Chapter 6 – Ascensionem
January 4th, 2552 - (12:15 Hours - Military Calendar)
Daedalus system, Ballast
Vallejo station construction site
:********:
Smoke.
Gunfire.
Green, sizzling plasma.
Those three things made up the bulk of everything Duncan saw, heard and felt.
Smoke wafted into his face so profusely that his helmet filter couldn't spare him from occasionally needing to cough. Gunfire from his own rifle and that of many others formed a constant clamor that drowned out everything else, everything but the blots of blue and green plasma that darted past in reply.
He refused to let a wounded Elite out of his sights as he released his first magazine. A new one was slapped into place before the first could hit the ground, and as the latter bounced off the spent casing covered floor at his feet, a single round blew through the side of the Elite's helmet. Vibrant blue blood spewed over a similarly shaded armor and the retreating minor toppled sideways.
He was about to gloat when a Hunter stepped out in front of the corpse and leveled its plasma cannon at him. His smile vanished. "Incoming!"
He ducked down behind the wall with Deaks and Zack as the Hunter's cannon whined and roared. The shrill echo of the discharge came a split-second before the impact. Though the wall shook, there wasn't the usual after-wash of heat. Duncan pulled himself back up to see what was hit.
The wall was fine. The M71 Scythe just beneath them was not.
Smoke plumed up from a man-sized hole in the base of the gun. It stuttered to a halt halfway through its 10-round drumbeat, cutting it off from the ensemble of AA fire that lit up the Banshee filled skies.
"Crap!" He ducked down beneath a needler burst that Deaks was quick to repay. "Ep-1, we just lost a gun!"
"I saw!" The Staff replied. "Nothing we can do about it! Just focus on the ground game!"
"But what about-"
Plasma fire suddenly lashed out at the rooftop from above. The ODSTs turned skyward to the fray of Banshees hovering, shooting, flipping and rolling about amidst the returns from the remaining scythes. The loss of the gun in their sector had left two Banshee pilots feeling freer to try their hand at a rear approach. The two attack crafts came in on a downward angle towards their building.
The squad of Marines unfortunate enough to catch their fancy tried to scatter as the lead flyer strafed their position. The second used the first's assault to get in close. It reached within 10 meters before launching a torpedo and subsequently banking away from a retaliating rocket. The ball of angry-green plasma struck the roof. Two of the Marines that were too slow disappeared in a flash of smoke and emerald lightning. A third was thrown clear off the roof. He screamed as he hurtled down the building's full 50-meter height. The smoke cleared right after, exposing a jagged, glowing hole on that part of the roof.
A THWUMP sounded off before the first Banshee could escape its attack run. A single 40-millimeter grenade arced up into its face. The detonation synced with an attempt by its engines to escape, causing it to twist about in the paralyzing grip of the EMP. Two rockets from an M95 raced into its falling form from behind. The resulting explosion was high up enough for everyone to see.
Rico's native tongue lashed out at the descending wreckage. "¡Inténtalo de nuevo, te reto!"
"Svyataya mat' Lenina, gde nashi letchiki kogda oni nam nuzhny!" Yuri hissed. "Renni, pomogi morskim pekhotintsam!
"Da, no sosredotoch'tes' na strel'be!" Renni replied. "They'll have to get here eventually!" She ran down the line, joining a pair of corpsmen who were racing to attend to a crawling Marine, the last of his squad.
After splitting open the brains of a Grunt, Duncan took another look at the M71. The device was utterly motionless. The wiring within its inner housing sparked. He could tell from a cursory glance exactly what had been hit. Then an idea popped up.
He crouched back behind the safety of the wall as plasma seared his cover. "Ep-1, I think I can bring that Scythe back online!"
"How!?"
"It'll take too long to explain! Just cover me while I go down there and I can get it done!"
The Staff didn't have to think about it long, although even a second was an eternity in a world of bullets and plasma.
"Ep-2, go with him! You two are going to rappel down to the M71 to get it operational again! You copy!?"
"Copy!"
"Everyone else, lay down covering fire!"
A round of acknowledgement lights winked on their HUDs while they crouched to reload.
Duncan wrestled his rucksack off his back and peeled open the main compartment. He reached in and pulled out the black nylon rope inside. He crawled over to a nearby roof vent, pulled at it to make sure it was strong enough then tied the rope through the grating. Nova crawled up behind him. She yanked at the stopper knot. Confident that it was taught enough, she joined him in threading the rope through the latch points on their BDUs. They clipped their rifles to their back harnesses and shuffled back towards the part of the wall closest to the scythe.
The Staff turned to them. "Ready!?"
The squad's cryptanalyst and engineer nodded, their grips on the rope tightening.
"Three! Two! Go! Go! Go!"
The rest of the squad rose into the baptism of fire to return the favor.
Duncan javelined the rest of the rope over the sandbags. He shot to his feet and vaulted over the wall, twisting midway as his feet passed the ledge and clamped around the break-line. He quickly slid down into the middle of a storm of green and blue. He peered up and saw Nova coming down just as fast.
They passed the top floor beneath them. He briefly locked eyes with a couple of surprised Marines manning turrets from behind their own sandbags. He kept going, passing another floor until his feet made contact with the top of the platform. The scaffolding of what was meant to be an elevator shaft wrung under his impact. He immediately ran for the gun. The scaffolding shook again, signaling Nova's arrival. Both of them brought out their rifles as they braced themselves against the back of the gun base. Duncan held up a hand, telling her to stay put while he slid around the left side. Plasma zipped past a hand's breadth away from his visor. He held off on going the full way to the front of the gun. Instead, he put a hand against its hot metal hide and steadied himself. He took in a few deep breaths and quickly leaned out to peek into the hole.
The smoke inside obscured most of his view, but past the mishmash of wires he made out the flames burning within the inner housing of the control suite. He visually confirmed it was closer to the rear of the base. He pulled himself back around before a green burst burnt new holes into the outer casing. He slid to Nova's side.
"The control suite?" She asked.
He nodded.
"In that case, I found this." She pointed to a panel on the back of the base.
"Perfect." Duncan pulled it open and blinked through the components. He stopped at a network switch. "There." He flicked it and a long list of potential network contacts strobed over an adjacent screen. His trained eye spotted what he was looking for: '_...ODST BDU Unit-75441_". He selected it, causing a hail notification to appear on his HUD. Quickly accepting it, the handshake protocol was established. The gun whirred back to life as a new feed took over a corner of his head's up display, showing him the world through the targeting reticle of the M71.
Nova flinched at a glancing needler that came awfully close to her elbow. "You got it!?"
"Yeah!" He peeked back out towards the western sky and saw that the M71 turned in unison. "Let's try this out! Cover me!"
"Copy!"
Duncan sighted in on a pair of Banshees coming in on a strafing run from the west. He didn't have any triggers but he didn't need any either. Once he looked in their direction, a white rectangle appeared around both flyers. The M71 turned to face them and the rectangles flashed red, indicating a lock-on. The weapon fired on the one he was focused on first, ripping it apart in a thunderous volley that sent vibrations through the gun base. Upon seeing its partner destroyed, the second Banshee attempted to roll out of the way. The Scythe pursued it with a vengeance so that by the time it left Duncan's target box it was transformed into a silvery blue fireball.
"That's two!"
