Chapter 14 – Prophetam
May 9th, 2545 (06:08 Hours – Military Calendar)
Aquilla System, Actium
High Mediolanum, Republic of Pavia
Ano Liosia Block, Eden Mall
:********:
The fighting continued well into the night and even to the dawn of the next day as UNSC forces carved their way through Covenant territories. The invasion met its fiercest resistance at Rhodes where the Drones defended their central nests to the bitter end, storming out of sewers and surrounding structures to pour out over the entire block. Ultimately, the combined might of all three armored columns proved barely sufficient to bring the swarm to heel.
By late evening, Rhodes had fallen back into human hands. With the way clear, the Columns split up once again, using elevated expressways that enabled them to loop back into the remaining occupation zones.
C poured into Agrinio and Mezoline to the northeast with the intention of slaying the remaining Grunts. B traveled deeper into the east with the goal of exterminating the last of the Drones in Kastoria. A had curved back southeast to liberate blocks like Veria from the Jackals.
Additional support came from remnants of the 22nd Shock Troops Battalion and 4th Expeditionary Marine Division that met them along the way. Lost squads and platoons began emerging from their hiding places to rejoin the effort. Others further behind enemy lines pulled off acts of asymmetrical sabotage, ambushing enemy armor convoys headed for the approaching UNSC contingents, destroying roads and ammunition dumps to keep a proper counterforce from assembling.
In the southeast, Lieutenant Colonel Serakovich connected with the remnants of the 4th Marines' 5th Battalion at the Perseus Institute, adding them to Column A's ranks for the push into Veria. They regrouped with a scattered assortment of Marines and surviving HMPD officers in the bombed out remains of the Titus Mega Gymnasiums. Their leader, one Captain Henderson, directed the column straight to targets of high interest. There they proceeded to destroy the skeletons of several Jackal ships under construction that had acted as the buzzard's center of operations.
Deeper in the east, Colonel Mentieth's Column B paved its way to the cultural center in Kastoria where the holdovers of 9th Battalion had been split into halves to guard the expressway leading between the center and the 2nd Premiere Wall's Gatehouse-15 through 18. The Marines gave them a clear path straight to the wall, allowing them to rendezvous at the secured gatehouses. Then they rebounded into Kastoria to isolate the last pockets of Drones.
To the northeast, Column C met up with the remaining companies of 2nd and 3rd Battalions at the Henry Gosse Parthenon Oceanarium. After being briefed on their situation by Major Krauss, Colonel Garrison headed out with two newly provided companies from the 4th, Romeo and Kilo, to assault AA Shade positions within 5 square kilometers of the oceanarium. From there, he called in Albatrosses from the 24th Air Reconnaissance Group to begin airlifting the civilians housed inside the building. For nearly an hour the bulky dropships lifted off from the outside parking lots and waiting areas where, at any other time, the thousands of men, women and children standing in line would have been patrons waiting to enter the oceanarium rather than be evacuated from it. Garrison had watched the last Albatross take off to board the destroyer UNSC Carchemish back west. The Destroyer would later depart for Treviso where it would deliver its human cargo to New Verona for them to be provided with medical attention, and most importantly, transportation off of Actium.
No such comfort was found for the Marines of the 2nd and 3rd Battalions that joined Column C in barreling straight for the Grunts' four major methane reserves in Sycion. Following a brief siege of the structures, the remaining Grunts were either killed or captured, though their chances of capture were non-hyperbolically one in a thousand since the aliens proved more willing to die than surrender their emergency methane. They quickly discovered that the UNSC invaders, the ODSTs of Bravo Company in particular, were more than willing to grant them the death they so avidly desired.
In the end, Garrison decided to keep the 10-story tall cylindrical reserve tanks intact. They were simply too close to the wall and doing a repeat of what he had done that morning was in no one's best interests. He agreed with Krauss to have their units keep a rotational guard over the structures with Romeo, Kilo and Bravo Company each taking 8-hour shifts.
At the dawn of the next day, Garrison had retired to the casualty collection point at the Eden Mall where Mentieth had called for a meeting of all the UNSC commanders.
When he arrived on his personal Warthog, he found the surroundings of Eden Square still layered in corpses. Yet it was noticeably cleaner thanks to the Corps of Engineers. A company of the Marine specialists had the foresight to bring in Olifants, specialized garbage trucks with 15-meter-long bottom chassis strong enough to support the Pelican-sized waste containment units on their backs, much like a saddle on an elephant. Five of the heavy-duty vehicles were cruising across the square with Engineers at the wheel, using snow shovels attached to their frontside to force the dead masses into piles, then shovel them into the receiver of their containment units.
Fortunately, by the time Garrison arrived one of the Olifants had already cleared most of the mall's parking lot. It was still difficult trying to figure out where to park since it had left trails of blue and yellow blood behind itself that disfigured the white directional lines.
He settled on a row of Warthogs parked near the sidewalk in front of the front doors. He flexed his left arm to check on its progress. While still a little stiff, his shoulder muscles no longer strained to flex in the ways he needed them to. He hopped out of his Hog and headed for the entrance of the plexiglass structure. The Marine platoon guarding the way stood at attention as Garrison passed through the sliding doors into the foyer.
The odor of decay was immediately replaced by the sweet and spicy fragrance of the bushels of Angel Trumpet and Dianthus flowers that lined the tiled passageway into the mall. Around a hundred personnel from all service branches sat along the walls of the glassy interior. As he passed by, he caught sight of Hornet pilots from the 24th Air Recon playing cards on the floor with Marines from both divisions, 53rd personnel and troopers from his own Echo Company. Others lay asleep on the ground using their personal rucksacks or the walls as pillows. Though most were sleeping, he noted a few had lay as if to go to sleep, but weren't breathing. Those were the ones that probably hadn't told others of an injury or wound believing they weren't hurt bad enough to need medical attention. Even Garrison knew there was a danger to thinking you were more alright than you actually were, which was why he allowed Corporal Leeds to patch him up earlier. Still, he always found it strange how some soldiers received seemingly life-threatening injuries yet survived while others with believably less serious damage would go on thinking they were fine then suddenly pass on. Either way, their comrades would eventually awaken to discover that their friend who they'd talked to just before getting some rest had died right next to them in their sleep.
