Chapter 2 - Sodales Novum
May 7th, 2545 (17:15 Hours – Military Calendar)
Aquilla System, Actium
Commonwealth of Pavia, Continent of Treviso
Clay-Antonia Shipyards
:********:
Colonel Garrison made good use of Dockmaster Building-9 granted to him by the Clay-Antonia's officials. Its square, 30 by 30 conference room gave him enough space to fit the several holotanks he needed to form an ad hoc command center. At least a dozen tech-personnel from Alpha and Delta Companies were present, utilizing portable computers and holotank displays to manage the tactical readouts on the ground along with the corresponding requests from the men and women fighting there.
The Colonel used a raised, three-step dais at the center of the room with a Strategic Planner platform the relative size of an air hockey table. On it was the holographic image of the entire location. Topographical markings indicated the size of the several encompassing hills that rolled down into the flatlands on which the Clay-Antonia was built. The shipyards occupied 20 square kilometers of space; its outer boundaries marked with three perimeter fences. The concrete foundation marked the point where the tropical forests gave way to corporate offices, component specialization factories and dockmaster buildings.
The Clay-Antonia's major facilities included 30 drydocks the size of small canyons that divvied up the yard's interior into five hexagonal sections of 6 docks each. The docks themselves ranged in size given whether they were intended for construction of Carriers, Cruisers, Destroyers, Frigates or Corvettes. The larger the ship, the larger the dock. Specialized cranes lined their frames along with maintenance and armament warehouses and painting facilities. At the center of everything were the six dome-shaped buildings where the ships' individual engine components and slipspace drives were constructed.
Under any other condition, the docks would've been occupied with at least 10 ships undergoing repairs and twice as many being constructed for the war effort. At the same time, the local legion of dockworkers would number in their usual 20,000 strong. Hundreds of construction and maintenance crews worked around the clock on these ships of the line while thousands more pencil pushers handled the paperwork in the corporate buildings.
At the moment, however, the entire installation was operating on a skeleton crew of 3,000 due to evacuation protocols. Only one ship still remained, parked in Drydock CR-5. Once it and the remaining workers aboard were safely shipped off then the 7th would be free to leave for its newest objective, one Garrison considered of even greater importance than defending the Clay-Antonia.
UNSC Command on the planet had been in a continual state of upheaval. On May 5th, less than a day after their arrival, the man in charge of the relief forces, Army Brigadier General Lenz was assassinated. His convoy had been heading to a JSOC base-camp setup in the northwestern Isles of Scilly when it was ambushed by an as of yet unidentified Covenant special forces group. It seemed as though the grim reaper himself was stalking the leaders of the UNSC Command Echelon as each new officer subsequently appointed to lead was assassinated hours later. The leadership was left in shambles after four commanders were mysteriously found impaled, shot dead or blown up from plasma-based ordinance. For the last two days UNSC forces across Actium contended with operating as autonomous sub cells mostly keeping to their original assignments.
That period of autonomy had come to an end yesterday evening when a man Garrison knew was given command of UNSC contingents on the planet.
Colonel Akono Mentieth of the 53rd Armored Division found himself with the reigns of power quite suddenly. In Garrison's opinion he was the best choice for the job. After the Battle of Miridem, the 53rd Armored was regarrisoned on Actium, its ranks of 12,000 strong adding to the planet's corps of defenders. Both Mentieth and his division were running training simulations on the continent of Treviso when the first Covenant fleet arrived on Aquilla's outer fringes. Since then they'd taken up defensive positions on and within the island-continent's capital of New Verona. It likewise put Mentieth in the best position to be given the reigns of the whole operation. While he had struck Garrison as somewhat overly cautious back on Miridem, he knew the man had to have grown ballsier in the last few months if he willingly accepted the overall mantle of command, especially given the grim life expectancy of those that came before.
Earlier in the day he called on all available UNSC elements in Treviso to attend a mass-debriefing in New Verona regarding an upcoming operation. If it meant he didn't have to sit here waiting for the Covenant to make their next move then Garrison was all for it, because the current situation was already untenable.
