one before it could get revenge." Yuri added, sharing an agreeing glance with Hector.
"Hey, sounds like you two are serious about this." Mito said. "Tell you what, if we're doing this for real and going back, I call dibs on their meat."
"Meat? Why meat?"
"Come on, Gúta with barbecue sauce and a side of fries, how does that not sound good?"
Yuri and Hector looked uncertain so Mito turned to Zack instead. "Think about it, Ep-7, it's not that far off from that Moa burger you like from World Cuisine. You like that native stuff, don't you?"
"I do like that native stuff." Zack said wistfully as he brought out his rifle. "Maybe we should go back."
Hector grinned. "Yeah, I'll get the mom, Ep-5 gets the kid, Ep-7 and 9 get to cook and we all get to eat something other than MREs. Sounds good. How about it, Ep-1? Up for some Gúta burgers?"
"It does sound nice," The Staff replied, earning a look of disbelief from Renni. "However, we're sadly not allowed to kill any wildlife here if it's not endangering our lives."
"It did just now." Hector protested.
"If it's not 'actively' endangering our lives."
Hector paused to think about it. "But they might end up being a threat to another patrol, sir."
"We're the only ones on this side of the search area, Ep-4."
"Well...we could always go back and be in danger again. Who's with me?"
At that, the squad let out a laugh in which even the Staff joined in.
At the end of it, Yuri let his mind be known. "I really do want to kill those things though."
"Same." Hector replied.
"Sometimes you two disturb me." Renni said.
"Who's more disturbing?" Yuri prodded. "Two men who want to survive or one woman who talks about big hairless beasts like they're people?"
"Hey, keep it down on that one, man." Zack said. "Ep-4's right there."
"Shut up." Hector laughed.
Renni scrutinized the Russian and the big trooper. "You're just mad about getting punked out of the forest by something bigger than you and not getting a chance to shoot it, aren't you?"
Yuri considered it. "Well...yes. Aren't you?"
"No, because I'm a normal human being, unlike you."
"Because I am normal human being'," Yuri mimicked. "Says the Gúta worshipping super spy."
At that the whole squad laughed again, this time with Renni also enjoying herself.
"Okay, that's fair."
"Besides," Yuri said almost under his breath. "If we don't kill them, you-know-who will soon enough."
At that, the whole mood of the conversation changed. In fact, it stopped altogether. No one wanted to say anything more after the mention of the very possible future. For the moment, they set their attention on the present. They had learned over the years that doing so was the best and oftentimes only way to keep oneself sane. Here, that meant jogging the rest of the way to Pearl Base.
Left alone to his thoughts, Duncan mulled over their encounter with the two predators. He realized that Deaks used to confront such creatures all the time and all on his own to boot. He did that and still managed to return every day after he went out to hunt with all of his limbs accounted for. Amidst the silence of the night, he gained even more respect for his late friend.
The squad continued along the trail that went down the hillside, passing through the increasingly sparse patches of forest. They reached the point where the terrain finally leveled out on the grassy fields that spanned the last kilometer approach to the base.
They jogged the full way to the first fence. They stopped at the gated checkpoint where a crew of MPs logged the arriving patrol and sent them on their way. They repeated the process several more times at the other checkpoints before they were fully through the last of the fences. It was another half-kilometer jog to the perimeter wall by the end of which they were thoroughly winded.
The wall's entry gate was left perpetually open due to the constant influx of ground traffic. Epsilon trotted along the highway leading in, the street lights on either side of it catching them in a wash of orange luminescence. They strolled up to the last checkpoint and stopped for the security team there to check them out.
Seeing them, an MP sergeant stepped out of a nearby booth and walked up to them. "Hey, are you guys 7th Battalion, Bravo Company?"
"That'd be us." The Staff answered.
"Good thing I caught you when I did. Orders just came in straight from HIGHCOM. You guys are getting shipped out of here."
"...Did they say why?"
"No, only that they need you on the move."
"When?"
"Now. You might want to link back up with your CO. Hold on, let me find you some wheels."
The sergeant walked off to the side of the highway, stopping at a pair of troop transport Hogs parked behind a line of blockades. After a short conversation with the pair of Marines guarding them, the two hopped into the driver's seats. They drove behind the MP back through the blockades to the ODSTs.
"Here's your limos, sir." The sergeant said. "Safe travels."
"Same to you, sergeant." The Staff gestured the squad to the vehicles and they loaded into the rear troop sections. After settling in, the Marines drove on through the gate and onto the streets of Pearl Base.
The base was even busier up close than it was from a distance. Duncan found himself coughing from the fumes produced by one too many passing convoys. Noise pollution was a problem too. Due to the heavy air traffic, a lot of the cargo-laden dropships were forced to fly lower than usual. His helmet's audio filters could hardly handle the drone of fusion drives soaring less than 20 meters overhead. It was one of the reasons why he preferred going out on patrol. The local nature, when it wasn't full of things that could kill and eat him, was actually pretty tranquil. More tranquil than the last two weeks were by far.
The squad was taken through blocks upon blocks of administrative and logistics buildings, each having been abandoned or in the process of it. The site workers and other security personnel formed a constant mist of pedestrians across the roadways. They regularly stopped the pair of Hogs, turning their drive into an on-and-off trip.
Eventually they came to one of the base's munitions depots. A maze of ammunition crates and several M95 Lance weapons systems were scattered around the warehouse. Forklifts were still transporting some of the crates to landing pads behind the building. These were put on hold however to make way for the streams of ODSTs ascending the stairs. They were filing into waiting Albatross dropships, their boxy troop bays taking in whole platoons at a time.
The Warthogs pulled in at the sidewalk and the squad dismounted. They jogged through the crates and past the forklifts to where the back of the waiting lines began.
Squad Whiskey was there at the rear of the nearest line. They spotted their sister squad coming in and hailed them over.
"Almost left without you, sir." Dalton said.
"How come no one comm'd us?" The Staff asked.
"You were a bit out of range for personal comms. We would've told you but by the time you got close the colonel was ordering us to get moving."
"Still have no clue where we're going though." Langhorst pointed out. "Nobody else knows either."
"Word is that they're bringing us somewhere for a joint operation." Daz added.
The Staff reconsidered the situation as the line began to move, drawing 1st Platoon closer to one of the dropships. "Is that confirmed or a rumor?"
"Rumor, but it makes the most sense." Mackley said. "What else would we be doing for them to want to pull us out this fast?"
"And this late?" Reznik grumbled.
"Are we about to leave Reach again, boss?" Rico asked.
The platoon began heading up the stairs to one of the pads.
"Maybe. Depends on what it is they need. They might be sending us to another spot requiring evacuation."
"Haven't we done enough of that already?" Berlin groaned. "How about some action for once? That's why we're here, isn't it?"
The Staff shook his head at the young trooper. "You better pray there's no need for that. You have to realize that with what you're looking for, once you're in it, you're in it. It's no simulation, there's no ifs, ands or buts about it, you understand?"
Berlin shrunk away under the criticism. "Sorry, sir."
Langhorst grinned at him. "Stay humble, Berly. Stay humble."
How about some action for once? Minutes after he said it, Berlin's question continued to rattle around in Duncan's head. Even after they came into the troop bay and the doors of the Albatross folded and closed, the idea lingered. The last glimpses of Pearl Base were visible through the viewing windows on the walls of the bay. Its installations grew farther away as the dropship ascended off the landing pad. With a flare of its drives, one Duncan barely discerned from the tempest of his thoughts, the aircraft flew off with a squadron of others on a southward heading.
:********:
Duncan felt the beginning of the Albatross' descent in his sleep. The subtle tilt of the deck of the troop bay threw him out of his fitful slumber. Ahead of any thought in regards to landing, he wondered at exactly how he was able to knock off in the first place. The last couple of weeks were restless for him. To fall asleep without noticing was almost strange and left him worried as he sat up.