He reached one of the building's atriums, a more open space with porcelain tiles and 9 floors with eye-catching curvatures that extended up to the glass-panel ceiling. Triage stations were setup on the ground floor. Patients, both military and civilian, were being assessed by the 27th's combat medics according to mass-casualty incident criteria or MCI. They sorted patients into categories of those in need of critical attention and probable transit to the UNSC Carchemish and those with lesser injuries. The first group were wheeled out on gurneys to glass elevators that took them up to the mall's executive landing pads for Pelican extraction. The second group were carried over to the stores lining the atrium, mainly the clothing stores where there was more material to use in the inevitability that tourniquets and bandages ran out.
Garrison rounded one of the furnished, Romanesque pillars that supported the mall's interior infrastructure. He stopped at an operational escalator on the other side that would take him along a series of others crisscrossing from one floor up to the next. Someone was moving for it before he reached the first step, a pair of Marines carrying an occupied stretcher. He eyed the patient's bloodied bandages wrapped around his fully exposed chest as well as the concerned expressions of his carriers when they saw him.
"Oh, sorry sir, you go first." The Marine at the front tried maneuvering out of his way.
The Colonel waved away the gesture. "I'm in no rush, gents, but your friend there is."
"…Thank you, sir." The first Marine led the way in ferrying the stretcher onto the escalator. Garrison stepped on behind them. He chose to enjoy the wait that the short trip provided as a brief respite from all the action.
On the other side of the comprising plexiglass the dawning world was still in its purplish-pink skied wake up phase, only it had never really gone to sleep. There were always the echoes of staccato fire that had continued from the previous day. An occasional Hornet squadron or pair of Pelicans would zoom past to reach some objective around the city. The same could be said for the Warthog, Scorpion and even Mongoose patrols that passed along the corpse laden streets below.
Garrison set his focus on the city and, for a moment, wondered what life in High Mediolanum was like before the war came to its doorstep. He envisioned its denizens getting up in their homes to drive their kids to school and themselves to work or to malls like this one for shopping. It was hard for him to work out the details, he realized, because he had been away from civilian life for so long. He could barely imagine himself putting on a suit and tie to go to a white-collar job like many people here must have done. Then it dawned on him that no matter what life in the city was really like, it would never return to normal, regardless of whether they lost or won. It was a reality every human world had to contend with that was discovered by the Covenant. Win or lose, the aliens would now always know where they lived. They would either have to face that fact as best they could or choose to live somewhere else. Most often chose the second option. That had led to the massive refugee crisis the UEG had been facing for well over a decade now, creating overcrowded worlds like Chi Rho where rapidly expanding refugee populations had struggled to survive. It was undeniable that people would flee from this place and never return. But it was also undeniable that Garrison's job and that of every UNSC Commander on Actium was to make sure they still had a planet to return to in case they ever changed their minds.
Speaking of UNSC commanders, Garrison spotted a familiar face standing near the top of the escalator. As the two Marines got off for a nearby store, Garrison merely stopped at the threshold.
The ODST before him held his helmet in the crux of his arm, although he didn't need to see what lay underneath to recognize the shoulder pauldron with a death's head emblem similar to his own. Even though Garrison was the younger of the two of them, by two years no less, the other trooper still had little more than a few gray streaks in his otherwise dark and low shorn hair, a miracle when compared to his equal's which had long since turned white. That wasn't to say anything for the several aged scars that crossed his face at varying angles and sizes, some of which Garrison was present for when he got them. But his most recognizable feature was the yellowish-orange ocular implant that replaced his right eye. Lacking any sign of a pupil or even an iris, the implant extended one slightly glowing vein of the same color up to his forehead and another down to his jaw. It often made anyone who first saw him think he was a cyborg. Hence why he was known among many officers and grunts in the 105th as the 'Cyborg Colonel'. In fact, that was his nickname for the man ever since the day he first saw it.
Garrison smiled. "You're not dead yet?"
"You're not retired yet?" Taylors shot back.
"Same difference."
The two shared a cackle capable only of two sarcastic and grizzled old men like themselves. Then they wordlessly fell into lock-step, walking down the length of the mall's 2nd floor.
Garrison noticed he moved with a slight limp. "You didn't stay put to get yourself healed u-"
"If you finish that sentence, you'll be making yourself a hypocrite." Taylors grinned, glancing at him. "What? Think I didn't find out about your situation too?" He pointed to his left shoulder. "Don't try that. You know that you and I are too stubborn to sit in place when we're told to."
"We're both disloyal dogs, huh?"
"We're loyal when we're needed to be."
Garrison nodded. "So, what'd they treat you with?"
"Some biofoam for the plasma burns on my leg and a few Electrolyte IVs. I had to sneak out. Griffin-7 wouldn't let me leave, kept treating me like some feeble old grandfather." He laughed. "I think I'm too old for that now anyway."
"Don't say that, because I'm the one here who looks like Santa Claus went to boot camp and got a buzzcut along the way. How do you think that makes me feel, huh?"
"Old Saint Nick was a big guy but that's because he was fat. You're stocky. There's a difference."
"Mhm. So how'd you even know I would be coming in when I did?"
"I didn't. I just happened to be passing by going to the same place as you and saw you coming up. Figured I'd say hi."
"Uhuh. Well, you've said it. You can go away now."
"I'm not going anywhere, Colonel. The pearly gates don't want me just yet so I'm stuck here in hell with the rest of you."
The two laughed again as they rounded the corner of a hardware store. They were forced to step out of the way of three of the mall's injury carts carrying ammo crates. The Marines at the wheel drove past them then used the corner to reverse and park into the store's open doorway. Others inside helped unload their cargo and disperse it around the space that had once held retail datapads and displays but was fast becoming the mall's newest UNSC armory.
