Chapter 19 – Determinatio

May 10th, 2545 (07:23 Hours – Military Calendar)

Aquilla System, Actium

High Mediolanum, Republic of Pavia

Ano Liosia, Eden Mall

:********:

Duncan felt sleep slowly lift off of him like a heavy blanket. He slowly blinked away the last embers of slumber from his crusty eyes.

He was somewhere well-lit. At first things came to him as obscure shapes. Then as his hazy vision cleared, he became more acutely aware of his surroundings. The moment he did he winced as the pulsing pain in the back of his head finally registered.

He glanced around.

The room he was in was large, almost like an auditorium by the way the roof slanted upwards. Spotting the blue and blocky logo of the car manufacturing company 'HuCiv' made him reconsider his previous deduction. As did the plenteous car presentation pedestals across the floor. He counted around 30 of them in rows of 10. Less than a third actually showcased the compact and high-volume Genet coupes and sloped Fossa sedans that the company was known for. The rest were occupied.

Medical personnel standing on them were using stretchers as operating tables, conducting tests on the unconscious and occasionally conscious men and women of the UNSC laid before them. A few utilized scalpels to cut open damaged body parts in attending to internal factors while others stitched incision sites closed. Some were holding manual respirators to the faces of those in their charge while assistants sterilized and treated plasma burns.

The area around the pedestals was predominantly occupied with more stretchers on which lay even more UNSC personnel, hundreds that were either asleep or awake, groaning in pain and complaining from their recent treatments or lack thereof.

After taking a closer look, Duncan realized that he recognized many of the faces. They were fellow troopers from Bravo Company. Even though their armor was removed, a good number still wore the black shirt of ODST fatigues which singled them out from those wearing Marine and Army equivalents.

He counted close to half of Bravo's remaining contingent being present in what he assumed to be a make-shift field hospital. It was a sobering sight to see so many of his fellow Helljumpers, toughened and hardened as they were, simply lying on mobile stretchers hooked up to IVs and heart monitors. There were several cylindrical chambers around the room. ODSTs were being wheeled into and out of them by medics. He could see dozens of them sitting on the other side of the portholes. Those had to be hyperbaric chambers, meaning everyone on the inside were enduring recompression treatment for decompression sickness. What was worse was that he was apparently one of them, or had been. He lay in a stretcher of his own and was dressed only in his base fatigues. Everything else, his armor, diving apparatus and SMG were nowhere to be found.

His memories didn't come rushing back at the pace he wanted but instead came to him piece by piece.

He'd been in that Covenant C&C running with the rest of Epsilon. Then without warning he was thrown clear of the hallway and down a separate passage. There was water and fire then nothing at all.

Something must have knocked him out. That would explain the pain in the back of his head that kept him from falling prey to the exhaustion tugging at his eyes. It was getting worse every second. He distracted himself from it in noticing that his stretcher was part of a row setup against one of the walls. He used his elbows to drag himself along until he could prop his back against the wall. The hard surface was admittedly better than the equally rough fabric he'd been lying on for who even knew how long.

However, as he stopped, he felt something lying on the stretcher with him. He picked it up and examined it.

It was his Harvest rock.

He remembered feeling something slip out of his pocket back onboard that C&C. Seeing that he still had it gave him some relief. He turned it in his hand and felt more secure upon seeing that his dad's faint message from all those years ago was still intact. But he knew that he couldn't have held onto it the entire time. Someone would have to have gotten hold of it and purposefully brought it back to him.

To try and answer the question of who it might have been he chose to finally take stock of who was around him. Renni lay asleep on a stretcher to his left and Rico and Zack to his right. They were all relieved of their gear and left in their regular fatigues. Their expressions ranged from suppressed discomfort to visible muscle spasms that made them flinch in the gray area between being asleep and awake.

