Halo: Feet First

by MikeDice

Halo: Feet First covers the story of a team of UNSC Orbital Drop Shock Troopers of the 7th Battalion, 105th Shock Troops Division. The main character, Duncan Iris, faces the full horror of the covenant war effort against humanity as well as the brave retaliation of outnumbered and outgunned UNSC forces. However, he also witnesses the turning of the tides as the war progresses.

153. Battle of Reach - Chapter 26 (Prioritas)

Chapter 26 – Prioritas

August 19th, 2552 - (12:35 Hours - Military Calendar)

Epsilon Eridani System, Reach

Viery Territory, Eposz

New Alexandria, Barta Charity Foundation for Displaced Colonists (BCFDC)

:********:

The Barta Charity Foundation Center was one of the larger buildings in Sector 25. Its walls of crystalline glass and white steel towered straight up for 30 floors before narrowing with each subsequent level. The smooth slant of the architectural vault turned the upper floors into a pointed end whose sharpness could have made a blacksmith blush, transforming the whole building into a spear-like structure. It stood at the southern confluence of two of New Alexandria's major rivers, the Hornád and Körös. Their paths coursed south from the northern ocean before linking arms just outside the charity center. From there the frothing waters went further south and disappeared into Alexandria's citified undergrowth.

In earlier days, the center served as the middleman between the city's growing population of colonial refugees and those who wished to donate to their welfare. Clothes, food and even housing were offered here to those that might otherwise have wound up homeless. The issue was one that many inner colonies had to contend with for years on end, at least until it was their turn. There were undoubtedly many that had come through Barta's doors in the last two decades who had seen such charities spring up on their own worlds, watching those who had been displaced finding care there, not thinking it could ever be them. Today, however, the center was serving its newest and most vital purpose as the latest hub of civilian evacuations.

1st Platoon were among its custodians.

After taking the Császári Building the day before, the platoon hunkered down alongside their friends in 4th. Like other ODSTs to their north and south, they held their positions against the expected Covenant air assault. It came on the heels of the 83rd Auxiliary Wing, just half an hour after their arrival. Though most of the latter's evacuation craft had already fled to the north, a few were caught with their pants down in the city. The blow was softened however by the two factors in favor of the UNSC.

The first was the additional air support brought to bear by the 83rd which intercepted those Covenant sorties hell bound for evacuation sites. The second was the naval battlegroup orbiting overhead which acted as the central pillar of their control over the skies. Day and night, their point defense guns lit up the airways, often cutting through passing squadrons of Spirits and Phantoms like sharks through swarms of tuna. The continuous yellow flashes of anti-aircraft munitions were often offset by purple explosions, blasted wrecks whose pyres brightened the city well into the night. All the while the occasional Archer missile would streak from the silo of a frigate at the behest of groundside forces. The explosions went off somewhere off in the distance, the rumbling aftermath reaching Császári's walls mere seconds later.

Nevertheless, the Covenant were too numerous. Four squadrons of enemy aircraft broke through for every single one shot down. They delivered their payloads, whether it was a troop of reinforcements sent to combat Army defenses or a cluster of plasma charges meant to set whole streets ablaze.

South of Traxus and the starport, the newly captured evac sites of the 7th and 22nd Shock Troops Battalions became the enemy's primary targets. One of Császári's upper floors gave Duncan a front row seat to that day's ensuing firestorm. He watched Seraphs perform bombing runs on the distant positions of Alpha Company to their south and Echo to their north. Reports flowed in of dropships delivering Covenant troops in a concerted attempt to push them back. Bravo Company was shown to be no exception after more Seraphs moved to bomb their buildings as well.

A trio of them tried their hand at Császári. Their charges fell short and the fires only burned through part of the outer lawn. The deployment of Covenant troops likewise fell short of their goal. 1st and 4th Platoon refused to even let them cross the street. Turret fire stopped their assault cold. The combined support from their guardian angels, Kilo-9-2 and Kilo-9-4, mopped up what remained. So it went for the next wave of reinforcements. And the next and the next.

They were well into the dawn when the last Grunt of the last counterattack was gunned down. Császári wasn't quiet, however. Activity stirred back up with the arrival of new Hogs and Scorpion tanks courtesy of the 77th Armored Division. The 7th and 22nd Battalions' next objectives were already lined up. Both were rolling out to expand their net over the city.