"About Griffin." Garrison said. "How many?"
The look on Taylors' face slowly relaxed into a subdued solemnity. "Four. That's all that was left after that Brute came at us. They lost their leader, and I lost one of my Company Commanders." He stopped to give a long, deep sigh. "You know what it means to get captured by Brutes, Garrison?"
Garrison knew exactly what the horrific nature of the answer was, and he decided not to bring it up for both their sakes. "I'm sorry. I'll drop the topic."
"Thanks."
As they rounded another corner store, they spotted a ceiling sign ahead which read 'Security Room' and pointed right. They followed the direction down a hallway with a door on the far end and four Marines standing guard.
"What do you think Mentieth wants to discuss?" Taylors asked.
Garrison merely shrugged. "Same as always, where do we go from here. If I know him, he's probably already got the answer."
"He's quick on his feet, sure. And he's quick enough to get everyone else on their feet fast. But that same speed got us dropped straight into Covie town here in the 2nd Tier. Whatever we do now, we can't be hasty, especially since reaching the 3rd Tier is now an actual possibility again."
Reaching the door, the Marines saluted them as they let them inside.
The pair came into a room framed into an ovular central space by a quartet of obtuse observation stations. The room's three other occupants were gathered around a newly added tactical planner.
Colonel Mentieth, Lieutenant Colonel Serakovich and one Major Krauss were in attendance. The three turned from their conversation to see the last two members of the meeting stroll over to them.
"Garrison, Taylors, welcome." Mentieth said, nodding to them both. "Now that we're gathered, we can begin. First things first; our accomplishments. We'll conduct a review of the successes and drawbacks of the operation's progress. Then we can address our future offensive actions."
The other commanders stood in silent agreement as Mentieth waved his hand over the planner. The table-device winked on, immediately projecting a three-dimensional image of High Mediolanum's 3-tiered format.
"My Column B has taken control of Ano Liosia, Rhodes and Kastoria as well as command of Gatehouse-15 through 18 on the 2nd Premiere Wall." He highlighted the locations on the map with a swipe of his finger. "With the holdovers from the 4th Marines' 9th Battalion in place, we've got most of the Residential District's eastern strip under lock and key."
Ending his report, he gestured to Serakovich. The Lieutenant Colonel stepped closer then swiped the map over to the southeast, highlighting each location. "Column A's got Eleusis and Veria locked down tight. We destroyed half-a-dozen Jackal ships being used as command structures here, annihilating their leadership. Then we took control of Gatehouses 21 through 25 as well as 27."
Serakovich stepped back for Garrison to swipe the map over to the northeast. "As for my Column C, we've secured Heraklion, Lamia and Agrinio. We met up with the 4th Marines' 2nd and 3rd Battalion here where one of my squads reported they would be. I worked with Krauss to ship their civilians out to New Verona. Our forces also secured the Grunts' methane reserves here and in these three locations, all in Mezoline. The block itself is about 85% secure but there's occasional counterattacks on the reserves. Also, quite a few Grunts managed to escape into the sewers so I've had to send my troopers in after them."
Then it was Taylors' turn. He took in a deep breath and stepped forward. "Apologies in advance for changing the mood. I know I'm the odd man out here so I'll be brief. At 0700 Hours my 22nd battalion dropped into the city with the 7th. Our objectives were to secure gatehouses along the 2nd Premiere Wall, eliminate hostile AA and link up with the 4th. Since that time, we've accomplished one of those objectives, that being rendezvousing with what elements of the 4th Marines we could find." He nodded over at Krauss. "Then we made for our objectives." He selected Gatehouse 9, 12, 15 and 18. "My companies went to take these four gatehouses. However, we weren't prepared for the overwhelming numbers of Covenant soldiers there and failed to make any solid headway. I was able to send out a Broken Arrow call and got many of them to withdraw. We took casualties. Though reports are still coming in and not all my units are accounted for, at least 18% of my battalion has been rendered combat ineffective. My Delta Company has been reduced to a near state of non-existence and their company commander Baccara was captured."
Garrison saw how the others' gazes fell to the floor. He couldn't help folding his arms, closing his eyes and just thinking about those numbers. The 22nd had just over 1,000 Helljumpers. Eighteen percent of his battalion being rendered combat ineffective meant that somewhere in the realm of 180 of them had been killed or wounded. While any other unit would have been fortunate to have escaped from a similar situation with those casualties, it was terrible news for a shock troops battalion. ODSTs weren't normal Army or Marine forces. They were special operations soldiers. To lose so many at the very beginning of just one operation was bordering on the disastrous.
Mentieth had to have understood that, which was why Taylors turned to him after finishing his report. "I don't suppose that I will be getting my Company Commander back, or my Delta anytime soon. With respect to whatever else you may have in mind, sir, I pray it doesn't involve another massacre like the one you sent us into."
Mentieth met Taylors' stone-cold gaze with a strong poker face, one that slowly melted into empathy. "I don't intend on any other massacres." He said. "None except that of the enemies that killed your troopers. I am not absolving myself of my responsibility in saying that, however. The failure of that observational oversight falls to myself and myself alone. That is why I've called for a complete overhaul of the STARS satellite array we used to plan this invasion. There seems to be a fault with the system that needs to be addressed before we move any further." He stood straighter. "It cannot bring back the men and women you've lost from your command, Colonel, but you have my sincerest apologies."
The genuine nature of his empathy seemed to quietly dispel the tension between them. At length, Taylors, with a grim nod of his head, backed away from the planner.
Nonetheless, Garrison noticed something about the way Mentieth spoke of the STARS satellite system. It was deployed over Pavia shortly after the UNSC reinforcements first arrived on Actium. Now it sounded as if the array had run into some unforeseen problem. But the strange part was that it didn't seem as if the oversight in the 2nd Tier was the only issue involved, however consequential it had been. For now, he kept his questions to himself to keep the focus on their immediate concerns.