The battalion had taken some 50+ casualties since their initial landing. It wasn't a bad trade off given how they had exacted forty times as many casualties on the Covenant. The problem was the fact that the latter kept coming, day and night seemingly without end. The Alpha, Delta and Echo Company Commanders were forced to keep their platoons on morning, evening and night rotations in the trenches to keep the ODSTs from becoming too exhausted. Garrison did the same with Bravo to prevent a gradual erosion in morale.
After today's most recent onslaught had been repelled, the troopers were more than ready to ditch the yards. Alpha and Bravo Company had held their ground on the Northern and Southern trenches. Delta lost two of its M71 AA Guns on the West to plasma charges from Seraphs. Echo had fared the worst on the Eastern approach after its first line of trenches were breached by a flank of Elites led by a fervent Major. Thankfully, a quick-thinking Lieutenant had called in a few Longswords to airstrike the enemy forces before they pushed too far in. Some ASGMs and napalm stopped the incursion cold and left a swath of forest afire.
The next wave was expected within an hour. But the battalion would be gone long before then. The Colonel had already contacted the commander of the 24th Air Reconnaissance Group requesting an exfil for the ODSTs in coordination with the last ship being taken off-world. He'd spent the last five minutes informing the Alpha and Delta Company COs of the executive landing pads designated for their platoons. Echo's CO was also taking in the new information quickly enough.
"Understood sir, I'll get my people in place. We'll leave our M71s online to give us some cover."
"Roger that." Garrison said on his personal comms. "And set them to both air and ground-based targeting. It'll buy us some time."
"Copy. When's that last ship getting here for the pick-up, sir?"
"Twenty minutes. Think you can manage?"
"Yessir. I'll leave some explosive surprises for the new house guests. Mars-Actual out."
The Colonel took the momentary reprieve to look out the room's windows as shadows passed by. A squadron of four bulky, D96-TCE Albatrosses swooped in over the building. The craft were modular troop carriers with four engines attached diagonally to a main body big enough to carry 45 to 50 personnel at a time. He watched them split up to head to different landing pads across the shipyards. As a few dozen more descended through the atmosphere he surmised that it would be enough to move the nearly 1,000 ODSTs of the 7th Battalion in a single flight. He whispered a quiet "thanks" to the commander of the 24th Air Recon for arriving earlier than he'd expected.
As the large dropships flew past their shadows blinded him to the approach of a single ODST. He didn't notice her until she'd already stopped on the other side of the dais. When he finally did, she raised a hand to her helmet and saluted. "You asked for me, Colonel?"
Garrison looked her over, eyeing the biofoam injector on her thigh bracer. "You know why I have you here, yes?"
The trooper stood at ease. "I believe it relates to my upcoming deployment?"
"That's your guess?"
"Best one I have, sir."
"Well, it's spot-on." Garrison folded his arms across his chest, sighing at what was going to be an interestingly short rundown. "You're already aware of your impending assignment. However, I wanted to issue you a fair warning personally before you joined your new team. It's your first one, is that right?"
"I'm still green sir." The trooper admitted.
Garrison nodded. "That's about to change, I just hope for the better."
He noticed how the soldier's stance slackened slightly, perhaps from confusion. "Is something wrong, sir?"
"No, but it can go wrong depending on how you manage what I'm about to tell you."
The trooper stayed quiet but listened attentively.
"The platoon that you're about to join is one of my best, both in Bravo and the battalion. But they've been through a lot." He paused to remember the faces of the ODSTs that no longer were. "Two of their three squads were completely wiped out back on Miridem. They also lost their commanding officer. As you can imagine, they're down in strength. I've already assigned another fresh new face to the last squad to buff up their numbers, but due to personnel distribution constraints they won't be back up to a full platoon for who knows how long. You're the last new face I'll be assigning to them for some time. They'll be relying on you to put your best foot forward whenever they're called into the fray, more so than in any other platoon. Do you think you can manage that or do you want me to put you in a different squad?"
The trooper considered it for a moment. "But sir, why not simply reassign them to a new platoon if they're understrength?"
