Chapter 9 - Improbos liberetis
September 16th, 2544 (09:20 Hours – Military Calendar)
Ulterin System, Miridem
Matin Province, Continent of Vitre
Provincial Capital of New Memphis, De Gaulle Starport
:********:
The Master Chief scanned the front doors to Terminal C with his MA5B. So far all he could see were the waves of Covenant dead carpeting the road beyond. He checked his motion sensor and saw only the yellow dots of the friendly forces gathered behind him. The way was clear, at least for another 25 meters. There was no guarantee past that point what would be waiting for them. There was still fighting going on across the Apron since not all of the UNSC forces had retreated into the De Gaulle. The gunfire was a good sign. It meant that the Western Defense still had a pulse.
Inside the De Gaulle was an even better story. Thanks to the other teams, UNSC forces were rallying across the Starport. Green-1 reported that his team was working with Helljumpers to push back the enemy from Terminals E and F while Red-1 was ready to launch a breakout from Terminal D.
It was best to launch Blue Team's breakout in conjunction with the others. That way the remaining Covenant would face a fight on both sides of the Starport: a two-sided pincer maneuver.
One of his Spartans crouched down at the door next to him to look outside. He saw the familiar number '104' on his breast plate, not that he needed it to know who it was. His willingness to step up beside him with his DMR reflected his natural tendency to lead, to take point and jump into the fray with a clear head, making him perfect as his second in command, and the de facto leader of Blue Team in his stead.
"We ready for the push yet, Chief?" Fred asked, sounding confident and a little eager behind the visor of his Commando helmet.
"We're just waiting on Green Team to move into position. Then we'll make our move."
Another of his Spartans stood against the opposite side of the room and started slotting fresh shells into her shotgun. Kelly still had a splash of Hunter blood on the visor of her EVA helmet. "Knowing Will, he's probably taking his time hunting down Grunts. Leave no gas tank unturned, that's what I say." She pumped a round into the chamber. "If they didn't like playing dead so much then there wouldn't be a problem."
The Master Chief switched to a private commlink. "How's the weather up there, Blue-4?"
"Sunny with a chance of plasma bombardment." Replied a cool, tranced voice. The Chief could tell right away that Blue-4 had gone through the mental freezer that locked her into a steely-eyed focus through her rifle scope. He'd sent her back on top of the De Gaulle after learning more about the situation outside with Captain Ortega.
"How many are we looking at?" He asked.
"By my count, 150 Grunts, 80 shield Jackals, 55 Elites and 6 Hunters. I'm guessing they're just the back-up. They're holding near the pool in front of the atrium."
"Snipers?"
"About 4 between 2 and 3 kilometers away."
"Prioritize. I'm giving Green-1 another minute then we're moving in."
"Copy."
There was the crack of sniper fire, then another followed by a protracted silence.
"I only heard two." Chief said.
"You know how I am with ricochets, Chief." Linda replied. "Enemy overwatch is out of commission. On your go, Blue-1."
"Roger." The Chief looked back at the others. The ODSTs and Marines were finishing up collecting extra ammo from the dead on the lower level.
The Chief knew that had his team arrived even a minute later then there might not have been anyone left alive at all. That didn't spare him from the sight of the dead Marines whose bodies were burned almost beyond recognition. Their comrades refused to look at their faces as they scrounged magazines off their scorched BDU's.
The Chief also knew that had they arrived sooner, more of them would still be alive. Worse yet, and as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't as focused on the current mission as he otherwise should be.
In the weeks since the Spartans' arrival on Miridem they had been constantly on the move from one engagement between the UNSC and Covenant to another.
Their efforts culminated in the most recent civilian HVI extraction operation in the Eastern Hemisphere, a mission to rescue someone from Miridem whose importance to the Spartans couldn't be understated. She was the very reason that the Master Chief and his team were Spartans to begin with. And now she was in enemy hands.
Only a week ago when UNSC forces officially began their evacuation to the Western Hemisphere, the Spartans were riding rough shot from one evac site to the next to assist in the mass migration of civilians and military personnel. Their efforts mainly revolved around the elevated cities in the highly populated Crêt de la Neige Mountain Ranges lining the interior of Vitre's continental neighbor, Erbée. They had been holding off Covenant at the last evac point of New Bordeaux when the call came in that a high priority individual needed immediate extraction, one by the name of Dr. Catherine Halsey.
The strain of that moment was, and would likely always be, unbearable. He kept it to himself, however, so the others wouldn't worry about him, although he knew there was a good chance that they felt it too. But they couldn't simply abandon the mission, to risk losing tens of thousands to save one. Yet it was the Doctor, and it was that kind of reasoning that made him hesitate. He made the judgement call to send out just one Spartan, Green-4, to assist. Sheila-065 was an apt fighter and an even more efficient butcher when it came to close quarters combat. So the news stabbed him like a knife to the stomach when he found out later that she'd been killed by an Elite Major with an energy sword while trying to evacuate Dr. Halsey.