He must have been the first to wake up, at least among the four of them. He did a quick check of his own being for any DCS symptoms. His legs were fine. So were his arms. However, there was a fiery, itching sensation on his chest that felt a lot like ant bites. Pulling up his shirt, he found the skin on his breast was an angry red like a bad sunburn. A little tentative prodding with his fingers produced a flaming pain that fortunately dissipated once he stopped poking around. It was a rash, an ugly one at that, which suggested whoever had carried him had made a speedy ascent to the surface.

The exposure to the severe undersea pressure had caused the nitrogen stored in his body to bubble after he had resurfaced too fast, creating embolisms. The medics here must have given him outgassing treatment to release the pockets of nitrogen in his tissues and blood vessels concentrated around his upper body. Just a glimpse at his condition would tell anyone he had gotten off easy compared to most others here. Many were possibly suffering from joint pain, worse rashes or even temporary paralysis. None of them appeared to be dead, though death in their condition was a possibility. Had he suffered any severe embolisms in his own pulmonary veins or aorta then that would've been the end for him. Still, it looked like he had barely avoided such a fate.

He rolled his shirt back down and threw his legs over the side of his stretcher, wincing at the pain that stemmed from the soreness in his muscles. He'd need to work those out before he could get up and find his gear, or anyone else.

As he was stretching his right arm with his left, he spotted Nova and the Staff entering through one of the room's revolving doors. Unlike him, they were still fully decked in their BDUs and had their weapons on their back harnesses. They looked around, searching the rows of patients and medics. Duncan flexed his arm enough to raise it and waved around to get their attention.

The two depolarized their visors as they walked to the disabled elements of the squad. The Staff stopped to check over Renni, nodding at Duncan then moving off to Zack and Rico. Nova sat down beside Duncan's stretcher with her BR acting like a cane. A knowing grin flashed across her face. "How're you feeling, Irish?"

Duncan returned the grin with a bit more strain. "I'm alive." He croaked. "That's about the only good thing I can say."

"Symptoms?"

"Rash, a bad one on my chest."

"How bad?"

"Ever been bitten by fire ants? Well, it's a lot like that except if you went to sleep and decided to use their nest as a body pillow."

"Sounds rough." She said then switched to a motherly tone. "Need me to rub it for you, sweety?"

Duncan raised a weary brow at her.

She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. "Just kidding, I'll leave that to Erica."

He sighed explosively at her playfulness then winced at the pain that doing so brought him.

"Try not to move too much or breathe in too deeply. That rash will have to take time to heel." She glanced over at the Staff who had finished his own examination of Rico to move on to Zack. "Which means you'll be staying here."

The pain Duncan felt immediately subsided when he heard those words. He sat straighter and tried to pull himself onto his feet but Nova rested a hand on his shoulder to force him back down. "Hey, what did I just say? Try not to move, got it?"

"We're about to head into the 3rd Tier, right? We're going to finish capturing the city, and I'll be there when we do."

He made a second attempt at getting up. Again, she stopped him. "No. We're going. You're staying here."

"I can fight."

"No, you can't."

"I said I can do it."

"No, you can't." She insisted more strongly, pushing down his third attempt to get up. Duncan kept resisting her regardless.

"What, you think you can stop me?"

Nova's brow twitched in irritation. She let him go, allowed him to try getting up from a squat then, when he was almost there, reached forward and flicked him square in the chest. His eyes bulged in their sockets and he gave raspy coughs from the resulting surge of pain that wracked his upper body. He tumbled back onto his stretcher, landing hard on his backside.

Slowly recovering from his coughing fits he saw Nova glowering down at him. "No...you can't. I just flicked you and you're already half-dead. Could you imagine if you actually took a plasma bolt to the chest?"

His coughing turned to raspy laughter as he shook his head. "With this pain you might as well have hit me with plasma. It probably feels the same and yet..." He grunted at his renewed efforts in pushing his legs to extend. At halfway he wobbled slightly and relied on the wall to pull himself the rest of the way to a standing position. He grinned defiantly back at her.