He had slept against the portside wall of the bay and saw some of the others waking up after having done the same. Bravo's hourlong trip was coming to an end. As the dropship slowed, the troopers stood up from where they sat or leaned on the ceiling handles to look out the viewing windows.
Outside was a blur of lights. Duncan couldn't immediately make out what they were despite that they grew more organized the closer they came. He was tempted to think they were being flown to a city and what he was seeing was its vast nightlife. That perception changed the moment he saw scores of other military aircraft flying by. There were Pelicans soaring below as well as Longsword fighters leaving a crisscross of contrails at higher altitudes. It was no measly number of aircraft either. There had to be hundreds of them. By that measure, this could not be a city that they were flying over.
He waited until the Albatross' descent allowed him to perceive more of where they were.
It was impossibly huge.
Though the buildings weren't skyscrapers, they certainly weren't small by any means. They were so numerous that they could have altogether formed their own civilization. He spotted sizable administration and logistical hubs, towering barracks, coliseum-like commissaries, comms and storage facilities in abundance. Mixed in were trailers and what even looked like whole neighborhood communities of on-base housing. There were also a host of structures he had never seen before whose purpose was well beyond him.
What were also in great abundance were expansive airfields. There were a dozen of them that he could see scattered across the region. Unless he was mistaken, each was either the same as or twice the size of Falchion Base. Their wide tracks of tarmac provided air strips, sheltering hangars and warehouses for the fleets of aircraft parked there in row after row. He saw every vehicle in the lineups that he was used to running into, from dropships to fighters. However, he spotted a further variety that he had never seen before. Whether they were fighters or something else altogether, he couldn't say for sure. Those airfields were the only places where a few spots of green grass were allowed to grow amidst the urban jungle that surrounded them. At least several of those fields possessed nearby starports as well, a luxurious sight indeed given that Falchion only had one. These ports held lengthy terminals that branched around the fields like the extensions of germinating seeds. Their flight control towers observed everything that took off and landed on their runways. They witnessed a constant stream of cargo and people going in and out, hundreds and even thousands at a time.
Running all throughout the city-like base were veiny streets and arterial highways. Through these passages pulsed a steady blood-flow of tens of thousands of vehicles as well as pedestrians whose numbers gave Duncan the impression of living sand. Every individual grain moved where it wished and settled where it would. Meanwhile the vehicles, street lights and interior lights from the buildings filled the air. Not that the air needed it since there was an equally impressive array of air traffic passing by. The combined illumination filled the skies and turned night into day.
Dazzled, Duncan searched for the outer limits of the place. He found none. There were a few mountain ranges here and there that ran into the way of the location. Nevertheless, construction efforts had conquered those too and he saw just as many structures and lights on their slopes as in the flatter areas. They went so far as to expand well past the hills and mountains to cross the horizons of the north, south, east and west.
Everything came together to form a pattern. Discerning it wasn't difficult if one took a good look around to see the ways in which the structures were oriented. The base was actually a circular labyrinth of many interlocking and intermingling layers. Not all connected to each other but some were so intricately linked that they blended together seamlessly. These would then suddenly diverge at different sectors of the base and intermingle with others.
To Duncan, it resembled one giant optical illusion, twisting and shifting even while its manifold structures remained unmoving. Such was the plentitude of life that coursed through the many highways, streets, alleyways, runways and sidewalks that they seemed to move the base itself, turning it this way and that with every windblown wing, every screeching tire and every purposeful footstep.
Despite so many features, Duncan still wasn't sure where they were. Not until he spotted what lay at the center of the base that is. Its many different layers fanned out across the region like the ripples of a rock thrown into a pond. But they also pulled back in to form a bullseye with infrastructure of the highest value at the very heart of it.
The last dregs of sleep briefly fogged his understanding. At first, he thought he was seeing a massive human spinal column standing at the center. Upon closer inspection, he realized what he thought to be many vertebrae were in truth the dozens of support structures belonging to a space elevator. They were held together by a long tether of carbon nanofiber, a material tough enough to stretch the architectural masterpiece straight into the air. It towered past the highest-flying aircraft, different parts of its ringed figure disappearing and reappearing as clouds drifted both through and around it. Duncan followed it up to a point where it faded from view as it extended through the visible stratosphere. He traced its height back down to its castle-like base which dominated the entire area, standing tall over every construction and edifice.
For a few seconds the sheer spectacle made him think back to the old days. Back when he was a Marine reservist guarding the perimeter of one of Earth's own space elevators, Chicago's Royal Victoria. He hadn't thought about it in years. He never needed to. He hardly ever saw space elevators nowadays. However, to see one now was a breath of fresh air, dusting off old memories he had nearly forgotten.
The elevator was part of the reason he was able to tell where they were. The other reason or reasons came in the form of half-a-dozen naval drydocks, deep trenches carved into the ground that were lined with hull supports and maintenance machinery. At least half of them were occupied with frigates and destroyers of varying classifications. The elevator's northeast, northwest, southeast and southwest sides each had drydocks built in front of them at slanted angles, six apiece. Their orientation gave the base's inner bullseye a new appearance, that of the flag of the rising sun. He could only make the comparison thanks to Epsilon's CQC expert who had introduced it to the rest of the squad during a particularly long spiel about his country's history.
It was also through that understanding that he realized exactly where they were now, space elevator, dry docks, busy airways and all.
It was Lochaber Base, the premiere military installation of the UNSC Air Force on Reach.
There were very few known locations on the planet as important as the one they had arrived at. It was the go-to location for military transit flights in this hemisphere of Reach. Being also located in Viery, Falchion was given a fraction of the load of air traffic that its sister base dealt with on a daily basis. Moreover, Falchion regularly had to offer its own airspace to alleviate the pressure on Lochaber during heavy transit days. Aircraft here often launched flights that took off from local starports and ended at Falchion's landing pads as well as many other bases around Viery. This provided an extensive network of training opportunities for the Air Force's aspiring pilots.
The base's scale and general location made it the primary control point for the overall UNSC presence in the territory. It likewise made it the most secure rallying point. Captain Harper recognized this years ago. Following the Molnar Bombing, she brought important VIPs from the arm's deal meeting at the High Octavia hotel here. Included among them was the UEG Representative Adrien Nemeth whom the old platoon was then ordered to escort. That was the last time anyone from 1st Platoon ever came here. Now, almost a decade later, the entire company and potentially the whole battalion was coming in for a visit.
Zack whistled next to him. "Now that's something you don't see every day."
Nova walked in beside them to see the view. "You could say that again. There's a whole lot going on down there."
"What, you getting paparazzi-shy?"
"No-no, it's not that. It's just..."
"It'll be easy to get lost in all that." Duncan said, finishing her thought. "Now I know what a goldfish that some kid is about to throw in the ocean feels like."
"My thoughts exactly."
The dropship's pilot spoke through the intercom. "Saxon-1-1 to ODSTs, we're making our final descent. We'll be touching down on the airfield outside Starport Delta so grab whatever you need now and prepare for landing."
The troopers in the bay once again took up their cache of weapons, equipment and baggage, slapping them to their back harnesses or throwing them over their shoulders. Like Duncan, Nova and Zack, everyone else also reached for the handles that hung down from the ceiling and braced themselves.
The scenery outside the windows panned off to the side as the dropship turned east towards the nearest airfield. There was a slight uptake in the output from the drives that sped them along. On the way to their destination, Duncan spotted some of the other Albatrosses carrying the rest of Bravo. Each was flying in the same direction within a tightening formation.
