Chapter 8 – Inpulsa
August 12th, 2552 - (03:40 Hours - Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, Reach
In Orbit over Viery Territory, Aboard UNSC High End
:********:
Despite having already pigged out on the weapons and equipment that Lochaber Base had to offer, Duncan, 1st Platoon and much of Bravo Company still found themselves in the ship's armory. The same went for the rest of the company aboard the other ships in their battlegroup. Paris-class frigates always had extra goodies in their ammo lockers thanks to their size. The onboard Marine detachments typically had more on their hands than they knew what to do with. Seeing their excess, Bravo decided to help themselves. And why wouldn't they? For God knows how many of them this would be their last day enjoying the ever-so-costly commodity called living. If that was the case then they wanted to spend their final seconds shooting and killing in style.
If they survived the drop that is.
SPNKR rocket launchers were taken off of shelves and had detachable barrels slapped into place. SRS-99 sniper rifles were pulled off their racks. Shells were pumped into the receivers of M45 and M90 shotguns. Explosive, long-range and close-range weapons were hustled through the aisles of the armory by anxious troopers. While Duncan didn't agree with all the loadouts he saw given their circumstances, none of the platoon commanders were raising an eyebrow. This was everyone's first time trying to seize an active Covenant ship and there was very little on the books about how exactly that was supposed to be done. Everyone took whatever they thought they might need so long as they also brought along a standard DMR, battle rifle or assault rifle.
So much for 'mitigating damage' to the ship. Many in Bravo would gladly blow a few holes in it if worst came to worst. The company's COs seemed to be of a similar mind.
Duncan was thinking along those lines too, albeit on a smaller, more practical scale. He was on the line to the weapons checkout counter at the back of the armory. Once he reached the front, he handed over his MA5B and all his magazines. After placing the eighth clip on the counter the relief was instantaneous. He became substantially lighter without so much ammo which was a mix of regular bullets and shredder rounds. At first, he thought it was a good idea to overload on them. However, as it turned out, when each magazine contained up to 60 rounds, he risked slowing himself down on a mission where speed was key. He preferred the MA37 with its sleeker design and smaller magazine capacity. What it lacked in stopping power and rate of fire, it made up for with better precision and most importantly, a lighter weight load. He put in his order with the armorer and received the goods a minute later. He tucked the weapon away on his back harness, stowed the magazines into his ammo pouches and cleared the way for the next trooper to make his trade.
He slipped through the aisles of weapons which was made easier by the rapidly diminishing number of troopers moving through the room. Most had grabbed whatever they needed and peeled out. There was no time to be picky-choosy about their gear. The operation was set to begin in the next 20 minutes. Garrison only allowed his Helljumpers to leave the drop bay to make quick change-ups if they had any misgivings about their equipment. As it turned out, most of Bravo did. Alpha as well. And that in itself was a bad sign in an already bad deal.
The doors to the armory parted for him and he strode through the outside corridor, eventually breaking into a jog. Thankfully, High End's armory was on E-Deck, the same deck as the drop bay. There was no need for drawn out elevator rides on lifts in desperate need of maintenance, no overcrowded stairwells that forced him to maneuver around other passerby. It was a straightforward stroll to the bay, as straightforward as it got on a Paris-class.
A few corners later and he was passing through the entrance to the drop bay.
Frigates like the High End tended to have more spacious bays than Charons or Stalwarts. It was divided down the middle by the long mechanical chasm that served as the actual drop area. At the moment the exit doors below it were sealed shut. The HEVs that lined its interior in row after row had their entry hatches turned outwards. That way, they faced towards the observation decks and waiting areas on either side of the bay. A slew of fellow ODSTs were busying themselves performing final checks on their gear as well as that of their comrades, inspecting pods and running different diagnostic tests. A few squads sat around active tactical planners here and there which projected images of their destination. Duncan eyed one of the projections as he walked along the portside of the bay.
The portrayal was of the mountainous region waiting for them on the surface. That and of course the corvette flying over it. It didn't look like it was moving fast. Then again, projections and displays could be deceiving. What appeared as a slow-moving object could in reality be soaring at high speeds. It could be moving so fast that it might outrun his pod, or worse, run into it. He could hit it and risk getting killed on impact or miss and make a normal landing on the ground. In the latter scenario, he merely had to regroup at the other fight planned for Szeged. The possibility of dying compared to the chances of having a long walk through some impressive scenery was almost equal. Hitting the corvette and actually surviving the landing seemed the least likely outcome. But still, it was the one everyone had to aim for.
He could see those around the planners were thinking the same thing as they closely scrutinized the enemy ship, quietly considering their own odds. It was an individual affair when one thought about it. For all their teamwork, only a single trooper could occupy a pod and only they could pilot it. Where they wound up after that would be the result of a fine cocktail mix of individual skill and blind luck, though more so the latter in a situation like this.
Duncan passed through an access corridor that connected across the bay to the observation deck on the starboard side. There he found 1st Platoon at their own tactical planner where they had agreed to rendezvous once everyone returned from the armory. He was late, the last one to arrive though no one seemed to notice. They were collectively focused on the projection playing out across the table's holographic display. It was more zoomed out than the others he'd seen on the portside. It showed more of the region including the wide expanse of Big Crater Bay as well as the stretch of land between its western coasts and the mountain range.