He'd made the call. Whether it was the right or wrong one he couldn't tell, but in the end, it had allowed him to save thousands of lives at the cost of the two he'd known personally. Since then he'd contended with a pang of regret that wouldn't leave him alone. The best he could do was push it aside for the sake of the next mission. So he did and left it in a compartmentalized part of his mind that he'd reserved for such moments, like what had happened to his friend Sam back at Chi Ceti IV. There would either be time to address it later, or there wouldn't. Right now, as had been the case for the last 19 years, it would have to be the latter.
"Green-1 to Blue-1, Terminal's E and F are secured. We're ready."
The voice on his comms stirred him from his thoughts. "Copy. On my go, Spartans." The Chief nodded to the others in the concourse and held up a gauntleted hand. He counted down on his fingers from three. At one, he balled it into a tight fist. "Go!"
In half a second, he'd cleared the doors and come out onto the curving road. Fred was right behind him while Kelly was already sprinting ahead.
The nearest Covenant were a squad of four Elites and twice as many Grunts. The Spartans trained their fire on the former. By the time the Grunts realized what was happening, three of the Elites were already lying dead on the ground. Kelly cannon-balled into the fourth, using the full weight of her MJOLNR armor to break its shields on impact. She pumped a shotgun shell into its stunned face, painting the ground beneath with blue blood.
As she reloaded, The Chief and Fred sprinted past, firing into the throngs of Grunts who only now were starting to run away in panic.
"Demons!" One shouted in discernably frantic English before it was cut down in a hail of assault rifle fire. The rest of the Grunts shared a similar fate.
The Chief used the stock of his rifle to cave in the last one's skull then turned his attention to the way ahead. More Covenant were stationed along the curving road with the bulk of their forces coalesced near the large pool in front of the atrium. Gunfire started up at the South Wing. He upped his visor magnification and spotted Red Team. Five of his Spartans were engaged with a Hunter pair at the entrance to Terminal D. Further along, Green-1 through 6 punched through a marching band of shield Jackals with grenades. Multiple Marines and ODSTs were pushing up just behind them.
The Chief glanced back and saw the Marines on his end were only just beginning to stream outside. The ODSTs were already behind him, however. They really were keeping up. It was a good sign.
Blots of green and blue plasma flashed past. The Chief ducked, rolled towards cover and returned fire, dropping two Jackals that had leaped out from behind a nearby truck. More were still on their way up. A platoon's worth of Jackals was on the move and held up their shields to form an indominable phalanx. More Grunts and Elites fired from behind their energy barriers.
"Frags?" Fred asked.
"No." The Chief said. He could tell by their numbers that grenades wouldn't be of any use. He spotted two heavy duty trucks on either side of the road. He pointed to them then to Fred and himself. Fred nodded in understanding and they both ran over to them. They grabbed a hold of the vehicles and powerlifted them onto their sides. They gripped their undercarriages and slid the trucks together to form a shield wall of their own.
The Chief waved over to Kelly and the others. "Move up, we'll advance using the trucks to disrupt their formation."
Everyone stood back, stunned at first, except for Kelly who got into a firing position between Fred's truck and the guard rail. They quickly followed her example and ran over, using the small amounts of space between the two trucks as fields of fire while the vehicles' sizes acted as cover, making them both the perfect offensive and defensive tools. The Chief and Fred pushed forward despite the counter-push of plasma fire that poured against the trucks and seared their frames.
The ODSTs and Marines returned the favor two-fold. The ODSTs focused on the Elites whose energy shields crackled under the coordinated bursts. Two fell at a time at the hands of the shock troopers while Marines crouch-walked beneath them, firing into the exposed legs of the shield-wielding Jackals. After forty seconds and twenty meters of advance, they'd whittled down the shield wall into pockets that grew more isolated with each Jackal shot. And with each meter taken the enemy formation was forced further back, unwilling to clash their energy shields against the 16-ton barriers that the Spartans wielded like paper weights. What probably added to their growing sense of unease was the increasing number of their dead kin being dragged along because of it.
An Elite Major ran up to take charge of the situation when it was met with a sniper round, courtesy of Blue Team's resident deadeye, that zipped through its helmet and into the tarmac at its feet before it could say a word. The sight of their dead leader caused the remaining Jackals to panic and break ranks. They fled alongside the Grunts as the ODSTs and Marines shot them many of them in the back.
No sooner were they retreating than a Hunter pair came lumbering up the road. The surviving Jackals split around them like a river around rocks, and those that failed to do so were left as crushed corpses in their wake.
The Chief held up a hand to halt the advance. The counterattack stopped in its tracks, watching the Hunters pound towards them. Both fired their assault cannons which baptized the vehicular cover in emerald flames. Still, the Chief waited until the Hunters were less than 5 meters away. They roared in anticipation as he clenched his hand into a fist.
Both he and Fred pulled the two trucks aside simultaneously, creating an opening between the Hunters and Kelly's bounding form. Ever the fastest, she shot past, leaped into the air and arced over the lead Hunter to fire a shotgun blast into its back. The Hunter grunted as it stumbled forward between the two trucks.