The ground grew closer and closer until they were passing over the tops of buildings. In little time they flew over the perimeter fences that guarded the wide tracks of grass and tarmac comprising the airfield. The drives gave a frustrated groan as the pilots pulled back on their thrust. They slowed to a sufficient speed that they could freely hover over the ground. A final, gentle drop later and the bay gave a minor shake from the impact of the landing.
"Saxon-1-1 to ODSTs, we're grounded. Opening the doors now."
With a metallic groan, the walls of the bay lowered all around them. An intense light flooded into the interior, forcing some to polarize their visors.
The doors thudded to the ground as exit ramps. The second they were down, the dropship's passengers drained out of the bay and onto the smooth tarmac of a runway. Floodlights lined the full perimeter of the field and did what their name implied in illuminating every detail of where they'd landed. The airfield had a large grassy area at its center and a short trek north of it were the outbranching terminals of Starport Delta.
A mass of Helljumpers were gathered on the grass, standing in four large and distinct gatherings. By Duncan's count, each was at least a battalion all its own. Dropships were still coming in, landing more troopers en masse.
Colonel Garrison headed to the front of Bravo Company and led the way. They crossed over the field to where the 7th Battalion was which was closest to the starport. Alpha, Charlie and Echo companies were present as was the newly restored Delta. Zack took the opportunity to hail some of his friends in Charlie as Bravo assembled in a space between them and Alpha.
Bravo Company was the last to arrive and therefore the last to notice the titanic holo-screens being projected around the edges of the field. They were numerous enough and wide enough for every company of every battalion to have their own screen. At present, everyone was looking at the same rotating eagle insignia of the UNSC.
Like most of the thousands of Helljumpers nearby, Duncan got tired of waiting to see what would happen and decided to take a look around. Having gotten a good view of things from the air, he used the starport as a reference point. From there he turned to the right to see the space elevator towering like a dark specter in the distant east.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and got his attention. It was Rico.
"Hey, you see those guys?" He pointed to the gatherings of ODSTs outside the 7th.
"Yeah, what about'em?"
"That's at least three other battalions out there. I just asked around. The 2nd is here. So is the 11th and 22nd."
"22nd?" Duncan peered back to where Rico was pointing at the battalion furthest south of them. "Haven't worked with those guys in a minute. Did you spot Taylors on our way over?"
"Nah, but I'm sure he's around. You can't really kill a guy like that."
Duncan paused to ponder why they were all here to begin with. He was unused to working with so many different battalions at the same time. Even Rico didn't seem that used to it and he had been in the shock troops for far longer. Duncan wondered now more than ever what HIGHCOM had in store for them. A joint operation was the most probable outcome but a gathering of this scale meant they might be deploying to the same location.
The only way a planet-side assembly of almost 4,000 ODSTs made sense was if they didn't need to be transported far to their drop zones. And that could only mean...
All at once the UNSC insignia on the screens stopped rotating. They switched to the face of a man sporting the pristine uniform of an army officer. Before Duncan noticed anything else about him, he spotted the rank insignia of a general on each of his shoulders. Both he and the thousands of ODSTs around him stood straighter in response. He was tempted to laugh though at the mutton chop beard that made the man look like he was some European nobleman. With his arms folded behind him and the UNSC insignia now in the background, he addressed them.
"Marines, Army, ODSTs, Air Force, personnel of the United Nations Space Command, heed and stand to." He said. "My name is General Joaquin Montague and this evening I am going to deliver news to you of grave importance."
The voice of General Montague resonated not only from the screens but also from the surrounding area. It was coming from everywhere. There were a number of similar lights on in distant airfields wherein his words were also being played. It seemed the ODSTs weren't the only ones listening to him, and from what he'd heard so far, Duncan was already feeling nervous.
"You've been assembled here in response to the discovery of Covenant forces on the surface of Reach."
For 30 seconds after that, Duncan didn't hear anything else.
Though his eyes and ears remained open, he couldn't bring himself to pay attention. What had just been dumped on him was simply too massive to think about the rest of what the general had to say.
The Covenant were on Reach?
Even with so many years of experience to the contrary, he refused to believe that what he had heard was possible. He was sure they were on the edge of the solar system at best, harassing another world at worst. The 7th was here to move assets to a safe distance until the threat was dealt with somewhere else. Not on Reach.
Then he regained some control of himself and drew in a breath after half a minute without it. He looked out the corner of his eye at the rest of Epsilon. Their reactions weren't any better. None of them had known for certain that this was the case either and it showed. Not even the Staff's accustomed stoicism was left unscathed, battling against the shock of the moment.
Seeing his squad leader's reaction was ultimately what drove the news home. This was real. They were in fact here at Lochaber Base hearing about the Covenant's invasion of Reach. It was much like a knife being driven into his stomach as the news made him queasy. After the initial shock of finding out was the aftershock of not having learned this information sooner. Duncan marveled, albeit in a measure of horror, at how the UNSC managed to hide something this big from them in the first place, Winter Contingency or not.
"The enemy's presence was uncovered by forward reconnaissance teams at approximately 19:30 Hours this evening." Montague said as Duncan tuned back in.
The general's image shrunk to a corner of the screen to make space for a new image that quickly seized the eyes of the gathering. It was a photographic map of the whole of the Viery Territory taken from orbit. The upside-down hammer shape of Lower Viery looked like it was about to swing westward. The 'handle' of said hammer extended back north to the larger landmass of Upper Viery. The two parts were separated by a strait that grew increasingly narrow as it crawled eastward from the planet's western ocean. It finally came out into a large bay made by an ancient meteor crater, one of a slew of other large craters that had pockmarked the surface since the planet's formation. Its waters slipped past a pair of wide channels in the pincer-like mouth of the bay which looked as if it were preparing to bite down on a sizable island in between. From there it went on to join the eastern ocean.
Duncan scanned the mountain ranges, plains, rivers and deltas for signs of what the general was pointing out. Thankfully, the screen made that apparent to him via the use of highlighting icons. Over two dozen red contacts appeared at different areas of the territory. They were most heavily concentrated across Lower Very in long, dotted clusters. A few crawled up the eastern coast of the land bridge connecting it to Upper Viery which girded the western side of the great bay. There were several contacts in and around the bay as well.
"What we are dealing with is a Covenant scouting force that has landed on the planet in secret. Its presence has gone undetected for an unknown amount of time. However, we know now by its most recent actions that it is not a full-blown incursion, though it is taking the necessary steps to make one possible."
The icons highlighted on the territory flashed brighter. "The scouting force has broken into smaller, localized invasion forces with the goal of establishing a hold on the territory. The heaviest individual concentration of enemy activity was found here in the province of Ütközet at Szurdok Ridge."
One of the hostile contact icons in the Midwest of Viery glowed a brighter red to distinguish it from the others. "In the face of this discovery, our plan of action is as follows. You will be expected to act in accordance with your own unit deployments in order to see through the success of this upcoming offensive."
Across the board, the red hostile icons switched to the yellow icons of friendly contacts. Attached to each was a callsign and unit number such as 'AW-8|169', 'MAR || 1/12' and 'INF 34 ||| 4'. The ones that caught Duncan's eye were those marked 'ODST'. They were set almost exclusively around the western coast of the bay with at least one of them in the bay itself. He singled out the one marked 'ODST || 7'. It was set to the north of the oceanic strait, placing it just on the coast of the bay with 'ODST || 11' and 'ODST || 22' tackling positions south of the strait.
"Your unit's designated areas of operation are as shown here. Though the bulk of our efforts will be aimed at countering the largest force at Szurdok Ridge, these units are assigned to the smaller forces indicated on the display. As of now, the goal of this operation will be to neutralize all known Covenant activity centers. With the help of elements from the Navy and Air Force, we will remove the Covenant presence on Reach and resecure the Viery Territory under UNSC control. Further information on your unit's designated AO including the number of enemy forces you are expected to run into, deployment locations, resources and reconnaissance data on the terrain will be delivered to you via your HUDs. You are free to discuss those details in greater depth with your immediate COs and XOs."