There were two battlegroups of frigates moving into position within the lower limits of the exosphere. Two straight lines were traced out from each ship, one yellow and one red. The yellow lines were pointed at drop points further along their flight path. Meanwhile, the red ones showed the alignment trajectory of each ship's drop bay as it was in the present.
A larger neighboring battlegroup, the frigates carrying Charlie, Delta and Echo companies were approaching the planned vectors that would land their ODSTs around Szeged. The smaller battlegroup, the one carrying Alpha and Bravo, lay at a few kilometers distance from the larger. Their alignment trajectories were already preset for the corvette. It wouldn't be long before there was perfect alignment and the companies were given the all-clear to bail out.
The corvette was currently flying low above the mountains that bordered the bay's southwestern coast. It was making a slow turn to the right, moving northwards where its own flight path would eventually take it past Szeged. They needed to neutralize it before then.
"So, guess what?" Mito said as he leaned on the planner. "Hotel did some digging into the meteorological reports on this part of Viery, told me a few things I didn't know. Turns out, airflow from the western ocean runs into air coming in from the eastern ocean through Big Crater Bay. They meet up in the north but the way the land is setup creates some kind of low-pressure system further down. It forces all the wind to funnel south through that mountain range."
"Which means?" Nova asked.
"It means we're dropping straight into a regional wind tunnel." Mito explained.
"Great," Zack groaned. "And here I was thinking this was crazy enough. Now we've got the wind against us too?"
"Judging by the direction that corvette's moving in, looks like it."
"I don't think there's going to be any exfil if we fail." Mackley said. "I mean, look at that thing. If we stick the landing but still get bogged down while we're onboard, no one's coming for us."
Beside him, Lang shrugged. "We could always jump."
"On what, the clouds?"
"The mountains are pretty close."
"They just look close. That's probably a good 50-meter drop to those peaks."
Reznik laughed nervously. "I don't think I've got strong enough knees for that kind of stuff, Sarge."
"Neither do I." Dalton replied. "Which is why I'm not jumping. We either clear this ship or we don't. Simple."
"Is it really though?" Daz asked, trying to hide her emotions behind a guise of calm that was already beginning to crack. "What do we do if we don't clear it? What're our other options?"
The sergeant didn't answer right away as everyone side-eyed Berlin. The young ODST was taking in deep breaths that were growing more haggard as he stared long and hard at the projection. Dalton laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"There are no other options." The Staff said, drawing all eyes towards him. "No one in their right mind is going to want to approach that ship for a rescue op, not unless its captured or disabled. The last thing we want is for one of these frigates to fire a MAC round while we're still onboard. God forbid if it really becomes a problem for guys on the ground and they decide to use an orbital platform. That leaves us with one option and one option only."
The Staff looked around at the novice and worried faces of Squad Whiskey. "Sorry that this ended up being your first drop. To be honest, no one really ever gets to choose theirs. Like the colonel said yesterday, we don't get any say in it, we just do it."
"Theirs not to reason why, right?" Daz asked, looking almost pained at quoting the old saying.
"Theirs but to do and not die." Renni finished.
"You know that?"
"Lord Tennyson, he knew a few things, not everything. He especially didn't know what Orbital Drop Shock Troopers can do."
"That's not even how the saying goes."
"Maybe that's how it should go." Hector prodded. "We might be expendable but we give them a hard time getting rid of us."
"And they're trying real hard too." Zack said. "Especially on this go-around."
Nova elbowed him. "Read the room, would you? We're trying to keep encouragement on the menu here."
"Sorry, I'm fresh out. I don't like this."
"It's war," Yuri argued from the other side of the planner. "What part about it do you like exactly?"
Zack thought about it and sighed away the question. "Good point. If I did have to pick one though, it'd at least be the part where I wasn't smashing into corvettes."
"Then don't smash into it." The Staff countered. "I need every single one of you to survive and keep your heads up. Landing isn't even the biggest problem here. It's what comes after. We're hitting the enemy where it hurts and also where they have the greatest advantage. We may know Reach better than they do but they'll know their own ship better than we will. Have your eyes peeled and be on your guard, something's telling me this one won't be over until it's over."
An air of silent agreement passed among the platoon though they continued to watch the corvette's movements on the display.
Then Zack asked. "And what if I smash into that thing anyways, sir?"
"Then you won't have much to worry about afterwards." The Staff smiled. "And I won't have to hear your big mouth complain as much."
There were a few stifled laughs around the planner, namely from Epsilon.
Before long, Zack was grinning with them. "Tell you what then. Just because you said that, I'm making sure I survive this."
"Darn, and here I was thinking we were 'bout to catch break." Yuri chuckled.
"What'd Heck say? We're expendable but hard to get rid of, right? Besides, you guys need me too much."