He spotted three more soaring in high over their building, this time from the east. One trailed smoke from the cockpit while being stalked by an M95 missile. Another was sparkling with bullets as a turret tracked it from an upper floor. Duncan's eye instinctively locked on to the flyer in the middle. The first AA burst chased after it. The second struck it in the underside, gouging out its center until the last three shots flew freely into the air, leaving the dead craft to plummet to the ground. He refocused on the one not far behind it. Ten easy rounds blew it to pieces, stealing the kill from the turret gunner. The last Banshee struggled to pilot around the wreckage from the second, but the maneuver cost it time. The missile chasing after it finally struck its portside wing, biting away half the cockpit. The rest of it was left to spiral uncontrollably into the far hills.
"That's five!"
Nova donated a full clip of her MA5C to helping a few Marines trying to pin down a Hunter pair near the gate. "Keep it up, Ep-8! We-...Seraph on an attack run, 500 meters west!"
Duncan turned that way with the gun. The teardrop shaped fighter was zooming over the highway on a beeline for the gate. It gradually angled upwards, exposing the brightening indicator lights of its bomb bay doors. Alarmed, Duncan locked on and tracked it. The M71 started up a heartbeat later, too slow for his liking. The first volley only flared its shields. He stayed focused and waited for the second burst. It came two seconds later at a target that was 200 meters closer. Again, the volley only served to flare its shields. He could feel the scream of its drives vibrating the air. He pressed his back against the gun's base and braced himself. Another two seconds and another 200 meters passed before the third barrage assaulted its shields. A blip of relief struck him as he watched the energy barrier finally give way. Yet the craft inside was completely unscathed, and completely unhindered.
At the last moment two M95 missiles wisped over the rooftop and struck the craft head-on. Twin azure blasts bucked its entire front section downward, pushing it into an unrecoverable descent. The Seraph nosedived into the last 30 meters of the highway, striking with such force that explosions erupted through its hull. What remained of its velocity sent the rear and mid-sections tumbling across the asphalt. It was coming in fast. Too fast.
There was a flash of white.
"Duncan!"
Duncan felt something hurdle into his stomach and his world turned into a blur of motion. Then there was a blast of blue light and an intense heat that prickled his skin, a feeling dulled by a hard landing.
He heard the shooting around him subside. A hand grabbed his and pulled him off his face. Staggering to a knee, he saw dark shadows on his periphery that were held back by a burning illumination somewhere ahead. Soon his vision cleared. He found himself in the low light of a floor of the apartment building. The platform with the M71 was a short jump away. However, he hesitated once he saw the blue inferno raging over the platform's scaffolding as well as most of the gun's frontside. It didn't take long before the flames moved for the rest.
A hand brushed his shoulder off. He turned to Nova.
"You good?" She asked.
"Yeah." He said and watched the flames engulf the control panel. "Thanks for that."
"Don't mention it." She turned to take a look at what remained of the M71. "So what do we-"
"Hey." A Marine said as he stepped up. "Hey, you guys-, you guys hear that?"
A squad of fellow Marines at nearby sandbag positions stopped shooting. They ducked behind the safety of their cover in order to listen.
Beneath the constant frizzling splash of the plasma bolts, there was a rising crackle. To Duncan it almost sounded like popcorn popping. Popcorn? Then the grim realization hit him with enough forewarning to grab Nova and throw them both to the ground.
The M71's ammunition belt ignited.
Dozens of cooked-off rounds, ordnance meant for taking down hostile aircraft, punched unclean holes through prefab walls, steel girders and Marine BDUs. The Marine standing closest to it flew back as the rounds shredded his torso and vaporized his head. Three others toppled over from the outgoing that struck through the chest, the leg and, in one fatal case, the throat. Duncan and Nova stayed flat on their bellies while lightning-fast tracers shot dangerously close. Then just as quickly as it began, the stochastic storm died down. The last round thumped into a spare sandbag lying a few centimeters short of Duncan's visor. He lay still for a moment longer. When nothing else came to ear but the roar of the M71's flaming wreck, he slowly pulled himself up. Nova warily followed suit.
The moans from the wounded were his first concern. Duncan ran over to the two that looked in the best condition, 'best' compared to how much worse off the third and fourth were. Nova stepped over the mangled remains of the most unfortunate Marine to reach his friend with the torn throat. Nova found blood pooling out of his mouth in gargling bubbles. His wound was a few inches short of a full decapitation. His eyes dimmed before she could lay a hand on him. She turned to Duncan and shook her head.
Their comms crackled. "This is 4-Actual to all western forces; the perimeter's been breached! Fall back to Phase Line Bravo! I repeat, fall back for secondary defense!"
Duncan hustled over to the remnants of the sandbag wall. He peeked past the AA gun to the world beyond it. There was flaming wreckage splayed out across the inner grounds with explosions routinely popping off in what was left of the Seraph. The perimeter fence was broken down in multiple places. Hunters had stomped through, clearing the way for their smaller comrades to flood inside.
"Ep-1 to 2 and 8, you two still alive down there!?"
"Barely!" Nova answered.
"Alright, make your way to the next fallback position! Don't wait up!"
"Copy!"
Around them, the handfuls of Marines and Military Police were abandoning turrets and leaving sniper positions behind. They weaved through the webs of steel columns to the other side of the building. There they began crossing over several makeshift bridges that connected them to the next layer of neighboring apartments.
Nova grabbed the arm of one of the wounded Marines and pulled him over her shoulder. With a groan, she got him onto his feet and started for the other side. Duncan carefully slid the last man over his shoulders and came after her.
Like the rest, the closest bridge was made of little more than a hodgepodge of wooden planks tied together. They came up behind the last squad of Marines. For every uncertain step forward, the wood creaked beneath the weight of their boots as their charges moaned over their shoulders. Duncan fought to ignore the blood streaming down his BDU from the gaping wound in the leg of his charge. There weren't many better alternatives for his attention.
Every other second a Banshee swooped high overhead on a strafing run aimed at some target deeper within the site. M71 and M95 responses were never far behind. Below the air assault, the Marines stationed on the rooftop were retreating with the rest of Epsilon to the top of the next apartment. Their 'bridges' didn't look any safer either. The much longer fall below prompted them to move quickly, but the rushes of air from the Banshee onslaught regularly caused the bridges to wobble. Duncan stopped mid-step when he saw a passing Banshee swoop in perilously close to Zack and another Marine. Their balance failed and they were about to tip over, but at the last second Deaks caught Zack by the radio-set and Rico grabbed the Marine's breastplate. They pulled them back along and kept moving. Duncan breathed a little easier after that. That same breath hitched in his throat at hearing a high-pitched whine growing louder and louder. He looked back over his shoulder and down some 40 meters to the ground floor. A blast of blue energy went off in the interior, throwing damaged materials outside. Several more Marines and MPs stumbled out amidst the haze. They fired back into the smoke while running after their comrades that were retreating across the street. Plasma fire chased after them. An Elite leapt out from the haze seconded by another. They pulled off quick shots into exposed backs, downing a trio of military police that hadn't made it to cover.
Duncan picked up his pace. "Might want to hurry!"
Nova ditched the attempt to walk her charge to safety and instead pulled him over her shoulders. "Let's move!"
The two of them made a push over the last of the distance. Duncan brought up the rear and jumped down into their new cover just before a plasma torpedo blew out the middle of the bridge. Searing shards rained down. The planks heaved and gave way, collapsing down onto the embattled street.
Duncan stuck with Nova in navigating through the hallways. A constant influx of Marines and MPs moved across their path to man the western windows. The darkness from the lack of ceiling lights was helped by the flickering illumination in each room they passed, courtesy of their fellow UNSC lending their support to the street-fight outside. They found a few corpsmen that had set up a casualty collection point at an intersection. They laid the wounded Marines on available mats and enjoyed the freedom of not having to carry the extra weight.