Montague paused purposefully as the map minimized and he was again given prominence on the screen. "The territory-wide operation will commence at approximately 0400 Hours tomorrow. Personnel will be expected to be in position at their designated transports on time which will be departing from Lochaber Base at 0300 Hours. You have five hours to prepare. Ammunition depots and commissary facilities are fully stocked and ready to take on any supply needs your units may have. Officers, convene with your personnel and ensure they are set for the task at hand. I ask that everyone under the sound of my voice remain vigilant of themselves. Your actions from this point forward will have a consequence, from the largest battalion down to the individual soldier, marine, trooper, driver, airman and sailor."
He paused again for a long while. "Reach will not fall. That doesn't mean that it can't but that it won't. Not so long as there are men and women willing and able to defend it. That means you, all of you. Reach will stand so long as you stand for it. Therefore, I ask that you stand proudly and fight for it with a dedication worthy of the uniforms you wear and of the duty to which you have been called. Thank you and Godspeed."
A moment later the video of the general and the map disappeared. The rotating UNSC insignia reappeared in his place. The same went for every screen across the field and likely across the whole of Lochaber.
There was no applause nor confident shouts. There was almost no sound over the entire airfield except the shuffling of uneasy feet and worried murmurings.
Duncan felt the rifle harnessed on his back grow unbelievably heavy. Soon his entire armor felt like a burden, making him wonder how he had ever managed to put it on. No, that wasn't quite right. The armor wasn't becoming heavy nor was he suddenly noticing it. In truth his body was shaking. He felt his bones getting ready to give way so that he could fall apart. The burning in his stomach intensified into a tormenting inferno as his legs gave out from under him and he fell to his knees. He pulled off his helmet and began to dry heave.
A hand grasped his shoulder and through his bouts of retching he heard Nova's voice. "Come on, D. It'll be alright. They'll be alright."
They'll be alright.
He thought about those three words alone as his retching continued regardless. He didn't see anyone in the rest of the squad moving. They stood with their eyes glued to the screens or looking around, bewildered or concerned, the same way that the thousands of troopers around them did.
"Come on, D. H-, hey, see, Zack's alright." Nova said and called out to him. "It's going to be fine, right Zack?"
Duncan looked up to see Epsilon's radioman walking by as if he'd finally broken out of a trance. Without warning he collapsed onto his hands and knees. He popped the seal on his helmet, tossed it aside and threw up on the grass.
:********:
Colonel Garrison searched up and down for his old friend. There was no way he wasn't here, not with his battalion in attendance.
Less than half an hour after the general announcement, the newly forged task force of over 50,000 UNSC personnel was dismissed to go about Lochaber as they would. Different battalions and regiments of the assembled branches were given free range of the base's manifold facilities. They stocked up on munitions and equipment at armories or on other needed supplies from storage depots. Still others used any available buildings for officers to perform briefs on their unit's individual assignments. The 7th Battalion was able to do all three.
After a quick resupply run in which each of the companies dispersed across Lochaber to extract equipment from different depots, they rendezvoused at one of the base's ceremonial meeting halls. It was a kilometer south of the space elevator and came with an auditorium outfitted with thousands of seats, more than enough for the battalion. Before they could use it, however, they had to wait. The colonel of the 12th Marine Regiment's 5th Battalion had beat them to it and was already briefing his Marines on their own area of operation in Central Viery.
Seeing this, Garrison was content to let his troopers wait in the aviation history museum outside the auditorium. Meanwhile he went looking for the infamous 'cyborg colonel' of the 22nd Shock Troops. The 7th's sister battalion had arrived at the front steps of the hall minutes after them. Having come for the same purpose, there was a general air of conversation pervading the foyers, corridors and rooms of the museum. The two battalions intermingled as many old friends caught up with one other after years apart.
Garrison strode across the chamber of one of the museum's exhibits. It was a roomy space made of shining marble. It was filled with scores of aircraft that were parked on the floor or hung from the ceiling high overhead. He spotted old prototypes of Hornets, Pelicans, SkyHawks and Longswords as he went. He also saw smaller air and spacecraft whose designs were human but altogether foreign to him. They dated back to decades and perhaps even centuries before he was born, used by servicemen in conflicts that went well ahead of his time. To his surprise, he even saw a few single-engine planes that his ancestors might have had a hard time recognizing half a millennia ago.
Hundreds of troopers from both battalions were congregating here as well beneath the wings and fuselages of the vehicles on display. He weaved through them, receiving a barrage of salutes as Helljumpers acknowledged him and stepped out of his way.
He was heading for the center of the exhibit where he thought he spotted his fellow colonel. After breaching through the last human blockade, he reached the heart of the chamber.
There was a bit of open space surrounding a central display platform. Mounted on top of the platform was a slipspace drive. The Warthog-sized device was hanging upside down between a pair of support braces and protected behind a glass casing. The way it was set reminded him of old pictures he'd seen of the Liberty Bell, one of the United Republic of North America's oldest relics of antiquity. It had the same feel to it as well. By its old and long decommissioned appearance, he got the sense that he was standing in front of something important. His suspicions were confirmed upon spotting the signage placed just outside the exhibit:
'Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine of The UNSC Odyssey'.
Though he wasn't much of a history buff, the mere sight of the name compared with the reason why he was at Lochaber gave him an almost nauseating sense of irony.
Three men stood around the signage, looking between the projected texts scrolling on the display and the once-in-a-lifetime spectacle in front of them. One of them he recognized right away. It was his eyes, or rather his right 'eye' that made him stand out. So many years later and the ocular implant of his friend still glowed a vibrant orange. Colonel Taylors had a few more grays than the last time he saw him but was otherwise unchanged.
Taylors looked up from the display. He spotted him and hailed him over, causing the other two to turn as well. Garrison recognized them too as he came to join them.
The first was Lieutenant Colonel Daniel McMason, the commanding officer of the 2nd Shock Troops Battalion. Being somewhere in his early 40s made him the youngest of the group. He had a square chin that bore the faint traces of old battle scars. Though there were no gray hairs to be spoken of on his head, his tired eyes bore the hue instead. They became a little livelier at sighting his fellow battalion commander.
The second was Colonel Dathan Stuart, commander of the 11th Shock Troops. He was a darker man with comparatively lighter shaded eyes than any of his counterparts. His smooth dome shone in the overhead lights; the hair that was once atop his head seemingly having migrated to the beard on his face. Through the hairy bush around his lips Garrison saw him smile.
"Long time no see, colonel." Taylors said as he and Garrison gave each other a firm handshake.
"Likewise. How long's it been, I forgot."
"That's cause you're too old for this business, Gary. By the way, Ms. Claus just called, she says it's time to come on home."
"Yeah, the doctor just called too, he said they found your other eye."
The two of them burst out laughing at each other's jibes. Once they calmed down, they took a good look at each other.
"Still got all your parts on you, I see." Taylors remarked.
"Yeah, I still don't have my hair color back but I've got everything else secured."
"Ah, that's old news. Three years since Paris IV and you haven't gotten yourself a prosthetic. Good work."
"I'd say the same to you but hey..."
Catching on, Taylors shot him a smile as well as a look that read 'oh shut up, Santa'.
The 22nd's colonel gestured to the others. "Hey Stuart, McMason, you guys remember Father Abraham over here?"
"Sure do." Stuart said. "I still haven't thanked you for having your guys save my Alpha Company back on Sargasso. If you hadn't stepped in, we probably wouldn't have ever made it out of there. Hell, I probably wouldn't be here either."
