UN Scout Unit, US Marine Corps FORCE RECON-Army Cav Scout joint op,
Callsign "WATCHER"
East MSR, 'Italica Express'. The Front Lines.
A squad of three Humvees and a Bradley rolled forward for an aggressive reconnaissance mission. In the distance, muffled by the noise of the vehicles' engines, roared the joint air and artillery fire of the UN and UNSC forces. BM-21 GRAD multi-launch rocket artillery fired like whirlwinds against entrenched Imperial positions while mobile units of armor and infantry practically steamrolled the Imperials' weakened Legions. In the meanwhile, FORCE RECON, Cav Scouts and other groups much like WATCHER had been sent forth with air support from aircraft and drones above to locate the best land routes to the Imperial cities and vassals to the east, west and immediate north of the capital.
So their allies knew what to cut off when the time arrived to start encroaching on the city itself, of course. That, and to find any possible Insurrection camps, or units in transfer to try and resist the advance of the Joint Task Force. WATCHER's unit of scouts moved fast and hard, guns at the ready as they rolled forward. A dozen US Marines. Sure as shit was gonna be a big enough threat for the enemy, the team leads figured.
The vehicles trundled forth down the road, bouncing up and down the small mounds and hills, knowing full-well they had air support and the cover of their artillery for the next couple extra klicks at least. They were, however, entering a forested area. Each Marine tensed, thumbing the safeties off their weapons. They'd heard HITMAN-4 got hit with an ambush not too long ago from an Innie task force.
They'd pop the armored windows down if they needed to engage, but the Bradley had thermals, so it'd probably warn them of anything before lighting said 'thing' up with its 25mm Bushmaster autocannon. Or, if it was an enemy vic, hit it with a TOW for good measure. They heard the distant roar of the jet escorting them from above and looked up. Sleek, beautiful and well-equipped, a US Air Force F-15E Strike Eagle twin-engine fighter-bomber flew at Angels 2 above them, carrying a payload of JDAMs and four AIM-9X Sidewinder Anti-Air Missiles just in case a Dragon reared its ugly-ass face. It also had an escorting MiG-29, surprisingly bearing Romanian Air Force colors.
"Guess the Romanians must've upped their defenses just in case..." Murmured one of the Humvee gunners. A few of his buddies inside replied in agreement. The Romanian MiG-29 fighters had been in storage for the better part of several decades, but were thankfully still intact. It seemed that the Gate opening had finally gotten the MiG-29 "Sniper" Programme out of its cryo-sleep and up to work, too. It'd taken them some months, but they modernized the old Warbirds to NATO standard... With Polish and Israeli help, surprisingly.
WATCHER ACTUAL, the lead victor, hummed, then pulled up his radio and called, "All WATCHER elements, this is WATCHER-1, ACTUAL speaking, advise any movement so we know how to deal with it. If we wind up in an ambush, we blow clean through it and report the position to SPARROW up above. Refer to SPARROW for CAS missions on intended targets and remember all of them will be Danger Close."
Various affirmative replies echoed. He nodded approvingly, setting the radio down and hefting his rifle again. He felt the vic go over a hard bump, them swore to himself, holding onto his helmet. He sighed, then asked, "Could you fellas drive any more like shit..." as he pushed himself back down into his seat. His driver snorted and gave a half-mouthed apology, before humming.
"WATCHER Actual, this is WATCHER-4. Thermals are picking up heat sigs, about a dozen off them, to our immediate three o'clock." The Bradley crew reported. It was on platoon net, so everyone heard it and tensed up. The Marines readied their weapons and rolled down their windows, before the Bradley reported, "Confirming contacts, times six foot-mobiles, two armed with RPG tubes and rockets. Be advised:Possible larger enemy force nearby, but unsure at this time. Will engage at your orders."
Poking his rifle out through the window, the man pulled on the radio and barked aloud, "All WATCHER Victors, this is actual! Engage! We're blowing through these motherfuckers and the forest before their buddies come about, then we swing around and slap'em in the ass with a nice ol' flank! A little fuckin' payback for HITMAN-2! Actual, out!" before dropping the radio and aiming. The Fifty-Cals on the Humvees roared first, links and shells dropping with clinks and clunks onto the roof. The infantry and Bradley opened up next, rifles muffled by the thunder of the 25mm Bushmaster letting loose.