"Now!"
The Chief and Fred pulled both vehicles with all their strength to slam the behemoth between them, pinning it in the middle of their burning bumpers. It groaned under the stress while fires began spreading over its body.
"Back off!"
Both Spartans rolled away a moment before the trucks' fuel tanks ignited. The resulting-explosions launched burning shrapnel high into the air along with the severed upper-half of the Hunter. It landed a few meters from Kelly who was already busy dancing with its partner.
She leaped out of the way of a swing from its assault cannon and swiveled into a kneeling position to shoot it in the side. It growled, swinging again and missing as she rolled to her left then hit its midsection with two more blasts. The Hunter back-pedaled then immediately reversed course for a charge, raising its shield high then bringing it down on the Spartan like a guillotine.
Kelly didn't dodge, instead dropping her shotgun to catch its shield with both hands. Catching the blow forced her into a squat as she strained every muscle in her body to hold it up. The Hunter strained as well, pushing it further down on top of her. Kelly grunted, swept one of her legs down the slanting road behind her to position herself, then suddenly pivoted. The armored behemoth groaned in confusion as she used its greater weight and the gradual slant of the road against it, twisting around to pull it off of its center of gravity. It crashed onto its back, cracking the tarmac. Its spines bristled in anger as it tried getting back up, but she quickly reversed her grip on its shield to hold the creature in place. It continued to struggle. When it saw it that it couldn't get free the behemoth aimed its assault cannon at her.
The Master Chief slid in right before it could discharge and held down the deadly limb, forcing it to loose a torpedo into the air instead.
Several ODSTs and Marines gathered around to pour a barrage of assault rifle fire into the alien's wormy stomach. It struggled harder, roaring in defiance, then fell silent as its struggles died away beneath the hail of gunfire.
With the Hunters down, everyone's attention shifted to the road further ahead and the Chief as he jogged onward. The others quickly fell in behind the Spartans as they cut down a small blockade of Grunts at the halfway mark that made a pitiful attempt at holding them back.
Green and Red Teams were both making their way down the adjacent roadway with several platoons of Marines and a few Shock Trooper squads. Four well placed SPANKR rockets kicked away the barrier of Elites in their way, leaving them with an open route to the Apron.
Before them stood the last large gathering of Covenant forces: nearly 100 Grunts, 40 Jackals, 20 Elites and the last Hunter Pair left on the West side of the De Gaulle. They huddled in several pockets of dead Wraiths and Scorpions that, in reality, granted them little cover.
"Red-1 to Blue-1, we see you."
The Chief looked over and spotted one of his Spartans waving from the other road. Blue blood covered the '9' on his chest as well as the visor of his Operator Helmet, the sign of a hard day's work. Joshua-029, the leader of Red Team, was busy finishing off an Elite but was able to hail his commanding officer regardless. Green-1, William-043, rushed past him with another Spartan, James-005, both hefting rocket launchers. They jumped atop a delivery truck, crouched and fired another quartet of rockets that screamed over to the last Hunters who brought their shields to bare. But the rockets were purposefully aimed at their feet and slammed into the tarmac beneath them. The two giants disappeared for a moment in the successive explosions then reappeared as they fell forward with boiled innards.
"That's the last Hunters." Will said, sounding cheery. "Green-1 to Blue-1, its spring-time and we're looking at easy pickings."
"Copy." The Chief said. "Is Red-3 in place?"
On his HUD, Malcolm-059's acknowledgement light winked green. "Sniper overwatch is in place over Terminal C." Malcolm said with a relaxedness that was almost akin to Linda's. "I've got 16 rounds up here Blue-1, just tell me where you want me to put'em."
"Work with Blue-4 to target their officers. I want their leadership neutralized before we move in. We'll take advantage of the chaos."
"Understood."
"Just don't miss this time." Linda said. "We're looking at ten Officers here and I've still got the higher headcount since New Bordeaux."
"I told you that's only 'cause I ran out of ammo." Malcom said, sounding like he was mustering up his courage. "I'm taking you down this time Linda-deary. Ten Officers is probably enough to-"
A shot rang out.
"You talk too much." Linda said. "That's nine officers now."
"Oh no you don't." Malcolm growled and fired as well. The Master Chief watched the two snipers pick off the orange armored Elites across the area. He could tell who had shot which. One second between one shot and its follow-up was usually Malcolm. Linda was a different story, however. Two Elites standing a dozen meters apart would fall simultaneously as they were struck through the head by her precision. It was so fast that he couldn't exactly tell which she'd targeted first, but he saw the pattern repeated enough times to know it was her doing.
Less than seven seconds had passed by the time the last officer hit the ground with a third eye drilled through its forehead.
"That's seven by my count." Linda said with a hint of pride in her voice that turned to faint mockery. "How about you, Red-3?"
"…Red-3 to Blue-1, you're clear to move in, over."
"You're a sore loser when you're ready, Red-3. Nice try blowing it off though."
"I didn't lose, I just let you win."