"You guys know where the staircase is?" Nova asked.
One of the corpsmen, hands deep in the burn wound on his patient's side, jabbed a biofoam caked thumb down the intersecting corridor. "Stairs are that way, trooper."
"Thanks."
Both of them sprinted through the low-lit passage, arrived at a door with a half-painted sign that read 'Stairs' and shouldered it open. The way up was already occupied with a squad of Marine shooters carrying SRS-99s to the roof. They followed them up the next two floors. Their sergeant reached the door to the rooftop first and kicked it open. The light of day flooded in. Shadows raced past. However, they weren't Banshees. The sound of the engines was too different. Moving out onto the roof gave Duncan the chance to confirm his suspicions.
Five arrowhead shapes zipped past from east to west. They were almost too fast for him to make out their matt-black hulls, but not so for him to recognize the roar of their fusion reactors. The Longswords arced up into the sky, disrupting the fray of Banshees above. They were a relieving sight.
The rest of Epsilon had taken up a squat at the sandbag wall on the edge. Zack hailed them over, depolarizing to show his glee. "Guess who's in town, guys!?"
Duncan shook his head, laughing somewhat as they crouched down next to him.
"About time!" Yuri growled in a mixture of infuriation and satisfaction.
Baelson came in over the squad comms. "4-Actual to Ep-7, you in position!?"
"Ay, sir!"
"Startup communications with the Longswords! Tell'em they're free to level West Phase Line Alpha!"
"You sure, sir!? That's the whole-"
"That's an order, trooper!"
"...Copy!"
With fresh plasma flying overhead, Duncan figured it wise to keep his head down, at least until the bombardment was over. Still, he wanted to see it for himself and risked peeking over the wall.
The first apartment buildings were completely drained of UNSC personnel. Said personnel were all busy fighting the new occupants. Grunts, Jackals and their four-jawed leaders had taken up residency and reengaged the firefight from there. A dozen more hot-blooded Elite minors had taken on the task of pushing into the streets. They leapt away from tracers and repaid the senders with plasma bursts that melted into their street cover. Hunter pairs pushed up the central highway with their shields pressed tightly together, so tight that not even a SPNKR could do them any harm. The Marines and MPs below were holding fast, but for how long?
Zack answered the question on everyone's mind as he keyed an open comm-link to a Longsword squadron. "This is Ep-7 to the sword team coming in from the south, state your callsign, over!?"
Duncan turned to their left. Past the structures of the construction site, he saw another Longsword squadron swooping in over the southern horizon.
A man's voice bearing a twinge of an old western accent replied. "This is Grizzly 1-1 to Ep-7, callsigns exchanged."
Zack chanced another glance at the street, probably to gauge the potential damage. He ducked back down beneath a spurt of plasma. "Warning: Grid mission, danger close, over!"
"Warning received. Target?"
"Grid WN 1203211 303221! The buildings are all yours 'cause they sure aren't ours anymore!"
"That's past a 10-meter strike, Ep-7, you sure you feelin' that lucky?"
The squad stumbled as a Hunter's plasma torpedo struck two floors below them, shaking the entire building.
"Positive!" Zack replied.
"Alright, I've gotta wrap the belt around my knuckles for this one. Keep your heads down, incoming in five."
Having overhead everything, Lieutenant Baelson tapped everyone's comms. "Longsword strike incoming! Everyone, down!"
The sound of gunfire in the streets died away as Epsilon and the Marines with them both hunkered down behind their sandbags. Duncan perked up at hearing the rate of plasma fire pick-up dramatically, to then be immediately drowned out by the drone of engines. He turned skyward right as five Longswords swooped in from the south. They were over their heads one second then gone the next, leaving behind the bellow of their reactors. That was swiftly replaced with even more deafening explosions. Duncan ducked his head as the world beyond his cover transformed into an inferno. The missile payload cascaded into their sector, greeting whatever was unfortunate enough to be in range with a booming resonance.
Once the shaking stopped and the ringing in their ears ebbed, the squad took a look. The two buildings ahead of them were almost unrecognizable. The flames raging up and down every floor helped mask whatever semblance they once had to buildings, but the handful of massive blast craters blown into each level exposed the true damage within. Their fiery interiors were made into ovens, ones that groaned with the moaning of strained metal and crumbling polycrete. Their superstructures gave way slowly at first, then all at once. The floors crashed onto each other in their descent. Upon final impact, two large plumes of debris flowered out, rolling up the many Covenant corpses on the streets in a carpet of dust.
The Marines down below slowly emerged from their positions. No plasma fire came to meet them. Instead, they found themselves standing at a shore of dust-flow that the howling wind drove towards them.
On the roof, Zack held up a hand and Rico slapped him a high-five. "Ep-7, to Grizzly-1-1, good hits and good looks. I think you dusted the whole circus with that one, over."
"Copy that. We're moving on to assist the eastern sector so we'll be out of touch for a minute. Grizzly out."
"Flyboys came just in time." Yuri cheered. "So, what now?"
The Staff looked into the distance at the second Covenant cruiser, then at the first which had finally stopped carving up Vallejo. "Now..." He took a seat on the wall, unloaded his MA5C and slapped in a new magazine. "We wait for round two."
From behind the scope of his sniper, Deaks tensed.
"What is it?" The Staff asked.
Deaks let out a nervous laugh. "Looks like we won't have to wait too long, sir, and it also looks like I'm about to be out of a job."
The squad peered out restlessly over the west.
"Why do you say that?" The Staff asked, turning to see as well.
"Because, sir, it's hard to hit a fast moving target, especially when that target is riding mobile armor."
Duncan came closer to the corporal and used the DMR to follow along his sightline. He stopped at the starboard-side hangers of the second CCS. The doors to the bays had reopened. A new horde of Covenant aircraft were ushering out, or rather, elements of the first wave mixed with reinforcements. Among them he spotted dropships carrying vehicles whose fearful names were rightly deserved. Spirits carried pairs of Ghosts between their fork-like troop bays. Phantoms moved with the bulkier blue beetle forms of Wraiths mounted to their undersides. Then there was the rare mix between the two types that merged the speed of one with the power of the other; Revenants. There were dozens of the transports and assault crafts being lifted towards them. He very much doubted they wouldn't have another sizable ground force tagging along as well.
Hector whistled. "Revenants? You don't see those every day."
"That's a sign they mean business this time." The Staff said as he stood up. "Facing them at close quarters will be a pain, but we could use the debris maybe to limit their moveme-."
Baelson's voice once again came loud and clear over their communications. "Marines, maintain your positions. ODSTs, come with me, we're heading to the rear echelon to link up with a vehicle column. We can't risk all that enemy armor getting into the site. Let's go."
Duncan and the others turned to the building south of theirs. Baelson was on the rooftop with the rest of 4th Platoon. They were already on the move for the exit.
"Sorry, Ep-1." Mito said. "Guess 4-Actual's got other plans."
The Staff shrugged. "So long as he knows what he's doing." He nodded to the rest of Epsilon. "Let's move out."
:********:
Duncan really hoped the lieutenant knew what he was doing as he settled his hands on the wheel of the Warthog. The M12G1 felt different from his usual ride, namely because of how it would handle thanks to the change in armament. He fixed the rear-view mirror to get a better look at the thing in question. Even then, he barely needed to. The barrel was the first thing he saw thanks to how it extended all the way from the back to cast a shadow over the dashboard. He traced it all the way to its slanted gun palisades planted in the middle of the rear rotational mount. He blinked as the sunlight glinted off the glass of the optics mounted to the top of the gun. It was probably the last thing most targets ever saw that found themselves on the other side of it.