Two more buildings were taken before 1st Platoon came across the Barta Center. A small garrison of several squads of Elites and Jackal snipers stood in their way. They lasted only a few minutes. The ODSTs went in hard and fast. Their added tank support made short work of the already minor resistance and the building quickly fell into their hands.

The platoon settled down there to solidify their gains. They had just finished greenlighting it as an evac site when the first tram rocketed into view.

Duncan saw it from his patrol on the outside promenade which acted like a seawall to the river confluence. The transport was bulleting in from the east as they always did. It ran down the elevated tramway that passed over the promenade before slowing into the stop on Barta's middlemost floor. Duncan broke off from his patrol route to get a better look at the new arrivals.

He had stepped directly below the boarding platform when he heard the tram doors open high above. People, large and small, walked over the inch-wide gap between their coaches and the platform. Two of the squads from the Army platoon that they'd buddied up with were in charge of things there. He heard them guiding the throngs across the way to the entrance, a process that they would likely have to repeat throughout the day.

"That's another batch." Zack exhaled as he strolled up beside him. "How many is that now? Four?"

"Three." Duncan corrected. "Including Barta anyway. Pretty sure this push stops around Sector 29 so it's looking like we'll be at it until the day after tomorrow."

"The way you say it makes it sound like a problem. I guess it is if you're thinking they're still in that hotel."

Duncan didn't say anything.

"I'll be honest, I doubt they really are. Erica always struck me as the smart type, you know, resourceful. They probably got out before everything went down."

Still no reply.

Zack turned to him. "But you don't believe that last part, do you?"

With a slow firmness, Duncan shook his head.

"...Why not?"

"Everyone's giving me their word for it, but I want to be sure." He looked from the platform to meet the radioman head-on. "I want to see that hotel, or at least get close enough to make a call."

"And if nobody picks up?"

Duncan knew the answer to that. It didn't mean he was willing to say it aloud or even admit it to himself.

"If you run off, we're with you."

Both Duncan and Zack rounded on Mito as he strolled in from the promenade.

The blade carrying ODST patted him on the shoulder. "I might not be the smartest guy on the team, but I know that's what you've been thinking this whole time. Makes sense. What wouldn't make sense is if you went in alone. You need the help, and it's not like you're the only one here who's worried."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Zack agreed.

Duncan looked between them. "You guys would do that for me? I mean, that's asking for some serious hot water with the Staff. You wouldn't just want to spot me?"

Mito gestured to his sword. "And miss hearing 'Please, Uncle Mito, can I see it' for the millionth time? Nah, I don't think so. In fact, I bet the Staff would be down for it too. That's of course...if they're there."

"I'd expect the same for my folks if Luna got hit." Zack added. "Hmph, at this point that doesn't sound too far off anymore, does it? Guess I'll be calling in that favor soon."

Duncan beamed gratefully. "Let's hope not."

Their conversation ended abruptly when the Staff's voice came through their communications. "Platoon, report to the tram stop. 4-Actual's got a new job for us. Hustle up, this one comes straight from the top."

Duncan sighted back to the promenade to the two squads of Army personnel patrolling along its rails, watching the waters foam past. "Think they can handle this place on their own?"

"They'll have to." Zack remarked. "C'mon, we'll break the news to their noncom then go see what's up."

The three of them moved out from under the shadow of the boarding platform and over to one of the Army troopers' squad leaders. Zack was the one to give him the update. While he wasn't happy to see the ODSTs go, he wished them well and sent them on their way.

They headed back through the tangle of railway supports and up the stairs to a ground floor entrance. A busy welcome center awaited them. The plethora of couches, desks and waiting areas were turned into the temporary abodes of scores of civilians. They sat huddled together in familial clusters or spaced around in solitary watchfulness, creating an archipelago of impatience and unease. Many of them turned to the passing troopers, a pod of black-scaled fish in a sea of tired and curious stares. Zack and Mito ignored them. Duncan didn't. In fact, he returned them in kind, investigating each haggard face for a trace of familiarity. His search turned up empty and he moved on.

They sailed through the shoals of packed chairs and cluttered tiles to reach the set of escalators in the middle of the floor. They were inactive of course, leaving them to jog up the stilled steps.