Their attention turned to Major Krauss who merely shook his head. "Listen, I'm alive and so are many of my Marines as well as the civilians they fought to protect. That's about all the tactical updates I have."
"Noted." Mentieth said, zooming out the image to that of the entire planet. He swiveled it so that they could see Pavia and Preveza as well as the Koronea Sea. Six green dots were highlighted along the coasts, three on Pavia's west and three on Preveza's east. He pointed to two cities on Pavia's western seaboard, one to the north of High Mediolanum and one to the south.
"At 0300 Hours today, Task Force 2 captured New Eretria. Task Force 3 is also expected to take High Estonia in the next hour."
He turned over to the western hemisphere. "While Task Force 4 was able to secure New Athens late yesterday, 5 is currently bogged down in Patras." He paused. "Task Force 6 has failed to take Caerleon."
If they hadn't before, everyone in the room was now paying full attention with wide-eyes.
"They're facing fierce opposition both in the atmosphere and on the ground. A group of Covenant ships managed to hold parts of Battlegroup Crimson sent to drop forces off to the capital while the rest are facing larger elements of that second Covenant fleet. Currently, the two other western task force commanders are planning to reinforce the assault on Caerleon once Patras is retaken."
"They couldn't take the capital?" Garrison asked more to himself than to Mentieth. "But they had practically twice the ships we did for High Mediolanum."
"They did. The fighting there is quickly becoming a bloody stalemate. Right now, there's nothing we can do for them except take Mediolanum so that we can send additional backup."
Krauss thought it over. "Wait, if the Covenant actually manage to pull it off in holding the city, couldn't they also swing back around to retake lost coastal territories?"
"They can, which is why Task Force 6 must be reinforced as soon as possible. However, the same potentiality applies to High Mediolanum. If we fail here then the Covenant can sweep back out to address losses like New Eretria and High Estonia."
The room remained quiet as the officers contemplated the full ramifications of a stalemate in either capital.
Mentieth steered the conversation back to the tactical planner as he zoomed in on High Mediolanum's 2nd Premiere Wall. "Now we need to shift our intentions to the push into the last remaining territory."
"The 3rd Tier." Serakovich exhaled. "If its anything like what we encountered down here…"
"We're compensating for that." Mentieth assured. "The Covenant know this will be their last stand. They will of course fiercely defend what they have left. I've requested for the UNSC Carchemish to bring back special units from the 53rd's divisional base near New Verona in response. They'll be back later this afternoon. We'll need every trump card and gatehouse we can get our hands on, which is also why I'm deciding to extend our preparations to the rest of the day. Given that our forces are still spread out trying to secure the Residential District, it would be wise for us to consolidate our provisions and prepare for the secondary assault. Longsword squadrons from the 24th Air Reconnaissance identified multiple targets of interest. The information on them in addition to each unit's place in the overall operation has already been sent to your HUDs. I'm giving us until dawn tomorrow to be prepared."
On the display, three pockets of gatehouses were highlighted in green, the very same ones secured by the armored columns. The structures themselves began travelling up the wall before coming to a stop and releasing yellow semicircles that protruded into the Scenic District. They were subsequently met with smaller but more plentiful red dots that surged against them. "We'll use these gatehouses to send up combined ground forces that will secure their hold in the 3rd Tier's upper terminals. Their purpose essentially is to concentrate Covenant forces willing to pounce on us right away into these areas."
Dozens of yellow-colored Pelicans and Hornets began flying into standby positions just outside the upper terminals. At the same time, one of Battlegroup Indigo's three destroyers, UNSC Tower of Babel moved a few kilometers above the 3rd Tier's tallest skyscrapers. "Depending on the severity of enemy concentrations, the 24th Air Recon will be deployed to land flanking forces behind them while craft with more offensive capabilities target the masses converging on friendly positions. However, if that isn't sufficient then I will authorize the usage of small-scale low orbital strikes from the Tower of Babel under the coordination of forces on the ground. And yes, that includes Archer Missile launches should the need arise."
"Archer missiles so close to friendly forces sir?" Krauss inquired, gesturing towards the destroyer. "Isn't that just as good as glassing the city you came to save?"
Mentieth shook his head. "If that were our goal, I would call for the use of FENRIS or HAVOK tactical nukes. In this case I'm only authorizing low orbital bombardments in open areas which is what makes the promenade behind the 2nd Premiere Wall so ideal to conduct the beginning stage of this operation. We can perform what Colonel Garrison did in holding off Covenant forces at the 1st Premiere, just on a more controllable scale."
Garrison spotted Taylors giving him a mocking look from the corner of his periphery and chose to ignore him.
The image altered to show yellow friendly forces pushing back the red masses then dissolving them entirely. They continued on to various objectives throughout the city, touching and highlighting them yellow in turn as they moved east. They eventually reached the 3rd Premiere Wall, causing pockets of Gatehouses to turn yellow followed by the rest of the massive barrier. "The name of the game is still shock and awe. We'll continue operating in our armored columns, moving forward with assistance from the 24th as well as the Tower of Babel. Each column has its list of key objectives needed for our advance. We'll eventually end here at the 3rd Premiere and secure it to cut off any remaining Covenant still in the city."
Mentieth looked over the display with tired eyes. "Then High Mediolanum will be retaken."
"It's a good plan." Taylors commented. "But do we have an idea of their strengths, numbers, mobile armor details? That info will help us avoid a repeat of yesterday."
"I've had the rough estimations from satellite operators aboard the Tower of Babel cross-examined by those at the JSOC basecamp in the Isles of Scilly. They're confirmed close to 50,000 Covenant personnel with enemy armor ranging from Ghosts and Wraiths to five confirmed Type-47B Deutoros Scarabs mostly stationed near the district's center. There are also a considerable number of AA shades scattered throughout, though nowhere near as many as in the Residential District or as troublesome as Tyrants."
