Chapter 3:
Date: July 3rd, 2563
Location: UEG Colony of Nyx
Population: 110,900,000
Captain Kurt Treveylan, leader of the Black Talon, stood tall outside the admiral's office. As a Spartan-II, he was an imposing figure, his height at 2.3 metres without the augmentation-enhanced armour he typically wore. His physique was powerful and well-defined, a testament to the rigorous training and enhancements that made him one of the UNSC's most formidable warriors.
The Captain's face held the hardened features of a soldier who had seen countless battles and the darker side of humanity. His square jaw, high cheekbones, and piercing hazel eyes conveyed intensity and determination. Small scars traced lines across his face, remnants of close encounters and hard-won victories against insurrectionists. Comfortable in and out of his armour, Spartans had often been deployed deep behind enemy lines, and their Mjolnir armour wasn't exactly subtle.
His dark brown hair, cropped short in the regulation style, was flecked with the occasional strand of grey—a sign of both age and the stress of command. Despite his youth-enhancing augmentations, the weight of responsibility and experience showed in the fine lines around his eyes and the set of his mouth. Dressed in his dark grey uniform, the medals and insignia on his chest glinted in the light, each telling a story of bravery and sacrifice. His bearing was one of unwavering confidence and authority, resulting from years of leading his teams into the most dangerous situations imaginable.
Captain Isabelle Rhea, a seasoned officer of the ONI, stood next to Captain Treveylan. Her demeanour was calm but alert while she worked on her datapad. She was average height for an unaugmented human at around 5'8", but her presence commanded nearly as much respect. Her frame was lean and athletic, a testament to her specialized training and years of service. Sharp, intelligent features defined her face, and piercing green eyes seemed to take in every detail, framed by high cheekbones and a strong jawline. She had tied back her auburn hair in a no-nonsense bun with light highlights adding definition. Her skin was lightly tanned, with a few faint lines around her eyes and mouth, indicating her time spent in stressful and demanding situations.
Dressed in her immaculate ONI uniform, the dark fabric contrasted with the polished silver rank insignia gleaming on her shoulders. Medals adorned her chest, representing significant achievements and sacrifices in her career. The Captain perfectly tailored her uniform, emphasizing her attention to detail.
Waiting patiently outside the admiral's office, she stood straight and confident. She held a data pad in one hand, her fingers lightly tapping the screen as she reviewed previous mission details.
"The Admiral will see you now, Captains," Lieutenant Commander Alvarez motioned towards the now open office door.
They were summoned into Vice-Admiral Rodriguez's office and exchanged nods as they passed through the doors. The office was spacious and functional, with a large window offering a view of Nyx's bustling spaceport. The vice-admiral's desk was neatly organized, with a few personal touches—a family photo and a commendation plaque—adding warmth to the otherwise austere space.
Vice-Admiral Rodriguez stood as they entered, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the dim lighting. His presence commanded respect due to years of experience and a reputation forged during the Civil War.
"Captains, please take a seat," Rodriguez said, motioning to the chairs opposite his desk. His voice was firm but welcoming.
Captain Treveylan and Rhea took their seats, their expressions attentive and ready for the briefing.
"I trust your shore leave was restful?" Rodriguez began, settling back into his chair.
"Yes, sir," they replied almost in unison, their tones reflecting their readiness to return to duty.
"Good," Rodriguez nodded. "Because we have a critical mission ahead of us. As you know, the Icarus has returned with valuable alien materials and personnel. Our local ONI agents have been working around the clock to decipher the information we gained and study the debris you salvaged. We've made significant progress but still don't understand much of the alien hierarchy or technology."
Rodriguez activated a holographic display on his desk, bringing up images of the alien materials and data readouts. "The Kig-yar, while not particularly knowledgeable, has provided some intel on other isolated pirate bases and the general structure of the Covenant society. The other captives, these Uggnoy, are dim-witted and mostly menial labourers for these Kig-yar. Whether or not this is the norm across their society, we don't yet know. Additional information could be invaluable in understanding and ultimately countering the Covenant advantages."
Captain Rhea leaned forward slightly, studying the holograms. "Do we have a specific target in mind, sir?"
Rodriguez nodded. "Indeed. Based on Kig-yar's forthcoming information, we've identified two rival pirate outposts. Your mission, Captains, is to lead a closer survey and possible strike operation on these outposts. We need more intelligence and, if possible, additional alien technology to study."