"And you still haven't thanked me for the back-up I gave you on First Meridian." McMason added. "Or for that evac on Skopje."
He glanced knowingly between Garrison and Taylors. "In fact, I think both of you owe me for that last one. If you want to pay me back, 50,000 credits for the 50 guys I lost trying to buy your guys some time would suffice."
"How about the eternal gratitude of 20 troopers you saved for every one you lost?" Garrison suggested. "Sounds like a fair trade, am I right?"
McMason pretended to consider it. "We might have to do some currency exchange on that one but I think I can accept it."
Taylors shook his head. "I'm not paying you zip but you have my thanks."
The group shared a light laugh.
At the end of it, McMason relented. "Well, it's not as if 50K is going to get my battalion a ride off of Reach anytime soon, is it?"
"No," Garrison sighed. "I don't think it will."
Their attention slowly turned to the slipspace drive in front of them.
"You know the story behind this thing, Gary?" Taylors asked.
Garrison nodded as he eyed the device with a respectful reverence. "The FTL drive of the first interstellar starship ever made by man. Also, the first to ever come to Reach."
"All the way back in 2362." Stuart whistled. "Ancient times. It was deconstructed to help with the first terraformation efforts on the planet. This right here is all that's left of it."
"And here we are almost two centuries later trying to fight for what this thing was built to make possible." Garrison said with a hint of woe.
"Our first time touching a world beyond Sol and it's all come to this." Taylors said, letting out a long exhale as he did. "Sometimes I wonder how things even got this far."
No one wanted to answer that question. There was too much blood and destruction behind it for any single individual to truly comprehend. The sight of the drive itself was like a reminder of that, a sorrowful rebuke that left them in a long silence.
"What do you think the weather at Big Crater Bay is like around this time of year?" McMason asked.
"Sunny with a high chance of plasma." Taylors grinned. "The 22nd's heading to the bay's southwestern shore, south side of the strait. We're hitting one of their forward operating bases in the region. I personally plan on blowing that thing to kingdom come once we land."
"Same goes for me." Stuart replied. "The 11th's been saddled with what the forward reconnaissance confirmed is a dig site. Apparently, the boys in blue have found themselves a valuable mineral deposit just a few kilometers northwest of that FOB of yours. We'll be dropping into the same neighborhood. If you're blowing yours up, I'll be doing the same with mine, and you better bet I'll be looking to see whose explosion is bigger."
"Probably mines." Taylors dared.
"Want to bet on that?"
"3,000 creds, that's all I'm pooling."
"Alright, I'll match that."
"And here I was thinking you didn't have any money." McMason said, feigning a scowl.
"None for you."
"Hmph, right. Montague's tasked the 2nd Shock with what looks like an air traffic control station. It's on a small island in the middle of the bay. It's got lookout posts, Tyrant AA batteries, you name it. The way I've figured things out, I'm going to have some of my people swim in from deploy points close to where the Army's sending in some heavy armor. They can take the coasts and handle those Tyrants. Then the rest can drop in as usual and secure the interior of the island."
"Going for the classic squeeze and drop, are we?" Taylors asked.
"Sure am. The area's small enough for a battalion to manage it regardless of the enemy's size. I spoke with some guys in logistics earlier. Their estimates are that we'll be able to pull this off with minimal casualties. I pray it's the same for all your AOs."
At that, the three of them turned to the one commanding officer who was yet to speak, having stared long and hard at the slipspace drive.
"Gary?" Taylors called.
"I can't say too much about mine. Special classifications were placed on it for reasons unknown to me. The logistics crew I contacted said neither me nor my battalion are allowed to receive the intel on our HUDs until we're somewhere 'discreet'."
The others looked at him funny for a moment.
"I guess by discreet they mean the auditorium." Taylors said. "Wonder why they-"
Before he could say more, the line of doors on the opposite end of the exhibit slid open. Hundreds of Marines of the 5th Regiment, 12th Battalion came pouring out of the auditorium and drained across the marble floors of the room. Some stopped to marvel at the sights of the exhibit while most continued on to the exits.
"Looks like it just became available." McMason said. "Might want to hurry before the cyborg here beats you to it."
"And be quick about it, would you?" Stuart asked. "We want to use it for our battalion briefs too, and some of us would like to get a few hours of shut eye. Don't want my boys and girls rolling into this op half asleep."
"Understood. I'll see how fast I can make this."
"Hold on a sec." Taylors said, stopping him mid-stride. "I didn't tell you guys everything. There's more to my orders that I have to wait for since they're sealed off until I'm in place. Given how close we'll be dropping, I get the feeling our objectives might be one in the same or at least similar. I think it'll be wise to keep in close contact regardless of whatever it is. That way, we can offer support if the other needs it. Stuart, you'll be nearby too so same goes for you."
"Contact's no problem." Stuart said. "If they're giving us a hard time, I'll let you know."
Garrison considered the operational possibilities at play. He decided it was a good idea despite whatever the higher-ups might have to say about it. The survival of his troopers meant far more to him than mission secrecy.
"I'll be in touch." Garrison said. "Just keep in mind there's going to be a big body of water between you and me. Transporting reinforcements is going to be a challenge."
"I saw the roster for the airpower we'll have on this mission." Taylors countered. "It should be enough to get people to you if you end up needing them. The same applies vice versa."
"Copy that."
"And what about me?" McMason asked. "I'm all off by myself."
Taylors smiled at him. "What do you mean 'what about me'? You get your own private island. Kicking the current landlords out shouldn't be a problem. You said so yourself."
McMason groaned. "I did, didn't I?"
"Good luck out there, Gary." Taylors said, freeing his friend to go about his business. "Looks like we're all going to need it before tomorrow's over."
"And good luck to all of you." He replied. "Let's hope we get to meet back here later, preferably with a win."
"We don't need to hope." Stuart confidently replied. "This is Reach we're talking about. If there ever was a place where we're guaranteed a win, it's here."
Garrison nodded in agreement and waved off to them as he left for the doors. Activating his comms, he tuned into his battalion's frequency and called for everyone to come to the auditorium.
:********:
The auditorium stunk of Jarhead.
From the scattered canteens left between the rows of chairs to the plastic wraps of MREs that littered the side lanes, it was clear that Marines had used the room. Thanks to the descending build of the auditorium, the ODSTs of 7th Battalion had to walk down the trash-strewn steps of the side lanes in order to access the seating. They sat according to their companies. Alpha, Bravo and Charlie sat closer to the front and lower end of the auditorium while Delta and Echo were gathered in the back area further up.
Duncan was finally past the point of trying to throw up food that he hadn't eaten in the first place. Working through the initial despair was another sticking point for him prior to coming here. Now all he was left with was the force of his own will which was set on finding out his personal place in the fight for Reach. And he would fight for it, with tooth and nail if need be.
His weapons were secured. His gear was stowed away. His head was clear. What wasn't clear to him however was the part that the 7th Battalion was about to play in the offensive. Every other shock troops battalion seemed to know what they were after, getting their information sent to their HUDs without issue. The same couldn't be said for the 7th. What was so special about their mission that they needed to come here just to learn the specifics?
1st Platoon sat three rows up and back from the front row of Bravo's section, giving them a good visual on the main stage. They were waiting along with everyone else for the colonel to start them off.
"What do you think it is?" He heard Zack whisper.
"No idea," Rico replied. "Not for certain anyway. From what I've heard from others, I'd say we're going for a direct action drop on some coastal site. So, beaches, beers, babes, maybe Brutes, that kind of thing."
"You're not funny, Ricky."
"Tu madre piensa que sí." Rico huffed.
