Chapter 16 – Reneè

February 5th, 2552 - (05:30 Hours - Military Calendar)

Epsilon Eridani System, Reach

Csaba Mountain Region, Viery Territory

:********:

Two weeks in and life at Falchion was not getting easier. It was however becoming more predictable. Mackley was picking up on the rhythm of 1st Platoon's relentless schedule. PT runs were typically at 0440 Hours. They either worked out at the gym or visited the RTETC for training from 0500 to 0630 Hours. In the latter case, Whiskey was sent to the handful of FIT arenas, remaining split along their fireteams. Breakfast was around 0700 Hours, marking an end to the organized schedule. The rest of the day was a mixed bag of activities, duties and responsibilities that varied according to their own preferences. They were free for the most part so long as they used the morning to keep themselves sharp.

On one level it was a pain to constantly be up before another living soul. Mackley was sure he'd left those days behind at Ravenport. To see them here too was a blow. However, he was starting to see why they did it. Epsilon was full of the type of people who wanted to be ready for anything, anytime and anywhere. They enforced that same lifestyle on none except those they shared bunks with. Not too overbearing to others for not doing the same but not too lax with those they expected more from.

It was much like his early experience with Dalton as a drill instructor; he grew to hate him first then learned to respect him later. Neither hatred nor respect went away throughout the phases of ODST selection but mingled together into the begrudging motivation that kept him going. Even so, and he hated to admit it, his respect for his new comrades was slowly winning out.

Today saw the platoon parking their Hogs in the RTETC's lot. They came inside and strolled back to the Triple-S's observation room to discuss who was going to use which FIT arena. Mackley preferred the one set in a Jotun factory on Harvest. The environment there was better than Arcadia city. For a colony that was already won, Arcadia was a pain to recapture in the simulations. That said, he wasn't looking to use either. He had an old bone to pick that he wasn't about to forget. Thinking on their progress so far, he knew there was no better time to bring it up.

The Staff assembled Whiskey in front of him and inspected them from head to toe, searching for a spot or blemish in their fatigues. Finding none, he gave them a look of approval.

"So, who's ready for today? If you want, we can flip a coin to see who'll use the Harvest FIT first."

"I think we should go first." Lang said. "We don't take as long."

"Because we're more methodical." Daz replied.

"You've got methods alright; they just take forever."

"I'll push back on that." Dalton said. "We've been able to improve on our time lately. Mack, your team is doing pretty good too cohesion wise. I'd say we should go first then you'll-"

"Actually, sir, can I say something?" Mackley asked.

"Go ahead." The Staff said.

Mackley looked between his two superiors. "I thought it would be better if we went back to working as a squad. We've done a ton as fireteams. We're better now and I don't think anyone denies that. It's time we take a step up and see how far we've come...in my opinion."

A few seconds of unnerving silence passed wherein he sensed his idea being judged.

"You believe you're ready?" The Staff questioned.

"...Yessir."

"Really? Why so?"

There was a temptation to lie again. He could brag about how far they'd come or he could be honest about his true reason. Honesty was more painful. With a pained breath, he settled on the truth.

"After training so long with Nova, I don't think I have what it takes to be a fireteam leader or even a squad leader at that. Frankly, those rounds in the FIT that we won were because of advice I got from Lang. If anyone's capable of leading a fireteam, its him. And if anyone could lead a squad it's the sarge and...maybe..." He nodded in Daz's direction. "I'm tired of taking the lead at this point. I just don't want to get beat on in Arcadia anymore if that's okay with you."

A spectrum of shock arose on the faces of his comrades. He singled out Duncan and Rico, both of whom weren't as surprised. The latter nodded approvingly.

"You're sure that's a good idea?" Daz asked, her question aimed more at the Staff and Dalton than him.

"Yeah, I don't know if we're ready for that yet." Berlin added.

Mackley heard the trepidation from both of them. He waited to see what the others thought. Their opinion would be what sealed the deal.

"Well, it would let us see the fruits of the last two weeks." The Staff said. "I don't plan on taking you out of your leadership role, Mack, if that's what you wanted. I want you to grow in it. You've got the potential for it. But as for working together again, I'll defer to your sergeant."

They turned to Dalton who in turn rounded on Mackley. The sergeant's gaze pierced into him, testing him.

"Sure. I don't see why not."

"I see." The Staff said. "And you guys, Whiskey, you don't mind either?"

Lang shrugged. "It's like Mackley said, I'm the real brains of our fireteam but it's a hassle, you know. I don't mind taking a break from it for a bit."

"Whatever helps us finish this sooner, sir." Reznik said.

Berlin hesitated. "Uggghhh...I guess."

Daz stared hard at Mackley, testing him as well. At length she let out a long sigh. "...Fine. That's just fine."

The Staff pointed to the door. "Good. Let's get you to the armory. We'll give you the first round. After that, we'll get some grub."

"Aye aye, sir." Dalton said and led Whiskey out of the room. They left by themselves, familiar enough with the building to no longer require Epsilon's guidance. On the way to the armory, Mackley felt a combination of intrigue and concern from the others. The uncertainty factor was still there. He walked up beside his sergeant where that feeling wasn't as strong.

"Thanks, sir."

"For what?"

"Taking me seriously."

"Of course I would. You are being serious, aren't you?"

"Ye-, yessir. No doubts about it."

"Hmph, good luck convincing her of that then."

"Who?"

"Really? That's a dumb question. The one staring at you obviously."

Mackley hadn't noticed it until he said it. He was being watched. The rest of the squad were mostly busy talking. But there was one voice that was missing, the same whose attention he felt more firmly fixed on him than anyone else.

:********:

Daz reached into one of the armory's weapons lockers and pulled out a DMR. All the while, her eyes never left Mackley.

He was on the opposite side of the room with Lang. The pair were at the lockers for the sniper rifles but were having a hard time with the entry code. This was their fifth attempt at getting past the security display. She watched them fail again, Lang doing the actual typing while Mackley shot him different suggestions that all ended in failure.