Captain Ambrose glanced at the holographic display, his eyes narrowing in thought. "What kind of resistance are we expecting, sir?"
"We anticipate minimal resistance for your Spartans, Captain. These outposts are likely not heavily fortified. However, we can't afford to underestimate them. Their ship-based armour technology is significantly more advanced than ours, and whatever slagged the last outpost had significant high-temperature energy weapons that would likely gut our ships with minimal resistance," he paused to switch the holograms to some of the various Kig-yar corpses they recovered.
"The presence of any advanced alien tech could pose unforeseen challenges. Based on testing against Kig-yar armour, their bodies, and descriptions of each race's combat prowess, we estimate that only the Sangheili and Jiralhanae could pose severe threats to your Spartan teams. Captain Rhea, your ONI teams will act as support and recon, as the Icarus has a smaller profile than the Black Talon and will be harder to detect. This mission is vital for the security of the UNSC and our understanding of the Covenant. Do you have any questions?"
"What kind of weapons can we expect, sir?" Rhea immediately questioned.
"Unfortunately, we weren't able to recover any intact weapons. We have various pieces but have no idea how they would function. Our best guess is some type of plasma weapon, both ship-based and hand-held. Even with our latest advances in fusion, we are still decades away from this kind of technology." He waved the hologram away and stood.
"However, we have authorized a few upgrades for your Mark VI armour that should give you the edge you need. We will spray coat your armour with a replenishable heat-resistant reflective coating and add ceramic and ablative materials to help reduce burn-through against high-energy impacts."
"The trade-off, sir?" Ambrose questioned.
"It will add a little weight and be a little more cumbersome but should help protect the weaker parts of the suit that aren't Titanium-A. An acceptable trade-off, yes?"
Rodriguez deactivated the display and leaned forward, his expression serious. "The truth is we don't know enough. We need hard combat data, and pirates are the least risky target. Your teams must be vigilant and flawless when encountering any of these combatants.
"Intact technology is the priority one, followed by data and captives. Don't take unnecessary risks; completing this and follow-up missions without alerting the wider alien society is paramount."
"Understood, sir," they both stated in unison.
"Good," Rodriguez said, standing up. "You depart in twelve hours. Make sure your teams are briefed and ready. Dismissed."
They nodded, acknowledging the weight of their responsibility. As they left the vice-admiral's office, they exchanged a determined look.
"We've got our work cut out for us. Meet me on the Talon," Treveylan remarked, his voice low.
"Indeed," Rhea replied. "Let's get to it."
Captain Rhea and Treveylan returned to the docking bay, organizing their departure and filling the senior spartans in on the upcoming mission.
Date: July 25th 2563
Location: Target Alpha
The bridge of the UNSC Icarus was a hive of quiet activity as the ship drifted stealthily into the designated system. Captain Rhea stood at the center, her gaze fixed on the viewscreen displaying the distant stars and planetary bodies. Around her, the crew worked diligently at their stations, their focus unwavering.
"Captain, we're approaching the first target," Lieutenant Jackson reported from the navigation console. "We're maintaining minimal power to stay undetected."
"Good," Rhea replied, her voice calm and measured. "Keep us on course. We don't want to alert anyone to our presence."
As the Icarus continued its slow drift, the sensor operator, Ensign Ramirez, suddenly spoke up. "Captain, I'm detecting multiple contacts in the system. Energy signatures are off the charts."
Rhea's brow furrowed. "Define 'off the charts,' Ensign."
Ramirez adjusted the sensors and brought up the data on the main display. "It appears to be a small fleet of Covenant ships, ma'am. They're engaging the pirate outpost."
A collective tension filled the bridge. The Covenant's presence was always a cause for concern, but this was a unique opportunity to gather valuable intelligence.
"Patch the sensor feed to my station," Rhea ordered. She scrutinized the data, her eyes widening slightly at the energy readings. "Those heat levels are enormous... And look at this—every ship, even the smaller ones, appears to have a barrier that flairs before impact on the hull."
The realization hit her like a cold wave. Shielding technology of this magnitude was unheard of for ships of any size. The UNSC had advanced significantly during and since the Civil War, with advancements in FTL, power generation, and sensors. She had even heard of prototype barriers being developed for high sublight speed navigation. However, compared to this information, it could be a game-changer for their deployment.