"Because its inconvenient, for me at least." The Colonel said, shrugging. "While the entire battalion is an able fighting force, I often rely on this platoon for more specialized purposes. Reassigning them would make it harder to send them out for more out-of-the-way jobs that I need done."
She considered it. "I…think I understand. But why ask me? Isn't my assignment ultimately your decision?"
"It is." Garrison said. "However, I selected you because I believe your particular skillset makes you the best for the job. That said I do want this to be your decision simply because of potential problems that could arise regarding your…career history."
The ODST seemed to stiffen. Then with a breath she stood a little straighter. "I didn't think my past service would prove to be a problem sir, at least not right away."
Garrison leaned back on the table to examine the three-dimensional holographic portrayals of Albatrosses descending on pads across the shipyards. "During the last day of fighting on Miridem, they were responsible for taking out two Tyrant AA Guns, allowing hundreds of thousands to escape the planet's destruction. They're heroes for it in my book." He looked up at her. "However, in doing so they also assaulted a commanding officer, someone with affiliations similar to yours. That action led to them being imprisoned then disappearing up until a week ago. I was ordered by my superiors to list them as MIA until their recent return from God only knows where doing God knows what. I can only guess since they're no longer being charged with crimes that they worked for the very same people they spited earlier in exchange for their freedom." He paused to gauge the trooper's reaction.
Although he couldn't see her face past her visor her body language spoke volumes. She was definitely a lot stiffer now, perhaps even worried.
He continued. "I don't know what happened to them in that time. I doubt I'll ever want to know either. What I do want to know is if you can manage to work with them given your career history could possibly start some bad blood…if they find out."
"If." She said. Her one-word reply made the Colonel scrutinize her closer.
"Can I count on you to use wisdom regarding what you disclose about yourself, or would you rather an easier assignment?"
She said nothing for several long seconds. Then, with a deep exhale, she relaxed. "I can manage with the first option, sir. I'll stay on a need to know basis."
"And if they need to know?"
"Then I'll tell them and let the chips fall where they may. I knew what I was asking for when I transferred, sir. I can take whatever comes."
Garrison quietly marveled at her. She seemed more like the quiet type but she certainly had a strong enough will not to back down from a challenge. It was admirable, and also necessary.
"So, do I make the team sir?" She asked with a little intimation of a kid joining a football league.
The Colonel smiled at her and nodded. "Get your gear and link-up with them at the Alexander Building. You'll be leaving from Pad 3."
The ODST saluted and walked off the dais. She stopped halfway to the doors that she'd come in through and turned back. "Do you always interview your troopers, sir, or is it only for when it's your favorite team?"
"I have no favorites." Garrison said over the murmur of the work going on around him. "Just top-performers."
"Understood sir."
He watched her leave through the doors which slid shut behind her. He smirked. "Alright Staff, I've sent you another one. Make them last."
:********:
Epsilon made its way along the side of the Cruiser Drydocks off in the northwestern sector of the shipyards. While most of the docks were empty, the last one off to their immediate right held a single towering occupant whose girth cast them in its shadow. The Marathon-Class Heavy Cruiser UNSC Canberra was a goliath in the making. Being the more advanced version of its Halcyon-class predecessor, the Marathon-class had the same appearance of a reversed M6 pistol without the handle. Its hulking dimensions and concentric rings of fortified compartments were imposing but not fully in place. The skeletal framework still showed in patches of the ship where it was under construction, or at least had been up until the last several hours.
From what he'd overheard from a few troopers, the Sinoviet Subdivisional CEOs had the local construction crews working overnight to prepare what parts of the 1.2-kilometer-long ship they could for conditions in space. They were also to use it for their own evacuation. The goal at the moment was to secure the outer bulkhead wherever possible with Titanium-A battle plates. Even patchy slabs of stainless steel the size of Pelicans had been welded over some holes to save time. On any other occasion the Canberra would've been given another two months before being deemed space worthy. For now, it would have to do, at least until it could be transported somewhere else to finish construction.