The conversation would have gone on were it not for a new spectacle on the tactical planner. Each of their battlegroup's drop trajectories became fully aligned as the ships pulled slightly ahead of their target, giving them a straight shot on the corvette. A mission clock appeared right above it: '03:55'.
The colonel's voice came through the personal comms of every trooper in the bay. "It's a greenlight, ladies and gents. Alpha, Bravo, get to your stations. We drop in five minutes."
Once the colonel finished, the platoon looked among themselves, some excited, some worried, others poker-faced.
"Well, that's that." The Staff said as he put on his helmet and twisted it into place. "Let's move."
The rest of the platoon did the same and followed after him to the pods. The other troopers on their observation deck and those on the opposite side also moved to theirs. Their collective activity boiled down to ODSTs doing what ODSTs did best. Hatches were raised, weapons were secured and seats were taken as those hatches descended, sealing them inside.
Duncan hopped into his pod and settled himself into the seat, stashing his rifle on a weapon rack before punching the button to trigger the hatch. It closed with a cushioned thump, reducing his periphery to the world directly outside his viewport. That changed as the pod began to rotate, turning him around to face the interior of the drop bay along with dozens of other pods.
The team screens on either side of his viewport were activated with the Staff appearing on his left and Nova on his right.
There, in the bay, they waited.
Several minutes passed before the colonel's voice returned over the battalion's comm frequency.
"I'm not going to lie to you, people. This is going to be dangerous, and that's exactly why it came to us. No one knows danger like the 7th Battalion. But tell you what, let me ask you first. Does this situation look dangerous to you, troopers?"
Duncan, 1st Platoon as well as everyone in Alpha and Bravo Company responded over the communications. "Yessir!"
"Oh, and why's that?"
"We are the danger, sir!"
"Well said." The colonel replied, and for a moment, Duncan imagined he was smiling on the other end.
He became aware of a gentle hiss that was growing louder by the second. He watched a gale whip past his window and a smidge of frost begin covering parts of the glass. The ship was decompressing their compartment of E-Deck.
Then with a loud creak of metal on metal, the bay doors below them groaned open. Sunlight streamed in to intermingle with the red glow of the emergency lights that now strobed a warning.
Once the doors were fully parted, the ODSTs found themselves hanging over a white and blue sea of island-like clouds and uninterrupted heights. Viery was right there, a sprawl of green plains and forests, wrinkling valleys and tall mountains. Big Crater Bay lay directly below them. The circular body of water that could easily fit a whole country within its coasts was to them the size of a small quarter. Its image was faint thanks to the distance, parts of it being obscured by the morning cloud cover. It wouldn't be so for long.
"Keep a hand on those controls." Garrison advised. "Remember what I said, don't pull those chutes until you're between 450 and 500 meters from the hull. No sooner and no later."
A timer appeared on Duncan's HUD as well as everyone else's, counting down the last five seconds before the drop.
Garrison finished with an air of finality. "Good luck, Helljumpers. I'll see you onboard."
Duncan watched the last seconds go by: '3...2...1...'
There was a barrage of sound as pods were released and shot through the bay doors. Duncan felt the swift release that made his legs tingle. He pushed his head back as his pod was sent shooting out of the bay and down towards the surface of Reach.
:********:
For Shipmaster Rizanamee, there was nothing he hated more than inconveniences. And even then, he loathed unexpected inconveniences. So, to see what he saw now on the displays of his bridge was nothing short of maddening.
It started when his weapons officer noticed a few contacts using his detection system. What were originally a few contacts suddenly became a storm of incoming projectiles. They were hostile, rocketing through the lower atmosphere. At first, he believed it was a salvo of the missiles that the humans loved to use on their ships. However, upon closer inspection and much to his surprise, it was revealed that they weren't missiles at all. They were drop pods, nearly half a thousand of them. Though moving individually, they were all heading in the same general direction; the oncoming flight path of Holy Dispersion.
And worse, there was nothing he could do to stop them.
They wouldn't be able to maneuver in time. However, though he couldn't stop them from coming, there was a chance that he could stop them from landing.
After overcoming the initial shock of what could have only been a lunacy-inspired strategy on the part of the humans, Rizanamee strode around to a better spot on the perimeter platform. It was closer to the viewing glass and allowed him a frontal view of the snow-tipped mountains that hemmed their flight path on either side. He peered up into the clear blue sky. He could just barely make out the distant dots that were soaring towards him. They were fiery red as they burst through the clouds, quickly becoming bigger and brighter like an unlooked-for meteor shower.
"Shipmaster, we've detected more pods falling towards the settlement to the northeast." His navigations officer said from a forward station. "How should we proceed?"
Rizanamee looked again at the incoming pods and glowered at them. "Warn any of our garrisons in our immediate area of what is coming. Divert 80% of our power from the plasma capacitors to the shield generators. I will see to the rest."
The bridge officers hopped to their tasks as he switched on his access to the Dispersion's ship-wide communications. "All hands, prepare for combat. As I speak, there are several hundred human insertion pods enroute for our vessel. Setup defensive positions from the stern to the bridge immediately. Should they come aboard, you will stop them and you will repel them. It is your duty to defend this ship, to the last warrior if need be. Prepare yourselves, and if necessary, sacrifice yourselves. I say again, all hands, prepare for combat."