"We're in a prime position to gather hard data on their capabilities," Rhea said, turning to her X.O. Commander Jensen. "Prepare to run detailed scans on their ships. We will try to stay hidden but can't pass up this chance."
"Aye, Captain," Jensen replied, moving to relay the orders while the Captain continued to examine the incoming data.
The Icarus maintained its slow drift, using the shadows of nearby asteroids and debris fields for cover. The viewscreen provided a distant but clear view of the battle unfolding. Covenant ships, sleek and deadly, unleashed a barrage of energy weapons upon the pirate outpost. The pirates meagre few ships held for a few minutes before turning to slag. The outpost's defences then crumbled under the relentless assault, explosions lighting up the void.
Active sensor data streamed in E.M. spectrum, LADAR, and even H.D. video and telescopic photos revealed the formidable power of the Covenant fleet. Each ship's shielding absorbed and deflected attacks effortlessly, their energy weapons far surpassing anything the UNSC had encountered.
Davis reported, "Energy readings are stable. Their shield systems are incredibly advanced. We're getting clean scans of their weaponry and defensive capabilities."
"Excellent work," Rhea said. "This information is invaluable. Keep those scans running, and ensure our stealth systems are fully operational. We can't afford to be detected."
As the battle raged on, the Icarus remained hidden, its sensors capturing every detail. The Covenant fleet methodically obliterated the pirate outpost, leaving no survivors. The sheer precision and power of their assault were both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Minutes after the battle, however, the ships began to turn towards the Icarus. Their weapons were still hot, and their shields recharged from the pirate outpost's light fire.
"Captain," Jensen warned quietly.
"I see it. Cut active scans, full stealth and move us to cover," Rhea acknowledged and ordered. "If the Covenant can deploy this kind of firepower and shielding on even their smaller ships, our strategic assessments need a serious overhaul."
Jensen nodded, his expression grim. "Agreed. We need to get this data back to Vice-Admiral Rodriguez. This changes our plan."
The Icarus continued maneuvering while the slipspace jump was calculated, a random vector followed by their return trajectory. Suddenly, about half of the Covenant ships disappeared into slipspace only to reappear a few hundred thousand kilometres away moments later. Active scans began radiating outward from the largest of the vessels.
"Lieutenant Jackson," Rhea said, "Get us into cover behind an asteroid and get us out of here now! Let's get this data back to the Black Talon."
"Aye, Captain," Jackson replied, maneuvering the prowler at maximum rated thrust while in stealth. Slipping into the shadow of a nearby asteroid to minimize the angle at which they can be detected. The ship powered up to engage the slipspace drive and tore open a portal into the eleventh dimension, quickly leaving the system behind.
As Icarus withdrew from the system, Rhea allowed herself a moment of reflection. They had witnessed firsthand the devastating power of the Covenant, and the data they carried could be the key to countering that threat. But with such formidable enemies, the road ahead would be fraught with danger.
"Let's hope this intel gets us one step closer to understanding the Covenant."
Date: July 27th, 2563
Location: Target Beta
The Black Talon, renowned for their tactical prowess and unparalleled combat effectiveness during the Civil War, would soon begin their deployment earnestly. The ship had a complement of four senior Spartan 2 teams in various roles and a more significant complement of Spartan 3s in support and combat roles. Even at 18 during their initial deployment, the Spartans IIs were more effective than soldiers twice their age and experience. After the initial extreme success of the Spartan's deployment, the next generation was taken from the wartime orphaned children by the UNSC in a much larger capacity. The augmentations were spread out from their 14th to 18th birthdays and had a high success rate due to a gradual augmentation rate.
The program saw an 80% success rate, with over 60 of 75 Spartans surviving the whole round of augmentations. Only eleven had various complications, and there were only four fatalities. The next generation saw an even higher success rate of 95% as the technology and methods became more refined. With three companies of 100 spartans trainees each, the second wave of spartans was more effective than even the Spartan 2s. Trained by their predecessors, mainly Kurt, John, Fred and other leadership-oriented individuals, they excelled due to better training, augmentations and technologies. They were far from the experience level of the Spartan 2s, but superior training and augmentations brought them close to their older brethren. Phantom Team was a specialist squad serving on the Black Talon in her later deployment years, and now, they had a new mission.