As they passed along its length to another drydock Duncan stopped without realizing to look at the next empty furrow. The tram-sized security rails guarding the sides and bottom of the dock were bare, with whatever ship that was there last having already departed. But if he wasn't mistaken, or the word of mouth he'd heard from some of the dockworkers wasn't mistaken, then he was actually looking at the same drydock where the Valiant-class super-heavy cruiser UNSC Everest had been constructed. The Everest was a celebrity ship, most well known as the flagship of Admiral Preston Cole's fleets, including the one he'd led at Psi Serpentis. It was Cole's personal ship. 'The Chariot of a King', or so he'd quietly thought to himself.
The idea alone was enough to make him blank out in awe as he stood near the precipice of the 200-meter deep gully. There was that feeling again. He felt it wash over him, like the first time he'd come to Reach: the sense of entering the throne room of giants.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked back to see Yuri, helmetless, staring at him with a worried look. "You are okay buddy?"
Duncan finally realized how close he actually was to the edge. He quickly back-pedaled to safety.
"What was that about?" Yuri asked, arching a brow at him.
"Nothing, I- ugh, um."
"You're not going suicidal, are you?"
Duncan gave an honest laugh. "Nah, Matchstick. Its not like that."
Yuri looked slightly relieved. "Good, cause rest of squad is waiting."
They both turned back to see Epsilon watching them, mostly Duncan. "You trying to jump without a pod, trooper?" The Staff asked. "Because I wouldn't advise it."
Duncan held up his hands in his own defense. "No sir, that's not- why does everyone think I'm so on edge?"
"Because you were on the edge just a second ago." Nova laughed. "Try to pay attention before we leave you behind, would you?"
"Fine."
Duncan and Yuri joined the rest of them in a brisk walk down the length of the dock. Other ODST squads were doing the same beside them, some jogging along. They were all headed to the same place: The Alexander Building. The twenty-story tall building up ahead served as the center for the Board of Commissions for the entire location. There, the progress of ship construction as well as demands for new vessels by company clientele, mainly the UNSC, were processed and given clearance by individual review boards. The ODSTs' destination was on top of the twentieth floor, Executive Landing Pad 3. Duncan could see two Albatrosses hovering in the airspace around the pad while another one was taking up occupancy. There was already a crowd of around a hundred troopers waiting for entry at the several revolving doors on the ground floor.
The line moved quickly enough as they entered several squads at a time to avoid any overflow on the lobby elevators. A similar sight was taking place across the Clay-Antonia as the battalion moved to evacuate the shipyards.
Duncan noticed a single female trooper standing at the door. She wasn't making any moves to go inside but instead seemed focused on the passing crowd. Her helmet was nestled in the crux of her arm, exposing her face's olive skin, brown eyes and dark hair cut to ear-length with a few minute, blonde streaks. She looked vaguely familiar, so much so that he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen her somewhere before. The ODST went from one squad to the next asking questions. Whatever their answers were they obviously weren't the ones she was looking for since she kept moving to the next.
She eventually came to the squad right in front of them to ask the leader a question. Gunnery Sergeant Singh pointed his thumb back at Epsilon.
The trooper looked at them, took in a deep breath and strode over. She came to a stop next to the Staff, probably figuring out his rank by his red accents. "Excuse me, sir. Are you Staff Sergeant Atell?"
"Yeah." The Staff said, giving her a quick look over, spotting the biofoam injector on her thigh bracer. "And who might you be, trooper?"
Her face beamed with relief at having found the answer she was looking for. She saluted. "Private Renni Mahonis, sir. I've been assigned to Epsilon by the Colonel. He said for me to join up with you before you left."
The shock lasted only a moment. In that brief second, Duncan was able to glance at everyone else' faces and felt more comfortable knowing they were just as wide-eyed as he was.
Deaks grinned. "It just gets better and better around here, doesn't it?"
Nova elbowed him hard in the gut for his sarcasm but he kept laughing as he wheezed from the blow. "What? I'm not wrong. First Mito, now…what was it again?"
"Renni." She said. "Renni Mahonis. I guess I'm your new medic."
"We never had a medic before." Hector said in thought. "Sure beats having Nova touch our scabs like she knows what she's doing." He recoiled as Nova elbowed him hard in the gut. "What, what'd I say?"