A twinge of irritation hastened her movements. She removed a quartet of magazines and slipped them into the ammo pouches on her armor. She shut the locker and went over to them.

"Step aside."

The pair did so and she typed in the code. "How could you guys forget this? This is the one you're supposed to remember."

"It's a lot of numbers." Lang murmured. "Good thing we've got you though, right?"

Daz ignored him as the locks disengaged. She pried open the doors of the locker and gestured to the handful of SRS-99s inside.

She waited while Mackley secured a rifle to his back harness and greedily pouched his magazines. He finished ahead of Lang. Perfect.

"Mack, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Huh? Ugh, yeah sure."

He made no move to leave and she realized he didn't fully understand.

"As in, I want you to come with me. We need to have a chat around the corner."

Mackley slowly caught on and she saw the pre-mission excitement in his eyes dim. Lang noticed it too and gathered his equipment more slowly.

"Can't we have it here?" Mackley groaned.

"No."

She refused to give him a chance to say more and headed for the exit. Peering back, she saw him following her with an unspoken reluctance.

Everything else was locked down and in its proper place. The equipment was prepared and so was their strategy. She just needed to know that she could count on him not to screw it all up.

They went through a corridor towards the room at its very end. It was a small lounge with a cluster of chairs in front of a few wall-mounted screens. The setting was the right kind for her to get her points across. Making sure the doors shut behind them, she took a seat and so did he, both facing each other.

"What do you need?" Mackley asked.

Daz held up three fingers. "Three things. The first is I want to know what you're thinking."

"Didn't I tell you back when we were talking around the planner?"

"What you're really thinking."

Mackley scratched his head, perplexed. "You mind telling me what you mean by that?"

"You saw my strategy. You have my ideas in mind but I can't tell what you might be cooking up. If you've got some other plan that you're thinking of whipping out on the mission, I need to know in advance so I can tell you no now while we're not getting shot at."

Mackley folded his arms. "You think I'm going to cause trouble, don't you? That's what this is all about."

"Well, won't you? Isn't that what you do?"

He shook his head at her like a parent pitying a child. He held out his hands in a sign of openness.

"You got me there. I would if I wanted to. If I do though, I'll have hell to pay from Ep-2. Believe me, it's not something to look forward to. If I give you a bad day, I get a bad day. That's how this works." He peered at the names of the squads scrolling by on the screens. "Do what you have to, corporal. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner I get to see some flapjacks at the mess."

Daz was shocked into silence. Those were not the words she was expecting to hear from someone like Mackley. She had her guard up for jibes or dodgy comments, not an admission of guilt. Not from him.

"...Alright, the second thing. Do you have the equipment you need for the op?"

"Didn't you see me and Lang packing it back there?"

"I'm not dealing with Lang right now. You specifically, do you have it?"

"Yes. Do I have it on me? Yes again."

She pointed to his rucksack. "Let me see it."

Mackley stared at her for a while, unamused. He reached for his rucksack, opened a compartment and pulled out the bundle of tactical rope she'd entrusted to him. "The weight will be a pain to run with. Not saying I can't do it but it's a tall order."

"Uhuh, and it'll keep you busy."

Mackley resecured the rope. "What're you talking about? Everyone's going to be busy once we land."

"That's not what I'm getting at. Aren't you curious why I gave the rope to you and Lang?"

"Not really. With Lang it's pretty obvious. He's good with this sort of stuff. And me-...okay I've actually got no clue."

"To be upfront with you, I'm giving you this job because I want you to feel like you have a place in this op." She paused to consider the conclusion that the last two weeks had brought her to. Her gaze drifted from his to the floor between her boots. "I think one of the big reasons you went off on your own last time was because you saw that I wasn't doing anything, and at a time when you thought we should've gotten moving. It must've left you feeling out of place. You tried relying on a plan of your own because you thought the one I had wasn't good enough. And to be honest, you were probably right."

She met his eyes again and saw them widen ever so slightly. Mackley was trying to hide what she could see as plain as day. He must have also had his guard up without expecting anything like an admission of guilt.

"I'm trying to do right by the squad here." Daz continued. "I figured giving everyone, especially you, a specific place in the op would make you think I know what I'm doing. That it would give you some confidence in me."

Mackley stayed quiet.

She held up her three fingers again. "That's the third thing. Did it work?"

"Did what work?"

"Do you feel confident?" She smiled at him expectantly.

After a second or two of thinking it over, he mirrored her expression. "Of course. That's a given though, you see, because that's sort of my problem."

"Oh yeah. No, I'm talking about confidence in me. Trust."

"You?" Mackley burst out laughing, shooting holes through her hopes with each chuckle. "No, not really. But this?" He pulled out his rucksack and tapped on the compartment with the rope. "This gives me some confidence that there's at least a plan involved here."

Daz's trust in her own ideas was restored from the tatters that his little outburst left it in. "Good to hear." She rubbed her hands together nervously. "And... remember what I said to you before, about Dreyer and...the captain. I-, I'm sorry I said that. I wasn't right for bringing it up."

Mackley waved her apology aside. "Water under the bridge."

This time Daz truly was shocked. For a moment she was convinced the person she was sitting with wasn't the real Mackley. The real Mackley would have lambasted her for bringing it up again. Few in the platoon knew how much of a cost that day had on him which was exactly why she thought she could use it back then, hoping to touch off one of his nerves for getting on the last of hers. To see him shirk it off made her marvel at him.

"Wow, Mack. I didn't think you would have changed this much in just two weeks. I can almost say I'm proud of you."

"Oh no, don't get me wrong," Mackley protested. "I still have a hard time seeing you as my squad-leader. That doesn't mean I can't get the job done. Like some old guy once said; pick your poison. It's either I work with you or I go back to getting whupped by a certain Hungarian lady with high standards, and long story short, I've learned that I don't like getting whupped. Is that good enough for you, corporal?"