The dimly lit hangar hummed with low, persistent energy as they entered. The team moved with a silent, coordinated precision, their SPI IV "Ghost skin" armour reflecting the dim light passively, making them almost ethereal as they emerged from the shadows. Spartan Orion-417 led the way, his visor scanning the deck for potential threats out of habit, even in their ship's supposed safety. Behind him, Astra-425 and Vesper-432 followed, their armour and weapons nearly blending into the environment. Kael-429 and Echo-413 brought up the rear, their focus already shifting to the upcoming mission, minds running through possibilities and contingencies.
As they moved through the frigate's labyrinthine corridors, the ship's automated systems recognized their presence, doors sliding open in anticipation of their approach. Despite their stealthy entrance, the ship's A.I., Eos, tracked every step, a silent witness to their efficiency. The Black Talon was a vessel designed for missions that required both the subtlety of a scalpel and the force of a hammer, and Phantom Squadron was the embodiment of this duality. Their presence requested in the briefing room signalled the beginning of another high-stakes operation that required the unique skills they each brought to the team.
When they arrived at the briefing room, the door slid open, revealing Captain Kurt Treveylan, a seasoned Spartan-II, waiting at the head of the room. His tall, imposing figure clad in his armour, Mjolnir VI, though it lacked the stealth modifications of Phantom Squadrons. The Mjolnir was the Spartans' mainline battle armour, having seen many revisions over the decades. Developed throughout the Civil War, the armour helped swiftly crush battle after battle, the most advanced power armour to date. His eyes, sharp and calculating, took in each team member as they filed in. He knew them well; he had handpicked them for this mission, recognizing their talents and the unique synergy they formed as a unit. The room itself was stark, with only the glow of the tactical display illuminating the space. A map of their target system hovered in the air, casting a soft light over the assembled Spartans.
As Phantom Squadron stood at attention, Captain Treveylan began to speak, his voice steady and authoritative. "You've all been chosen for this mission because no one else can do what you do. The UNSC has a critical operation, demanding the precision and skill that only the Phantom Squadron can deliver. The enemy won't know what hit them." His words carried weight, not just because of his rank but because of his reputation. The team knew the stakes were higher than ever when Captain Treveylan called upon them.
The following briefing detailed the intricacies of their upcoming mission: a high-risk insertion without direct support behind enemy lines, where they would disable key assets and gather critical intelligence without leaving a trace of their presence. As Captain Treveylan outlined the objectives, each Spartan silently prepared themselves for the task ahead, their minds already in the field, where they would once again become the invisible hand of the UNSC's most secretive operations.
Deployed less than six hours after their briefing, Phantom Squadron silently drifted through the void of space on a carefully calculated ballistic trajectory toward the pirate outpost. The frigate *Black Talon* had released them into the darkness, relying on their Ghost Skin armour to render them nearly invisible to any scanning equipment. Their target, a fortified outpost carved into the side of a massive asteroid, loomed ahead, its crude yet functional design a testament to the pirates' resourcefulness. The asteroid was a hub of activity, with industrial mining operations camouflaging the outpost's true purpose—serving as a strategic point for raids on unsuspecting colonies and supply lines.
The outpost was the larger of the two they had identified during reconnaissance; Black Talon assigned this outpost due to its significant defensive capabilities and the strategic advantage it offered the pirates. The squad knew they had to execute the mission with precision and absolute stealth; if detected, they could compromise the operation and trigger a full-scale engagement. Phantom Squadron had a tight window to execute their mission; their loadout made for stealth and infiltration lacked the heavier combat capabilities of Mjolnir. The mission urgency was compounded by the Covenant's recent destruction of Alpha Target—a similar installation. The alien force had wiped it out days before, leaving the pirates scrambling to fortify their remaining assets.
Infiltrating the outpost without external support was dangerous, but the Spartans had no choice. Their orders were clear: breach the outpost, sabotage its defences, and ensure any attempts to rally a response by the defenders would be delayed. Their mission would buy precious time for the other Spartan teams, deploying via Pelican and drop pod to secure the area and finish the job. The success of the more extensive operation hinged on Phantom Squadron's ability to sabotage the outpost before the Covenant or any pirate reinforcements could interfere.
As they neared the asteroid, the team synchronized their final preparations, each Spartan running through their specific tasks in their heads. The mission was critical for securing intel, technology, captives, and learning more about their new alien neighbours. If they could delay the pirates long enough, the rest of the Spartans could deploy and neutralize the outpost before the Covenant swept through the sector.