Trees were blasted to shards of wood, splintering and breaking as the high-explosive anti-infantry rounds of the Bradley smacked into the enemy lines. The first RPG carrier was blasted apart into a nasty red mist while his buddies scrambled for cover, while the other didn't even get to aim his launcher before one of the fifties sandblasted him to hell. The drivers pushed the cars to their limits, meanwhile, their engines roaring and screeching under duress, suspensions groaning as they drove.
Another enemy picked up an RPG tube and aimed it at the lead vehicle, squeezing the trigger. The HEAT warhead flew out of the tube with an ear-piercing wail and hit mere inches from Actual's vehicle, showering it with shrapnel that dinged off the armor and even broke the windshield partially. Actual scoped in and put three rounds into the bastard that had fired at them, before pulling his rifle back in and dropping the empty magazine. He slapped in a fresh one as bullets started whizzing past their vic.
The MG gunner's turret took a couple of hits, one of which punched through the steel plate and hit the man in the armored vest. He swore as he grabbed onto where the injury would've been, though all while keeping his fifty on target. Feeling his plate, he sighed in relief and said, "I'm good! I'm fucking good!" before ducking lower into the turret to keep his head covered.
Actual patted him on the knee and then kept firing. He looked forward, keeping one eye on the target, before noting, "We're nearing the exit! RV point with ODST Strike Team is nearby! Get ready to see how Shock Troopers rock the house!"
A pair of missiles screamed above the boys again, one inches from the front of the Bradley. The gunner replied with a burst of 25mm cannon fire that chopped a few more trees down and turned one of the rocketeers into a fine red mist. The other Innie soldiers and their mage escort looked over toward the targets and prepared themselves to engage, but the team lead gave a hand-wave. He spoke, "The General's got what she needs on the Yanks! Bug out!"
"This is too easy..." Actual murmured, firing away. He paused, however, as he saw the enemy squad packing up their kit and starting to retreat. He swore to himself, then radioed in, "All Victors, the enemy's pulling back! SPARROW, this is WATCHER Actual, requesting ground strike, Danger Close within 200 meters of our position! Saturate the forest with bombs, Grid 203303!"
"Copy. Grid 203-303. Beginning attack run..." The pilot replied. He powered on the AN/AAQ-33 SNIPER pod, switching to thermals. He picked up the dozens of heat sigs as they moved out, before clicking his tongue and grinning behind his oxygen mask. Painting the first target, he switched to his JDAMs and... "JDAM away! Danger Close!" thumbed the button on his stick. The plane shook slightly with a muffled thunk as the first bomb decoupled from the underbelly and arched toward the first gathered blob of enemies. The bomb struck, washing the area in flames and shrapnel and killing off five enemy troopers.
Switching over to the next target and waiting for the smoke to dissipate, the pilot thumbed the stick's 'drop' button again. Another group of three enemies vaporized, while a few others that were close enough to the blast caught shrapnel in their plates or just outright got their limbs torn off. He could see some mages among them, the drape-wearing idiots.
He hummed as he locked onto a group farther in the rear. He paused as he saw they had transport vehicles, including two UNSC Warthogs. He aimed for them, before alarms rang in his helmet and cockpit. He saw two missile contrails and the heat of rocket exhaust picked up by the SNIPER before he saw the shooters. He cried out, "Fuck! SPARROW-2, jink! Enemy has a lock!"
"Copy!" The Romanian pilot called out, "Dumping flares!"
Streams of burning-hot small suns burst out the rears of both birds as the pilots separated, each flying in different directions, opposite to one-another to avoid collision. Behind them, two explosions blossomed and the shockwaves rattled their airframes, but the planes flew still. The two pilots rejoined formation as SPARROW-1 aimed to track the enemies that had fired at them.
"SPARROW, you guys good!? We saw the launches!" Demanded WATCHER.
"Still flying, WATCHER, but those fuckers are getting away..." Murmured the pilot, watching the enemy vehicles speeding away over the hills, "Command, this is SPARROW, escorting WATCHER on FORCE RECON op. Consumed times two JDAMs against hostile ground forces. Enemy Victors are retreating. Seemed like a hit-and-run strike, probably testing us. Permission to pursue and ground-strike targets, over?"