Nova was the first to step up to her and offered her a hand. "Nice to meet you."
Renni briefly observed the gesture with the appearance of someone that was slowly realizing the world around them wasn't a dream. She took her hand and shook with an earnest excitement. "Thank you, it's great to meet you guys as well."
The Staff's visor depolarized as he fixed her with a scrutinizing glare, one that made the private momentarily deflate into obvious worry. He put a hand to his helmet, indicating he was talking with someone on a private channel, likely the Colonel. After a tense silence he signed off and pointed to the injector. "You any good with that thing?"
"I have the necessary training sir." Renni assured. "I specialized as a combat medic back at Camp Lincoln."
The Staff's face gradually melted into one that was still scrutinizing but far more welcoming. He offered his own hand. "Welcome to the team, Ep-10."
Her smile came back with renewed confidence as she shook it.
The Staff pointed to everyone else in turn. He quickly ran through the chronological introductions for the sake of time then changed their focus back to the doors. They were the last ones to get called in. They entered the ground floor lobby, crossed over the velvet carpeting to the elevators on the far side and went up.
"Basically, keep a close eye on Matchstick. He's the most prone out of everyone here to get himself half-killed so he'll probably be your first patient." The Staff said.
"That is not true." Yuri protested. "I am very cautious man."
"Cautious enough to get yourself spiked back on Miridem." The Staff said drily. "Cautious enough to have to get pieces of lung flash-cloned to replace the damaged parts and take Rumbledrugs just to get back up to snuff." His attention landed hard on the man. "I think I've made my point, don't you?"
Renni examined the Russian out the corner of her eye. He seemed to glare back at the Staff with a resigned uncaringness. "Rumbledrugs?" She asked curiously.
Yuri's gaze shifted to her. "Yeah. But I'm no druggee so don't go off making grand assumptions about me."
"Uhuh…understood sir. I'll keep a close watch on him."
Yuri sighed.
"It's for the best." The Staff said.
The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. They walked out onto the rooftop where several other squads were also loading up into the wide troop bay of the last Albatross. They could see others on distant landing pads making their way onto the dropships while those that were already full took off towards the east.
Suddenly the wailing of emergency sirens echoed across the Clay Antonia. A female voice came in over the facility's PA systems. "All personnel be advised, UNSC Marathon-class heavy cruiser inbound. Expect shipyard-wide tropospheric disturbance in thirty seconds." The voice repeated itself two more times then let the sirens continue.
"Look!" Zack pointed up, drawing their attention skyward.
A silhouette was on its way down through the atmosphere, becoming larger until it burst through an overhanging cloud like a bullet through water. The breached clouds flowed away to reveal the figure of a Marathon-class ship plunging through the atmosphere at break-neck speeds. It arced up from its downward vector as it headed straight for the Clay-Antonia, straight for them.
Someone shouted. "Get down!"
Across the landing platform the troopers quickly crouched down and braced.
The cruiser was slowing down but zoomed less than two-hundred meters overhead. The wake turbulence of the massive craft was felt almost immediately, whipping the Alexander Building with a tsunami of air that crashed over the top and jostled everyone on it. The wind continued to flood throughout the rest of the shipyards as the vessel banked right and slowed. After ten seconds it managed to bring itself to a halt. Then the goliath ship proceeded towards the airspace above its sister, the Canberra. Once it was directly over it the ship turned 180 degrees to match the westward facing craft. Then it began to descend.
As it did Duncan caught sight of the name on the side of the model-black cruiser: 'Feeling Lucky'. It was apt, mostly because he genuinely felt lucky that that turbulence hadn't picked him up and thrown him clear of the building. Everyone stood up to watch as the UNSC Feeling Lucky descended on the top of the Canberra's hull. The sound of multiple metallic clangs echoed from what was undoubtedly the second Marathon connecting with the hardpoints of the one directly below. Secondary sounds resounded from the dock's security rails as they released their charge.