The M68 Gauss Cannon didn't look like it belonged on a Warthog. That was his own opinion anyway. The general aesthetics made it heavy to wield for the normal sized person or even a fully armored ODST. A Spartan was arguably a better fit. However, it made up for that hard to wield size with sheer stopping power. The M68 was capable of firing a 25-millimeter projectile at hypersonic speeds via magnetic acceleration. The design basically made it a miniature MAC gun. Wraiths facing down one of these had a high chance of getting pummeled to pieces. Ghosts and Revenants even more so. That was enough to override any negative opinions he had about it. Its efficiency of course depended on the skill of the gunner. That duty fell to Epsilon's engineering specialist who, smiling, hopped behind the weapon and helped herself to the rear grips.
"Hope you're licensed for this tiger, Ep-8." She said. "Because I'm sure approved for this."
"Honestly, you don't even look like you have the muscle to move that thing."
Duncan flinched as she swung the gun so that he found himself staring down the barrel. On the other side of the optics, she grinned at him. "Want to run that by me again?"
With a slow shake of his head, he turned back to face the front.
Ahead of them was a long line of a dozen Warthogs. Each carried its own style of armament ranging from M79 rocket launchers to M41 light anti-aircraft guns. The Marines, Military Police and ODSTs crewing them were performing final checks on their weaponry. Duncan only saw two other Gauss cannons in the mix. One was on the back of Baelson's personal Hog at the head of the column. The other was on the Hog in the middle of the column. Hector had the wheel with Mito behind the gun and Rico riding shotgun with his grenade launcher. The M319 along with the M68 was a devastating combo, but just as the thought was crossing Duncan's mind, he was introduced to a new and far more deadly combination.
His Hog momentarily dipped as the Staff threw himself into the passenger's seat. However, the extra weight hadn't come from the man himself but from what he was carrying.
Duncan gawked at the weapon with both the longest stock he'd ever seen and the longest name he'd ever heard. The Weapon/Anti-Vehicle Model 6 Grindell/Galilean Nonlinear Rifle, or simply the M6 G/GNR, was a uniquely purposed device that for its uniqueness bore the moniker; 'Spartan Laser'. He wasn't sure whether it was because Spartans had used it a lot or were involved in its first tests. That said, he figured Misriah must have known what they were doing in making a weapon capable of firing off an actual laser. Its non-replaceable battery cell held four shots, each one capable of instantly eviscerating almost any Covenant infantry from a comfortable distance. Not to mention what it could do to smaller craft like Ghosts or Banshees, even going so far as to one-shot a Wraith if the shooter played his cards right. And all of that came for no small penny. The Staff had, in no uncertain terms, taken it upon himself to bring along the most expensive small arms weapon in the UNSC arsenal.
"You know how to use that thing, sir?" Duncan dared ask.
The Staff pointed the weapon down and patted its pincer-shaped nozzle like an affectionate puppy. "There's nothing to it. Just point, hold for three seconds then let it rip. And it will rip."
Duncan nodded tentatively. "If you say so." He looked further down the street to where the dust from Phase Line Alpha was just beginning to settle. Within the remaining haze stood four distinguishable silhouettes, each forming a pair separate from the other. Four Scorpion tanks had moved on ahead of them to take up rear support positions for the outgoing columns. Their shadowed shapes moved from left to right, their smooth bore cannons probably picking the best targets from the ones currently rushing towards the site.
He looked to the right and down the intersection he was parked on. Waiting on an adjacent street was another column of a dozen Warthogs that stretched down the length of the parallel street. Their crews were likewise preparing, not daring to move until the news they were waiting for finally arrived.
The bellow of human and alien engines drew his attention upwards. The scene above was nothing short of a turkey shoot. The scores of Banshees that came in the second wave were now too busy facing the first wave of Longswords to focus on anything to do with the ground, or the ODP. Squadrons of the faster starfighters ripped through the swarms of enemy flyers. To Duncan they looked like pods of dolphins devouring their way through a loose school of mackerel. While the Banshees proved to be more maneuverable, the heat-seeking ASMG-10s snaked after them and regularly found their mark. The flyers rarely had a chance to fire their plasma cannons. Their tracking torpedoes proved too slow to do anything either. The Longsword squadrons took turns crossing each other's flight paths, using missiles or rotary cannons to carve more fiery wounds across the blanket of enemy craft. So long as they were taking care of the sky, the enemy up there would have no way of dealing with the fighting echoing from the other sectors. That also meant the Longswords couldn't afford to offer much ground support, hence why the two columns had to wait.
Still looking up, Duncan turned to the building on his left. Standing atop an exterior stairwell some five levels over the street were Deaks and Zack. The Staff had opted for them along with Renni and Yuri to stay behind. Renni was needed to help the corpsmen with the wounded and she also needed Yuri as a helping hand. As for the other two, the corporal had set himself up in a new position at the railing. With his sniper he was helping to keep an eye on the Covenant forces assembling in the west. Epsilon's radioman was standing right next to him. He was holding a conversation with someone else via the long antennae of his radio-set.
Then Zack perked up and looked to the east. After a second, he moved to the railing and yelled down to Baelson. "Fifty seconds!"
Baelson nodded back. He switched on comms to both of the columns. "Alright, let's roll out! Remember, split after the gate and give the infantry some room! They're not our targets! Hit what you can but focus on the heavy armor! And keep an ear out for the call! It can come at any moment! When it does, break contact immediately and withdraw to Phase Line Delta for evac! Try not to get left behind!"
Following a few affirmatory remarks from the gathering, Baelson revved up his Hog and drove forward. The column behind him got underway. To their right, the second column also got itself moving.
Duncan tread lightly on the acceleration. Out his rearview he saw Zack give them the thumbs up. He returned the gesture one-handed. With the same hand he drew out his sidearm, flicked off the safety and kept it low and ready.
The columns drove out from between the buildings of Phase Line Bravo and streamed past the ruins of Alpha. As he drove, Duncan got an eyeful of where the tanks had set themselves up. The hefty artillery pieces on wheels had used their versatile treads to climb the debris. Now the tank pairs were advantageously positioned atop the two ruins. There was nothing ahead of them aside from perfect sightlines on the enemy formation.
Once the Hogs cleared through the last of the smoke, they also got a view of what they were heading into. The inner grounds were still aflame with spots of blue fire. For the most part, the perimeter fencing in their sector was broken down by the pressure wave or misshapen by the intense heat so that it formed a weird, wavy barrier. The AA fire in their sector had also died down, meaning the dropships had already dropped off their cargo.
The Hogs pushed through holes in the fencing. It was easier than trying to get around the remains of the Seraph, the craft having left a long scar of fire and torn terrain from where it crashed through the gate. The last of the inferno fell away behind them as they bounced down onto the grassy fields. Duncan was reassured that any remaining mines had been deactivated after driving a good 20 meters. The possibility of them charging out at the enemy, only to get blown up by their own boobytraps was an idea too sloppy for any ODST to stomach.
The new wave of Covenant came into full view. The aliens had assembled themselves less than half a kilometer away, closer to the western valleys. The infantry were already on the move. There looked to be twice as many reinforcements as before: Hunters, Elites, Jackals and more Grunts than he was comfortable with shooting at. Their total number had to be in the realm of a thousand at least. If that many were here then he wondered how many more the other platoons were facing on the other sectors. The overall tactical situation those potentials presented him didn't do much to inspire any confidence.