"Permission granted while the enemy is within two klicks of allied unit. Once they're out of range, return to orbiting WATCHER and then RTB for refuel and rearm. General Mattis has ordered all AF assets to be engaged in continuous and contiguous CAS missions and airstrikes on sensitive enemy infrastructure. UNSC Air Assets are also in play and will be coordinating with you, namely during precision bombing ops. This is FOB Alnus, out." Came the response from a male radio jockey.
"Well, shit..." Sighed the pilot. He banked the plane right, then said, "Two, stay with WATCHER. I'll go deliver some bombs to these motherfuckers..."
"I'll keep an eye open. Remember I've only got anti-air missiles on this thing, though," The Romanian pilot shot back. The American chuckled, settling on target for another attack run and tracking the enemy vehicles with his SNIPER Pod. He pulled back on the stick and the aircraft jerked up as he turned on its afterburner, pushing himself against the jet's padded seat. He needed altitude in order for the drops he was about to make.
He painted the lead vehicle of the enemy formation and locked onto it with a grin. He then settled in at Angels 7 and gently thumbed the release. Another thunk, another bomb following a laser like a wire toward its intended target. The leading vehicle had also noticed the incoming, presumably, turning its gatling gun toward him. He grinned. Like that fucking thing was gonna do anything, even to intercept a bomb.
The aircraft shook when a Gauss round rocked the air around it. He panned his SNIPER's Thermals down and saw the enemy gunner on the second 'Hog aiming for them. These motherfuckers had actually stolen a fucking Gauss Hog. And now his shot was probably off-target. Motherfucker... He dropped another JDAM toward the target just as the first one impacted between the two Hogs, sending the MG Hog careening off to the side, but still driving. Seconds later, the second JDAM hit, turning the rolling enemy Gauss Warthog into a fucking heap of twisted, burning scrap. There were still a couple more vics, though... And he was getting dangerously close to his operational area's limits.
He swore to himself, then said, "Command, single enemy ground asset destroyed. Returning to escort duty for WATCHER and their ODST pals. Interrogative:What the hell were ODSTs doing in this general AO anyways?"
"Searching for some abductees, as per the UNSC Major's word. There are nearby mines where some of the abducted citizens of our world have been taken. UNSC intended to deploy a full rescue force as soon as they properly located and confirmed these rumored captures," The com officer this time was a female. The pilot huffed, recognizing the fancy, aloof spook tone of a CIA Agent... He'd dealt with a few too many during his earlier piloting days.
Should've known their friendship with the Spacers wasn't gonna be roses and sunshine all the time...
Earth. Tokyo Haneda international airport.
The motorcade of UNSC staff and their escorting UN-borne members rolled on forward, onto the runway and past the cavalcade of fans outside. Damn lucky the Chief and his SPARTANs maintained the composure they had, because it took some restraint to deal with so many people trying to swamp the vehicles for things like autographs. Rolling onto a taxiway, the vehicles lined up neatly with the signage on the ground.
Halsey looked out to see what they would be travelling in:A US Air Force C5 Galaxy transport plane. With four engines and wings attached on 'top' of the fuselage instead of where usual aircraft wings lay at the bottom, the massive aircraft stood at 75m long and almost 20m tall, able to carry any and all kinds of Cargo, light and heavy, across the world within a day. The grey hull of the bird has the livery of the 60th Air Mobility Wing, a California-borne US Air Transport force.
Doctor Halsey saw US Airmen already helping guide the vehicles into the wide-open maw of the supermassive transport aircraft. Luckily for them, all five vehicles would fit aboard the transport. Beside the US Airmen, there were JASDF service-members that were clearly part of the Logistics wing of the JASDF, meaning they were providing the supplies necessary for the bird to fly. Close-by, there were a couple of tanker trucks that were filling up the massive aircraft's tanks for the trip to the US.
The vehicles were guided up by Logisticians wearing Lo-Vis vests over their BDUs, each wearing headsets and protective goggles. As their limo climbed into the transport, Halsey murmured, "Quite the welcoming committee..." finally noting the presence of two orbiting JASDF F-2 Kais that were to escort them, presumably, out of Japanese airspace and into International.