Then the Feeling Lucky began rising back up, bringing the Canberra with it. It wasn't lifting alone however as the four pairs of R7 thrust couplings mounted to hardpoints on the latter's hull activated. The release from the couplings filled the encompassing dock with light and smoke while slowly lifting the craft upwards. The whine of engines filled the air.
"Come on, keep moving!" Someone said. The attention of the remaining ODSTs shifted back to the Albatross. The squad joined the others in loading up into the crowded troop bay. The doors slid shut behind them and the dropship ascended from the pad, lurching forward on an eastward flightpath.
A number of porthole windows in the sliding doors allowed them to see the other dropships rising up from the shipyards in their wake. And behind them was the awe-inspiring sight of two Marathon cruisers slowly rising into the air. They soon got high enough that the Feeling Lucky turned skyward at an acute angle. Then the two ships were ascending up through the atmosphere, eventually disappearing from sight along with the Clay-Antonia Shipyards.
Duncan quietly wondered if that was what the UNSC Everest looked like when it was being sent out on its maiden voyage. Though he'd been too young to see the real deal, he felt lucky enough and even thankful enough now to have seen where one of the greatest legends of the UNSC Navy began, and what it might've looked like way back when.
:********:
New Verona was a city 23 kilometers to the east of the Clay Antonia. It was nestled in the center of a circular mountain range that looked more like the crater of an ancient asteroid the size of Manhattan. The manner in which the surrounding mountains rose steeply away from the center gave further credence to the idea.
A 50-meter-deep body of water known as the Strait of Per Ciridium separated Treviso from the comparatively larger eastern continent of Pavia, the latter being where most of Actium's eastern population lived. The strait had been incidentally widened due to a series of dredging campaigns undertaken by the government of Pavia to expand the greater continent's coastal cities. The affect hadn't been felt by the few scattered cays left around the area. Having spotted them on the way over, they reminded Duncan of when he'd seen the Caribbean Sea from Nassau Station.
The city of New Verona itself acted as a hub for the development for the largely uninhabited northeastern continent. The ten other towns scattered around Treviso usually had their populations come from the mainland using New Verona as a transit point.
Massive skyscrapers filled the inner city, mirroring a similar style of Art-Deco that he'd seen in New Memphis. However, the architecture here echoed more Italian Baroque influences with curvaceous buildings, rich surface treatments and twisted elements while technological touch-ups indicative of the era made it look modern. The mountainous terrain made it so that the buildings all rose up and down in a kind of unmoving sea.
The city was for the most part deserted save for the swaths of UNSC personnel congregated in the interior. Tanks and Hogs from the 53rd drove down the abandoned streets and highways on patrols of the area. Marines joined them in scanning for any civilians left behind by the city's evacuation efforts.
The bulk of present interest in the city was centered on the Coroebus Stadium. The structure rested on the crest of a large hill near New Verona's heart. On any other occasion the hundreds of rows of step-like seats lining the ovular interior would've been occupied by thousands of eager onlookers. Just as well, the hybrid field below would've been the sight of teams going head to head in baseball, soccer or gravball. But today only that first part was true.
Thousands of Marines, Armored personnel, pilots and ODSTs lined the extensive bleachers the whole way around. The air was filled with all manner of conversation under the blue light of the Solar Evening as they waited for the general meeting to start.
Duncan found his attention drawn to the starry night sky visible past the scant cloud-cover. Of all the glimmering celestial bodies, Euryale-1 stood out the most in the absence of Aquilla. The former was a single, silver-blue dot the size of a penny. Two thin jets of particles from the magnetic poles produced powerful beams of light that glowed from the star. While its form 'pulsed' in intensity due to its inherently fast rotation, making it more like an astronautical lighthouse than a star, the light it emitted onto Actium remained stable. It was a lot like looking at the sun. He couldn't risk gazing for too long before it started to hurt his eyes and left its imprint on his retinas.
He blinked them away as he listened to Nova and the squad's newest addition talking on the lower seats in front of him. So far, Renni seemed to be integrating well into the squad. The two women of Epsilon were discussing the differences and similarities between engineering and biomedical work, between patching up a wounded hog versus doing the same with a wounded Marine. Nova seemed to be actually convincing the medic that a blowtorch was just as good as a scalpel given the right patient. Since that discussion scared him more than anything, he switched to the conversation between Deaks and Mito on his left. The two had found common ground in the fact that they were both blade enthusiasts.