:********:
The ride down was unnervingly quiet, not only because no one was talking but because Duncan was hardly listening. The sharp howl of the wind rushing by his pod had held his attention for the most part. In the last few minutes, it had transformed into the dull roar of reentry flames that licked at his viewport.
He kept watch on a monitor that displayed his position relative to the other pods as well as the approaching corvette. Using its guidance, he performed micro-adjustments with the rest of Bravo in order to keep their trajectories aligned. Every so often he had to remind himself to breathe. The whole situation was too big to think about in the middle of a drop. Nonetheless, he was tempted to glance out his viewport. The temptation became stronger once the reentry flames tapered off, as they usually did during the transition between mesosphere and stratosphere. He eventually gave in and took a look.
Beyond his viewport was a forest of hundreds of falling drop pods. They were near and far, some still flickering with the last flames of reentry before they were blown out like candles. The closest of them belonged to 1st Platoon. They clustered together in a standard platoon formation with the Staff taking the lead. Yuri was of course right on his heels. But the latter wasn't laughing or joking about beating their squad-leader to the surface. It was abnormal for him not to, and the added silence over the radio spoke to just how abnormal the whole situation was.
What they were doing now was something they had done for many years on many different worlds. Duncan realized that possible defeat was always in the back of his mind while the current objective was always at the fore. That had changed. He figured that not only him but everyone else in the battalion was trying to figure out, despite all the worlds they had already fought for, how the war had ever come here. Again, it struck him as odd how they had always been busy defending someone else's home, never theirs.
Not until now.
Off to his right, Big Crater Bay had grown larger in scope. It was a pristine, tranquil body of water that sparkled like a sea of shifting crystals in the morning glare of Epsilon Eridani. It extended far north beyond the visible horizon to south past his viewport. While its inner, deeper depths were a dark blue, its outer waters were a lighter turquoise that rolled over the shallows before lapping against the coasts of Viery. It really was one giant crater. However, witnessing its full size altered his perspective of the land. It made the western coast seem more like a straight line or a vaguely curving edge than it did the circumference of a circle.
Further north of them along the western coast was the town of Szeged. It really did look like a kidney with how it was built around one of the bay's inlets. There were a few smoke pillars rising from the viewable, though still microscopic neighborhoods.
The rest of Upper Viery spanned beneath them like an ocean of green. The mountain range that snaked from north to south, while small on screen, was massive in person. The interior lands further west of it were heavily forested, valleyed and hilly. However, the trees diminished on the east side of the range the closer one came to the bay. There were more open plains there. It wasn't the best location for Charlie, Delta and Echo companies who Duncan saw zooming towards it in a distant cluster of hundreds of pods. However, there were enough forests and hills near Szeged itself for them to have better chances there.
Then there was the corvette.
Through the occasional breaks in the clouds, he spotted the small purple shape flying up the length of the mountain range. It was a good ways southwest of Szeged, meaning their drop was right on time. He checked another monitor that showed the distance to target: 'DTT: 21.2Km'.
"But if all of us are landing in the same spot, doesn't that mean there's a risk some of us might land on top of each other?" Berlin asked, sounding concerned.
"No worries, Whiskey-6, there's plenty of parking space to go around." Hector said confidently.
"Not on that landing pad there isn't." Mackley replied. "I just remembered there's an archway over that thing. Trying to reach that will be like trying to hit a bullseye with a paperclip."
"More like paperclip armed with braking rockets, drag chute and mass-murderer ready to empty their own clip, if you catch my meaning." Yuri said. "Relax, we're not aiming for landing pad but area around it. Focus on that and stop whining."
Duncan checked his monitor again: 'DTT: 15.4Km'.
The corvette grew rapidly in size as the two companies hurtled towards it.
"That thing's big enough for 500 of us!?" Daz cried, thoroughly alarmed.
There was silence for a moment before the Staff replied grimly. "It's big enough for whoever makes it. Like Ep-5 said, focus on doing that. Let everyone else handle themselves."
Dalton chimed in. "You heard him Whiskey so shut up, drop and stick your landings."
The rest of Whiskey replied with a unified though delayed "Yessir."
Again, Duncan checked on his monitor: 'DTT: 9.1Km'.
The mountain range began taking up their full view with its icy caps, grassy slopes and rocky precipices. The corvette was flying in the middle of it and was less than a quarter of a kilometer behind their entry vector. They were almost aligned.
Then the ship did the last thing anyone wanted to see. Like a rippling surface of water its energy shields became visible. They rolled down from its midsection like a tsunami of translucent blue light, covering the vessel from bow to stern before turning invisible again.
Duncan swallowed. He heard a few sharp breaths over the platoon comms. It wasn't anyone from Whiskey this time.
"Anybody have any last words?" Zack joked.
"Da."
"Alright Ep-5, let's hear it."
"Last words..." Yuri echoed, sharing a cheeky laugh with Epsilon's radioman though no one else tried to answer the question. Then the comms became deathly quiet.