"I find it heartwarming to see so many people recognize the Master Chief and your forces," Tyuule voiced as the Driver gave them the signal to unload from the vehicle. The group began to disembark, with Halsey, Tyuule and the Princess getting out first, followed by everyone else, only to see the captain of this (air)ship marching toward them. A young woman of seemingly Indian descent snapped a salute at them, smiling.
"Welcome aboard, doctor, Your Highnesses and Marines and Infantry," The woman spoke, "I'm Captain Reddy, of the 60th AMW. We'll be your pilots and air crew for the flight over to the US. Itinerary of the flight has us landing at Hancock Field Air National Guard Base within twelve hours, followed by a two-hour drive to your accommodations and, then, to the UN HQ on 42nd Street after you're rested. The United Nations meeting will take place approximately nine hours after you've arrived at your hotel."
"Thank you, captain," Doctor Halsey nodded.
"My pleasure. You can rest with us in the Crew area for the duration of the flight... Sadly, we aren't exactly a five-star business class flight, ma'am, but we'll have to do..." She nodded, eyeing the SPARTANs as they disembarked from and helped tie down their Warthogs, while the Marines also helped tie down the rest of the transportation, namely, the humvees and the limousine. She chuckled, then said, "My son is gonna want an autograph. Does the Master Chief mind?"
"Not at all, I suppose..." Halsey chuckled, too, as did the rest of the diplomat corp. The Captain saluted and then marched up to the Chief with a pen and a notebook. The man saluted the officer, who saluted back and simply extended the item to the SPARTAN, somewhat confusing him. He seemed to pause for a moment, before plucking the pen gently from her hand and writing something on the paper. Halsey's smile grew, somewhat, watching as Kelly, Fred and Linda all dropped their professionalism for a sec, laughing beside their TL, more with him than at him.
Tyuule walked up to Piña, planting a hand on the unsure woman's shoulder, then asked, "Everything alright?" as she saw the woman seemingly pale. Piña nodded shakily, trying to breathe at ease, while Bozes seemed to be clinging on to the walls of the aircraft. Tyuule soon realized and smiled awkwardly, "Oh, correct... You've yet to fly on either NATO aircraft or the UNSC's..."
"It's almost like we're in the belly of a beast, waiting to digest us..." Murmured the Princess, shivering.
Tyuule chuckled, "It will be fine, my friend. We need only enter the vehicle's crew area and you'll feel much safer."
"I certainly hope so. Bozes is not doing much better..." The girl remarked, looking at the other childhood friend she had aboard. The girl was actively clinging to one of the UNSC Marines aboard. Said UNSC Marine didn't seem pleased at all. Itami, meanwhile, simply looked around, before noticing the two girls and giving them a thumbs-up. Torres, beside him, was calm.
Tyuule whistled toward Torres, who turned and shrugged, before she motioned toward Piña with a smirk. Henry rolled his eyes almost to the back of his skull, before walking up to her, while Tyuule went back to Richard. Smiling at the UNSC Lieutenant, she said, "I wish to visit Japan once we return, if possible. I think Piña's going to need a short stint or break here, too."
"Understandable," Richard nodded, "And yeah, fair. Hey, Itami."
"Huh?" One of the resident Japs of the team quirked a brow.
"You, Shino and the others mind taking us on a trip 'round the bend when we're back from the UN meet in the US?"
"We did say we would," Itami smirked.
Shino nodded and chuckled, "Should be fun, seeing the El-Tee get drunk. Wonder what my sis is doing, though," as they started walking toward the crew area. The vehicle's massive frontal cargo door, the nose of the aircraft, began to close as the lights within the Cargo Hold came on, washing the entire place in bright white. The group climbed up-stairs, with Shino helping Bozes up as well, despite the girl shaking like a fucking blender.
"I got the cards if you folks feel like playing," Richard quipped, lifting up a pack of poker cards. Itami and Torres both nodded, while the others looked to the Lieutenant. Rosie cleared her throat, to which he smirked and said, "Want me to clean you out instead of Kurokawa this time, Rosie?" to which the girl lifted a single, central digit on her right hand toward the Lieutenant.