Telescopic images from stealth propes had revealed what appeared to be an intricate network of anti-aircraft defences and multiple overlapping fields of fire covering the majority of conceivable approaches to the outpost. The pirates had transformed the asteroid into a fortress, with turrets and what they suspected were shield generators strategically positioned to create a deadly crossfire for any incoming vessel. The pirates meticulously designed the layout, more than it should have been, to deny any landing force the ability to breach. The base's outer defences prevented a frontal assault; even with Spartans, they would sustain heavy losses, making it nearly impossible to capture the outpost intact—a crucial objective for Phantom Squadron.
Despite the formidable defences, Phantom Squadron was undeterred. Each member had trained extensively for this type of high-risk operation, and they knew that stealth was their greatest ally. Their Mk. IV SPI armour, equipped with its advanced memetic skin and other counter-detection equipment, was the perfect tool for this mission. The advanced adaptive camouflage rendered them virtually invisible against the cold, starry expanse of space, blending seamlessly with the darkness as they approached the asteroid. The skin could mimic the surrounding environment, fooling even the most sophisticated detection systems.
As they closed in on the outpost, the team maintained strict radio silence, relying on neural-linked communication to coordinate their movements. The memetic skin wasn't just about visual invisibility; it also helped to mask their thermal and electronic signatures, making them undetectable by the outpost's sensors. Each Spartan was a ghost, a shadow in the void, moving with deliberate, silent precision.
They landed several kilometres from the outpost, executing flawless flips and controlled suicide burns with their external EVA packs as they descended toward the asteroid's surface. Each movement was precise, calculated and timed to the last second to minimize any chance of detection. As they touched down, their boots made only the faintest contact with the rocky terrain, the gravity making their landfall almost imperceptible. With the EVA gear no longer needed, they quickly detached and stowed it, leaving nothing behind that could betray their presence.
Once grounded, Phantom Squadron took a moment to regroup, huddling together under the vast, silent expanse of space. The team moved through final equipment checks with practiced efficiency, ensuring that every weapon was secure, every system functional, and every Spartan was ready for the mission ahead. Orion-417, as the team leader, made one last sweep with his tactical scanner, confirming that their approach vector remained undetected. Satisfied, he signalled the team to advance.
Their movements were fluid and controlled in the low gravity as they began bounding across the asteroid's rugged surface. Each Spartan adjusted their steps to account for the reduced weight, propelling themselves in long, silent strides. The memetic skin of their armour continued to work seamlessly, rendering them nearly invisible against the rocky landscape and the star-filled void above. Despite the limited gravity, they kept their movements deliberate, avoiding any unnecessary movement or disturbance that could alert the outpost's defenders.
As they drew closer to the base, the looming structure began to dominate the horizon, its jagged edges and fortified walls starkly contrasting against the barren asteroid. The closer they got, the more they could see the intricate details of the pirate defences— manned turrets, sensor arrays, and the shadowed entry points where they would begin infiltration. Each Spartan was focused on the mission, their minds synchronized with the objectives ahead. Phantom Squadron excelled in these missions—moving undetected through hostile territory, ready to strike with the precision and lethality that had earned them their fearsome reputation, even amongst other Spartans.
After a brief recon sweep of the asteroid's exterior, Phantom Squadron identified their entry point: a maintenance airlock used by a team of Unggoy workers. The squat, dim-witted creatures shuffled in and out of the airlock, barking and grunting in their native tongue as they moved about their tasks. Their clumsy movements and lack of discipline made them the perfect cover for the Spartans' infiltration. Phantom Squadron slipped silently into formation behind a group of the workers, timing their approach with the Unggoy's movements to avoid drawing attention.
The team remained undetected as the airlock cycled, the interior lights flickering as the pressure equalized. Once inside, the Unggoy continued their noisy banter, oblivious to the lethal presence following in their wake. Phantom Squadron let the creatures lead them a short distance through the narrow corridors of the outpost, using the opportunity to map out their immediate surroundings and observe the base's interior layout. The Unggoy's guttural barks echoed off the cold metal walls, filling the air with an unintelligible mix of orders and complaints.
Orion-417 double-checked his helmet's recording suite, capturing the conversation as a matter of protocol, though he doubted it would yield useful intelligence. The Unggoy seemed to rarely know anything valuable; their speech likely focused on menial tasks and grievances. Still, the UNSC would review any scrap of information that Phantom Squadron gathered, hoping for clues that might give them an edge in more significant understanding of the greater Covenant. Even so, Orion's focus was already shifting back to the mission.