"Keep telling yourself that, maybe it'll be true one day."
The Chief turned to the rest of Blue Team and the remaining UNSC forces at his back. He was surprised to see that more Marines and Helljumpers were coming from Terminal A and B to join them, likely having fought their way through their own firefights within the Starport. Extra back-up was always appreciated.
He nodded to Kelly and Fred who nodded back in turn, then sprinted out into the open.
"Go!"
The Spartans of Blue, Red and Green Teams dashed out to tango with the last of the Covenant forces. Some 200 surviving Marines, half as many displaced armored personnel with rifles and 50 Helljumpers itching for a fight joined them in battering a decapitated force less than half their number.
Will and James fired a third quartet of rockets ahead of them to add to the mixture of tracers, needles and plasma that created a cascade of flying death. A dozen Grunts were caught in the blasts. Their high-pitched squeals rang out as UNSC forces swept back across the battlefield, rolling Elites and Jackals under a tidal wave of gunfire. Some fired back, managing to catch a few Marines in the gut with bursts of plasma and the occasional detonation of Needlers. The Spartans moved from cover to cover, shifting in tandem to gun down the holdouts across the area. All the while, Linda and Malcolm kept targeting troublemakers armed with Fuel Rod Cannons to mitigate casualties.
The Chief ran, shooting through three Jackals then tossing a frag into the midst of another trio along the way. There was an explosion and death screeches thereafter. Fred and Kelly were right behind him, covering him at speeds of 80 kilometers per hour as they circumvented the pocket of enemy forces. In another 20 meters they would reach their rear position and make sure that none escaped. The way he understood it, in a war of extermination, the only real way to win was to make sure you wiped out the other side completely, and they were about to do just that.
They were 5 meters away when he spotted four red blips on his HUD. They were close, too close. He snapped his rifle to his left as an Elite leaped at him from the shadow of an upturned Wraith. It proved faster and arced its energy dagger through his rifle, slicing it clean in half.
The Chief quickly coiled his own arm around its sword arm with the speed of a cobra, grabbed its wrist and swept out its left leg with his own. He twisted, using the Elite's own momentum to slam it into the tarmac headfirst, bursting its shields on impact. He swiftly whipped out his M6 and put two rounds clean through the back of its head. As his first assailant fell away, three more Elites rushed out to face them.
"Fred!"
"On it!"
Fred tossed out a flashbang. There was a flash of light and a crack of thunder. The Spartans picked their targets and fired.
:********:
The De Gaulle was secured.
With the help of the Spartans, the last Covenant forces were routed across the Starport, making New Memphis the last city left on Miridem under human control, a city which the UNSC were currently in the process of abandoning.
What followed over the course of the next seven hours was the largest gathering of human beings Duncan had ever witnessed. Around 30% of the planet's remaining citizenry were brought in either by foot, ground transportation or starship.
The surviving UNSC forces didn't even have the time to clear out the bodies of the last battle as the first civilian ship arrived from the East. Then one was coming in every five minutes from any given direction.
There were Star Charter and Odyssey Class colony ships as well as Parabola and Mariner Class Freighters now occupying the refueling stations. By 1600 Hours, over 140 transport ships of various girths and lengths occupied the Apron in addition to those 20 already at the De Gaulle.
The local populations of New Memphis were also drained from shelters and Marine FOBs across the city. They were being bussed to the Starport in preparation to send them on a one-way trip to anywhere but here.
While the Spartans and Marines held the outer perimeter of the De Gaulle, 1st Platoon was redeployed to supervise civilians inside Terminal D.
As Duncan walked with Zack along the lanes that divided up the crowds within the waiting areas, he couldn't help noticing one thing: the smell. The throngs of men, women and children sitting around him likely hadn't showered in the last several days.
The reason why there were only 30% of the remaining population here now, compared to the 70% earlier in the morning, was because while UNSC forces in New Memphis were occupied with the De Gaulle, in space more than half the number of survivors were being hunted down.
The call to retreat to Vitre came the moment the Covenant began to break into the exosphere over the neighboring landmasses of the West as well as the Northern Pole where those fleeing from the East had been seeking refuge for some time. But the civilian ships far outnumbered any frigate escorts that Vice Admiral Tursk' fleet could provide. What ensued was a massacre, one that pilots who had fought at the Battle of Midway, if they were still alive today, would have called a 'Turkey Shoot'.
A large majority of Starships that couldn't be shepherded by the Navy chose to defy Tursk' orders not to flee the planet without protection. They'd made a desperate break for it and discovered the hard way why no had been allowed to leave. Elements of the second Covenant Fleet flanked those ships and hunted them down between the thermosphere and exosphere like wolves among sheep. It wasn't pretty. Reports buzzing around SATCOM estimated that 1 ship managed to escape from Miridem's gravity well for every 5 destroyed.
Right now, Duncan was looking into the tired eyes of those 30% whose ship captains had made the hard choice to head for New Memphis. It was hard because there was still a chance they could die here. It was just less of a guarantee than flying straight up into the range of fire of some Covenant battlecruiser lurking in the upper atmosphere.