The man snorted. Sitting themselves down in the crew area, which was eerily spacious for what was a cargo aircraft, the passengers settled in for the long haul as the Pilots began their pre-flight checks. Rory had entered the cockpit with Itami and Lelei, all three watching curiously as the pilots did their checks, flipped the several dozen switches that would awaken the beast, then switched on the engines. Though muffled, the whining roar of the turbines filtered in, awing Rory further. She had flown in UNSC Pelicans and other transport helis before, but nothing quite like this.
The three Lieutenants started playing cards alongside Shino and Rosie. Stavrov had fallen fast asleep in her seat and Tuka was just messing with her bow's string, making sure it was tight. The SPARTANs, meanwhile, maintained security on the plane., CQC weapons always at the ready, just in case. Cortana was running diagnostics calmly within the armor suit. She paused, then realized, "Wait, John. They might not know I'm around."
"Hm?" Chief asked.
"Shino and the others..." She noted, "The Earthlings from this planet might not know I'm here. Hiding it offers no real tactical advantage at the moment, unless we get access to some form of DoD computer that I can rifle through. Which I find about as doubtful as the fact the credited writers for our video games' story didn't get help from some ghost-writer... Latter of which means... Perhaps one of ours is here."
"Or more," John remarked absentmindedly.
"Yeah... Should we start a betting poll?" Cortana chuckled. Chief hummed, to which the AI sighed and said, "No need to be so uptight, John. We're on a diplomatic op."
"'Diplomatic ops' are not my forte, Cortana. You should know that," He replied.
"Well, you're the bodyguards..." Cortana paused, taking a moment to think, then sighed, "Fair enough. Ignore me."
Halsey had overheard the discussion. Well, it was safer to say she had 'read' it. The transcript played back on her tablet. She hummed, then sighed and noted to herself that she had come up with the same belief. That one of their own might have wound up travelling to this alternate Earth and, in order to make some money, told the story of the Chief as it was, with a few alterations. "The Fall of Reach", the novel detailing the SPARTAN-II program, was filled with errors she could easily use to dismiss the Project as a whole to the general populace as nothing but a preposterous lie beyond the very presence of the SPARTANs.
She made a mental note to include that in her speech to the UN General Assembly, plus whatever other bits of information she could settle on in regards to the UNSC's capabilities and the Human-Covenant War. From what she could tell, they represented that much faithfully, at the very least. Sighing, the doctor stood to her feet, walked out of the crew area and into the cockpit, where Rory and the other Falmartians were watching the sky.
Looking past the command console of the aircraft and out through the windows, the good Doctor saw their escorting F-2 Kai fighters flying in close, their blue camouflage glimmering in the sunlight, AIM-9X missiles and drop tanks visible. Tyuule and Richard were also there, with Lelei asking the young Lieutenant and the Flight Crew several questions a minute, all of which were being quickly answered in a rhythm that somewhat surprised the doctor.
Tyuule was smiling... Though she held onto a crewman's seat with one hand and...
Halsey smiled even more brightly than the Bunny Warrior queen. Tyuule was holding Richard's hand in her other. And the young man seemed stunned. She looked to him, simply smiled, then said quite coolly, "Apologies, but... The sky is beautiful. I need someone to hold onto so I don't faint from the sheer beauty..." to which the other four women aboard turned to the man, Rory grinning ear-to-ear.
Richard hummed, then smirked, "I'm looking at another beauty beside me." As he looked into Tyuule's eyes. The girl began to stammer, blushing, while Rory giggled like a schoolgirl. Lelei hummed, leaning against her staff with a half-smile, then turned back toward one of the crewmen, the radar op. She started asking questions about the aircraft's radar and IFF system.
"Oh, god..." Groaned a crewman, the co-pilot, in silence.
"Apologies for the interruption," Chuckled the Captain as she looked back from her pilot's seat, "But maybe you should keep your tools in your belts until you're at the Hotel. President and the UN made sure to get all members of staff for the UNSC Delegation rooms of their own..." Which garnered a squeak out of Tyuule and a few laughs from the people here. Halsey shook her head, smiling, then stepped up and patted both of them on the shoulders.
"Ignore them, Lady Tyuule, Lieutenant Samuels," She hummed, "They joke until they themselves have someone."
"Heh... Thanks, doc." Richard rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. Halsey nodded, then stared forward.
... She had pinged the ONI Agents already on-site before she'd gotten aboard. Worryingly, they'd replied that there was a VERMILLION situation in the US.
Something big was brewing in the States...