Arrayed to the enemy's rear was a secondary formation of multiple Wraiths and Revenants. The largest of the two had gathered into three separate platoons with four of the tanks in each group. Twice as many Revenants advanced ahead of them as additional security. They were trailing behind the main force, likely waiting to get within range before they began offering supporting fire. Unlike their larger kin, several dozen Ghosts drove at the vanguard of the formation. Seeing the incoming UNSC, the assault crafts boosted ahead to meet them.
The two Hog columns split from the highway and dispersed to the left and right, to the south and north. The Ghosts compensated for their diverging targets by also splitting up. They didn't get far before the Scorpions boomed their own support into the vehicular vanguard. The hyper accuracy of their cannonade turned a number of the Ghosts into flickering debris. Still more survived to carry on the charge.
Duncan piloted hard left in an attempt to distance himself from a trio of Ghosts that had chosen him out of the lot. He made to catch up with Hector's Hog who was trying his hand at tripling his own speed. The high grass slapped against the tires as Duncan accelerated to just 10 meters shy of him. By then he saw another pod of Ghosts coming to join the rest. He predicted their intercept course would catch them at 250 meters shy of the infantry.
Nova tracked the closest ones with the M68. "Here they come!"
The Staff planted a Nav point on the southernmost Wraith platoon. The squad's quiet reply was a round of acknowledgement lights. Then he lowered his laser and pulled out his sidearm. Duncan grasped his own piece tighter.
At 300 meters to their target, a barrage came from a pair of Rocket Hogs near the front of the scattering group. It was quickly seconded by another pair on the right flank. A crossfire from the M79s whisked across the field. The missiles struck out handfuls of the pursuit crafts, turning them to burning specters. Far more survived the barrage and gave chase with greater adamancy. Those within range set off streams of fire to cascade against the Hogs in reply, kicking off an ensemble of plasma and ballistics.
Mito hit the triggers on his Gauss so that it spoke: VSSHT! The echoing syllable followed after the first shot which beamed into a nearby Ghost faster than Duncan could blink. The vehicle bucked hard in the opposite direction, bleeding flames. The Grunt driver panicked and tried to turn around when a second shot struck it in the cockpit, blowing apart the machine and sending the driver flying.
Nova gave another rider a similar treatment. Duncan's ears rang from the closeness of the cannon's report. He gritted his teeth to quell the rattling in his skull. "Can you mute that thing!?"
Nova swiveled left and fired right over his head at another Ghost. "What!?"
"Just forget it!"
Hector suddenly swerved left to dodge a pair of them. They sailed right on past him and into Duncan's path. He anticipated them boosting into him for a ram and piloted in between them. One shot on by. The Staff popped a round through the driver's skull as it passed. While the Grunt fell aside, its comrade took its chance and leapt screaming from its Ghost. It caught hold of the Hog's frame and pulled itself up until it was face to visor with Duncan. With an angry growl it reached for him, but he released the wheel to bat away the arm. In the same motion he grabbed the back of its head and smashed its face into the dashboard. Dazed, it couldn't react as he shoved the barrel of his M6 into an eye socket and squeezed the trigger. The Grunt flew away in a bloody spiral, not even landing before another Ghost unwittingly smashed into the corpse, tossing it higher into the air.
Duncan wiped the smear of blue off his visor and reclaimed the wheel. Their objective was only 150 meters away. The infantry was closer. He mirrored Hector and the others in getting more distance from the ground forces. The latter didn't hesitate to take potshots at them. The returns from the Grunts and Elites didn't worry him as much as those from the Hunters and Jackals. Both played their hands at trying to track the passing Hogs with leading volleys of plasma torpedoes or more exact rounds from their snipers. Pink flashes of needle rifle discharges shot by constantly, shattering over the hood or coming perilously close to his arms. He was certain one had nearly ended him when he felt a sudden scrape on his neck and a rush of wind pouring into his neck seal. The Staff let off on them in answer. His pistol could only do so much, especially against the torpedoes which Duncan had to predict, slowing down for or speeding up ahead of them. The Hog not too far behind his was the first casualty. The rearview let him see the moment that a crystalline needle slipped into the head of the MP at the wheel. He keeled over and the vehicle slowed enough for a few torpedoes to catch it in the side. Duncan turned from the destruction. The burst of yellow-green light at his back encouraged him to pick up the pace. All the while Nova tore into their attackers with the gauss. She struck down Elites with lethal accuracy, delivering each shot like a thunderbolt into the masses.
Duncan relaxed somewhat once the last of the infantry fell out of range. Suddenly a deep, vacillating groan of engine turbines arose from the west. A collective cheer rang out over the comms. Duncan chanced another glance at his mirror. Far behind them were two swarms of what appeared to be silvery dust particles glittering in the sunlight. Their high speeds however rapidly exposed more of their size and more of their details thereby. In another age they could have been mistaken for helicopters. From the segmented cockpit to the self-contained rotary wings maneuvering the main body, they were a tribute to a much older era. In more modern times they utilized additional jump-jet systems, lacked rear tails and had all the furious bearing of a gang of wasps whose nest was just destroyed. And they just so happened to find the loathsome souls that knocked it down.
They flew straight over the dogfight raging above the station. Their sights were firmly settled on the Covenant infantry advancing from the west. Their two squadrons turned inward like a pincer and angled down from the north and south in the beginnings of an unbelievably steep attack run.
"SkyHawks inbound." Zack said with such enthusiasm that Duncan could practically hear the smile on his face.
"Let'em have it, Ep-7." The Staff replied.
"Don't have to tell me twice. First run coming in 3...2..."
The SkyHawks closed the distance between themselves and their prey faster than Duncan thought possible. The 50-millimeter cannons mounted to either side of their cockpits barked at the enemy below. Explosions ripped gaping holes into the infantry. The two squadrons swept a path of destruction across their ranks, one from south to north and the other from north to south. It took less than three seconds for the first run to reach its deafening conclusion. Smoke rose up across the field. The wind cleared it away to reveal a scene of smoldering craters. Steam wafted from crumpled armor and crumbling corpses. Though a solid four fifths of the force survived to push on, more than a hundred dead were abandoned, perhaps even more than that for those blown to oblivion.
Mito whooped. "That's one hell of a start!"
"Focus, Ep-9." The Staff said. "Our targets are coming up."
As true as the Staff's word, Duncan nearly missed the moan of the discharge. He swerved right and out of the way of an energy mortar. The blob of blue energy struck the ground mere meters away, showering dirt and flaming grass over the windshield.
The Nav point came up quickly. So too did the first Wraith platoon.
Baelson who was in the lead turned just short of them. He arced southward towards the second tank platoon. Several Hogs came after him to begin their assault, leaving the closest set of enemy armor to Epsilon and a few other crews.
A half dozen Revenants met them first, having setup a U-shaped net in front of their Wraiths. As the Hogs broke away to maneuver around the crossfire their movements were tracked. The Revenants opened up with their smaller mortars. They launched crimson plasma in short range arcs, sailing with lower tenors than their larger counterparts.
Hector swung right, Duncan left. Both of them barely avoided the teardrops of energy that thundered as they landed uncomfortably close.