"...Yeah," She laughed. "I think that'll do. Let's go."

:********:

Returning to the armory, Daz found everyone hanging around the pods. They turned to her and Mackley as they walked in.

"Are we in the clear?" Berlin called, a code for asking how the conversation went.

"We're clear." She confirmed.

"We have one minute left before the drop." Dalton announced. "Are we good on equipment checks?"

"Ready." Lang said, holding his rifle with one hand while he tossed Mackley's to him with the other.

"I've never tested antilons on terrain by itself before." Reznik noted. "Usually if you want to reinvent the wheel like that, you go with anti-armor mines. They pack more of a punch. Like I said, Daz, I can't guarantee these will do what we want them to when we need them to do it."

"That's even if we'll need it." Daz replied. "Don't worry, the antilons will do fine if it comes to that outcome. We need them to blow a few holes, not level a fortress. For now, let's focus on getting our lucky duo out of here."

The squad watched while the aforementioned duo, Mackley and Lang, loaded into their pods.

"Remember, don't engage if you don't need to."

Lang gave her the thumbs up. "Got it, mom. It's just a little recon. Nothing more."

"Emphasis on 'little'."

"Copy that." Mackley chimed in. "See you on the ground."

The two pods closed and rotated in their ejection tubes. The moment they were in place, the launch timer appeared on their HUDs and Daz saw her plan begin to unfold. A partial drop of the squad would precede that of the main force. The sniper pair would avoid hostile contacts on the ground and report back to them on enemy positions. With intel on the general layout of Covenant forces in the arena they would be able to decide on the best landing zone. However, her past experience with the way the map operated made her wary about expecting the same tactics from the bots. Epsilon would certainly change their arrangement. The issue with the arena was that its setup held only a limited number of variations for how the enemy could be deployed. It's small scale also prioritized pushing those fighting within it into as many immediate combat situations as possible. This lessened the number of possible bot deployments even further. They would become predictable at a certain point, which is what she suspected Epsilon was aware of. In fact, she was betting on them suspecting Whiskey of beginning to understand it too. They would want to alter that strategy to catch the squad off guard again. They would pull out the unexpected by choosing the exact setup that she'd both predicted and counted on. Now she only needed to find out how right she was.

At '0' the pods began to shake. Mackley and Lang endured the simulated drop through the atmosphere, reached the 30-meter mark and were shot down into the arena.

Daz looked to the sergeant as he watched the empty tubes, waiting for the pair's helmet cams to appear on his HUD like Berlin and Reznik were.

"Do you think this is the right move, sir?"

"Who are you really asking that question to, corporal, me or you?"

"You, sir."

"Wrong answer. It's for the person who planned the op to decide that, and last I checked that's not me."

Daz shut her eyes. Better to get solutions from a sage than an apprentice. Without the answers she wanted, the sergeant forced her to look for them from a less authoritative source: herself. When she considered every factor involved, she was left worrying that there were better moves she could have made. Maybe splitting up the squad was a bad idea. What if those two ran into trouble at their landing zone? What if they landed in the middle of a pair of Hunters and got eliminated right off the bat?

"Looks like they've landed." Dalton said. "My advice; wait and see before you decide anything."

The morsel of wisdom made her open her eyes. She spotted the two screens on her heads-up display. The top feed registered as 'PVT. Mackley' while the bottom belonged to 'PVT. Lang'. The two ODSTs were running out from their pods and into the woods. She observed them while they dashed through the underbrush. Much to her chagrin, only Lang had his M7 submachine gun out while Mackley kept his SRS-99 in hand. She was going to comm the latter for the slip-up when she reconsidered. Lang was taking point as he searched the trees with his M7. In contrast, Mackley kept the barrel of his sniper pointed at the ground. If there were any close-quarters threats then Lang would be the first to run into and dispatch them. If any emerged that were too powerful or far off for the SMG, Mackley would be able to step in quickly with his sniper. It was a smart move. It meant they were thinking, perhaps much farther ahead than she was.

She resisted the urge to micromanage and kept a careful watch on the mission timer: '0:17'. At one minute, the squad would need to make the drop for themselves.

The duo on the ground ran, walked then crawled to the edge of the forest. They reached the border of the tree-line to the farthest east of the arena, bringing them within spitting distance of Zone C. They looked around.

The trucker's rest stop was quiet. Not a soul or mechanical stand-in for a soul moved across the lot. Except for the abandoned flatbeds, the wide stretch of asphalt between the diner and the resting facility was empty.

Wasting no time, Lang and Mackley rushed to the back of the Jim Dandy. They came to a strip of windows and peered inside. Nothing moved amongst the tables and chairs within. They went back to the flatbed on the east side of the lot and used it to advance to the back of the resting facility. Mackley pulled out his SMG and as Lang kicked the door down, he cleared the way inside. The interior space was one-dimensional, comprised of a single hall with cots and tables that avoided the tedium of having multiple rooms. There was nothing there either.

"Zone C's empty." Mackley declared. "Moving to B."

"Be quick about it." Daz replied, watching the timer hit '0:41' as though her will could turn back the clock.

"Don't worry, I found us a faster route the last time we were here." Lang said. "Let's go."

Mackley followed Lang outside. They dashed across the lot and into the tree-line south of C. They went deep into the south before arcing towards the west. True to his word, Lang came to a barely perceivable forest trail that wound through the undergrowth on a westerly heading.

The timer reached '1:00'. The rest of Whiskey moved to their pods. They sealed themselves inside and let the tubes rotate them into place.

Daz gripped the controls tight. She continued to observe the pair while the squad was given its 'launch', ignoring the rumbling outside as well as the drop animation on her viewport.