"Fifty-thousand isn't bad." Serakovich said, rubbing his temples. "The fact I can say that with a straight face just shows how bad we've already had it."
"It seems they were mostly concentrated in the 2nd Tier." Krauss pointed out. "That makes life a lot easier, right? We drive in and kill anything that isn't human, take the wall and call it a day."
Garrison shrugged. "It's not like we're outnumbered 4 to 1 anymore. It's just 2 to 1 now. And with the Tower of Babel in play we'll have a better chance."
Taylors remained the last one to voice his opinion. He eyed both the display and the colonel using it. "It makes sense. My Battalion will do what we can, sir."
Mentieth nodded. "And what about you? Are you certain you don't need more rest?"
"Thanks, but no thanks. I think I've been out of the action for long enough."
"Good to hear. Now, there's something else that needs to be addressed. It's the main reason why I've decided to call off the invasion for today."
High Mediolanum disappeared as the holograph morphed into the image of a creature everyone in the room understood to be a prophet. The crowned alien had its hands raised upwards. It spoke in the translated voice of an old man for the better part of a minute.
Mentieth waited for the message to finish "This is the Minister of Iconography, also known as the Prophet of Sanctity. His message was discovered by Garrison's Squad Epsilon that was tasked with holding a jammer in Mezoline. It was verified through the discoveries of Squad Hotel who proved inventive enough to use their jammer's connection to the Covenant BattleNet to trace a major broadcasting signal back to this location." He used a hand to drag their view of High Mediolanum further west, passing the bay until they stopped at the oil rigs lying just outside the Gulam Archipelago. A large red square blinked along a section of the Koronea Sea, right on the outskirts of the loose amalgam of rigs.
"Navy Special Forces were sent to this region yesterday to investigate an area on the seafloor that intelligence suggested was the source of the broadcasting, the same one that squads Hotel and Epsilon later catalogued. They're findings came in early this morning." He focused on the leader of the 7th Battalion. "Garrison, this will fall mainly to one of your companies that we'll need to tackle this situation immediately."
:********:
Eden Mall's food court was a haven for the hundreds of personnel presently eating from its many restaurants. The central floor was encircled with options whose signs were aglow thanks to the newly restarted generators. There were restaurants like Havadi Goodwin, Jim Dandy, Mariano's Churrascaria and World Cuisine among many others.
The smell of fried goods was on the air and it more than drew the attention of Marines, ODSTs and pilots to the front service desks of the recently reopened eateries. Culinary experts from the 53rd Armored Division had come in to begin serving anyone that wanted it the food they would have enjoyed as civilians. Under the personal order of Colonel Mentieth, these experts took the menus of the mall's closed food court and began serving the men and women of Task Force 1 breakfast as a reward for their actions in taking the 2nd Tier.
Epsilon had found its way to the mall around 0500 Hours after Garrison had informed the Insertion Teams they could dispose of the jammers. Duncan had set theirs to self-destruct then got to a safe distance with the rest of the squad to watch the device detonate. Then they were free to leave with Warrant Officer Ludowski's section of Convoy-10 for the safety of Ano Liosia.
They got close to half an hour more of sleep then woke up to a squad of Marines spreading the word about the food court being reopened. Of course, they couldn't simply turn away such an offer, sleep or no sleep, especially given that they could actually smell the fragrance of food wafting down from the 2nd floor.
Since the number of people at the mall was already small, it being mainly a casualty collection point, they were able to find themselves a spot out of the hundreds of rectangular tables. Theirs lay at the labyrinth's center close to a decorative pot of palm trees.
Everyone went out to choose their own food options. Duncan had decided on Mariano's Churrascaria, the South American themed restaurant that displayed its assortment of barbecued meats on rotating spits. Their rich, salty smell could draw him from a mile away. It reminded him of the Churrascaria restaurant just down the street from his and Erica's apartment.
As he got on the line to tell the 53rd's expert cooks what he wanted from the rodizio style buffet before him, he thought back to how he used to do the same on nights out with Erica. They would both be wearing their coats but she would always be wrapped around his arm for more warmth as they decided what they wanted. Then they would head back to their apartment to watch a movie together, one hand carrying a plastic bag full of food and the other holding on to each other.
Thinking on all that almost left him deaf until the server told him for the third time that his order was ready. He headed back with his container in hand. He took in deep, satisfied breaths of the fresh food inside and felt his stomach grumble as he finally sat down at Epsilon's table. He was the straggler of the group since everyone else were already eating, everyone except Zack who arrived last and sat down between him and Nova.
"Alright Irish." Zack smiled, leaning over to him. "What you got for me?"
Duncan elbowed him in the ribs, earning a grunt of pained amusement from the radioman who'd rested his equipment down against his seat.
"Come on, please?" Zack looked to him pleadingly.
With a grimace, Duncan popped the cover on his container. Steam wafted from the kabobbed slices of beef and ham separated with complementary greens and sautéed with Mariano's special barbecue sauce that gave it its golden glaze. In a separated section were two fist-sized chicken breasts with bacon strips seared to their sides. Topping off the morning meal was a golden-brown breakfast muffin occupying the last section.
Zack was left gawking at the beauty before him. "How-, how did they-, what!?"
"The answer is no." Duncan said, shooting down his hopes well in advance, or so he thought.
"My answer is yes."
Before Duncan could react, his squadmate reached over, then stopped at feeling a knife against his neck. Wielding her knife and equally dangerous stare, Nova looked unamused. "I suggest you leave Irish's food be. And if you try anything with mine." She pressed the blade further against his jugular.
Zack nervously swallowed. He steadily retracted his hand from Duncan's container, prompting Nova to return to cutting her egg and sausage omelet. As everyone else ate, Zack popped open his own container to reveal a serving of fries with a hamburger sandwich, only the meat was not the usual.
Duncan identified the dark brown fritters that replaced the patty for what they were as Zack took his first bite. "Is that Moa?"