Through the debris raining over his windshield, Duncan saw the Revenants disperse to go after individual Hogs. One of them boosted straight at him. He anticipated the ram and veered left. The Revenant swooped past, its reddened hide scraping against the Hog's side in a spray of sparks. The slight impact yanked the wheel out of his grasp and they spun hard to the right. As he regained control, Nova used their momentum to swing the gauss cannon on target. A lance of light struck the craft in the rear seat, blowing the Elite driver's midsection to pieces. Seemingly registering the hit, the thrusters kicked out. The vehicle crashed onto the ground and detonated in a plume of blueish smoke.
"That's one!" Nova shouted.
Duncan got them rolling again towards their objectives. The Wraiths to the rear had assembled at the outer edges of one of the deeper valleys that snaked through the area. With their backs to that valley, it would make reaching their exhaust ports a more challenging task while giving them the best chance to kill anything coming after them. Predicting correctly that they were the UNSC's main targets, the Wraiths had divided themselves further into pairs that had separated some ways from each other. Any attempt to destroy them couldn't concentrate on one spot. They would have to diffuse, making the offensive much easier to defeat. Divide and conquer.
Evading another plasma mortar, the Staff planted a new Nav point on the Wraith pair far to their left. He turned to level the Spartan laser at two Revenants that were tracking them. One of them was boosting forward on an intercept course to their right. The weapon's laser sight projected onto the latter's front. "Ep-8!"
"Got it!"
At the last second Duncan swerved hard to the left. The tires screeched over the dewy grass, generating enough friction to turn aside. The Revenant flew past.
The Staff kept it in his sights, the whine of his gun building and building until it reached the crescendo of a bright red flash. A laser of directed energy struck the craft's center of mass as it tried to turn. The Revenant ignited into a pyre, the blast of which flung pieces of fiery wreckage across the terrain.
Simultaneously, Nova took aim at the second Revenant. But it had already loosed a duo of celestial projectiles in their direction. Duncan slipped through their trajectories in a serpentine maneuver. However, the second mortar landed so close behind them that the Hog briefly lifted off the ground. As they slammed back down, Nova let off an accelerated round. The first shot broke off one of the petals of the flower-like energy projector but otherwise missed. A follow-up only bounced off its hull like a beam of refracted light, doing little except angering the driver. The Elite behind the controls hovered back a few meters and let loose again. This time the mortar was more accurate. It landed near one of the wheels, damaging the chassis and tossing them half a meter into the air. Upon landing, Duncan's head slammed into the back of his helmet. His vision blurred. Still, he was cognizant enough to hear the Staff yelling for him to make a hard right. He did so. A burst of crimson energy to their immediate left proved it was the right call.
Nova growled as she fired again. The round pounded the Revenant's front hull and the craft coughed up azure flames from the wound. The driver boosted forward to escape her eye but she was too dialed in to its movements. A final round hit the side of the mortar. The resulting conflagration consumed both driver and craft.
"Get us back on target!" The Staff ordered.
Duncan turned them away from the three burning Revenants and got them back on track. By then, the other Hogs in their group were already engaging the Wraiths. Three were working on the pair 50 meters off to the right. The pair on the left however were facing off against a single Hog; Hector's. That was fine though since the three ODSTs were raising enough hell for an entire squad.
Hector, ever Epsilon's vehicular expert, was making life hard for the tanks and their gunners. He would hook around in a wide power slide, giving their mortars too much room to hit anything while granting Mito more than enough range to make good shots. The instant one of them got a solid bead on the Hog he would instinctively break from the slide and drive off in front of the next Wraith. Wash, rinse and repeat. Both of the tanks already had a series of ugly burns on their hulls or on the front stabilizer fins.
Rico spotted the others coming in as he thumbed another grenade into his launcher. He swung the chamber shut, took aim at the leftmost Wraith and said; "Hey, Ep-2, here's a freebie!"
His grenade flew out with a THWUMP. It arced down to the ground less than several meters from the tank and bounced up into the stabilizer fins. The explosion went off with a BANG, leaving the EMP effect to sizzle over the surface and knock the propulsion drives out from under it.
Hector's Hog slid out of the way for the next Wraith while Duncan made a run at the first.
"Thanks!" Nova said before starting with the turret gunner. One round silenced the Grunt behind the gun. Two more pummeled the vehicle's exterior to the point of spreading the flames over the main body. A heartbeat later the driver got the controls back online and Duncan found himself staring down its brightening energy mortar. Then the fourth round hit its mark on the mortar itself. With no more than 10 meters left between them, the Wraith dropped to the ground under the weight of its own detonation. A secondary blast gouged out the entire interior.
Duncan turned off from what remained of the husk. He sighed in relief, then immediately held his breath at seeing the valley coming up fast. He righted them away, but not before their momentum carried the back of the Hog and Nova herself over the edge of the grassy gorge. She held on tight to the gauss. "Ep-8!?"
"Sorry!"
Duncan hooked around hard enough to bring the rear wheels back onto level ground. The chassis shuffled to a stop.
"Mind paying attention next time!?" She growled.
"I said sorry, didn't I!?"
Duncan drove out, this time more cautious. He turned rightward to meet up with Hector who was now harassing the life out of the second Wraith. His constant sliding from left to right left the mortars with nothing to hit. The tank was struggling to maneuver it's more unwieldy girth for a good aim. All the while Mito's accuracy grinded away at the stabilizers. At length, Hector drove out and away in order to come in for a forward charge. The Wraith gave up on trying to shoot him down. Anticipating his move, it boosted forward. It would have rammed them to pieces had Rico not bounced another grenade into its front. The following EMP caused the entire machine to fold in on itself. Mito cycled two rounds into the hull to finish it off. A crackling bonfire flash-fried it from the inside out.
"That's two!" Mito called out. "How'd you guys-" He caught sight of the remains of the other tank and shook his head. "That only counts as an assist!"
"Yeah right!" Nova shouted. "A kill's a kill!"
"Let's move for the rest!" The Staff planted another Nav point near the next Wraith pair. The Marine and MP crews that went to tackle those two had reduced one of them to a blazing skeleton. However, they were hard-pressed to engage the last. One of the Hogs lay aflame not far from where two more were circling the final Wraith.
Duncan pulled off in their direction. Hector came in hot pursuit.
While the Marines and MPs could only pepper it's hull with turret fire, the double BOOM of the accelerated ordnance beating on its side drew the Wraith's attention. It turned about to face the two reinforcements speeding towards it. Its mortar angled up and hurled a ball of destructive energy their way. The duo broke apart to let the mortar boil away the ground between them. Amidst the spray of roiled earth, the gauss cannons responded. Mito scored a direct hit on the Grunt behind the turret. The alien's corpse flew free of the gun on a trail of steamy methane. Nova singled out the mortar, knocking out the emplacement altogether. A laser sight blipped onto the hull as the Staff leaned out from his seat. Disarmed and nearly disabled, the driver inside was helpless against the lance of directed energy that speared through the craft just seconds later. Duncan and Hector piloted around the burning remains to the cheers of the other two Hog crews.
"Thanks for the assist, troopers!"
"Yeah! Keep it up and we might just make it back in one piece!"
Despite his armor, Duncan could feel the heat of the exhaust released from the laser. He glanced at the Staff who was holding it one handed to try to cool down the other. "That thing's not going to explode on us, is it?"
"That's not the design function but it's possible."
Yet another fact that didn't inspire much confidence in Duncan. The Staff planted the next Nav point where Baelson's group were battling the central Wraith platoon.
"Let's get after it, Epsilon!"