He didn't want to think about what the destruction actually entailed in terms of sheer numbers, but it had to be in the millions, and millions more if they didn't get the evacuation underway. And even that would have to be sooner than expected.
Due to the Navy's worsening plight, Tursk' fleet had been reduced to several battlegroups holding a loose perimetral orbit of 3,000 square kilometers over the city. Everything else beyond that was in Covenant hands now, and there was no telling when the final push would come. For that reason, Tursk ordered the evacuation to begin in three hours, prompting ships to refuel and temporarily offload a few thousand of their nearly 2 million passengers while they conducted necessary maintenance. Adding the population of New Memphis itself and they were easily looking at a mass exodus of around 3 million people.
"Think the ships are enough for all that?" Zack asked on a private channel on the heels of their conversation about the numbers.
"I'd hope so." Duncan said. "They brought them this far didn't they?"
"Yeah, but that was before they added everybody in New Memphis. The evac before this one got a good 2 million to safety during the first 2 days. We've only got 2 hours."
"We'll have to make it work. We don't have a choice."
"We could sure use some of that Irish luck right about now."
Duncan ignored him as he turned his attention further up the lane that they were patrolling. There were a number of hospital cots that had been rolled out with patients lying down on them. Both UNSC medics and civilian medical staff were treating those who'd suffered from various illnesses caused from being packed like sardines with other human beings for the last week. He saw a few kids on ventilators and couldn't help thinking of Noah. He banished the thought before it could go any further and focused on something else, particularly the medical staff as they passed by. His platoon didn't actually have a medic, only Nova who applied her technical know-how about machines to people. He didn't doubt her abilities per say. That said, he'd put some thought into it after what happened to Yuri at the Saint Adelemus. He realized that they needed someone who could expertly put a person back together on the spot. Considering what it was like to go toe to toe with the Covenant on the ground, that last idea wasn't a figure of speech at all.
Speaking of Nova, her and the Staff were watching over the gathering from the rows of windows lining the far wall. Duncan and Zack made their way over, nodding in turn.
"How much longer, Staff?" Zack whined. "I feel like we've been at this all day."
"Because we have." The Staff said. "Tursk said three hours so its three hours."
"Yeah, but he said that…three hours ago. Why don't I see anyone moving?"
"Probably because you're not looking outside." Nova said, looking outside.
The others joined her in peering out the window. Past the sprawling forests of hulking Starships occupying the Apron were a set of four of the elongated jet-like variants moving towards four individual runways.
Duncan watched closely as the Starships moved into place with the guidance of a few Marines. The nearest control tower a kilometer away looked operational. He used his visor magnification to spot the silhouettes of at least a dozen personnel hard at work on their consular stations to get the evacuation underway.
More of the civilians began huddling near the windows to watch the first outbound flights. The farthest starship started up its rear engines first and zoomed down the runway. It reached 500 meters before taking off. It accelerated into the air and disappeared past the clouds. The second Starship sped along after it then launched into the atmosphere. The last two mirrored the first. In less than two minutes all four were well out of sight.
There were cheers and excited laughs throughout Terminal D. Some of the parents pointed out the sky for their kids and promised them they would be going soon. Duncan watched the children's eyes light up with a flicker of hope.
The airways above New Memphis were clear. There was nothing but a straight shot to safety from here.
Then there was a flash of blue light in the distant sky near the outskirts. It faded quickly, only to be seconded by another from a different direction, then two more right after.
Nothing happened for ten long seconds.
Then there came another flash of light, this one orange and red, illuminating the clouds directly above the De Gaulle. Three more flashes came immediately after. Duncan heard it as did everyone else: four supersonic booms.
There was another ten seconds of silence until the first comet appeared. It was large and screamed down towards the surface at high speeds. They watched it crash several blocks away, leveling an entire skyscraper and leaving behind a smoky cloud of debris.
Three more comets burst through the afternoon clouds. Their familiar metal surfaces were white-hot.
Duncan dared look at the nearest children and noticed that the parents hadn't hidden their eyes yet, because they were also looking on in horror. Whatever hope had been in the eyes of their kids was gone now, replaced by the sight of the Starships that had taken off minutes earlier now crashing down towards the surface of Miridem.
:********:
For that second time today, Lieutenant Colonel Garrison found himself standing in the De Gaulle's Command Room, although this time with the other five most consequential people left in the solar system.
Major General Horvath and Colonel Mentieth were both present. Then there was a woman Garrison had met before and knew well enough to recognize her resigned face and Mediterranean features.
Lieutenant Commander Riat Cordova stood amongst the line-up of officers. She was dressed in the ONI sanctioned version of the Helljumper BDU and held her Recon helmet against her hip as she listened to the conversation. She'd been on Miridem for the last week doing God knows what. Garrison still wasn't sure how he felt about her being here either given what her presence implied as a result.