At 'DTT: 4.6Km' Colonel Garrison's voice came over the battalion freq. "Hold those brakes. Wait until you're close enough."
Alpha and Bravo waited as they steered along their entry vectors, waiting for the corvette to line itself up. At 'DTT: 2.1Km' the ship was beginning to come into range and gradually found itself at the center of a hail of pods, their target; every conceivable landing space on its hull.
Duncan held his breath and started making quick glances between his monitors and his viewport, knowing the next few seconds would be critical. At 'DTT: 1.5Km' he noticed that the corvette was breaking alignment. It was slowing down, trying to let the incoming pods fall ahead of it. But the ODSTs were paying close attention. Without a word over several hundred HEVs redirected their course, imploring their braking rockets to slow down and realign themselves with the hull.
The next 500 meters were the tensest Duncan had ever witnessed. Having aimed for the angular surface of the corvette's upcoming midsection, he eyed his most important monitor. He grabbed the release mechanism for his drag chute. There would be no one to tell him when to pull it, no orders or hints. Regardless of the chain of command or the complexities of the pod's technology, it all came down to how fast his eyes could send the signal to his brain and from his brain to his arm. The sweet spot could shoot by in a blink.
And it almost did.
The last few hundred meters of the last kilometer flashed by on his monitor. He barely had time to notice when the hundreds reached '5'. Once it did, his arm immediately reacted and pulled down the chute release. There was a loud THUMP overhead as the device shot out of its holding to drag at the air, slowing his descent so suddenly that it whipped his head back. A shock of fear surged through his being when he glimpsed the monitor again: 'DTT: 585M'.
He had pulled it too soon.
In horror he watched the scene out of his viewport blur past, shifting leftward. As he strained against the controls, trying to correct his mistake, he saw other HEVs continuing past him before deploying their own chutes further down. Their passage left a brief vacuum in their wake that caused Duncan's pod to turn. He fought against it with his controls, watching as, while a few missed and shot on past it, the majority of pods reached the corvette. Of those that did, their braking rockets combined with their chutes slowed them down enough to slip through the shields without incident. Hundreds of pods, most of Alpha and Bravo, struck across the surface of the ship, stabbing, crunching and pistoning into the purple metal.
Most, not all.
At the same time there was a drumbeat of destruction as several dozen balls of fire erupted along the corvette, peppering its shields like a bombardment. But they weren't missiles. They were HEV pods, those that failed to slow down in time. Their speed caused the shields to flare in various spots. They were destroyed on impact, creating gouts of flame that cast fiery debris down into the valley below or sent it clattering across the surface of the hull. Others managed to slip through the shields only to hit the hull at a bad angle and bounce off, sending them twirling and rolling into the valley.
In the split-second that he had to see these things Duncan realized his own fate all too late. Against his efforts, the pod had steered off to the left, away from the midsection of the ship and even the main body of the vessel itself. It was instead heading for the brace-like extension that surrounded it, the selvage rim. Even then, it was about to miss.
He screamed as he reached for the emergency release on the hatch with one hand while the other pulled at the controls with everything he had. He now pulled with its leftward momentum rather than against it. The rockets responded in kind and gave him the final burst that he needed.
He hit the selvage rim head-on. The pod stuck the landing but couldn't stick to the surface. Having come in at a slant, it instead skidded, spiraled then tumbled across the perilously thin expanse of the rim.
Duncan hit the emergency release. He saw the hatch blow off its hinges before he was welcomed into a world of light and rolling, chaotic motion. He took his chance, braced his hands against the interior, bent his knees and, timing it, hurled himself out into the light of day.
When he did, his perception slowed down enough for him to realize that he was flying.
Flying right over the very edge of the rim and, below it, death.
Survival kicked in and a hand lunged out. The tips of his fingers gained purchase as his momentum sent the rest of his body swinging over the edge, smashing his chest against the side of the ship. He winced, coughed and wheezed but refused to let the pain stop him from holding on.
He felt nothing beneath his feet. He warily looked down and found his pod spiraling away. The front was still open as it endured the 300-meter fall to the forest of the valley floor. He turned back to see what he was holding onto. There were angular surfaces and design patterns on the edge of the rim that his fingers had managed to grab ahold of. Despite his situation he saw the irony, that a design choice of the enemy had saved his life.
He struggled to bring his other hand up for a stable hold. An attempt to do so put greater tension on his already stressed fingers. What also didn't help was the wind that was blowing between the mountains. The valley was channeling it while the corvette was flying against it, by extension also putting him against it. It threatened to push him off as it howled by. He tightened his initial hold while he looked for a way up. He found it in the form of an incidental ledge that was just above his right knee. He tried raising that leg to get his foot over it but once he did, his boot slipped right off, causing his fingers more pain.
He groaned as he tried again, this time turning his foot a little to the side to gain more of the surface area. It worked and his boot stayed in place. Carefully he used it to push himself up so he could grab onto the edge with both hands. After getting a good grip, he hoisted himself back up, managing to throw his legs over so that he could roll freely onto the top of the rim.