The squad raced over to the next engagement and were joined by the surviving Warthogs. On the way, Duncan overheard the zooming buzz of the SkyHawks performing another strafing run. Now their Scorpion anti-tank missiles whistled into the infantry. Explosive flare-ups blinked into being over their ranks, tossing skyward a variety of armored limbs and dismembered torsos. Hundreds more survived. They carried on at a general sprint in the direction of the construction site. Like a receding tide, they exposed more of their dead in what was becoming a carpet of Covenant corpses. Similar scenes were taking place on the grasslands at the other sectors. The Longswords had swatted away most of the Banshees and were now focusing their efforts on the ground battle. Squadrons sprayed down the encroaching Covenant armor and ground forces with their rotary cannons. They released missiles into the hordes then banked off to let the explosions fall away behind them. All their efforts to keep the enemy from the perimeter appeared to be working. Duncan hoped it stayed that way.
The Hogs covered the 100 meters distance to the next platoon in little time. Less than two of the original four wraiths were still operational. Something similar could be said for Baelson's troop which had been reduced from six Hogs to four. Those that were left had paired up and each taken on a Wraith. Baelson himself was swooping around a mortar blast from the furthest Wraith while his gauss gunner fought to pull off an accurate shot.
The newcomers descended on the closest tank with a fury. The number of bullets pinging of its hull suddenly increased two-fold. Mito and Nova added accelerated rounds to the combination. New fires sparked off the surface. The Wraith squeezed off one last mortar that caught one of Baelson's Warthogs in the rear. Duncan saw the crew of Marines simply vanish in the conflagration.
Finally, the Wraith succumbed. It collapsed onto the ground and erupted. The resulting light cast Duncan's Hog in a long shadow as he forged on to the last.
Baelson pulled off his course to dodge another mortar. As the explosion passed, Duncan drove hard through the aftermath and fishtailed out of the line of fire. Nova got a clear view on her optics. She let off her first round at 40 meters, her second at 30. Both rounds struck center of mass. Yet they were glancing shots. The Wraith started turning to face them.
Duncan's voice filled with uncertainty. "Ep-1!?"
The Staff hefted up his laser. "Just keep going!"
The Wraith was getting closer to a perfect lineup. Its plasma cannon poured a lengthy reply that pockmarked the Hog's hood. Nova managed to get off a third round that eviscerated the Elite Major behind the turret. It was cold comfort given that it wasn't the driver. Whoever was at the controls kept turning, albeit slowly thanks to sheer size alone. But it seemed to understand that, which was possibly why the Wraith also drove itself backwards...towards the valley. It was taking care to cover for its weak-spot.
"Ep-1!?"
"Stay on course!"
Duncan sucked in a breath and floored the accelerator. They picked up speed, so much so that the enemy tank pushed itself even more towards the valley. They were pressuring it to turn faster. Doing so caused its rear rudders to emerge over the edge, followed almost immediately by the rest of the craft. The Wraith tipped backwards. Its heavy weight gave gravity everything it needed to pull the vehicle down into the valley.
There was no chance for Duncan to slow down. Worse yet, the Wraith's mortar stared back at them over the valley top for a fraction of a second. In the same moment he felt the Warthog pitch over the edge and into the valley. The mortar had them dead to rights. But the decline was too sharp and as it fired, the Warthog arced above the comet of plasma as well as the tank. They crashed back down several meters behind it. The sharpness of the decline, added with their speed, threatened to send them into an unrecoverable tumble if he pressed the brakes. So he didn't. Instead, he let gravity carry them a good 10 meters down the heights before he instigated a turn. The leftward shift was gradual enough that they didn't barrel over. Soon they were passing behind the Wraith whose size kept it sliding back.
The Spartan laser whined as the Staff got a beeline on its now exposed exhaust port. The ensuing discharge sounded like a sudden downpour, echoing along the valley walls as the directed energy impaled the tank on a spear of crimson light. The impact pushed the gutted Wraith a full meter back up the incline before it ruptured. Its innards spewed out of the valley like a fireworks display. What little remained resumed tumbling towards them.
"Well, that's one way to do it." Nova laughed hoarsely, sounding just as grazed by the grim reaper as Duncan was feeling. He accelerated them back up the face of the valley, steered clear of the tumbling wreckage and launched them back onto the plains. They plopped down beside Hector's waiting Hog. Hector, Rico and Mito were all polarized but their frozen body languages said it all.
"I mean..." Mito peeked into the valley and hesitated. "...he was going down already so..."
Nova snarled, turning her cannon in his general direction. "Call it an assist one more time, see what happens."
Mito fell silent.
Baelson pulled in out in front of them. "Good work, Epsilon. These tanks are out. So are the rest. All that's left is to corral these ground forces in the fields so the SkyHawks can keep hammering them."
Duncan looked to the north. The last Wraith platoon also lay in shambles. Their wrecks were partly separated from one other, indicating a similar divide and conquer tactic by the crews had proven successful on that end. The single Hog left in ruins there was a sobering sign of a 4 to 1 ratio. The survivors were already heading back towards the mass of infantry.
The Staff nodded. "No problem, sir. We'll get it do-"
A triangular warning notification flashed in the upper left corner of Duncan's HUD; a Priority 1 hail.
"Hey, anybody else getting this?" Rico asked.
Baelson nodded. "This must be..."
A voice that was unmistakably Colonel Garrison's spoke into their communications. "This is Neptune-Actual to all UNSC elements operating at the Vallejo station construction site. The platform is ready for launch. I say again, the platform is ready for launch. Takeoff initialization procedures are already active. The countdown is at 7 minutes. It's a one-way count so get onboard now or you will be left behind. I repeat, you will be left behind, so move it."
The message ended and the notification winked off.
Baelson nodded to the squad. Without another word he turned about and drove eastward. Epsilon tailed him along with the remnants of their vehicular column and everyone who was still alive to hear the message. The survivors of both columns navigated north and south around the bulk of the Covenant forces. They gave them an even wider berth to avoid the need for any last-minute rescues. While the Covenant were no more than 200 meters from the perimeter fence, the job of holding them back would have to fall to the pilots. A subsequent strafing run from the SkyHawks shook the ground and subtracted yet another punishing sum of casualties from their numbers. The last missile barrage sealed off the attackers behind a wall of smoke and flame.
The Hogs made for the gaps in the fencing.
Almost to the perimeter, Mito turned to Nova. "Hey, Ep-2?"
Nova met his gaze and shook her head at him. "Don't you dare."
"...It was an assist."
:********:
The interior of Vallejo station was surprisingly pristine. Duncan was expecting to find more miscellaneous tools, construction materials or even dust scattered about on the floor. But there was nothing save for one clean hallway after the next. As UNSC personnel flooded into the entrances on the space-docks, they found the inside to be surprisingly orderly. The floor plates were settled, the reinforced windows were sealed in place and the ceiling lights were online. Everything was in perfect working order. He hoped the R7 thrusters he saw back outside followed that same pattern.
The ODSTs of 4th Platoon and Epsilon were among the personnel streaming into the western side of the station. Their destination was an available set of bracer seats of the numerous ones mounted to the wall of every corridor. Marines, MPs and other ODSTs threw themselves into any they could find.
Duncan was near the front of their group, brushing shoulder to shoulder past adjacent lines of men and women headed in the opposite direction. Their weapons often scraped and clacked against one another as they passed. Zack pushed his way up beside him as they reached an obtuse turn in the corridor. "You claustrophobic yet?"
"No, you?"