Then there was the man in the room whose features he couldn't read at all thanks to his golden visor. Garrison couldn't help feeling a modicum of unease towards the green-armored demigod that had the official UNSC designation of a Spartan. The Master Chief, the leader of the special forces that acted as their reinforcements earlier, stood at ramrod attention. He garnered more than a few curious glances from everyone else in the room, everyone except the man at the heart of the conversation.
His two-dimensional image was displayed over the holotank. The hair peeking out from beneath his navy cap was graying just like his salt and pepper moustache. His gray-colored eyes had circles around them. Yet Garrison felt that they failed to convey how tired the man probably was as he explained the situation to them from the bridge of his ship, the UNSC Swiftsure.
Vice Admiral Berlin M. Tursk sighed with a depth of strain and exhaustion that spoke volumes. "There's no way around it. We can only keep sending more ships up and hope that some of them make it. That's our best option going forward."
The judgement of the man with the highest authority in Ulterin was enough to shock everyone else into silence for a moment.
Mentieth spoke first. "Sir, what about a coordinated Archer Missile strike? That could at least level the playing field somewhat."
"We tried that." Tursk said. "The moment the first Starships were shot down I had the Churchill, Magellon and even my own ship launch a barrage on all 8 of those AAs. When the smoke cleared, the Guns were still there."
"Longswords?" Garrison asked, stepping up. "You could spare a few of the Squadrons down here to deliver a precision bombardment. Isn't that still on the table?"
Tursk shook his head. An image appeared next to him showing the city of New Memphis from satellite view including the surrounding forestry up to 5 kilometers away. Pinpoints of light highlighted eight dots in the outskirts, a pair in the North, South, East and West more than 5 kilometers from the city limits. The image magnified on one of the pinpoints. Its resolution cleared to show two structures within an open area of forest.
Garrison recognized it by its sleek, purple beak-like barrel and rounded base as the Covenant's Type-38 Anti-Aircraft Cannon. Nicknamed the 'Tyrant', its lengthy barrel was pointed towards the city. The gun was encompassed by a large energy shield being emitted from a nearby pylon.
"Those shields are too strong, even for Archer missiles." Tusk said. "ASGMs wouldn't fare any better. I'd give anything for a few SHIVAs right now but we ran dry on those a few days ago."
Horvath stepped up. "What if I sent in a few of my Marine Companies? I can still spare 700 from my 1st and 5th Battalions alone. We can conduct search and destroy in less than an hour."
Tursk seemed to consider it. The Spartan took a step forward as well "With your permission sir, my Spartans and I can accompany the Marines on the search and destroy mission to boost their chances of success."
Horvath looked at the armored man and nodded in genuine gratitude.
"Its feasible." Tursk said. "Just not doable."
The image beside the Vice Admiral expanded outward and, likely due to Joan's handiwork, highlighted large swaths of the areas surrounding the AA Guns. There were multiple, red pinpoints of light more plentiful than the first.
"As it so happens, the Covenant fleet deployed a sizable ground force around the outskirts of the city via dropship about three hours ago, likely in response to the failure of the advance forces sent to retake the De Gaulle. They're predicted to reach the city in the next hour. Their purpose will be to take New Memphis if we delay them up here."
"Couldn't we counter with air support?" Horvath asked.
Again, Tursk shook his head. "Understand that this force is over 40,000 strong. To put those numbers into perspective, the force you just repelled, the one that cost you 40% of your combined personnel, was only a tenth of that size. It goes without saying here that there are few outcomes in this strategy that don't end with the deaths of everyone involved before they reach their objectives, air support or not."
The room was bathed in silence as the idea crashed and burned.
"Is there really no other way?" Mentieth asked the question more to himself than anyone else.
"No matter which way we slice this, we're going to lose people." Tursk said. "Whether by ground or space, Miridem will fall in the next hour. All we can do now is choose the course that has the best chances of success for as many as possible. Is that understood everyone?"
Garrison hated the idea that they were about to throw civilians into the meat grinder just to see if any survived. He forced himself to agree like everyone else. Then he remembered something, the matter being discussed earlier in the room just before the first ships were shot down. He glanced over to see the Lieutenant Commander step forward.
"As for my mission, sir?"
"It's still approved. We'll need that installation taken offline. Just understand that your team will have to move in quickly. One hour is an extremely small window of opportunity."
"You've decided sir?" The Chief asked.
"I have. You're Spartans won't be sent on this mission. They'll remain here as ground security. And yes, Master Chief, that is my final decision."
Garrison saw the Master Chief's rigid stance slacken by an almost imperceptible degree. "Understood sir." He answered steadfastly, not betraying a hint of the disappointment he probably felt.
Garrison could sense a hardness in the man, one that he saw in few UNSC personnel nowadays. It was the kind that only came from seeing more action than the average GI. Finding anyone who'd survived more than a handful of encounters with the Covenant was a rarity. But the Chief was obviously no normal soldier. His persistence in requesting to be the accompaniment for the Lieutenant Commander in what was possibly a one-way mission spoke for itself.
Tursk turned to the Lieutenant Colonel. "You're certain your ODSTs are up to the challenge?"