Nova's eyes narrowed to annoyed slits as she sized him up. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It isn't."

They turned to the Staff as he arrived after finishing his check-up with Zack. "You brought him up to speed?"

"No sir." Nova said. "He's being too thick-headed for me to explain anything."

The Staff nodded and focused on the squad's tech specialist. "We thought we lost you back there, Ep-8. Spartan 087 is the only reason you're still around. She saved you from that hallway you fell into then brought you back up. Everything went to hell after that as I'm sure you've seen. While no one's died, close to half of Bravo has been left incapacitated by decompression sickness. We won't be fully operational as a company for some time. I came to see who we could salvage from our own casualties. Renni, Zack and Rico are too badly out of commission so there's no going out for them on this run. What's your situation?

"Doing fine sir, ready to get back on it."

"Are you?"

Duncan felt the pain in his chest turn from a sharp sting to a dull throb in his pectorals that radiated out across his body in tandem with his heartbeat. He unconsciously clenched his jaw against the sensations. "I can manage."

Seeking a second opinion, the Staff turned to Nova who shook her head at the notion. "I wouldn't advise having him tag along, sir."

The Staff briefly searched between the two to see which one was giving him the best answer. He refocused on Duncan at length. "Answer this for me, Irish. Can you assure me that your presence on this mission will not be an operational hazard?"

"Sir?"

"Think you'll get anyone else killed?"

Duncan shifted his jaw around but couldn't bring himself to say anything. He had a response. He just didn't know if it was the right one or even the most honest for that matter.

"Your BDU should be with everyone else's on the opposite side of the room, locker row B." The Staff said, turning and walking away. "We'll be outside near the front with Warrant Officer Ludowski's Convoy-10. You've got five minutes. Only come if you can give me a good answer."

Nova gave him a final 'don't be an idiot' look then went after the Staff.

Duncan watched them leave through the revolving door they'd used earlier. He spared a glance at Renni to his left then at Rico and Zack on his right. They really were down for the count. He put a tentative hand on his chest to test out his own injuries, gauging the pain. Taking in a few slow breaths he thought back to what he'd originally considered about the situation on Actium. They were about to win here. The thousands of Marines, ODSTs and others would do their best to finish the job they'd started. So, what good would one injured Helljumper be if he tagged along?

Another memory kept him from going any further down that line of thought. It was that of Fleet Admiral Lord Hood back at New Alexandria whose words answered his question of how much good a single soldier could do. Hood had never said if it mattered whether they were injured or not. His words were repeated by Colonel Mentieth in reference to the undertaking of the very same campaign that they were about to complete today. They all mentioned the same name: "Admiral Preston J. Cole."

If one man could risk a supernova to kill off a Covenant armada then certainly a Helljumper, as per his namesake, could risk what was tantamount to a little sunburn to help win back a planet.

He gritted his teeth, grunted as he hauled himself along the wall then walked out into the rows of stretchers, bound for the equipment lockers on the other side.

:********:

UNSC forces in High Mediolanum's 2nd Tier had spent most of the predawn assembling back into their units. Across the middle level of the city, Marines and ODSTs were clearing out armories with nearly every weapon variety in the arsenal registry of the United Nations Space Command. Armored personnel hopped into the front seats and onto the turrets of Warthogs. Trained fingers moved dexterously over the control panels of the 53rd's plenteous Scorpion battle-tanks as their canopies slid shut. Pilots pulled themselves into the cockpits of Hornets, Pelicans and Longsword fighters being deployed on the mission. Many of the dropships opened their bays for Marines of the 4th and 27th Expeditionary Marines and ODSTs from both battalions to load inside.

Air elements from the 24th Air Recon were predominantly taking off from the more open areas on and near the HMPD HQ.

Convoys 7 through 9 were assembling in the lots outside the Henry Gosse Parthenon Oceanarium in Mezoline as part of Colonel Garrison's Column C.