Once deep enough inside, Orion gave the silent signal, and the team broke off from the Unggoy without a sound, slipping into the shadows of a nearby maintenance corridor. The airlock entry had gone smoothly, but now the real challenge began.
Phantom Squadron advanced deeper into the labyrinthine halls of the pirate outpost, moving as one, their footsteps silent and their presence concealed by the adaptive Ghost skin armour. Every corridor and corner held potential danger, and the tension in the air was palpable. The team communicated wordlessly, with subtle hand signals, each Spartan watching the others' blind spots. Years of operating as a unit had them moving without speaking, signalling without gestures, so great was their synchronicity. The stakes of the mission hung over them—one misstep could alert the outpost to their presence, jeopardizing the entire operation. They remained vigilant, constantly scanning for threats until they spotted their next target.
Ahead, under the dim glow of an overhead light, a lone Kig-Yar was hunched over a terminal, its scaly fingers tapping away as it mumbled in its raspy tongue. Orion paused, and the other team members took up covering positions. The soft purple glow of the terminal reflected around the dimly lit room. In a heartbeat, Orion made the decision. With a swift hand gesture, he ordered the Vesper-432 forward, their ghostly forms only visible to each other with their advanced heads-up display. Vesper, ever the silent predator, moved forward without hesitation. She crept up behind the alien, her movements fluid and ghost-like in the shadows. In a moment, she had gripped the alien's head in a vice grip, a violent snap to the side and the creature's life was extinguished.
The Kig-Yar slumped lifelessly over the terminal, its body making only a soft thud as it hit the metal floor. Vesper carefully dragged the corpse aside while the rest of Phantom Squadron quickly set to work on the terminal. Orion and Astra-425 knelt, their armoured gauntlets tapping into the console as they connected the two foreign systems. With the A.I. support of Eos, their ship's highly advanced artificial intelligence, and their technical expertise, it took several long minutes to crack the encryption protecting the terminal's data. Using the translation matrix they had constructed over weeks of observation and cross-referencing with their prisoner's information granted them access. Orion's visor lit up with code and data streams as they bypassed the security measures. While the terminal wasn't a primary control hub, it yielded tangible intel—a partial map of the outpost, schematics of nearby corridors, and access to surveillance feeds on this level.
As the surveillance cameras came online, the team suddenly had a bird's-eye view of patrol routes and security stations. Orion studied the feed carefully, his tactical mind running through scenarios. It wasn't the motherlode they were hoping for, but it was enough to give them a significant edge as they moved forward. "Partial map and low-level security feeds. Could be worse," Orion muttered, though his focus remained sharp. They had no time to waste. The cameras showed no immediate threats but needed to stay ahead of any potential alarms. He downloaded the encrypted files, knowing Eos could decrypt them later back on the *Black Talon*. "We've got what we need here," he said quietly over the squad channel, "time to move."
With the intel secured, Phantom Squadron turned their attention to the body of the Kig-Yar. They couldn't afford to leave any trace of their infiltration, but there wasn't much time. Astra and Vesper moved quickly, dragging the body to a nearby maintenance hatch and wedging it inside, covering it with loose debris. It was a temporary solution at best, but it would buy them time before any patrols discovered the body. The Spartans exchanged nods, their silent affirmation that the area was clear. Orion gave the signal to continue, and the team slipped deeper into the outpost, invisible and undetected, like shadows on the wind.
Navigating the twisting corridors, Phantom Squadron moved with renewed purpose. The map they had extracted needed to be completed, but it provided enough detail to guide them toward their next objective: a control station located on the facility's lower levels. This station oversaw the defensive systems for a key landing bay, and taking control of it would give the UNSC a significant advantage when the larger strike force arrived. The defences surrounding the landing bay were formidable. Still, if Phantom could disable them before the main attack, the other Spartan teams could deploy without facing a wall of anti-aircraft fire.
As they descended through the facility, the air grew heavier, the scent of machinery and industrial processes filling their helmets. Every step brought them closer to their target and deeper into enemy territory. The patrol density was increasing the further the phantom squad progressed. Primarily, Kig-yar led teams of Uggnoy around; they were easy to slip around. The surveillance feeds they had accessed gave them just enough information to avoid detection, slipping between patrols like phantoms. Orion's mind raced through the tactical options. He knew they would soon need to neutralize more enemies, but timing was everything.