The 'isolated facility', as Garrison had heard the Vice Admiral refer to it earlier, was an ONI installation codenamed 'Javelin' which hosted a number of important cyberinfrastructure assets that couldn't be allowed to fall into enemy hands. It was located in a hilly region 15 kilometers East of the city. The initial plan was to send in a team to conduct an Asset Denial operation there.
"They can get the job done sir. However, isn't their route cut off because of the heavy enem presence in the outskirts?"
"Not so." Tursk said and highlighted a path along an area running from New Memphis to the Eastern outskirts where the carpet of Covenant forces thinned out. "It's a longshot but it's still your best option, at least as long as they don't gather up there. Pray it stays that way if you want any chances of returning."
Cordova remained undaunted. "No problem sir, I'll take any prayers I can get if you're willing to spare some."
Tursk nodded and addressed the room. "You all have your duties. Move swiftly and tend to them. Perhaps they'll increase our chances of success here. You're Dismissed."
:********:
Duncan stood on his seat in the Pelican and reached into the overhead netting. He felt what he was looking for and pulled it out. He looked over the device in his hands. The Series 8 Single Operator Lift Apparatus, or Jetpack as some called it, was a tool the size of his rucksack that could be attached to his back and enable him to scale vertical terrain up to 25 meters. He'd recognized it when Epsilon first boarded one of the two Pelicans stationed on the Apron. He'd done a few practice rounds with the equipment during 3-Dimensional Maneuver Training back at Ravenport. Instructor Mahoney declared him competent in its use, although he never did any specialization training to be anything like the 22nd ODST Battalion's Air Assault Units.
Still, he held onto it. After all, it might come in handy in a few minutes.
The Lieutenant Colonel had informed 1st platoon of the newest mission he'd assigned them to less than 10 minutes ago, then they were lifting off aboard two separate Pelicans and headed for the outskirts 5 minutes later, the point of using two dropships being that one squad could still carry on the mission if the other was shot down.
Time seemed to speed up over the last day or so. From the evacuation effort turning suicidal to this new objective, the world around them was moving at a dizzying pace.
He sat down with the Jetpack in his arms to try and focus his attention on it rather than the way everything seemed on the verge of falling apart around him.
Rico who was sitting next to him peeked over. "Don't tell me, you're a Cryptoanalyst and a Bullfrog? You're one overpowered hombre, seriously."
"Nah, not really." Duncan grinned. "I know how to use it though. Who knows if we'll need it or not."
"Why don't you ask Staff? Maybe he'll let you bring it along?"
They both looked over at the Staff Sergeant sitting opposite them. His polarized visor and the way his head leaned back was enough inference to suggest he'd dozed off. Nova and Zack were sitting beside him looking towards the window on the back-hatch. Hector and Deaks were doing the same thing, watching the city of New Memphis grow smaller in the distance.
"Hey Staff?" Duncan called. "Think we can use this?"
He couldn't tell if the man really was napping and not just sitting there. Even after boarding he'd yet to say a word. He didn't respond either way.
"We should ditch." Zack said, sounding unusually grim.
"Hey now, where'd that come from?" Deaks asked, holding the barrel of his sniper rifle like a cane. "You thinking about ditching the mission? I'd hate to remind you whose our boss on this run but…" He jabbed a thumb towards the cockpit where the evening sun was shining through. "That's ONI in there. Like the Staff said back when we were in New Alexandria, they're people that we're better off never meeting…and we've run into her three times already. So don't jinx us, alright?"
At hearing the quote, Zack couldn't help rounding on the man who'd said them. "Staff, come on, this doesn't make any sense. We're literally sending people up there to die. How does that add up?"
"I wouldn't bother him." Nova said. "He's probably-"
To everyone's surprise, the Staff's visor depolarized. He wasn't sleeping but he sure looked like he could use the rest. The way he stared hard at the floor made it apparent that he had struggled with something on his mind, something heavy judging by the way his stare looked ready to drill a hole through the canopy.
"What are you really trying to say, Helljumper?"
Zack swallowed. "I-, I'm saying this whole thing is messed up, sir. We're practically killing the people we just fought to save, that the Cap and everybody else in Eagle died to save." He leaned closer. "We need to do something, anything at all. Just not…this."
"Captain Harper and Eagle died because of an ambush while trying to secure Misriah Armory equipment." The Staff said with a contemplative coolness that hadn't been there before. "We're expected to be willing to do the same on this mission."
"You know what I'm trying to say, sir."
The Staff's jaw clenched tight. "Do I?"
For a moment, Duncan felt that his question wasn't exactly aimed at Zack.
"Well, I'll take your complaints to the Lieutenant Commander. We'll see what she thinks."
The ODSTs watched stunned as the Staff suddenly got up and started on a slow, weighted walk towards the front.
"Staff." Zack called to him in a desperate whisper. "Where're you going? Staff wait, don't-"
The Staff stopped. "Tell me something, all of you. If there was a chance to save those people at the Starport, every one of them, would you take it, no matter what?"