He shut his eyes to focus on slowing his breathing. His heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. Despite the pain, a wave of relief washed over at feeling hard ground beneath him once more. He wasn't so relaxed however that he couldn't crack his eyes open to notice the drop pod hurtling straight towards him.
Duncan desperately rolled aside a split-second before the pod crashed into the spot where he'd lay. In a burst of shattered debris, the impact of the damaged HEV sent it somersaulting off the selvage rim and over the edge. It tumbled end over end into the valley as its chute snapped off and its braking rockets flickered and died. Briefly, Duncan thought he heard the trooper inside screaming his head off. But the sound diminished altogether along with the sight of the pod.
He scrambled away from the edge and threw himself at the very center of the rim. There he laid low and tried to get a sense of his surroundings.
To his further relief, the skies were clear and empty. There were no more pods coming in. Everyone had either landed or...they hadn't.
He looked behind him as well as in front. He wasn't the only one that had made it to the portside of the selvage rim. There were more pods that had landed successfully along the length of the structure, the way their carriages were embedded in the metal paying testament to said success. He counted close to 40 of them from bow to stern. Just as many ODSTs hopped out, having survived the trip down, though some had to limp or crawl. However, they were all few and far apart, scattered across the full stretch of the nearly kilometer-long rim. They were lucky to have been able to land there but now they needed to regroup.
Most of them were taking tentative steps towards a wider section of the rim closer to the stern. There it formed a kind of bridge between the structure itself and the ship's midsection. A few were already crossing over. Duncan looked past them to the midsection itself which was literally crawling with ODSTs. Many of them had landed their pods there. They were sending the nimblest among them to clamber up the 20-meter incline to the pad. Above them, scores of troopers who were able to pull off the best landing, having hit the pad directly, were tossing down utility ropes to help them climb their way up. Those who were spread around the midsection were doing the same for those left scattered on the selvage rim. The latter proved a much steeper climb. Though the wind gave hell to those who began the ascent by swaying them against the hull, they continued on undaunted.
That way seemed to be the best route up until Duncan realized how far it actually was. There had to a solid 500 meters between him and his destination. That was a lot of ground to cover in these conditions. Since the wind combined with the uneven surfaces made jogging a potential death sentence, he would either have to endure a slow walk or an even slower, albeit safer crawl.
"HEY!" Someone shouted over the wind.
He turned to the part of the rim that lay ahead of him and saw another pod that had landed nearby. A trooper was holding onto it with one hand to stabilize himself while he waved his rifle at him with the other. Once he got his attention, he pointed his weapon further along. Duncan followed where he was pointing to a trail of ODSTs. There were at least a dozen of them moving slowly towards the end of the curving structure. They were nearing the area where the rim connected to a spot right underneath the bow of the ship.
It was at most 200 meters away, far closer by comparison.
Duncan gave him the thumbs up and let him go on his way as he checked himself over. He patted his ammo pouches and was glad to know he hadn't lost any of them. Then he patted his back harness. There was nothing there. Where was his rifle?
Then it dawned on him that he never took it out of his pod.
Both worried and frustrated with the state of his gear, he reached around his armor and was happy to find that his sidearm was still strapped in place. He whipped out his M6. His HUD showed '32' under the ammo counter. He held it at the ready and began the arduous trek towards the bow.
It wasn't a trek so much as it was him crouch-walking against the wind. He made sure to stick to the very center of the selvage rim, leaving a safe distance between himself and the outer edges. Yet that distance closed as he reached a section where the two sides curved closer together. To his eternal gratitude there were a few pods there. He grabbed onto them as he moved or stopped behind them to hide from the occasionally strong gale.
After the first 100 meters the edges of the rim curved back out. They then extended another 100 meters before curving out even more to where they connected to the bow, much like the pectoral fin did to the body of a manta ray. The band of ODSTs he saw earlier had already gathered at the spot where the rim met with the hull, just beneath the shade of the bow. Ropes were being thrown down to them though they weren't climbing them. Duncan looked up to see several more ODSTs above. They were fast-roping down from where they'd landed on the top of the ship. They probably hadn't liked the idea of a half-kilometer jog to the landing pad either.
Soon he was close enough that he could risk standing and running. He jogged over to them, stumbling every now and again from the vacillating force of the wind but otherwise reaching them unharmed.
They were a platoon's worth of ODSTs that had gathered in a spot just beneath where the bridge was located. Some were up on their feet after grabbing onto a few of the ship's structural braces. They stood against the heightened wind shear, a difficult feat given that they were near the front of the corvette and thus taking the brunt of the airflow. Others were crouching down where they could, finding shelter in shallow alcoves or behind small components that jutted out from the hull. The muscles in Duncan's thighs were already burning from the 200-meter crouch-walk so he decided to stand and hold on.
He looked around to see what was going on. A heartbeat later he understood that the ODSTs weren't assembled randomly. They were setup in two separate stack formations with one group facing the other. In the space between them, a pair of troopers were rummaging through their rucksacks, searching for something.
The ODST directly in front of him was carrying a M319 grenade launcher on his harness and a large rocket launcher in his hands. The trooper peered back, spotted him and turned around to fist-bump him on the arm. Their visor depolarized and Duncan was greeted to Rico's genuinely relieved face.