At '1:33', Mackley and Lang reached Zone B. Much like the rest facility back in the east, the gas station was deserted. At least the outside was. The pair carefully passed the pump stations to the entrance of the convenience store. It was Mackley's turn to kick in the door. His boot missed the frame and shattered the glass instead. Daz bit her lip. The miss was loud enough for anything nearby to hear them coming. Mackley was quick on the uptake and changed tact, launching his shoulder against the frame to break it off its hinges.

The two of them swept the interior. They cleared the shelves and the store in under ten seconds.

"Nothing here either." Lang reported.

"Copy." Daz said. So far so good. They'd hardly made it to the station before things went downhill the last time. Now they'd finished securing two out of the three objectives while more than half the squad was still in the air.

That only left Zone A, the vehicle depot.

Another victory. Epsilon had indeed chosen the option she was betting on. The realization gave her a burst of confidence. "You know what that means. It's a greenlight for the plan. Whiskey-3 and 4, link up with us north of Zone A. Don't expose yourselves until you reach us or we reach you."

"Roger." Mackley affirmed. "Meet you there."

Daz switched off the helmet feeds and concentrated on the animation of the besieged city. She reoriented her pod so that her trajectory aligned with the cluster of buildings on the southeastern limits. Getting closer, she shifted again towards the forest north of the vehicle depot.

Her worries crept in not long after her confidence boost. So far so good but how long would it stay that way? If her prediction was correct, and so far it appeared to be, then they were looking at a strong enemy garrison either at or around the depot. Somewhere in the realm of 30+ Covenant troops were lying in wait for them on the high ground of Zone A. Jackals, Grunts, Elites and Hunters would abound in the three-building compound that Whiskey would somehow have to retake.

No, not somehow. She knew exactly how they were going to do it. She sobered up again as they neared the ground. They had a plan this time, a real plan.

The 30-meter mark was reached and the pods blew out of the ejection tubes. Their drag chutes already deployed; the activation of their braking rockets was almost instantaneous. They punched through the canopy of the northern forest and cannoned into the ground.

Daz blew her door and leapt out with her DMR. They'd landed in a meadow in the midst of the trees just as she'd planned. With another win under her belt, she got her bearings relative to the others. Dalton, Reznik and Berlin were forming a perimeter around her.

She sighted past the forest to the distant rooftop of the depot's northernmost building. There were no signs of Jackal lookouts. The other two buildings weren't as visible. However, she could see sufficiently well to tell their roofs were also unoccupied.

Daz hesitated. She was anticipating Jackal snipers manning the roofs. To find none was to realize a conundrum: Whiskey's sister squad had undermined her expectation that they were going to undermine her expectation. In other words, they'd done both more and less than what she'd counted on.

The echoing report of gunshots made her drop to her knee. The squad looked around; weapons raised. There was no incoming fire.

Suddenly Lang was on the comms. "Whiskey-4 to 2, be advised, we just made contact!" There was a loud CRACK from what she quickly understood to be sniper fire. Jackals. "Hey 3, cover that side!"

"Whiskey-2 to 4, how many buzzards are you looking at?"

There was a loud return fire. "The whole flock! We ran straight into them! Looks like they setup a perimeter on the base of the hill that A's on! Its-" Another shot rang out too close for comfort. "Jesus! They're posted along the northwestern side! Treetop positions!"

"Think you can help us out!?" Mackley shouted. "We're stuck in some bushes here!"

"Set a Nav. We'll be there."

"Roger that!"

The Nav appeared a second later. Whiskey was looking at a 60-meter trek slightly off to the west of Zone A. With the timer hitting '2:35', they would have to save them and fast.

Daz took the lead. Whiskey moved through the trees on A's northern approach. The forestry was actually more spacious on the ground than the dense canopy was letting on. They glided through the shrubs without encountering much in the way of obstacles. Better yet, the head-high undergrowth made for excellent cover.

In under 30 seconds they arrived at the narrow gully that this part of her plan called for. If her TACMAP was right, it would wind directly underneath the area where the Jackals were. As an added bonus, a layer of ferns from the top soil covered the gully on its left and right. Whiskey would be shielded from above if they moved wisely.

Daz crawled ahead at the front. Dalton, Reznik and Berlin were right on her heels. With nothing better to do than put one arm and one leg in front of the other, they listened to the comms. Mackley and Lang were spotting targets for each other. It sounded like two of the closest Jackals were down so far. The remainder were putting on enough pressure to force them into a stalemate.

Some 45 meters and a full minute later, they arrived at their exit where the gulley shallowed out into the forest floor. Daz hopped out over what remained of the gully wall. Doing so brought her into visual range of her first target for the day.

A Jackal stood in the canopy of the tree directly above her. Like Lang said, it was standing on a perch that gave it a view of everything to the north. It would have seen them straight away if they hadn't used the gulley. It was still monitoring the north with its back towards her. She kept watch while the squad fanned out behind her.

She switched on her VISR mode. An eerie red glow emanated off of the bot. Then she noticed more red in the corner of her vision. She slowly turned to the west. Spaced out every 10 meters was a Jackal standing on a tree perch. Six in all. The last two were engaging Mackley and Lang farthest to the west. None of them were aware of the threat lurking to their rear.

Daz pointed each of them out to the squad. Dalton, Reznik and Berlin stealthed their way into flanking positions behind the next three Jackals. They aimed at the back of the bots where they suspected their heads would be.

Daz squeezed the trigger and put a golf ball sized hole through the head of the first. The rest of the squad fired in unison. Four of the Jackals toppled over, releasing pained screeches that alerted their comrades. The last two turned around. Neither got a chance to shoot. Berlin beat one of them with a sustained burst from his assault rifle while a sniper round blew the face off of the last, sending it careening into the underbrush.

"Clear." Daz said.

Mackley and Lang came running over.

"Thanks for the save." Lang said as he slowed down.