"Hey-hey, enough with the Spanish, you know I don't speak that." Zack muttered.
As he listened, Duncan made note of the shift in the tone of Epsilon's radioman. Since the initial news, he had become a bit more on edge. It wasn't too worrisome considering everyone else was feeling the same way. Nevertheless, to see someone like him so tense was a bad sign for things going forward.
Without warning, the lights in the auditorium dimmed. Simultaneously, Duncan saw a feed appear in the upper left corner of his HUD. The rotating symbol of the UNSC insignia was back again.
"You guys seeing this?" Yuri asked.
"Yeah," Renni answered. "I'm getting it too."
"Same here." Hector added.
The door at the back of the main stage opened. Garrison walked through, coming to stand at the center of the stage. As soon as he appeared, the entire room rose up and saluted.
"At ease, battalion." He said over the battalion comms. "And take your seats. We won't be long."
The 7th sat back down and the screens on the inside of their HUDs changed. As the UNSC insignia winked out, the same image from before appeared of the whole Viery Territory. Duncan watched his personal display zoom in on the western shore of Big Crater Bay, focusing on an area just north of the strait. The image magnified further to the point that he could make out a landscape of mountain ranges, valleys and plains of green grass and brown dearth. His eyes were drawn to a pair of long mountain ranges that ran close together from north to south, acting as a natural barrier between the coast and the interior of the territory. What looked like a small town sat between the mountains and said coast. The settlement curved around one of the bay's small inlets like a cross-section of a kidney. A name appeared right above it: 'Szeged'.
"This is the fishing town of Szeged." Garrison declared. "It proves a challenge for the task force going forward, mainly for two reasons."
The image zoomed into greater depth to show more details of the town. Szeged's many streets and neighborhoods seemed to have been constructed around the plazas of a market district which itself was built around the inlet. Several red arcs phased into view across the city, highlights that indicated an enemy presence. They rippled out from the central plazas and became denser the closer they came to them.
"First is the Covenant occupation force there. Visual intelligence suggests the presence of between 2,500 and 3,000 enemy combatants."
The numbers appeared off to the sides of the screen, showing projected counts of Elites, Jackals, Grunts and Hunters. The same went for enemy vehicles both in the air and on the ground, from measly Ghosts to whole squadrons of Seraph fighters.
"They've developed different defensive perimeters that get denser the closer we get to that bay. Our objective here is to retake this town and secure any survivors of the local population. From there, anti-aircraft installations will be brought in to take control of the skies. Once we take this town, we'll sever the Covenant's ability to control and send reinforcements to the rest of their forces stationed in Northern Viery."
The display changed again, showing three yellow arrows moving in on the town from the north, west and south. Each was marked respectively: '7-C', '7-D' and '7-E'.
"We'll be sending Charlie, Delta and Echo Companies in on this one so you three pay close attention here. You'll be dropped in half a kilometer outside the town and advance on its first defensive line. You'll be backed up by armored elements from the 124th Infantry Brigade. They're a mechanized regiment that will give you the extra firepower you need to plough your way through those formations."
Two more arrows appeared from a point further up north, both marked '124-4R'. One came directly south to back-up Charlie Company while another arced further southwest to join Delta. Together, the four of them hammered into the enemy positions, shattering them whilst the latter moved further southeast to assist Echo Company. Altogether they formed a chokehold of yellow that squeezed in on the red highlights at the town's center, eventually squashing them and liberating the town.
"The capture of Szeged will be a tough one given the enemy's advantage in terms of numbers. That can quickly be mitigated however given the amount of airpower that will be in place after you land." He paused thoughtfully. "That said, seizing this town in terms of the battalion's actual mission objectives will be our...secondary priority."
Secondary? Duncan's curiosity spiked. What was more important than retaking land from the Covenant? Then again, he remembered that the colonel was yet to mention what Alpha and Bravo Companies would be doing. It was clear they wouldn't be involved with Szeged. There were no other obvious targets in the region so where else would they even be going?
Answering his question, he saw the screen on his HUD change again. A new addition was made to the display. Recognizing its shape made him realize how much of an unwanted addition it was.
It was a Covenant Corvette.
It flew above the deep valley between the two mountain ranges. It was moving north and its flight path suggested that it would pass west of Szeged.
"This corvette and its capture is our primary objective." Garrison said and stopped for a long while, long enough to earn more than a few looks of surprise, concern and even fear.
The battalion was dead quiet as a loaded silence pervaded the whole auditorium. Duncan swallowed, feeling the blood in his veins run cold.
They were going to capture a corvette?
No one in the gathering was a fool. The highest-ranking company commander down to the newest PSC understood what that meant. Covenant ships were flying killing machines for groundside targets at the best of times, disabled deathtraps at the worst. Their reactors were always ready to go critical at a moment's notice. For the brass to order them to go aboard one was more like a mass-execution order than a strategy.
"I'll explain." Garrison said. "We won't be boarding a disabled Covenant ship. The Navy won't be putting a MAC round through this one. In fact, they'll barely be helping us beyond the initial drop."
The screen suddenly inverted and turned skyward. There, several yellow UNSC frigates winked into existence. Their drop bays opened and a hail of HEVs came soaring out like rainfall.
"Ships carrying Alpha and Bravo will be escorting us into the drop zone by shadowing the movements of the corvette."
The display changed back to the previous orientation, showing a view of the enemy ship from above. It zoomed out to reveal several red arrows. These wound along the flight path of the ship but later curved westward along the northern coasts of the bay. They eventually curved south across the island at the mouth of the bay then west again over the southern coast. Then they repeated the process, forming a clockwise rotation around the full circumference of Big Crater Bay.
"This is our target's patrol pattern as confirmed by satellite observation several hours ago. We presume its mission is to ensure the integrity of this sector of Covenant-occupied territory. We plan on using that against them. While our target is passing west of Szeged, our ships will align our drop trajectories with its upcoming flight path."
The display zoomed in once more. This time it showed over a dozen points along the hull of the enemy ship which were highlighted with green flashes.
"Before I go any further, it's clear by your expressions that I need to answer some important questions. Namely one." He fixed the entire room with his steely gaze. "The answer is no. We're not dropping beneath the corvette. We're dropping on top of it."
A deeper silence than before arose in the auditorium. There were a great number of worried and empathetic glances from those not in Alpha or Bravo towards their ill-fated comrades. The shock was too great for anyone to say anything. Anyone except the colonel.
"As you know, Covenant energy shielding is tough. They drop their shields very briefly when they need to fire their plasma weapons. This is when they're most vulnerable but it's not the only time. Previous observations by UNSC forces engaging such craft at close range have found that their shields are highly susceptible to objects moving at a low velocity. They'll stop Archer missiles in their tracks but have a hard time detecting something as slow as drop pods using their braking rockets. That's where we come in. Alpha and Bravo Companies will angle themselves in for a hard landing on the hull. The primary landing zone is the midsection here."
The corvette's oblong midsection flashed green.
"It is the ideal location due to its surface area relative to the rest of the ship. Though the forward area and the encompassing brace are also possibilities, the risk becomes much higher of pods missing their mark or tumbling off the hull once they land. After we've made it, we'll enter the interior through the upper landing pad outside."
A circular area of the ship's uppermost midsection was highlighted.
"This is our primary way in though not the only possibility. There is a high chance that some drop pods will miss the mark and land in other locations. There is also a chance that the landing pad might become unviable as an entry option. That's why we'll be keeping an open mind and relying on multiple routes inwards."
Like the first time, a dozen points along the hull were highlighted in green, from the midsection all the way up to the wide nose of the craft.
"What you're seeing here are weak points identified along the exterior of the ship. If breached, they can also grant access to its interior, thereby allowing us to take full control of the vessel. For the sake of Plan A, we'll capture the area beneath the landing pad first then move from there. We have four sub-objectives: the engine room, the hangar bay, the plasma battery and the bridge."