"Hey, hijo, you made it!" He cheered, having to shout over the roar of the wind despite the proximity of their comms.
Duncan smiled back, happy above all else to see a familiar face. "Yeah, wasn't easy though! Almost rolled right off the edge!"
"Oh man, you serious!?"
"Dead serious, that thing nearly took me down with it!" He looked around. "Is anyone else here!?"
"No, I think they hit closer to the pad! I ended up pulling my shoot too early, just barely managed a touchdown at the front of the rim over there! I ran into these guys trying to get in close to the ship! The captain here is trying to find us a way in!" He pointed to one of the ODSTs rummaging through their rucksacks.
"Geeze, sounds like you didn't have an easy time of it!"
"Neither did you, hermano! Good to see you're okay!"
"Right back at you! So, are these guys supposed to be here or what!?"
"Nope!" Rico replied. "They're miss-drops just like us! We're all mixed up with troopers from Alpha and Bravo! It's going to be interesting to see how we handle business once we get inside!"
On that note, Rico looked Duncan over and spotted his sidearm. "Hey, you got anything else on you!?"
Duncan shook his head.
"Then she's all yours!" Rico smiled as he tossed him his rocket launcher.
Duncan fumbled with the giant weapon before gaining a proper hold. "Wait, what!?"
"I said she's all yours!"
"What am I supposed to do with it inside this thing!?" He asked, nodding at the hull.
Rico shrugged. "Don't know but we're about to find out!"
Before Duncan could protest, the ODST that Rico identified as a captain finished sifting through his rucksack. He leaned out so that he could peer at the waiting faces and polarized visors to his right and left.
The comms crackled over a new frequency and his voice came through. "Troopers, eyes and ears on me!"
He stood up and grabbed ahold of a support brace, somehow managing to look like an old navy officer grabbing the rigging of his ship. "My name is Captain Eddies, Bravo Company, 4th Platoon! I'll be leading you guys inside! We'll be taking advantage of our proximity to one of our target locations! The bridge is the most important spot on this ship and for the time being we are the only ones close enough to take it! We'll enter through here first then make our way up to it! Once we've neutralized any crew, we'll hunker down and setup defensive positions! We hold that bridge until backup arrives! Keep in mind, our higher-ups want this ship in as good a condition as possible so once we're inside, only shoot what needs to be shot! Keep collateral to a minimum, you understand!?"
There was a round of disorganized shouts of "Yessir!" from the group, Duncan and Rico included.
Captain Eddies rounded on the other trooper with the ruck who was now holding out a pair of explosives. Duncan recognized them by their rectangular frame and hexagonal core as M168 Demolition Charges. Rico recognized them as well and whistled.
"That's one way to do it!" He laughed.
Another ODST closer to the captain also took notice and called out. "Sir, those are 168s!"
"Yeah, what about it!?" Eddies replied as he gestured for the other trooper to begin the planting process.
"Sir, those are heavy duty! I thought you said you didn't want collateral!"
"What I said was keep it to a minimum! Right now, I also need us to survive! Do you want to survive, trooper!?"
"Ye-, yessir!"
"Good, then shut up and enjoy the fireworks!"
The group watched the lone ODST attach both explosives to the hull using their adhesive strips. He typed on their keypads, switching on the green signal lights on their arming handles. He typed again, this time inputting a detonation sequence. He gave both of their arming handles a clockwise twist before thumbing their activation switches. The explosives beeped synchronously, switching to a menacing red light. As the handles receded into the devices the trooper raised three fingers at Eddies.
"Thirty seconds!" The captain said. "Everyone, move back! Give me 20 meters!"
The troopers took methodical steps backwards, grasping onto handholds to keep themselves steady. Soon both of the stacks had put 20 meters of distance between themselves and the explosives. A grueling wait followed wherein, because Duncan's group moved closer to the front of the ship, they received an even greater baptism of wind. He and Rico were forced to almost hug the hull and could hardly peel themselves off of it thanks to the pressure. The corvette had shown some signs of slowing down before. That no longer seemed to be the case.
When the explosives finally detonated, they could feel everything from the shockwave, rattling their teeth. The twin-blasts were bright and massive, spewing an eruption of fire and metal into the air. The wind quickly subdued the flames, reducing them to the confines of a gaping hole blown into the side of the hull. Another problem emerged almost immediately. Smoke from the explosions began pouring out from the breach. The wind carried it so that it formed a long trail along the length of the corvette like blood flowing from a wounded fish. It also blew the smoke right into the faces of the ODSTs stacked on the other side, including Eddies himself.
"Up the ante on your filtration systems so you don't choke on this stuff!" The captain ordered. "If you can't, hold your breaths and move up! Let's go!"
The two sides rushed towards the hole, still holding on against the airflow. Duncan held his SPNKR at the ready and kept a hand on his holstered sidearm as they pushed through the smoke. They soon came to the hole which was a jagged maw with layers of damaged armor plating blown outward like many serrated teeth. There were sparking wires and damaged conduits, leaking coolant and other flickering components. But amidst all those obstacles there was enough room for them to enter two at a time. They did just that as they stormed inside, leaving the harsh winds of the outside world for the darkness of the interior.