But Mackley kept coming. There was the sound of a whining cannon. Before Daz could react, he was tackling her to the ground right as a column of green polymer struck the spot where she'd stood. They tumbled into a bush behind an oak tree. The squad scrambled out of the way as Dalton sighted the threat.

"Hunters, two of them on the hill! Get to cover!"

A second discharge lanced through the canopy and into the world below, hosing the shrubs and ferns like a building on fire.

Mackley pulled her to her feet and they braced themselves against the oak.

"Thanks for that."

"Don't thank me yet, we still need to handle these guys."

Daz skirted to the side of the tree and took a peek. On the other side was a small clearing that came just before the base of the hill. She traced a path up the 15-meter incline to the very top of the hill. Beneath the shadow of Zone A's northern building stood the pair of spiked juggernauts that nearly took her out. The Hunter on the left was recharging its cannon. The one on the right had already fired.

She withdrew ahead of the next shot that thundered into her cover. "Whiskey-5, get ready!"

"What!?" Reznik shouted as another salvo pummeled the pine he was hiding behind.

"Get ready!"

"No way! We didn't plan on them shooting down on me while I do it!"

"We'll cover you!" Mackley said. "Get going!"

"You're kidding!"

"Whiskey-5, just go!" Dalton said. "No time to argue!"

His words made Daz unconsciously check the timer: '4:33'. She heard a reluctant groan from Reznik.

"Listen, if I get hit by one of those things, you'll hear about it-"

"GO!" Daz barked and pivoted from behind the tree to unleash what remained of her magazine on the two Hunters. Mackley did the same as did Dalton, Berlin and Lang. The sudden overwhelming fire forced the pair back from the edge of the hill.

Reznik rushed out into the clearing. He already had two antilon anti-personnel mines in hand. Upon reaching the base of the hill he thrust both of them into the loosest spots of gravel and dirt he could find. He activated the first two then pulled out two more. These he drilled into the surface of the hill a meter higher than the first. At the rate he dug them into place, Daz earnestly believed he could have been a mole or a terrier dog in a past life. He pulled out the last two mines at the exact moment that her ammo-counter struck '0'.

Mackley's SMG ran dry beside her. As the two reloaded, the Hunters noticed the lessening of the fire and came forward again. Braving the TTR-storm, they set their sights on Reznik who was already reacting to them, casting aside his mines to pull out the grenade launcher on his back. He fired a grenade in a high arc that easily crested the hill. The Hunters saw what was coming and backed off again, barely escaping the detonation. Reznik seized the opportunity to finish the job. He threw aside his launcher to grab the mines. He fastened them into the ground with the ferocity of a dog burying a bone. Finished, he took his launcher and bolted down the hill. He dove behind his old tree and fired a second grenade. It bounced into the hill and stuck into the surface at the perfect midpoint between all six mines.

"Do it!" Daz ordered.

The grenade went off, sparking a chain reaction of viscous explosions that spewed earth and stone into the air. A downpour of dirt and gravel washed over the forest as the ground trembled.

Daz looked out again. Once the smoke cleared, she saw a host of deep craters gouged into the side of the hill. However, they had not carved the full path to the top that she'd hoped. The terrain was still too steep.

Then the craters began to implode, or rather, the hillside itself collapsed. What started as a cascade of rocks quickly became a miniature landslide that surged down the incline. Caught in its wake were the two Hunters who stood on a spot that gave way beneath them. They tumbled end over end to the growing heap at the base of the hill. The impact snapped one clean in half and left the last lying flat on its back.

The squad converged on the bot. Its gyroscopic systems struggled to correct the error and get it upright. Dalton's boot came down on its head and forced it back to the ground. He held it there while Whiskey unloaded into its body at point-blank range. Its status light dimmed and diminished.

"Hunters are out." Reznik said. "Not the way I thought it'd go but hey..."

Daz refocused on the top of the hill. There was now a ragged crevice carved into its side. She saw where it ended near the top. "Whiskey-3 and 4, rope time. Get to climbing."

"On it." Lang said and rushed into the crevice. Mackley came behind him. Together, they pulled themselves along the cracks and abscesses. When the surface became harder to climb, they either found or made the handholds and footholds they needed to clamber onward. They were almost to the top when Lang reached a section with no points of traction. He tried forcing his hands and feet into the hill but the surface proved too stony to yield.

"Need a hand?" Mackley asked.

"Yup. Hold steady."

Mackley deepened his handholds and footholds as far in as they would go to anchor himself. Nodding to Lang, he let his squadmate use him like a ladder. Lang planted a boot on his thigh bracer and hoisted himself onto his back. With the dexterity of a spider monkey, he managed to stand on Mackley's shoulders.

"On the shoulders of giants, am I right?" Mackley huffed.

"Nah, pretty sure we're the same height." Lang laughed.

"Just shut up and go."

A short jump lay between Lang and the top of the hill. He bent his knees, putting even more of a strain on Mackley. He leapt for it. His fingers barely grasped the edge. It was enough. He pulled himself up, pushing his feet into the hill to give himself the extra momentum to crest the top. He rolled to his feet and held out the stock of his sniper rifle. Mackley grabbed it with one hand then two, running up the last of the incline as Lang pulled him to safety.

They swiftly turned to the next task of helping everyone else. They each ran to a tree on the hill and took out their ropes to wind them around their trunks. After testing to confirm they were secure, they tossed the ends down to the squad below.

Berlin and Reznik went first. They shuffled up the hillside and Dalton and Daz followed. The grueling climb ended as the whole of Whiskey reached the top.

A burning fear in Daz's belly made her check the timer again: '5:50'. She sighed. "We're already over our best time."

"Doesn't matter." Mackley said. "We still have to finish this."

"That and I really want to see Epsilon's faces after we get this done." Lang said. "They just saw us kill two birds with six mines. Bet nobody's done that before."

Dalton turned to her expectantly. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. Daz took the hint and got them moving again.