Four more sections of the ship were highlighted: one at the rear and two further up the ship from the landing pad with the last one close to the nose. The four sections flashed green again before the whole of the corvette turned a friendly yellow.
"All four will need to be secured before we can call in for back-up. The UNSC wants us to take this ship while mitigating damage done to its infrastructure as much as possible. It goes without saying that unless you stumble across a prophet, all crew are to be considered expendable and dispatched with extreme prejudice."
The corvette changed back to a hostile red as the animation paused then replayed itself, showing both the capture of the ship and the nearby town of Szeged at the same time.
"This is the basic gist of what tomorrow's operation will entail. You'll each be expected to play your part. Alpha and Bravo need to neutralize that corvette before it can cause trouble for the rest of the battalion heading to Szeged. Charlie, Delta and Echo need to take that town before any reinforcements are brought in to assist the defending forces. Neutralizing both objectives will be vital to the progression of this offensive."
The display finally dissipated behind the symbol of the UNSC insignia which winked out, leaving the battalion's HUDs empty.
"Companies, platoons, squads, fireteams, troopers, you each have your responsibilities. Your specific place in this mission as well as your ship assignments have been outlined in greater detail and uploaded to your HUDs. We're positioned at a critical juncture of this operation ladies and gentlemen. Do not forget that. Do not forget where we are. That floor beneath your feet, that's Reach. It's your home and mine. It doesn't matter what came before now or what you've seen from this war. Leave all of it behind so you can set your focus here. This is our home and, come hell or high water, we will defend it. Now, are there any questions before I dismiss you?"
There was a long quiet. To Duncan's surprise, no one moved to ask any questions, not even himself. Then at last Zack stood up.
"I have a question, sir."
Garrison spotted him. "Go ahead, Matthews."
The attention of over a 1,249 ODSTs rested upon the lone trooper.
He frowned dejectedly. "Are we about to die tomorrow? 'Cause HIGHCOM seems pretty keen on getting us all killed with this op, Alpha and Bravo I mean."
Garrison stared at him as murmurs broke out across the auditorium. Nova tried grabbing Zack's arm and pulling him down to his seat but Zack refused, brushing her hand away as he returned the colonel's stare.
Looking upon his subordinate, part of a host of faces that were also searching for answers, a deep empathy entered the colonel's gaze. "Not all of us will be alive after tomorrow, trooper. In fact, many of us won't."
"But this is different, sir." Zack replied. "They're dropping us on something with shields. Shields. Not to mention we're trying to hit a moving target here. It's like they want us dead more than the Covenant do. What are the chances that some of us come in too hot and smack against that energy barrier, sir?"
"High." Garrison answered.
Zack winced, taken aback at his honesty. "A-, an-, and what happens if we hit it?"
"Your pods will likely explode or at the very least their chassis will crumble, killing you on impact."
The murmurings grew a little louder.
Zack pressed further. "And what if some of us land and fall off the hull regardless? It's not like our braking rockets have that much extra fuel."
"Then, Helljumper, you'll be looking at a 300-meter fall to your death in the valley below."
The murmurings once again grew louder and more uncertain.
Zack shook his head defeatedly. "They're really sending us into the meat grinder on this one, aren't they?"
Garrison nodded matter-of-factly. "They are, and I'm coming with you."
The murmurs died down.
Zack, seeing that he could press no further, hung his head low. "I don't feel like we're going feet first into hell this time, sir, more like headfirst."
"Feet first, headfirst," Garrison remarked. "Either way, we're first."
At that, Zack fell silent.
"I didn't sign off on this op." Garrison said. "I can only follow orders from here. The same applies to all of you. When you joined the UNSC you took an oath; you would defend Earth and all her colonies. This is one of those colonies and you're here to defend it. You've faced worse drops and even longer odds than this. Are you now going to go back on the oath you swore, Helljumpers?"
There were a few scattered shouts of "no sir" from the gathering.
"I don't think my battalion heard me. ARE YOU NOW GOING TO GO BACK ON THE OATH YOU SWORE, HELLJUMPERS!?"
Hundreds more voices replied in kind. "NO, SIR!"
"AND WHEN YOU GET OFF THOSE SHIPS TOMORROW, HOW WILL YOU LEAVE!?"
More began standing up. "FEET FIRST, SIR!"
"AND IF YOU JUMP TO YOUR DEATHS TOMORROW, HOW WILL YOU JUMP!?"
Duncan felt all hesitation leave him then as he ceased focusing on Zack's questions. His individual concern for his comrades, his family and even himself were drowned out by the arising of the whole battalion from their seats. He joined them, not out of the fear of the last two weeks but out of the courage of that moment, as the battalion moved with singular mind to answer their colonel.
"FEET FIRST, SIR!"
:********:
General Montague moved with brisk strides down the corridors of Lochaber's Administration & Logistics Center, the ALC for short. As its name suggested, it was the base's administrational heartbeat. It was just half a kilometer south of the orbital tether, the one known officially as the Markoláb space elevator. He knew a little about the Hungarian mythology from which the name was derived. A giant monster that ate entire celestial bodies and was regularly responsible for lunar eclipses was a scary being indeed. Still, it was nowhere near as much of a threat as the one facing him now. What he was dealing with was a very real alien civilization hellbent on the deliberate destruction of everything human, and it had just arrived on his front porch. By that stretch, he would have gladly sought out the help of the mythical Markoláb if it meant he could let loose such a creature against the Covenant. Even then, it wouldn't stop them. It would just buy some time at best. And that, he feared, might be exactly what he was about to do.
Organizing the upcoming offensive was a challenging task to say the least. Being at the center of such a feat was psychologically tiresome. There was no sleep to be found for him tonight nor did he expect he should have any thereafter. Seeing to it that the enemy's presence on Reach was annihilated took greater priority. Before that, however, he needed to take care of something else.
Beside him walked his colleague who at current was serving as his right-hand man. Brigadier General Abajjé knew to keep pace with him in the same fashion that he had for the past two weeks. Since the attack on SWORD Base, the two could hardly be found far from the other. Having been entrusted to the oversight of the operation by HIGHCOM and being granted the blessing of FLEETCOM HQ, they were busy from morning to night making the necessary preparations. The recent discoveries of the reconnaissance teams in Viery were merely the bow on top, the catalyst for a plan they had spent the better part of half a month making.
They had the plans.
They had the resources.
They had the target.
Now all that was left was to give the order.
Tonight's unveiling of Reach's situation to the task force assigned to handle it was a crossing of the Rubicon. In the morning, they could only move in one direction: forward.
On that note, Abajjé followed close behind Montague in their trek towards the center of the building's highest floor. They were forced to leave pleasantries aside in order to duck and weave through throngs of logistics personnel that tried to salute them as they passed. The most recent task on their docket list prompted them to keep moving.
Soon they rounded enough corners and passed through enough corridors to arrive at a section of the building more heavily guarded by Military Police. Due to the higher rank of the brass to which the office rooms beyond them belonged, there were few if any persons walking about there.
Neither Montague nor Abajjé needed to flash their IDs to the MPs. Their faces were sufficient credentials. They opened the bullet-proof glass door for them and let them through.
Walking a little further to Montague's office, the pair of MPs standing guard there saluted him. The door's sensors detected his presence and it slid aside for them.
Inside was a large space with decorative chairs, tables and other personal furnishings that gave the room an officious feeling. At the back was a wide desk behind which the general was soon to meet his maker. Such was his suspicion of the night's most unexpected guest.
"Is she already on the line?" Montague asked as he journeyed around the desk to the lone chair behind it.