The lower levels of the facility were quieter but more secure. The sounds of machinery and clanking tools faded into a low, steady hum as Phantom Squadron neared the control station. Orion paused again, signalling for the team to halt. They could see their next target through a narrow corridor: the entrance to the control station, guarded by a handful of pirates. These weren't the grunts they had bypassed before—these looked more experienced, well-armed, and alert. They'd have to take them out swiftly and silently to reach the station without raising alarms. Phantom Squadron crouched in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Orion raised his suppressed rifle, its matte black finish blending into the shadows around him. The other Spartans followed suit, each lining up a target with cold precision. Four Kig-Yar guards stood watch, their sharp, reptilian eyes scanning the corridor, unaware that their death was mere seconds away. Orion counted down in silence—three, two, one. A soft chorus of suppressed gunfire echoed through the corridor as each Spartan fired in unison. The Kig-Yar barely had time to register the threat before their bodies crumpled to the ground, the telltale thud absorbed by the low hum of the outpost's machinery.
Phantom Squadron moved swiftly, emerging from the shadows like wraiths. They wasted no time in dragging the lifeless guards into the dark corners of the hallway, ensuring the bodies would remain unseen until it was too late for the pirates to react. The corridor was clear, and they were one step closer to their objective. Orion knelt at the door to the control room, his helmet's visor flashing as he interfaced with the access panel. The pirates secured the door tight, but Phantom was ready for such obstacles.
Orion fed a small, flexible nano-cable through a narrow gap between the door's seams, its microscopic sensors transmitting data back to Orion's HUD. A detailed map of the room on the other side materialized within moments. It showed multiple Unggoy working at different stations, their stubby fingers tapping away at controls. But the most concerning figure stood in the center of the room—a towering Kig-Yar, at least two meters tall. Unlike the usual mercenaries, this one wore more sophisticated armour, its sleek design lined with ornate carvings, likely signifying rank or status. Its posture was commanding, exuding authority as it barked orders at the Unggoy in its native tongue.
Orion's hand hovered above the nano-cable controls as he studied the Jiralhanae. This one was different; clearly, it was no ordinary pirate. It had reinforced its armour in places where the other mercenaries would have left themselves vulnerable. He could see tactical attachments along its arms, weapons custom-built into its suit. A commander, maybe even a leader among the pirates, stood intently watching the activity in the room. This Brute would be no simple kill. He motioned silently to the rest of the squad, signalling the unexpected complication.
The Spartans took a moment to reassess their approach. Vesper-432 tightened her grip on her SMG, drawing her knife in her off-hand, and prepared for a silent takedown if it came to that. Kael-429 quickly recalibrated his M392 DMR settings for maximum armour penetration and switched his scope for a shorter range. Astra-425 and Echo-441, armed with their MA40 Longshot and portable M461 auto grenade launcher, crouched in the hallway shadows, watching the team's back.
The Unggoy in the room were of little concern—they'd go down without much of a fight—but this Jiralhanae leader could pose a real threat if alerted. Every move had to be perfect. Orion tapped into his neural link with Eos, relaying the room's layout and calculating their best course of action. The A.I. processed the data in a fraction of a second, highlighting weak points in the door's locking mechanism and potential weak spots in the alien's armour.
Orion signalled for the breach, his hand poised over the manual override for the door. They had the element of surprise, but this leader was no fool. The door slid open with a quiet hiss, barely noticeable over the ambient noise of the control room. Phantom Squadron moved in silently, their Ghost skin armour rendering them invisible to the naked eye. But something was off. The large alien in the center of the room, though unable to see them, seemed to sense their presence. Its sharp, predatory eyes scanned the space, its body tensing with an almost animalistic awareness. For a brief moment, the room remained still, the Unggoy working at their stations, oblivious to the impending danger.
Then Kael-429 fired.
The shot was precise, aimed directly at a weak point in the alien leader's armour, a vulnerability exposed just beneath the arm. But in a split second, the Jiralhanae shifted unnaturally fast, its reflexes honed by years of battle. Its thick shoulder plating absorbs the bullet's impact with a flash of light. The Brute let out a snarling roar, its sharp teeth bared as it drew a sleek sidearm in one fluid motion. The alien's instincts had saved it, but it couldn't pinpoint Phantom Squadron's exact location. It opened fire wildly, the searing bolts of plasma lighting up the room in quick, blinding bursts.