:********:

The squad travelled in single-file. They stuck close to the walls of Zone A's southwestern building. Their quiet movements left them able to hear the enemy waiting for them on the inside.

There were Grunts in the courtyard. The diminutive freaks didn't so much as try to conceal their presence. Every so often the squad would hear a wary squeal or an excited bark in that strange guttural language of theirs.

They never heard the Elites. There was no other place for the split-jaws to be but they betrayed no sign of their being inside. Anyone could have been fooled into thinking Epsilon decided to keep them out of the exercise altogether. But Daz suspected that was the very impression their sister squad was trying to give them. This would be a true test of just how long they could stay on their toes.

Two of their surprises were neutralized. Two more and the mission would be over.

Daz led the squad around the corner to the entrance of the vehicle depot. It was an archway with a road that stemmed down the hill to its base. There it connected with the road that ran between Zones B and C.

Daz grasped the wall and carefully peeked inside. The courtyard was directly beyond the archway. There was a worrying amount of open-space between the adjoined buildings. Worrying in that there were so much room and yet nothing was occupying it.

Where were the Grunts?

She was certain she heard some grumbling outside. They couldn't have gone far...unless they hadn't gone anywhere at all.

"Whiskey-5, on me. We're dipping our toes inside then running down that road."

He came beside her. "Dipping?"

"That's right. Unless you want to get blown up again."

Reznik didn't protest further. She sidestepped into full view of the courtyard with him. They crossed beneath the archway and got half a meter inside when Daz noticed movement on the edge of her periphery. Pressed against the walls of the buildings to their left and right, well out of sight from the entrance, were the two dozen Grunts. Both parties saw each other and the yard came alive with squeals and screams.

"Back-up! Back-up!" Daz ordered.

The two of them shot at the enemy as they ran back through the archway. The Grunts charged after them wielding plasma grenades and deranged screams.

They ran a short distance down the road then swiveled around to face the horde. The Grunts raced past the rest of Whiskey unknowingly. The squad held its fire as they waited for the opportune moment.

The last suicide Grunt dashed out of the entrance. With that, Whiskey gave them hell. Their unguarded flanks proved prime targets. So did their fronts which Daz and Reznik sprayed methodically. They killed those closest to them before taking out those directly behind.

In seconds, the suicidal mob folded in on itself. A series of explosions went off in their midst. Their own 'grenades' turned against them and the group tore itself apart in flashes of polymer.

The screaming died down and Whiskey advanced.

Several stragglers remained within the courtyard. The squad stood in the archway and gunned them down as well. The last attempted to flee to a door leading into the northern building. A blinding barrage dropped it before it got far.

They fanned out into the yard, scanning the windows for activity. The Grunts were down. Now all that remained were the Elites.

"Time for a goose chase." Mackley said. "Whiskey-2, want to split? We'll cover ground faster that way."

"Its four Elites, Mack." Daz warned. "If you run into more than one up close, you're going to have a problem on your hands."

"Better than sitting here and waiting for them to come to us, right?"

Daz detected a hint of snark in the comment. She could almost sense him smirking behind his visor. "Alright then. If you think you can do it, go ahead. I'll take my team to the southeastern building. You take the southwest. We'll work our way to the northern building and regroup there."

"Copy that."

Mackley took Lang and Reznik to the building on their left. Daz guided Berlin and Dalton to the one on their right. Kicking in doors, the fireteams slipped into the first floors.

Daz took a quick survey of her environment. A hallway in lowlight stretched before her into the depths. "VISR mode, let's go."

She switched it on and saw the space recast in a neutral yellow hue. There was a flash of red at the very end of the hallway that disappeared just as quickly as she noticed it. "Heads up. I saw something out front, 3 meters."

"Got your back." Dalton said.

"I'll maintain rear security." Berlin said. "If anything comes behind us, you'll know."

Daz moved forward along the left side of the passage while Dalton stuck to her right. They stopped at a point where the hallway joined another at a three-way intersection. They pivoted together into the two halls. Their visual intelligence software highlighted several doors from one end of the floor to the next.

"Left side first." Daz said. Dalton came after her as Berlin brought up the rear. They came to the very last door on that end. She kicked it in to reveal the office space inside. They swept it clear. Coming outside again, they repeated the process with the next door and then the next, gradually working their way back to the intersection then on to the opposite hallway.

The last door came within sight. So did a stairwell at the end of the passage. "Whiskey-6, watch those stairs."

"Copy."

Daz and Dalton prepared to breach the door. But as Berlin came close enough to peek into the stairwell, he gave a surprised gasp and hurled himself back down the hallway. Several bolts of polymer shot out from the well to strike the wall where he'd stood. "Found one!"

The pair on the door switched to the stairwell.

"Where is it?" Dalton asked.

"It's on the first landing, has a straight shot on the exit. How do you want to get at this guy?"

"Don't need to." Daz said. "Whiskey-1, get a frag in there."

"On it." Dalton pulled the pin on a grenade. He tossed it at the wall in the stairwell so that it bounced off towards the landing, striking a nearby step then exploding. The Elite roared with anger.

"Here it comes." Daz and Dalton took aim. The Elite came charging out the exit, firing wildly. Berlin joined them in gunning their unshielded foe to the ground.

Daz stepped over it and checked inside. "Stairwell's clear. Let's head to the next floor." She took careful strides up to the first landing and turned. The door to the second floor came in sight, as did the briefest flicker of red. "Got something."

Dalton and Berlin shadowed her to the next landing. She took a breath and pivoted into the hallway. It was as long as the first, and like the last time, she noticed a flicker of hostile red dashing through the exit on the far side. "I think I saw an Elite. Looks like it ran into the northern building."

"Wanna chase it?" Berlin queried. "If you want to clear these rooms, just know we're getting up there in terms of time."

Her eyes flickered to the timer: '6:48'.