:********:
The Staff ran a headcount the first chance he got. That so happened to be less than several minutes after landing. He'd been among the luckier drops, having gotten his pod on the very lip of the landing pad. By some miracle he didn't teeter over the edge. He was able to get out with little problem and start assessing the situation from the point of his rifle. The pad was clear with nothing of note except the energy barrier guarding the way inside. That didn't last long however as he got to work helping others reach the pad, throwing down ropes or holding out a hand to them.
In minutes the pad was swarming with ODSTs. It almost became awkward with so many Helljumpers confined to such a small place. Though smaller groups had gone to several different points across the corvette, the majority of Alpha and Bravo had assembled here. They divided themselves accordingly. While a platoon was stationed around the entrance to guard against any counterattacks, another was set on elevated positions around the circumference of the pad. Armed with rocket launchers, they kept watch for any airborne reinforcements that might come from the skies or from the yet unsecure hangar bay. Everyone else reformed into their own platoons and squads. It wasn't easy given that many of their units were missing Helljumpers. Entire squads were absent, whether dead or alive none could say. In one case a whole platoon from Alpha company couldn't be accounted for by either radio or visual headcount. That in and of itself was frightening though the Staff restrained himself from showing it.
In all his life, in all his decades of service, he had never seen so many ODSTs killed so suddenly. Not in person at least. The loss of half of Delta on Havenwinter station was the closest example he could think of. The scars of that tragedy still ran deep. Even then, he hadn't seen that one up close, only heard of it and watched the mass wakes that Delta held in the weeks that followed.
To make matters worse, the mission had barely begun.
So many casualties and yet there was not a single Covenant corpse to be spoken of in retaliation. The Staff was itching to fix that. First, however, he needed to find his missing troopers.
The headcount for 1st Platoon revealed that everyone was accounted for except two: Duncan and Rico.
Dalton was busy dealing with Squad Whiskey who were coming off of the dose of despair and shock of adrenaline that was their first combat drop. The expressions behind their visors ranged from terrified like Daz to ecstatic like Mackley. The rush of survival was still fresh in their minds. Something similar was going on with Epsilon though they were more concerned about finding their missing squadmates.
The attention was on Zack. He was taking a knee while he used his radio to move from comm channel to comm channel, searching for any signs of them. Suddenly he perked up. The Staff sensed his relief before he could say a word.
"Sir, I just got in touch with 4-Actual. He says he's got Ep-6 and 8 with him."
The news was a welcomed one and put Epsilon a bit more at ease.
"Figured it wouldn't be that easy." Yuri chuckled.
"Where are they now?" The Staff asked.
"They landed closer to the bow. They've already moved inside with 4-Actual, heading for the bridge as we speak."
The Staff paused to try to factor it into his plans. "We're effectively down two already. Let's hope we can get to them in time."
"They're already moving in." Hector noted. "So, when's it going to be our turn?"
"Soon." The Staff replied. "Neptune-Actual says we'll be going in first so keep your-"
A commotion from behind made the platoon and everyone around them focus on the way in. The platoon that was guarding the entrance was now jogging away from it. In their place, they left a slew of C-10 charges. The cube-shaped explosives lined the lip of the entrance. The other ODSTs knew to take a few steps back.
Whoever had the detonator made sure everyone was cleared to a safe distance before he pulled the trigger. A ring of quick and neat explosions blasted holes into the lip of the entrance. When the smoke cleared, the energy barrier was gone.
Garrison's commands over their communications came swiftly. "Snipers, clear it out!"
A handful of SRS-99 wielding sharpshooters emerged from the gathering. Mackley and Lang eagerly followed them, remembering their part in the order of the operation.
Some 20 ODSTs came to kneel around the shattered edge of the entrance and peered inside. There were a few flashes of plasma, green and blue that came shooting up from the interior. Their fire was disorganized unlike the snipers who took careful aim. What followed was something the Staff could only compare to shooting fish in a barrel. Different targets, same concept.
There was a regular CRACK of 14.5-millimeter rounds being sent through the chests and skulls of the enemy below. There were death shrieks from Grunts and groans from dying Elites. Then there was silence. One of the snipers, a specialist the Staff recognized from Gunnery Sergeant Singh's crew called out: "Clear!"
"Get some rope in there!" Garrison ordered. "Bravo, 1st and 2nd Platoons, you're up! Alpha, 1st and 5th Platoons, same to you! Let's get this done!"
A dozen ODSTs rushed in carrying ropes. Having already anchored them to hardpoints around the pad, they tossed them over the edge. Then with the observant eye of 20 snipers looking over their shoulders, they fast-roped down into the interior.
The designated platoons were the next to run in. 1st Platoon was able to secure three ropes for themselves. Not wanting to rush things but in no mood to keep his lost troopers waiting, the Staff secured himself to the line and was the first of the platoon to rappel down into the heart of the corvette.
Inpulsa - Shock