The Spartans stayed in motion, their cloaked forms making them ghostly blurs in the kaleidoscopic light. Hot plasma splashed across the walls, burning deep scorch marks into the metal. The alien's shots were wild, missing their marks more often than not, but the sheer volume of fire was enough to make it dangerous. The Unggoy, who moments before were unconcerned with anything but their mundane tasks, shrieked in terror and scattered. Panic erupted as the diminutive creatures scrambled from their stations, ducking under consoles or fleeing for the exits, entirely overwhelmed by the chaos around them.
Amid the commotion, Phantom Squadron acted with lethal precision. Kael adjusted his aim, firing a second shot just as Orion and Vesper flanked the Brute from opposite sides. Orion trained his battle rifle on the panicked Unggoy, executing each with a three-round burst; they wouldn't raise the alarm or interfere. The leader, now fully aware of the danger, managed to block another shot with its armoured gauntlet but quickly lost ground as the Spartans closed in. Vesper fired her SMG. The light rounds bounced off its armour or lodged shallowly in its thick hide; she then lunged forward, her blade aimed for the gap in the Brute armour. The alien hissed and swung wildly with its powerful arm, but it was too slow.
Vesper's knife found its mark, sliding between armour plates and sinking deep into its side. The alien let out a deep snarl and backhanded Vesper away from itself. Kael fired again, this time at nearly point-blank range, the bullet tearing through the weakened armour. Dropping its weapon as it staggered backward, blood seeping from the wound. The Brute fell to its knee, struggling to stand. Orion trained his rifle on the Brute's head and fired multiple three-round bursts to put the beast down. Its strangled gurgle echoed as it hit the ground with a heavy thud.
The plasma fire filled the room with the acrid stench of burning metal and scorched electronics. The firefight had lasted mere moments, but in its wake, plasma burns and bullet holes marred the walls, the once-ordered control room now a scene of chaos. Phantom Squadron moved quickly, disabling any remaining surveillance systems and securing the area. Orion scanned the room, his rifle still raised, but no further threats presented themselves. The deafening silence that followed the battle was almost eerie in its suddenness.
"Clear," Kael muttered, his voice low over the comms. Orion nodded, signalling for the team to regroup. They had control of the room, and now the real work began.
Phantom Squad wasted no time swiftly moving to the command console, dragging the bodies of the fallen Unggoy off the controls. The room was a mess of charred metal, still smouldering plasma burns and bloodstains, but the mission had to proceed. Astra quickly pulled up the command terminal, her gloved fingers dancing over the interface as she initiated the hack. Eos, the Black Talon's A.I., was already integrated into their systems, working in sync with Astra to bypass the security protocols.
The squad maintained vigilance, their eyes constantly scanning the room and the monitors. The firefight had been quick, but uncertainty was still in the air—had they been compromised? No alarms had been triggered, and no reinforcements had rushed in, but they knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed the silence in this base section. Vesper and Echo stood by the door, weapons raised, watching the entrance as the rest of the team worked.
Astra's HUD lit up when system access was granted. "We're in," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the comms. Orion moved closer to the console, nodding as they accessed the critical controls for the lower bay's defensive systems. The primary goal was simple: reprogram the friend-or-foe identification systems so the automated anti-aircraft and ground defences wouldn't fire on the incoming UNSC forces. The controls were complex, but with the A.I.'s assistance, it took only a few minutes before the defence grid shifted. Slowly, methodically, Phantom was retooling the entire bay's response system.
As they worked, the ground beneath their feet trembled violently. The lights flickered briefly, and a distant rumble echoed through the outpost's walls. The explosions were unmistakable—the rest of the Spartan strike force had begun their assault. The pressure shifts from decompression could be felt, even this deep within the asteroid. Phantom's timing had been perfect, ensuring that the base's defences were under their control just as the main assault hit. The enemy wouldn't know what was coming until it was too late.
"Confirmation from *Black Talon," Eos reported through their comms. "UNSC forces are inbound. The initial strike is underway."
Orion glanced at the squad. The brief tremor of the base only confirmed what they already knew: the window for stealth was closing, but their job was far from over. The Spartans could deploy unimpeded via Pelican and drop pods with neutralized lower bay defences. Now, Phantom needed to finish sabotaging the base's critical infrastructure, buying time for the main forces to land and sweep the outpost.