"No, let's leave these doors alone." She moved down the hallway, setting her reticle firmly on the exit to the next stairwell. "The rooms are the perfect place for them if they want to get fragged. I doubt Epsilon stationed any in there. Wish I thought of that sooner."

"No use fretting over it now." Dalton said. "We should find out where our friend's going."

Again, the good wisdom of her sergeant resecured her focus on the exit.

They were halfway there when she heard Mackley on the comms. "Whiskey-3 to 2, we neutralized an Elite on our side. It tried to get the jump on us at the stairs. Whiskey-4's saying he spotted another one running into the northern building. We're in pursuit. How're things on your side?"

Daz shared a curious glance with her fireteam that told her they had all noticed the same pattern. "We killed one on our side too. That leaves us with the last two, and from the sound of things it seems they're trying to lure us in, possibly to make a final stand."

"Good, so they're in the same place." Lang said. "That makes it easier on us."

"Or maybe not. Stay on your guard."

The exit of the hallway came up and Daz turned inside. She went across the stairwell to the open entrance of the adjoining building.

Berlin came inside to check the stairs. "We're clear below."

"Only one place they can be." Daz stopped to reload. Seeing the '15' appear on her ammo-counter gave her some reassurance. She leaned out to take a look.

On the other side of the entrance was a large, three-storied garage. Light came in through the windows on the garage door to illuminate everything on the lowest floor. Tool stations and crates adorned the walls. Several Warthogs sat in the middle of the space in various states of disrepair. From what she could see, her fireteam was coming out on the garage's second floor which, akin to the third, was restricted to a set of steel catwalks that were fastened to the walls. Only a few ladders from the bottom floor connected all three to each other.

A fast-growing sense of foreboding made her hesitate to go inside. There were too many blind spots for them to handle on their own.

"Whiskey-3 to 2, we're at the bottom floor of what looks like a garage. You here?"

Daz looked down to an exit on the opposite side of the ground floor. She spotted Mackley's fireteam there awaiting her signal to move in.

"I see you, 3. We're on the second floor."

Mackley spotted her. "Can you give us some cover from there?"

"Yeah, let's try-"

A bright blue flash arced past her from the third floor overhead. The object landed at the threshold of the ground floor exit, right in front of Mackley. He identified it a split-second before she did and called out "Grenade!"

His fireteam retreated deeper into the exit before it detonated, repainting that part of the space in crimson polymer. The blast was followed-up by bursts of TTR fire that created an artificial barrier between them and the garage.

"There's an Elite on top of you guys!" Mackley said. "You mind flanking him from below!?"

"Roger, we're coming in!" Daz was the first out into the garage. She headed to the part of the catwalk that would give her the best view of the shooter. She barely got to see it when motion on the other side of the third floor pulled her attention away. There was another Elite there as well, a major that made itself known by singling her out. She ducked behind a nearby crate that was sizable enough to shield her from the stream of fire.

"There's the last one!"

Dalton tried to return fire. The Elite replied with a long barrage that forced him back. "It's in a good spot! We're working with mutually supporting positions here! Whiskey-2, what's the move!?"

Daz dug deep into her best ideas. None of them seemed feasible. They could rush out and take the enemy head on. There was no way for that to work without taking casualties. She could try a frag if she were in a better position. Then she remembered frags weren't the only ordnance they'd brought on the mission. She reached into her BDU and pulled out a flashbang.

"Here's the plan, Whiskey! I'll toss a flash. Once these two are stunned, neutralize both at the same time!"

Through the hail of rounds popping off around him, Mackley replied "Hey, whatever helps us finish this up, I'm all in!"

"On your go!" Dalton said.

Daz pulled the pin on her flashbang. "Three...two...flash out!" She tossed it high into the middle of the garage. It nearly collided with the ceiling when it exploded. The squad shielded themselves from the burst of light and the percussive blast. The shooting stopped.

"Now!" Daz stood out as Dalton and Berlin emerged onto the catwalk. Together they drilled into their stunned target. Simultaneously, Mackley's fireteam dashed into the garage, took positions behind the Hogs and fired up into the second Elite. Both of Whiskey's final opponents staggered back under the assault. Their status lights flickered twice as they neutralized their shields and cut them down.

The mission timer came to a stop at '7:40'. The alarm blared from the arena's PA, signaling the end of the exercise.

"And that's a wrap." The Staff's voice boomed. "Now that? That was interesting to see. Come on home, Whiskey. Let's chat about it."

"Yessir." Daz replied. "Thanks for pulling through guys."

"Yeah, I feel like I pulled something else on that climb though." Lang said as he cracked his back. "We did good this go-around so I think we've got a decent review to look forward to."

Berlin came to the railings. "But we're way over our last time. That almost took us a whole eight minutes compared to the five we did on our first attempt. Isn't that a bit of a step back?"

"Let's see what his verdict is." Mackley said. "Before we do that," He looked over to Daz. "I want to hear your opinion, Whiskey-2. This was your op. How do you think we did?"

The squad also turned to her out of curiosity.

"We took no casualties; we eliminated the enemy and we predicted most of their moves." Daz blushed at hearing from her own mouth how well her operation had gone. She didn't want to sing her own praises but there was much praise to be sung for the squad. "All things considered; we did good. Really good. That's what I think. Let's see what the Staff says."

:********:

The Staff couldn't have disagreed with her more. As she listened to him, she found that he didn't believe the squad's performance was good. Good was not the correct word. Instead, he spent a minute making clear to them just how 'great' their operation had gone. His high praise was more than she felt she deserved.

"It was an excellent performance through and through. You made good use of forward reconnaissance, what you learned from fireteam tactics and mixed them together into a successful strategy for squad tactics. You got by with no casualties even in the face of a few close-calls that we threw in there for you, and that's considering you blew up a piece of the hill. That's not to mention that you got a record time for the exercise too. Color me impressed."

Squad Whiskey was lined up in front of him in the observation room. They were listening with a range of self-satisfied looks when they heard the last part of what the Staff had to say.