The Corporal handed over Silver Buddha for Mito to inspect. The latter traced his gloved finger over its sharp edge until he reached the tip, whistling with respect. "Nice piece. You could practically take off someone's hand with a good swing."
"I only deal with teeth." Deaks shrugged as he retook Silver Buddha and gestured to the katana. "Can I?"
Mito looked back at his sword with a hint of concern. "Ah, about that. It's something of a family heirloom…"
"So only someone in the family can touch it?"
"Not necessarily. It's just that not everyone knows how to wield her properly."
"Her?"
Mito reached over his shoulder and carefully unsheathed the blade, earning a few wary glances from some Marines sitting behind him. He drew it forward in a graceful arc, bringing it to bare in front of him.
Duncan marveled at the way the blue evening light contrasted against the blade's bloodred sheen, reflecting down its length like a drip of water.
Deaks whistled. "Niiice. Does she have a name?"
"The Yamamoto Aka." Mito said with Zenlike focus. "It's been a prized possession of my family for generations, and I'm its most recent retainer." He sheathed the blade in a single deft motion before Deaks' outstretched hands could reach it. The sniper looked miffed.
"So you pull out a hot piece like that then decide to keep it all to yourself? That's pretty selfish man."
"If you mean selfish in terms of self-preservation then yes."
Deaks pointed his cleaver at him. "Mark my words. I'll use that sword one day, even if I have to cut it off of you."
They stared the other down, then broke out into laughter.
"Tell you what. If we actually end up winning on Actium then I'll let you try it out. How's that?"
"Is that a wager I'm smelling?"
"It is."
Deaks' eyes narrowed to slits as he extended his hand. "Then I think you have yourself a deal, Mr. Ikimoto."
"Those are some long odds." Mito warned as he shook his hand. "You sure?"
"I'll take them. I win all my wagers anyway."
Duncan jumped in. "Um, are you sure about that, because 2544 passed and I'm still around."
Deaks closed his eyes in annoyance. "I'm ignoring you Irish."
Duncan was about to set him straight when all the floodlights across the stadium suddenly dimmed. At once, image projectors on either sight of the Coroebus turned on to generate the rotating insignia of the United Nations Space Command.
The gathering went quiet.
A single floodlight flicked on, focused on a lone figure walking towards a platform at the center of the field. He stopped atop the platform to face the encircling crowds. His face appeared on two separate screens to either side of the stadium. He was a dark-skinned man wearing an army officer's BDU and wore an expression that suggested he had much to say and little time to say it. His voice boomed over the PA, gentle but firm.
"To all UNSC personnel under the sound of my voice, heed and stand to. I am Colonel Akono Mentieth of the 53rd Armored. I thank you for your service thus far in defending Actium against the Covenant. With your help we've been able to extract assets needed to continue our war effort in the inner colonies." He stopped, his stance straightening as his face turned stony. "However, I haven't brought you all here just to pat you on the back. I'm also here to push you, perhaps many of you beyond what you're used to. Before now the basic strategy of humanity has been to fight and retreat, fight again and retreat again. We've done little but stave off an inevitable darkness with no real hope of winning, or of holding our homes once they are discovered by our enemy. That must change. No matter your opinions on it, come tomorrow morning, that will change."
At his last word, the projected UNSC insignia morphed and contorted into many new shapes. Duncan tried keeping track of the new picture being created.
Mountains, skyscrapers and a sea all came together to form the image of a city on a coast. Even without the scale it was obviously massive. It was hemmed in by mountains yet the impressive number of buildings still rose up the corralling mountainsides to spill over onto the flatter and higher terrain beyond. The urban jungle flowed back down in the other direction before stopping at the expansive mouth of a wide bay, a dip in the otherwise wavy coastline. Multiple highway-bridges extended out from the coast to an archipelago of smaller, settled islands standing guard between the outer bay and the Strait of Per Ciridium.