"That was the message I received." Abajjé replied. "She should be waiting for you."
Montague finally sat down, sighing as he did so. "She's not the kind of person I want to keep waiting."
"I understand, sir, believe me. And I'm sure she'll understand too. If we weren't so busy, this wouldn't be a problem."
"Right...well, wish me luck."
Abajjé moved off to the side of the room while the general reached under his desk. He pressed down on the call button built into the underside.
A heartbeat later, a sizable holo-screen emitted from projectors built into the seams of the room. The screen appeared right in front of him. On the display was a partial view of the back of a personal office similar to his own, albeit substantially more refined. Behind a desk, sitting with elbows propped on the tabletop and wrinkled hands clasped together was the most powerful woman in the UNSC.
Admiral Margaret Parangosky cracked an omniscient smile, a subtle one yet with all the foreknowledge to be surer of the future than most.
"Good evening, general. I hope you are doing well."
Montague smiled back, trying to hide his nerves. "Well enough, ma'am. Might I ask what it is you need of me at this hour?"
Parangosky's smile widened by a minute fraction, a detail that Montague's worried mind picked up on. "Straightforward, are we? Good. I won't have to waste too much of our time with talk. And I'm sure you of all people know how precious time is at the moment."
"Very much so, ma'am."
The admiral straightened in her chair, fully exposing her officer's uniform and the insignia of her rank borne upon her shoulders. Despite her old appearance, she moved with the ease of someone half her age.
"How are you coming along with the preparations for tomorrow?"
"I believe I explained this in my last report to the Security Council, admiral."
"That you did," She agreed. "And that was two hours ago. What is the situation now?"
Montague glanced at Abajjé. "My apologies, ma'am. This may not be as much of a change from what you've already read. However, we have been able to requisition the last battlegroup that we needed from the Epsilon Eridani Fleet. Thanks to FLEETCOM's help, we now have sufficient wings to get everyone where they need to be when they need to be there."
Parangosky pondered the information quietly for a moment. "I see. I did read that you were having acquisitional problems. It looks like the fleet admiral sorted things out. Now that Visegrád's back online, we're able to have a better handle on this situation. And that brings me to my next question." She leaned towards the screen. "Why did you assign units to take on aerial interdiction operations?"
"Units, ma'am?"
"Don't play innocent with me, general. I saw it in your report and confirmed it with a few sources of my own. You're sending the 22nd Shock Troops Battalion to attempt to take a corvette via a direct atmospheric insertion. Sure, they're taking a few towns here and there but the primary focus seems to be on that ship, the one patrolling between the western and eastern ocean."
"Well, ma'am, I-"
"Not to mention that they're not even the only ones attempting this. I see that you have the 7th Shock Troops doing the same thing right across the strait from them."
"Ugh," He spared another anxious look at the brigadier general who looked to be sharing the same reluctant feeling. "We attached them to this operation due to the council's high recommendation for those two to be put to that particular task."
"As per my request." She pointed out.
Montague didn't say a word, wondering if the true reason she called was to flaunt her influence.
"But it was entirely optional, up to your discretion." She added. "You could have decided against it given the conditions of the battlefield, which means you think the circumstances are favorable for that kind of operation."
"I do, admiral. I was working under the assumption that we would never get another opportunity like this again. Two Covenant starships near our best stronghold and in a vulnerable enough position for such a mission as this? It's a one-in-a-million gamble."
"Interesting." She said, looking him over as though he were someone else. "Aren't you, General Montague, the same one who expressed your doubts about Operation RED FLAG early on in the review process?"
Montague froze. At last, he relented. "Ye-, yes ma'am. I did have my doubts."
Parangosky arched a brow at him. "And now?"
He breathed out a defeated answer, knowing he was cornered. "I have no objections going forward, at least up to the point of potentially securing RED FLAG's insertion method. I'll be the first to admit that I thought this operation might be suicidal. However, the invasion of Reach changes things. Now, to not make some effort that matches what the Covenant are doing here would be equally suicidal."
A small, pleased smile crossed her lips. "Ah. If I were to guess, the point of sending two battalions is to ensure that if one fails, you at least have a back-up corvette to rely on. Is that correct?"
He nodded. "And if all goes well, we'll have two to give to your Spartans, ma'am."
"I don't think they can manage two but I wouldn't mind having one for myself I guess." She let out a small, pleased laugh that Montague hadn't expected, creating a crack in the hardened figure that he had come to know as the CINCONI.
"Very well then, Montague, I'll trust your judgement. Best of fortunes with the offensive tomorrow, I know the Spartans Holland's lending you will be a real game-changer on the ground. Where might I ask are you dispatching them to?"
Montague mustered a daring smile. "I thought you said you already have sources on these matters, admiral?"
"Yes, and now I want to confirm them with you."
"Right. The Spartans are spearheading the main assault at Szurdok Ridge. They'll be sorely needed there."
"Good, it's a sound move tactically speaking. I would also like to let you know that should you need it, the Office of Naval Intelligence has special assets here on Earth that we would gladly send your way. They include whatever you could need for an event like the one unfolding tomorrow. I can get them to you in a day's time. Everything depends on your request."
"Assets?" Montague questioned. "And what do you mean you could get them to me in a day's time? Reach from Earth is a bit longer of a jump than-"
"I have my means, general, rest assured. If you need anything more, let me know."
"Can I ask why you're offering this to me, admiral?"
Parangosky's growing joviality diminished behind a look of pure and unadulterated seriousness. "Because this isn't some minor outer colony world nor is it a run-of-the-mill inner colony. This is Reach we're discussing, general. I plan to do everything in my power to make sure both it and everyone on it stay afloat. We can't afford to lose even a single continent. You'll do well to remember that going forward."
"Y-, yes ma'am."
The admiral leaned back like a parent left exhausted from a conversation with her child. "We're finished here. Again, I wish you luck, you and everyone under your command."
"Thank you. And hopefully we get to have another one of these wonderful conversations again."
"Don't patronize me, general. That's my job. Parangosky out."
The display switched from her office to that of ONI's pyramidal insignia. Then it dissipated as the room's projectors deactivated, ending the call.
Montague slumped into his chair, drained from the mental effort of trying to stay on guard with the admiral. "I think she just wrote us a blank cheque."
"A blank cheque from ONI." Abajjé added as he walked over. "That's no minor thing having an organization like that put their assets at your disposal. I don't even want to imagine what all that means."
"I scratch her back and she scratches mine perhaps."
Abajjé considered it. "A quid pro quo?"
The general shrugged. "Maybe."
"Every time I hear her talk, she sounds like she's supposed to be the head of the Security Council, not Hood. Don't tell her I said that."
"I won't. Doesn't mean she won't find out anyways. She's ONI. She has her means, I'm sure."
Abajjé nodded. "The question is will we need some of those means ourselves?"
Montague ran through the tasks he had performed throughout the day and those supplemental aspects to the invasion that he still needed to address. Tonight, there would be rest for the weary but not for the worrisome. His thoughts gravitated to many things yet circulated around two for the most part. First was the Spartans of Noble Team and the contributions they would need to make at Szurdok Ridge for the offensive to be successful. Next was the twin interdiction missions of the 7th and 22nd Shock Troops Battalions near Big Crater Bay. If either of the two were successful then it would render void several months of frustration to keep veteran units like themselves away from an operation like RED FLAG. But if they succeeded then they might stand a chance at saving millions of lives on Reach and even billions more across what was left of humanity.
"Who knows." He finally answered Abajjé. "It depends on what she can provide and how things pan out tomorrow."
"And how will they pan out?" Abajjé dared.
Montague turned to him and smiled wearily. "Well, if that isn't the question of a lifetime, I don't know what is."
Especulaciones - Speculations