"Moa Nuggets." Zack corrected through his chewing. "I got it from the World Cuisine place. One of the ladies working there decided to do some experiments with their nuggets and sandwiches, and heck, why not? It's the closest I've gotten to that Moa Burger they've been promising since that drawing on the Trafalgar." He held it up for everyone to see. "Low and behold you mortals, the majesty that is this sandwich."
"Did you get enough sleep last night?" Deaks asked, regardless of his own baggy eyes as he used his fork to pick unenthusiastically over his spaghetti. "Because I didn't. That was mostly because of yours and Heck's snoring. And now you want to make noise about food while others are still tired? It's like you're looking for me to put Silver Buddha to work."
"Why don't you put it to work in the kitchen over at World Cuisine?" Zack jeered back. "That'd make the world a much better place."
"If I go there, someone's going to disappear at the same time as I introduce a new menu item, and it'll probably be you."
"Well, we all have our own ways of saving humanity, Corporal Deaks." Zack winked. "Mines is one sandwich at a time."
"Your life philosophy is inspiring, honestly." Hector laughed. "Plato would be proud to know all his years of hard work led to human beings like you today."
"What's a Plato? Is that some type of special plate?"
Hector stared at him for a moment, then returned to his bowl of crab soup.
As everyone else continued eating, the Staff sat at the head of the table quietly sipping his mug of freshly ground coffee from the nearby Jim Dandy. All the while, he eyed the squad's newest additions. He watched when Zack pretended to leave for the bathroom in a feint to move around the court and ambush Mito from behind in an attempt to quietly pull out his katana. But the very second that he grasped the handle, Mito's hand shot like lightening to grab his wrist while he used the other to eat more of his hot serving of soba noodles from Matsumae's Takeaway. The radioman remained trapped there like a deer caught in the headlights until his squadmate finally rounded on him with a disapproving smile. "If you want to touch the Yamamoto Aka, you must first earn the Yamamoto Aka."
Before Zack could reply, Deaks slid out Silver Buddha and angled it up at the sneaky radioman. "And I've got first dibs on that 'earning' thing so you best get in line."
"That's only if we win here." Mito said.
"We're literally eating food in a mall where the Covenant just invaded. I think we're well on our way to that, don't you?"
Mito shrugged and released Zack's hand, allowing him to scamper back to his seat where Nova spared him a correctional slap to the back of the head before proceeding to scold him like an older sister would an annoying younger brother.
The Staff took another sip of his coffee as his attention settled on the squad's final member.
Renni was eating on the opposite end of the table and talking between Rico and Yuri about the different language barriers between Russian, Spanish and English.
"I still think English is easiest to learn." Yuri said. "Rules are simple and you don't need worry about understanding someone with broken English thinking it's completely new language."
Rico laughed at his answer. "That's rich coming from you, Matchstick."
"That's rich coming from guy whose name literally means 'rich'." Yuri shot back.
"Hey, my uncle knew what he was doing when he named me, alright?"
"If you were rich like namesake we wouldn't need to work in this outfit. We would be set for life on some secret hideout for ultra-wealthy like Beta Gabriel."
"No-no-no, you're missing the point, Ivan. You're all as rich as you can be. Want to know why?"
Yuri raised a curious brow. "Why?"
Rico pointed to himself. "Because you all have me."
Now it was Yuri's turn to break out laughing. "Was that supposed to rhyme? You're no Mandelstam or Yesenin but you're alright I guess."
"Thanks."
Renni, having eyed Yuri's plate for a while already, pointed to one of the pieces of boiled beef. "Can I?"
"Sure." He let her take it with her fork and try it out. One tentative bite led to another and her face glowed with satisfaction.
She stared at her empty fork. "Wow. Hey? Do they have samples of this?"
"Nope. That was all sample I have, and I don't plan on sharing more or else I starve."
"Isn't this close to Beef Stroganoff?"
Yuri gave a hesitant nod. "That's Russian dish. How would you-"
"I got to try many different cuisines on Earth. I bet I could make this even better."
Though it was Yuri's eyes that widened in interest, it was Nova that asked the next question. "And what about Dobos Torte?"
"That's a desert, isn't it?"
"My favorite." Nova's stare turned intensely competitive. "Think you can beat me making it?"
"You cook?" Renni asked.
"The question isn't whether I can cook but whether you can outcook me." Nova replied, twirling her fork into a piece of her omelet and popping it into her mouth with an intimidating stare. "How about a challenge sometime?"
Zack suddenly stood up, utterly enthused by the course of the conversation. "Looks like we've got some Alpha Female action on our hands, boys." He said, looking to all the men in the squad. "I volunteer me, the Staff and Deaks as judges."
Deaks set aside his utensils and slumped into his chair. "I'm not even that hungry honestly."
Duncan put down his last kabob with a sigh. "You can't just volunteer people, Zack. That's not how it works."
"I'm actually interested to see how that would turn out." Hector said. "Those three are on the polar ends of the personality spectrum so I'm curious what they'd say in a cook-off, assuming Ms. ONI that you can cook."
"Puede cocinar, Senorita ONI?" Rico asked.
With all the attention centered on her she gave a humble nod. "I can try, although I don't know if I can necessarily beat Nova."
The redheaded specialist diced through another piece of her omelet, dragging the knife through the meat with deliberate slowness as the cheese bled over the blade. "If you think humility will grant you mercy then you're sorely mistaken. Its time I gave you my special version of hazing."
Duncan stopped to look around. "Wait, I thought we did that in Heraklion."
"Not properly. We only wanted to surprise her with questions, right Ep-1?"
The Staff who he'd been listening to the entire exchange while peacefully sipping his coffee now paid them his full attention. "On a similar note." He set his sights on Renni. "Should we expect any more surprises like the one you gave us yesterday? Mind you it came in handy, so much so that I'm genuinely starting to believe you really are Ex-ONI. However, any more on this scale might be troublesome."
Renni gave a wry smile. "But then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it, sir?"