No one moved to answer at first. But Nova flashed her acknowledgement light. Zack mirrored her actions with his own. So did Rico and Hector. Duncan blinked his as well.
Deaks hesitated. "…Sir?"
The Staff peered over his shoulder at them. The way the evening sun shone past the man made his armor glow. He smiled at them reassuringly. Yet there was a kind of hidden sadness behind it that Duncan couldn't quite understand.
The Staff walked on into the cockpit.
Yuri was sitting in the co-pilot seat behind Cordova who was manning the main station. The Staff stopped to peer through the window at the hilly, forested landscape zooming past.
Cordova glanced at him as he walked in. "What is it, Staff Sergeant?"
The Staff kept staring at the view. "My men are asking if there's a way for us to divert from our current mission to assist the evacuation effort. Is there any way we can facilitate something like that?"
The Lieutenant Commander, with her helmet on, looked at him with an 'are you being serious' expression. "…No. There's currently no way for us to assist in that matter considering our current objective. I suggest that you tell you men to focus on this mission and not…that idea."
"And if there was a way, would you still say no?"
Cordova looked him over for a brief second and exhaled in pity. "I recommend you reevaluate where your priorities lie Staff Sergeant, to your mission or to your men. As their leader you are also their example. Please lead by that example."
The Staff sighed and gave a curt nod of his head as he finally turned to her. "Yes mam, will do."
He reached over and flipped a switch on her console, activating the Pelican's autopilot. Cordova rounded on him. "What're you-"
The Staff struck her in the head with the butt of his shotgun, snapping it back. She slumped onto the instrument panel, limp. He pulled her up and took off her helmet. There was an angry red bruise on the side of her forehead but otherwise she was fine. Unconscious but fine.
Yuri held up his hands. "Woah-woah-woah, Staff?"
"Take the controls." The Staff ordered and pulled Cordova out of her seat. He dragged her into the main blood tray where the rest of the squad quickly stood up in surprise.
"Sir!?" Deaks said, "What'd you just…"
The Staff ignored him and hoisted the unconscious Lieutenant Commander into one of the passenger seats then secured her restraints. He breathed out, then turned to face them. "Change of plans. We're taking out those guns."
The atmosphere in the Dropship seemed to lighten at those words alone. That didn't stop the fact that everyone was still confused.
Deaks tensed. "Sir…if we do this…there's no going back."
"We're already too far gone, Corporal." The Staff said and shrugged. "We might as well go the rest of the way. What do you say, Epsilon?"
"I say it's a good thing you hit her and not me." Nova said, cracking her knuckles. "I wanted to slug her since Aratus Sulfi."
"Let's do it." Hector said, folding his arms over his chest.
"Ay-ay." Rico half-saluted. "Para mi Tío."
"Count me in too." Zack added, sounding amped up. "I don't mind roughing up ONI myself if that's what it takes."
Duncan laughed a little at the impossible insanity of the moment. But perhaps they all had to be insane to pull off what everyone else deemed impossible. "I'm in too."
Deaks looked at the others for a moment as if to see if they were serious, then ultimately gave in. "You got us into this Staff. I hope you've got a way out."
"Do we have a way out, Yuri?" The Staff asked.
"Well if we all going to die then best way to die is with me at wheel." Yuri said over comms. "I'll try and fly us in and out, quick and clean."
The Staff added Joels to the conversation. "It's done, Ben."
"About time." Joels laughed. "Me and Echo are all agreed. We'll follow your lead, Staff."
The rest of Epsilon began putting the pieces together on the spot, realizing that the Staff's spontaneous actions weren't so spontaneous. With Echo on their side, they had a much better chance of doing what their higher-ups had refused to send battalions of Marines and even the Spartans to accomplish.
"We're really doing this." Deaks sighed.
The Staff walked back into the cockpit and slid into the co-pilot seat behind Yuri. He found the long-range communication suite and switched it on.
A few seconds of keypad typing later he got the Lieutenant Colonel's bewildered voice over comms. "What is it, Staff Sergeant? Why are you contacting me on your mission?"
"We've got a new mission, sir. We're taking out those guns in the Eastern Sector to open up a safe evacuation route for the rest of the civies."
There was several seconds of silence. "Where's the Lieutenant Commander?"
"Unconscious, sir."
If Garrison hadn't been expecting that reply, he made no show of surprise whatsoever in his own. "Standby…alright, the coordinates to the Eastern AA Guns are uploaded to your Pelicans. I'll try to buy you some time delaying the evacuation if I can. You've got 35 minutes at most."
Yuri received the coordinates and slowly steered them onto their new course. In one of the rearview monitor screens, Echo's Pelican turned about in the air to join them."
"Copy sir." The Staff said. "We'll get the job done."
"And Staff Sergeant?"
"Yes sir?"
"…Make her proud."
There was a pause from the Staff as he looked out the cockpit window at the forested hills passing below. "Will do, sir."
The Lieutenant Colonel signed off the comm, leaving 1st platoon to fly on their own towards their newest objective.
Improbos liberetis – Rogues