The campus grounds of the Perseus Institute in Eleusis hosted the mobilization of Convoys 1 through 3 of Lieutenant Colonel Serakovich's Column A.

Lastly, the decorative cobblestone surfaces surrounding the Eden Mall in Ano Liosia were being thoroughly occupied with the cascading footfalls and rumbling engines of Convoys 4 through 6, Colonel Mentieth's Column B.

Hundreds of Marines and ODSTs of Delta and Echo Company moved along the armored sub-columns of Warthogs, Scorpions and Mongooses gathering over the mall's front esplanade which stretched to the beginning of the eastern highways. Duncan was among them, jogging from one sub-column to the next while trying not to be swept away by the currents of personnel moving to and fro between them.

He managed to push through the last of Convoy-6 to reach the grassy interval between the mall's front esplanade and one of the cobblestone yards that occupied the corners of the surrounding grounds. It was obvious that it had rained earlier since the grass squeaked annoyingly under his boots. The rain also explained the state of the stony yard itself since it was relatively clean of the blue blood and tungsten fragments from earlier. It was relatively clear with the exception of the dozens of vehicles belonging to Convoy-10 that were parked on the yard.

He looked around, checking the faces that buzzed past him as they loaded up, ran to other stations or hopped down to examine their transports for signs of previously undetected damage.

Eventually he caught sight of two Warthogs in the middle of the third sub-column. The rear one was a regular turret Hog. Yuri was on the gun. Hector was at the wheel with Nova riding shotgun, cradling her BR as well as a SPNKR propped between her knees. The second Hog, the one at the front, held an imposing M79 Rocket system, marking it out as a Rockethog. Judging by the katana on the trooper's back, he figured it was Mito who was behind the M79. The Staff, in his red-accented armor, was at the wheel. There was no one at the shotgun seat next to him, not yet.

Duncan jogged over, keeping his newly acquired gear balanced on his shoulders.

The others saw him and called out to him over the cacophony of engines.

"Had good nap at five-star hotel, Irish!?" Yuri asked, suggestively pointing his turret at him.

"It was alright! Couldn't say the same for the room service though!"

"Well, it's good to have you back!" Hector chortled. "I'd rather have you over Zack if I can help it!"

"Good thing too!" Mito added, nodding at his M79. "I wasn't sure I could manage holding off Covies on my own with this thing! At least with you here I've got someone to cover me when I'm cycling chambers!"

"I'll do what I can to help, Sir Samurai!"

Almost to the front Hog, Duncan saw Nova's depolarized face. She might as well have kept it hidden since her poker face was just as difficult to read as when it was behind her visor. He could tell she was stuck in a neutral purgatory between disapproval, worry and amusement. He gave her the thumbs up then stopped once he'd reached the shotgun seat.

The Staff eyed him for a moment. "Think you'll get anyone else killed?"

Duncan let his actions speak for him in bringing down the SPNKR he had carried on his shoulders with his right hand while hefting an MA37 assault rifle with his left, holding both weapons akimbo.

The Staff nodded in acceptance of his answer then gestured for him to come aboard. Duncan slipped his rifle onto his harness to better maneuver the rocket launcher and himself into the seat. "Ready."

There was a sudden, thunderous roar of multiple engines rumbling to life all at once that filled the air. Vehicles across the mall were revving up for their deployment.

Thirty seconds later the vanguard of Convoys 4 through 6 began driving from the grounds of the mall before taking off down several easterly highways. The others began to follow, creating an even greater cacophony that permeated the entire area.

In under a minute the whole of the convoys were on the move. Then, at Ludwick's order over the comms shortly after, Convoy-10 got underway.

Epsilon's Hog stayed in the third sub-column as they left the mall for the continuous asphalt of one of the eastern highways.