"That's the point." He said, straightening. "I need to know the full capabilities of my Helljumpers. Without glimpsing the nature of those impending surprises, I can't guess as to whether they'll be a boost to our squad's operational capacities or a hinderance. I want to know if there's anything else like that update you gave us that could potentially change the nature of an operation so drastically."
The air of the conversation had turned to quiet seriousness as Epsilon collectively focused on their new medic.
"That's about all the surprises I brought with me, sir, the only ones that will matter in a fight anyway."
"Positive?"
She rose from her chair to stand at full attention. "Sir, yessir."
After a second, the Staff nodded and gestured to her seat. "Then sit down, would you, before you cause everyone here to think we're interrogating you."
"Yeah, 'cause we did that already." Zack said, his initial grin turning to a pained glower as Nova gave him another clandestine slap to the back of the head.
Renni sat down with a renewed confidence. But as she did, the others noticed some of the personnel that were sitting around staring at her strange performance. One of them was a ruddy looking man with a 53rd Armored BDU that had been walking past. After talking to another man next to him, they both cruised over to Epsilon's tableside.
"Hey, I remember you guys." He smiled. "You're, ugh, Epsilon, right? Squad Epsilon from Bravo Company?"
"Who's asking?" Deaks glared, only for Zack's eyes to widen in recognition of the answer.
"Hey, you're that tank-guy." He looked to the others to see if they remembered. They returned the same confused expressions as the new arrival's comrade. "Don't you remember? He was with us on Miridem. He let me sit on top of his Scorpion's cannon during the drive to the De Gaulle. He told me to mind the boom, and I didn't."
The revelation slowly dawned on most of the squad, namely those that had been present during the battle for Miridem.
"I remember this guy." Hector said, smiling in recollection.
"Yeah." Rico added. "You were the driver, right? You're basically the reason we survived that first push. Was it...Mart?"
"Marty." He offered his hand. "Corporal Richard Marty from the 53rd."
Those that recalled the affair shook his hand like they would a fellow ODST. Marty slapped his counterpart on the shoulder. "This is my new turret gunner, Shugart. Me and him chauffeured your battalion commander around yesterday, had some fun along the way too."
Shugart nodded back, then after meeting Nova's scrutinizing gaze, blushed slightly and bowed out of the conversation's focus.
The two were given a seat at the squad's table. They became the new center of attention as the ODSTs and Armored Tank Crew caught up on what had happened in each other's lives since the fall of Miridem. The two Scorpion crewmembers talked about what life had become for them in being regarrisoned in Treviso. For the ODSTs' part, they talked about what it was like to return to their base, although they stretched it out to make it seem as if that's all they had done in the months since.
As they went on, it made Duncan realize how much time had actually passed. It suddenly struck him that more than half a year had gone by since Miridem, longer since he'd last spoken to Erica, and even longer since he'd seen her.
He wondered what she might've done after learning he was MIA. If there was one thing he knew about her it was that she was strong enough to put up with a lot, which was arguably what had helped their marriage work as well as it did. But he wondered if she missed him, because now with things quiet, he realized how much he was actually missing her. He'd never given much thought to the inward ache that he'd had to ignore throughout his deployment. However, missing his chance to speak with her after returning from the Trafalgar left that ache stirred up a good deal more than before.
Still, he had forced those feelings aside for a greater purpose.
Here he was helping humanity to retake one of its worlds from the Covenant. He'd heard about the situations of the other Task Forces and could tell they only needed one more push to win back Actium.
For the first time in his memory, he was doing what his father had done in fighting to take back Harvest, a victory for the UNSC. He was similarly doing what his role-model, Admiral Preston Cole had done at the Battle of Psi Serpentis, scoring another major victory against the enemy. They could do the same with Actium. That was the reason he'd chosen to join the ODSTs after all, to stop the Covenant. In a sense, he was accomplishing that very dream. Looking around the table, he knew they all were. They would show others that Fleet Admiral Hood was right when he claimed it was in the ability of every UNSC-affiliated individual to prove the Covenant were not unbeatable. There was Harvest, Arcadia and Psi Serpentis. Now they would fight to add Actium to humanity's list of triumphs, and in doing so would encourage others across the colonies to join them in fighting and ultimately winning this war.
He just hoped Erica would understand that and, when he was old enough, that Noah would as well.
The conversation ended when one of Bravo Company's ODSTs, Hotel-7, reached their table to inform them that the Colonel wanted everyone in Bravo outside the mall. They were to drive back to the HMPD HQ for a mission briefing. With tired groans and sighs that were quickly silenced by the Staff, Epsilon shoveled whatever food they had left either into their mouths or into trashcans. Zack decided on a third option by pouring the remains of his makeshift Moa Burger into his rucksack.
Then they grabbed their gear and joined other squads of Bravo leaving the food court in heading for the exit.
:********:
With a gentle bow of his reptilian head, Field Marshal Kozon Duracomee submitted to the presence of an even greater authority. Though he could see little more than the boots of the Sangheili whose projection stood upon the holo-pedestal, he wouldn't dare make eye contact given the nature of his petition. "Supreme Commander Niccoramee, please hear my request. It is of the gravest importance."
The image of the Supreme Commander considered quietly what he thought said question would be, then ushered him on. "I will listen."
Dressed in the maroon and blue-accented armor suited to his rank, Duracomee bowed his head further, causing his horned headpiece to tip forward. "We are in desperate need of orbital assistance against the humans. As I have stated in my earlier report, they have taken the second tier of this city. We require all the reinforcements you can muster to our aid." What he knew he hadn't mentioned in that previous report was that the humans had done so by somehow using their own communication's jammers against them. It was a failure in tactical judgement more than deserving of death. However, he hadn't spoken of it for the sake of his army rather than his own life. If Niccoramee did have him executed for his failure then it would have the adverse effect of making the already frayed allegiances of the remaining Unggoy, Kig-Yar, Yanme'e and Sangheili under his command dissipate entirely, leading to a repeat of the fratricide that had unfolded in the 2nd Tier.