"This is the city of High Mediolanum." Mentieth said. "It is the capital of the Republic of Pavia and key to our efforts to recapture the continent along with the rest of the eastern hemisphere."
A collective murmur rose among the crowds. Even Duncan couldn't help adding to the buzz as he whispered to no one in particular. "Is he serious?"
Almost as a reply, the map flipped to a two-dimensional view of the terrain. The city was segmented off into three distinct sections, each section large enough to be its own city.
"The plan is estimated to take two days to carry out. It will require the strongest efforts of everyone here to accomplish."
On the map, the three dividing walls were highlighted in green. "These are Mediolanum's Three Premier Walls. They separate the city into three distinct sections including the 1st Tier known as the Coastal District, the 2nd Tier known as the Residential District and the 3rd Tier where we'll find the Scenic District known as High Orarum." The city-sections were highlighted in a brighter shade of green in turn, then special emphasis was placed on the first two districts with a light red.
"At 0700 Hours, ODSTs of the 7th and 22nd Shock Troops Battalions will land in the Coastal and Residential Districts. Helljumpers, you're objectives will be three-pronged. First, to secure the gates of the first two Premier Walls. Second, to neutralize any and all hostile AA units encountered as well as Covenant defenses present within your designated target areas. Third, to regroup with and support surviving elements of the 4th Marine Division. With the gates secured and hostile anti-aircraft units eliminated, battlegroup Indigo will be able to move in to deploy additional ground forces to the surface in order to bolster our hold on the city. This includes Marines as well as my own Armored Division. We will start consolidating territory from the coast and work our way up through the Scenic District to the 3rd Premiere Wall." The last wall highlighted a bright green. "That is our goal post. Once we take it, the city will be ours."
Mentieth stopped to let his words settle on the crowds. The scores of men and women were deathly quiet now but watched his every move and listened to his every syllable with a felt intentness.
"Know this, we will not be the only forces actively at work."
The map zoomed out to show the entre spherical circumference of the planet. Five yellow dots appeared on the western coastline of the continent of Pavia. Across the Koronea Sea, seven more appeared along the eastern seaboard of the largest western continent, Preveza.
"All available UNSC forces will assist in the invasion of Pavia and Preveza in a simultaneous counteroffensive from both the ground and in orbit. We'll be targeting cities such as High Mediolanum, New Eretria and High Estonia in the east as well as New Athens, Patras and Actium's Capital of Caerleon in the west. This will be a shock operation of planetary proportions, but its success or failure ultimately hinges on your individual actions. If we pull this off, we will be adding one more world to a list of seeming impossibilities like Arcadia."
The holograph then disappeared as the projectors winked off and the floodlights turned back on. Mentieth stopped to observe the sea of faces whose expressions ranged from disbelief, worry, confusion and fear to determination, vengeful anger, resolve and silent agreement.
"I have already debriefed your Commanding Officers and they will in turn debrief you later on the specific objectives and expectations of your individual units. We will depart from New Verona at 0500 Hours. Understand this here and now, everyone. The mission on which we are about to embark will save many lives. For that cause we will put our lives and those of loved ones we wish to see again on the line."
He held his hands out in an explaining gesture. "This…is a gamble, perhaps the biggest since Admiral Cole's actions at Psi Serpentis. But we know what just one man can do with a well-placed nuke. We also know what a soldier can do with a well-placed bullet. Fleet Admiral Hood said such words before. Now I am saying them to you. I am asking you to show that they are not hollow platitudes meant to sooth the ears of the masses, but that there is some truth behind the words which we've all heard and, perhaps, come to believe."
Mentieth clasped his hands behind his back, nodding to the silent crowds. "That is all. You are dismissed." With that the Colonel turned, walked off the platform and never looked back at the frozen faces of the silent crowds surrounding him.
Duncan watched him disappear through an exit in the stadium's inner wall that slid shut behind him. In the uproar and discussions that arose immediately afterwards, he felt the weight of the reasonings and arguments going on all around him, and of all the times that he could speak and make his opinion on the matter known, in that moment his mind went blank.
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