Duncan, for reasons he wasn't certain of himself, took off his helmet to let the wind rustle through his dark hair. It felt refreshingly chilly and was slowly warming. He found the reason for it in looking towards the east. Several kilometers away stood the towering visage of the 2nd Premiere Wall. Past that was the urban tree-line of the scores of skyscrapers on the 3rd Tier. Beyond those was the very top of the distant yet barely visible 3rd Premiere Wall as well as the tips of the several mountains that hemmed in the city's outer limits. Behind everything was the bright eye of Aquilla slowly peeking over the eastern horizon to greet the rest of the world. Its emerging sunlight turned the sky from a faint pinkish purple to a vibrant reddish orange, its glow causing the many windows of the numerous skyscrapers to glitter like a glassy array of stars.

To either side he could see Mongooses with two-man teams and Warthogs with three-man teams pushing along the highways. The Scorpions kept pace around them, hosting six-man crews, mainly hitchhiking Marines and ODSTs who didn't have to leg it the rest of the way like the majority of their comrades jogging over the sidewalks.

Through the occasional breaks in the buildings that they passed to his right and left he saw the other convoys moving through Ano Liosia. The hundreds of footfalls of boots, whining tires and burbling treads was so loud that he could feel the sound of their collective movement in his bones.

Their advance was accompanied by the whine of the dozens of Hornets and Pelicans that were flying hundreds of meters overhead along with the squadrons of Longswords that regularly roared past them at even greater speeds.

Then there was the UNSC Tower of Babel. Looking back, he witnessed the Destroyer making its way from its hold over the 1st Tier into the airspace above the 2nd. Interestingly, the knife-shaped vessel of war was nearly whisper quiet in its forward progress across the skies. Its silhouette momentarily passed over them as it headed in the same direction towards their shared goal: the 2nd Premiere Wall.

"Listen up Ep-8." The Staff said. "Here's the deal, while everyone in the other convoys are going to the gatehouses to engage from the wall, Convoy-10 will be dealing with a different task. We're headed deeper into the Scenic District to assist the Spartans in their operation."

"Another op?" Duncan asked, confused at how the armored giants could just keep going, even after yesterday's events. Then again, here he was carrying a rocket launcher with his chest still aching from DCS, and he was only an ODST.

"We're acting as their back-up since where they currently are no one else will be able to reach them if they're compromised. We're going to reinforce them to make sure their op goes off without a hitch. So keep your eyes up because we'll be the only forces out there for a while. Everyone else will be busy holding at the wall before they can break through to us."

"...Copy that."

Duncan still wasn't sure how he felt about the fact they were going to be cut off from everyone else. Isolation behind enemy lines and going loud were two different factors that tended not to mix very well during an operation. "Think we can handle this, sir?"

The Staff was about to answer when they overheard a familiar voice. It was the voice of one man coming from many different directions.

It took them a second to realize that it was originating from the radios of the vehicles around them. Many of the other personnel were focused on the road ahead while also leaning in to their devices on their Mongooses, Hogs and Scorpions. They were listening to a speech.

It took the troopers another second to identify the voice as belonging to Colonel Mentieth. From what Duncan could tell, the commanding officer of the 53rd Armored Division was already in the middle of his speech, although he couldn't hear him very well.

As they drove along, the Staff decided to flick on their Hog's radio. He flipped through the various channels in search of the one everyone was playing, grumbling at his increasingly futile efforts. "Where's Zack when you actually need him?"

After a full minute of trying, he managed to find the one they were looking for. It was a broadcast being sent to every vehicle in the 53rd, every aircraft in the 24th and back-mounted radio-set among the infantry.

Since they were getting closer to the wall, Duncan slid on his helmet and clicked it into place, all the while listening to the colonel. He could tell that Mentieth was about to wrap up his speech. Still, he was thankful that they had at least caught the tail end of what he had to say.

"Let no one here question our place in human history. That we are here right now is not coincidence or accident. It is our fate. And this war, our birthright — our legacy. Our generation was born to fight the Covenant, and you, my fellow soldiers - were born for this very day. Today the enemy will hear the roar of humanity. And they will fear us."

Determinatio - Determined