Niccoramee wasted less than a breath in his reply. "No."
The answer didn't surprise Duracomee. It simply made him more despairing than he already was at having been given this task. "Why, Supreme Commander?"
"Because I have faith in your capabilities as a commander of my legions. I am certain that Maragek did not graduate any incapable officers from his War College. Which is why I know you are more than capable of utilizing the resources and numbers you have on hand to crush this human rabble."
Duracomee didn't even dare to dispute the decree. He'd learned that it was unwise to do so when their commanding officer was one like Niccoramee. "I...understand. But what of the Holy One, the Minister of Iconography?"
"What about him?"
"Commander, the Holy One is in danger here. The human's ships loom over us even now. Surely it would be safer for him if he were transported to your location. Then we could defend this city with greater assurity of-"
"No."
Duracomee felt despair settle even more powerfully upon his shoulders. He dared ask the futile question. "But why not?"
"The Minister has the very eyes of the Gods watching his every footstep and thus has their protection and favor. Surely the will of the Gods is far greater protection than any warship I could dispatch. Besides, my ships are too ensconced in their tasks here to offer any transport. I have faith that the Minister has the protection he needs." Niccoramee leaned forward, his face hardening. "Yet may it be so that the ire of the Gods will be against you should you fail to retake that city or to allow the Minister to complete the Ceremony of Sanctification. The next time we speak the ceremony should already be concluded along with the fate of the eastern capital. I pray the Gods favor you, because if not then there is no warship I can offer that would do greater justice than that dealt at their hand, by that of your foes or of your own sword. Is that understood, Field Marshall?"
Duracomee gave another dignified bow. "I will not fail you or our righteous Covenant, Commander."
"I know." That was all Niccoramee said before his image disappeared as he ended the conversation. The holo-pedestal before him dimmed to a faint blue light, leaving Field Marshall Duracomee with nothing save the howl of the early morning wind that carried the sounds of thousands of unified voices to his ear. He slowly arose and headed to the very end of the roof of one of the hundreds of skyscrapers that forested the 3rd Tier of the city. He stopped at the edge to look down upon the faithful.
Thousands of his warriors had gathered around holo-pedestals in the streets below. Unlike his own which was specialized for two-way communication, they could do nothing with theirs except look on with reverence at the projection of the Minister of Iconography.
At the moment, the Minister was conducting an active broadcast of the first ritual Evening Prayer of Sanctification over the 3rd Tier, the last region he needed to sanctify. Since Covenant forces had first occupied the city eight days ago, the prophet had been hard at work purifying this location. He dedicated three days to each tier where he would offer up three evening prayers per day.
The first, the Prayer of Atonement, was to petition the Gods for forgiveness of the land in harboring the humans, their enemies, as its denizens.
The second, the Prayer of Partitioning and Affliction, was to request that the Gods punish the humans apart from the land and eradicate them from it.
The third, the Prayer of Strengthening, was to ask the Gods to grant their servants the strength to annihilate the humans as the executioners of their righteous judgement.
During each prayer the icon representing the part of the prayer's trinity being focused on would be displayed. The base format of each icon was a 'Y' shaped symbol with three smaller circular symbols, one within each corner of the main icon. Inside each circle was an arrowhead-like shape with varying angles and ornate tertiary patterns surrounding them.
Presently, the image of the Minister of Iconography was raising his hands towards the heavens. Above his outstretched palms was the icon for 'Atonement', a Y shape possessing three circles with interior arrowheads all uniformly pointed downward.
Duracomee had worked with the Minister to organize his efforts in having each symbol carved into the sides of structures within the tier where the prayer was being made. His Elites acted as security squads for the Minister's Huragok servants that would use their fine cilia to 'etch' the image of the icon into the surrounding architecture. By extension, the icons became the outward manifestation of the corresponding petition. They would often glow both in the darkness of night and in the light of day due to the strange and incomprehensible nature of the creatures that put them there.
For the time being the Minister would have to shelter in place. He could just as simply transport him to the safety of the far east via a Phantom. But the human's domination over the skies made that all but impossible to do safely. With the way matters were progressing in the city, he couldn't risk losing the likes of a prophet as well. Maybe he could chance sending him off with Seraph escorts once his purpose was fulfilled after tomorrow's final prayer where the ceremony would celebrate the full sanctification of the city. However, he sensed there was more to Niccoramee's refusal to send a ship to oversee the protection of the Minister. There seemed to be something personal involved, and he certainly was not blind to his Supreme Commander's ambitions like he himself seemed to be. Perhaps the Minister represented some form of threat or obstacle to his aims, which would explain why he had the prophet sent to 'purify' this city rather than handle the most prestigious work that he was originally assigned to oversee in the east.
Duracomee was not one for arguing politics. He left that to the San'Shyuum and Sangheili councilors. He was a warrior and, suspicious or not, he would do what was ordered of him. So the Minister would remain. The only saving grace here was that no one except Duracomee and a few others actually knew where the Minister was. That, they could use to their advantage.
He trotted over to the other side of the rooftop. The westward skies were still pinkish purple compared to the increasing orange-yellow radiance rising in the east. He inwardly hoped it was a sign that the Gods' favor was rising over his own life, that they would grant him victory.
But even the wisest servant knows he cannot leave everything to his masters, because then they would be more deserving of his reward than himself. As he considered the preparations to be made to fortify their positions against the attack he knew was coming, he hoped his plan would decimate the humans and leave them both decentralized and demoralized enough for a successful counterattack. And if that wasn't possible then he was determined to have each and every warrior fight to the death. He swore the humans would not retake this city without having to destroy it altogether.
Then his gaze was drawn beyond the city towards the sea that lay on the other side of the island archipelago. He knew exactly what was there and wondered whether the Silent Shadows' operation would prove successful in executing the most vital part of his final strategy.
Prophetam - Prophet