"Kinda. Didn't think we'd get canned up like a bunch of sweaty sardines." All of a sudden, he stopped and looked out. Duncan followed his gaze out a long strip window running the length of the passage. The west side of the construction site lay beyond. Above that, the dogfights were continuing between the Longswords and SkyHawks against the last of the Banshees. Beyond even the apartments, the two CCS cruisers were still hovering at their original positions. The first had reengaged its pulse turrets to once again dice through Vallejo's heart. Zack was watching one of the skyscrapers in its path that slowly dipped from the skyline. The collapse was silent. On ground zero, Duncan thought it would probably be deafening. A large debris cloud bloomed into the air thereafter.
"Mind speeding up?" Hector asked from behind. "You're holding up the line."
Hearing that sentence again sent a shock of fearful Ravenport memories through Duncan's system, breaking him free of the moment's hesitation. He instinctively steered Zack on by the shoulder and got the line moving again.
Baelson and 4th platoon were ahead of them. He pointed to an available row of bracer seats on the passage's opposite side that faced the strip window. He settled down as a signal for the others to do the same.
Duncan slotted his DMR into an inbuilt rifle rack next to his seat. He pulled the lap bar over his knees then yanked the over-the-shoulder bars past his chest. He shook them a little to double-check their security. They remained stubbornly and comfortingly in place.
Zack sat down on his left, Yuri on his right. The radioman had the hardest time finding where to put his radio equipment. Ultimately, he decided to keep it gripped between his legs. "Is this a rollercoaster or something?" Zack asked, pulling the security bars over himself. "Because I didn't buy a ticket."
"No." The Staff said from farther on the left, bringing the last bar over his shoulders. "But it's about to be."
Zack sighed. "Let's just get this over with."
"What's wrong?" Yuri chided. "You scared? What is it? Big heights? Big drops?"
Duncan pointed down at his feet. "I hear there's a pretty big one right below."
Zack slid down in his seat and groaned.
Yuri leaned over to face him. "He's talking about the silo by the wa-"
"I know what he's talking about. I'm not blind, man."
"No." Nova butted in from the far right. "But you can sure be deaf sometimes, or at least you're about to be. What's the matter? Getting the shakes because you've never been on one these before?"
"He's never been on a platform before?" Duncan intruded.
"I have." Zack retorted. "Just not when they're taking off. I'd prefer a pod to this any day."
"Aww." Nova mocked. "Somebwody's sca-wed."
"I'm ignoring you."
"...Oh sorry, you said something?"
"Yeah, I-"
The wail of sirens blared throughout the station. A male voice came through the intercom. "This is the captain to all hands. The boarding procedures have been completed. Current countdown is at 20 seconds. Prepare for an immediate liftoff. Once we're up, the real fight will begin so brace yourselves."
Duncan checked the corridor they were in as well as the corners leading to the other passages. The walls were all occupied with fully braced ODSTs, Marines and MPs. Many of the latter two were closing their eyes. Some were whispering what looked like quiet prayers. The expressions of the ODSTs however, as far as he could see, were completely hidden behind their visors. Their quiet stoicism set them apart from everyone else. Zack was the sole exception up until he pulled himself upright in his seat.
The streets of the construction site were abandoned. So were its defenses save for the M71 Scythes and the M95 Lances. Those were left behind to keep up the fire on the surviving flyers.
Then something changed. Movement caught Duncan's eye. He turned back to the second cruiser and was terrified to see that the cruiser was likewise turning towards him. Towards the station.
An automated voice spoke on the comms. "Liftoff in 10...9...8..."
The cruiser finished its starboard turn. Its repulsor engines brightened.
"7...6..."
Duncan turned worriedly to the Staff, only to find that everyone else was dead silent. "Ep-1?"
"I see it."
"5...4..."
The R7 thruster coupling within view rumbled. The entire station vibrated.
The cruiser's engines flared and it soared forward, slow at first but picking up speed.
"3...2...1..."
Sparks flew out in a flurry from The R7 thruster. The vibrations increased. Then the ignition flames roared out. The illumination flooded into the hallway, forcing their visors to automatically polarize. The flames belched out of the thruster couplings at an increasing velocity as the silo beneath them glowed. Duncan felt the station starting to lift.
But the CCS was faster.
It was less than 2 kilometers away when a flash of light arrowed down into its starboard side. The envelope of energy shielding flared into visibility but refused to give way. A full second passed before the harsh echo of the MAC round resounded throughout the region. Duncan winced. "What was that?"
A third voice, also male, filtered through the intercom. "This is UNSC Saigon to Vallejo station control. We'll cover your escape. You get moving. They'll need you up there."
The CCS slowed to a stop and righted towards the south. What looked like the barrel of a rifle punctured through the clouds a short distance southeast of the cruiser. It pushed out to unveil its full form; that of a Charon-class frigate baring the white-letters 'Saigon' on the side of its hull. It was descending at a slanted angle that gave it the best line of sight on its target.
A round of cheers went off in the hallways. Duncan joined the others in shouting on the navy.
"Again, it's about time!" Yuri yelled.
The voice of Vallejo station's captain replied in earnest. "This is Vallejo control to UNSC Saigon, roger that. We're underway, and thanks for the assistance."
The station rose up. Smoke flowed out from the silo like a geyser. Without the ODP to block it, the exhaust bellowed out in a flood of gray smog that washed over the first of the buildings. As they rose higher, the takeoff flames increased their area of effect. Duncan watched the site's remaining buildings simply fly apart under the blast pressure. Debris large and small spewed high into the sky on trails of smoke, as if they too had rockets strapped to them. Unlike the ODP, gravity eventually reasserted its grasp. The station carried on alone into the first kilometer of the ascent.
The squad's view leveled enough for them to see the battle that was quickly descending from sight.
The UNSC Saigon charged on at the turning CCS, launching a barrage of Archer missiles that crossed the air between them like a claw of fumes. The missiles struck across the target. Their individual explosions twinkled across its shields but accomplished little else. Another barrage was launched. This time the cruiser met the attack head-on with the pulse turrets on its topside. Fine lines of purple plasma swatted the missiles out of the sky one after another then converged on the frigate. The turrets worked their way through the UNSC Saigon's hull like a mortician's knife through a corpse, slicing open compartments and filling them with flames. One of the lasers struck something vital. A chain explosion ensued that engulfed the midsection, snapping the forward section from the aft in a violent explosion.
The cheery atmosphere on the station evaporated.
Yet even as the remains of the UNSC Saigon were falling to the ground, another burst of illumination punched the cruiser amidships. Its shields blew out and it bucked hard to port. A follow-up wasn't far behind and the next MAC round arrowed through the ship's bare hull, gutting it from port to starboard. Blue flames snaked through the craft. In an instant, the damage reached critical mass and turned the entire ship into one massive fragmentation grenade.
Three more Charon-class frigates flew into view, one from the east, one from the west and one from the north. All three came in low; less than a kilometer from the surface. They slipped past the obliterated construction site and the Saigon as its gutted remains continued to fall. They advanced like a wolfpack moving on their prey; the lone cruiser above the city. Their primary target turned about to face them.
The last thing Duncan saw was a full fireworks show of crisscrossing plasma beams, missiles tracing their paths over the sky and the lightning-fast flight of MAC rounds. The translucent cover of the afternoon clouds and the brightness of the ODP's ascent soon blurred out everything below.
The station rattled and shook more violently now. He knew judging by the bumpiness of the ride that they were entering the stratosphere. He shut his eyes and held on to his seat for all he was worth.
Ascensionem – Ascension