Daz was confused. "Ugh, sir, what do you mean a 'record time'?"

"You got 7 minutes and 40 seconds. It's a record that puts you in third place for this specific scenario. You're right behind Hotel and us."

"...Scenario?" Mackley questioned. "I thought that whole thing was the same exercise."

"Not quite. We have various scenarios that we come up with to make sure things don't get stale. The different ways you saw the Covenant deployed on your last three exercises were each a different scenario." He nodded to the screens around the room. "Despite that the system registers every exercise as the same on the scoreboard, we keep track of how everyone does on these scenarios. Basically, you're now third place on one of the hardest we have if not the hardest. It usually takes your average experienced squad 12 to 15 minutes to dislodge a concentrated force like this. It's safe to say, you beat most of their times by leaps and bounds."

A new feeling of elation washed over Whiskey. Not only had they pulled off a successful operation without their sergeant's orders, they had managed to do so while getting their names on the unofficial list of top tier regulars.

Lang rubbed his chin like a plotting mastermind. "So how long is it 'till we beat Hotel's record, sir?"

"Cut it down to around five minutes and you'll be in the silver."

"Uhuh." His eyes narrowed. "And Epsilon's?"

The air in the room changed as the Staff smiled mercifully. "Cut it down to four minutes then you'll be golden. However, you may not get a chance to try your luck just yet. After seeing how much you've improved in the last two weeks, I'm planning on changing the setup of our practices. Starting tomorrow the 1st will be training together at the Large-Scale Platoon Tactics arena. We'll work on integrating the whole crew into a proper fighting force."

"You sure you don't want to give us another try, sir?" Mackley beamed. "It sounds like you're scared we'll steal first place. If you're not, we can show you a thing or two."

"If you think you're beating our time then you've got 'nother thing coming." Yuri growled. "You're too new here to get big head about this. Maybe your old man can, but not you."

"Not yet."

"You looking for trouble, Whiskey-3?" Hector leered.

"If that's what it takes then yeah. So, how about it?"

Hector grinned at the Staff who offered a look of honest amusement.

"That's enough for now. We'll come back at around 0930 and pick up where we left off. Come on, let's get some food."

Daz understood the unstated part of that statement. They were indeed giving Whiskey a shot at their title. She was still tired from the last exercise but figured a cup of coffee could get her going again. The idea of knocking a squad like Epsilon out of first place in anything almost gave her a buzz by itself. After winning today, it seemed like a real possibility.

1st Platoon walked out of the observation room and into the long hallway between them and the elevator. Chitchat and jibes were exchanged between the two squads. Even Berlin was getting in on the action. Daz watched the smallest member of Whiskey walk alongside the tallest member of Epsilon and talk to him like he was a worthy rival, something Hector seemed to accept and joke with him about.

She noticed Mackley and Duncan were walking and talking. There was a less competitive air between them than the others. The events of the last few minutes came to mind. A profound sense of gratitude accompanied it, gravitating her towards her squadmate. She tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Ugh, sure." He gave Duncan a few parting words then hung back to walk beside her. "What's up?"

"You surprised me back there...in a good way. Thanks for not being a pain today. Just wanted you to know that."

Mackley shrugged off the comment nonchalantly. "No worries. I'm only trying to do what I need to to keep myself alive out there."

"Out where?"

"You know, the war. If I learn to do it here then I won't have as hard a time out there. I'm just looking out for myself is all."

Daz discerned the lie even as it was coming out of his mouth, or at least the half-truth that it was. There were another half involved there that he wasn't letting on. She suspected that she already understood what it was. She wagered he'd said it that way because he thought she wouldn't believe him if he told her the whole truth. And maybe she wouldn't have.

Could he really have changed that much in two weeks, she wondered.

Whatever the case might be, it was obvious he had come to grips with something in himself. Now the question was who had helped him do it and what God-like powers did they invoke in order to pull it off? She looked to Duncan who walked ahead with the same nonchalance that Mackley seemed to be mirroring.

"Looking out for yourself you say. Is that so?"

Mackley nodded. "Yeah, that's so."

"You came to that decision on your own then?"

"Why don't you get off my case, corporal. I want some pancakes right now so I'll tell you later if I feel like it." Mackley walked on ahead of her. As he did, she couldn't help smiling. It appeared she wasn't the only one who'd grown a little.

:********:

Outside the RTETC, the early light of Epsilon Eridani was beginning to rise over the horizon. The new day was coming. Its arrival was turning the skies into warm hues of orange and pink. The streets of Falchion would soon be alive with activity. Until then 1st Platoon would have free reign of the base. They would also have the best seats and best eats at the mess hall if they were fast enough. Sergeant Dalton however was willing to take his time.

He stood by the doors as the platoon came outside and descended the steps, waiting for one of them in particular.

The Staff was the last outside. As soon as he came out, Dalton extended a hand. "Thanks for helping them, sir."

The Staff arched a brow. "Helping them? Not really, they helped themselves."

"And you showed them how."

The Staff finally took the compliment with a light laugh and shook his hand. "Were they really that hard to handle before now?"

"In a sense." The two of them started down the stairs. "They were one of those hard cases when I met them. A few months is only so much time to deal with recruits as an instructor, and you usually have to deal with a few hundred per class. Getting them like this in two weeks is an achievement."

"Like I said, they helped themselves."

"Like I said, you showed them how, sir."

"Tell you what, since you say so, I'll take credit for it."

"As you should. I was worried they wouldn't be ready for the front. Now I'm not too concerned. You saved me from a lot of stress that might've finally put these old bones to rest. Now I get to live a little longer."

"I'll take credit for saving your life too then. You owe me that, sarge. Don't worry though. If the platoon training goes the way I think it will, maybe we'll all get to live a little longer."

Dalton nodded in agreement as they headed to the Hogs. "Amen to that, sir."

Reneè - Thaw