The doors of the center's elevators yawned wide just ahead of them, having disgorged their most recent catch of new arrivals. They took a lift all the way up to the 40th floor, exchanging an overcrowded space for a sparse patchwork of munition and medical stations. Another Army platoon was establishing their own positions there, readying the building for a potential assault. Duncan, Zack and Mito paid a brief visit to a munition station then passed through the sliding doors to the tram stop.

They found the tram waiting for them at the other end of the boarding platform. 1st Platoon had gathered there beneath the cover of an overhanging shade.

Looking behind them, Duncan noticed that the doors to all four of the tram's coaches were open. A crew of Army troopers were meandering about the entrances as well as the platform, keeping a continuous eye on the surrounding city.

The three of them were the last to the meeting.

"Everyone's here, sir." The Staff said. "Ready when you are."

Captain Eddies' reply came over their comms. "Copy. 1st Platoon, listen up. Good work on taking Barta. Now I'm going to need you to do some backtracking. Another wave of evac craft is inbound from the 83rd. Unfortunately, so is the Covenant's newest assault wave. Unlike yesterday, that second one is expected to get here before the first, probably in the next hour. At the same time, not all parts of the city behind friendly lines are fully secured either. Neptune-Actual wants at least two platoons from each company to prepare for some rear-guard action. The 22nd's doing the same on their end. As for you guys, I'm slating you and 3rd Platoon with providing additional security for the trams alongside any available AMX units. You'll work the rails between the Maglev station downtown and back up to those positions that the battalion's taken in the west. Use your tram to get to NA Central asap. Once you're there, you'll grab the next civilian payload and gear up that transport for the assault wave. That way we stand a better chance of staying on schedule. Any questions?"

Hector had one. "Command's turning us into a taxi service, sir?"

"No but close. So long as the conductor's breathing, you already have a driver. The most you'll be doing is making sure nobody takes a shot at the passengers."

"Shots." Nova corrected. "I doubt anything out there'd be willing to stop at one."

"Which is exactly why you'll be there, to make sure they don't even get the chance.

Duncan scrutinized the tram. Each of its four coaches possessed two floors. Multiple horizontal strip windows ran the length of either level. They were fully transparent to boot. That meant whatever murderous passerby happened to spare them a glance would be able to see most of those inside. Nevertheless, he saw the defensive value they could offer to those onboard. The windows could provide multiple fields of fire around the full perimeter of the transport. Only the roofs would be a problem. Moreover, the metal hide looked thick enough to take a beating, not that it hadn't already earned a few scorch marks for its trouble.

"We can turn that thing into a mobile fortress with the right equipment." The Staff noted. "I'm thinking a few turrets in the windows for each coach. A couple extra rocket launchers would be good company."

"We have that covered too." Eddies said. "A detachment of the Marine Corps of Engineers has setup shop back at the MagLev station. They'll help you with whatever you need to turn that thing into a tank on rails."

"Sounds good to me." Mito said.

"But how long are we going to be working the tram?" Renni asked. "I want to know when we can get back on the main push."

"Same here, sir." Duncan echoed. "Exactly how far out are we from finishing the encirclement with the 22nd?"

"Don't worry about that." Eddies replied. "Establishing the green zone is expected to wrap up in a day or so. We still need more evac points in the north in order to take the pressure off hot spots like Traxus. For the time being, my platoon and the rest of Bravo will pick up the slack for you guys. Focus on getting those civilians to their drop-off points. Remember, their safety is our main priority. Taking back the city comes second."

Duncan didn't like the sound of that even though he knew he should've. So long as they were set in their area of operation, they would be restricted from the planned offensive, and he would be restricted from getting anywhere near the Csillagos.

"...Understood, sir."

"Anything else?" Eddies asked.

Rico piped up. "Is there a limit to what we can bring onboard?"

The captain gave a kidding huff. "So long as it doesn't lower the amount of people you can bring, its free to go. Use your imagination and whatever else is on hand. I'm sure the 77th has plenty to spare. Keep in mind, I've projected that you'll need about 20 minutes to reach the station from your current position, and another 20 to turn back around for your next objectives. That means you have a 20-minute window to gear up before you risk running into some bad weather from that assault wave. You're on a budget timewise. My advice, go crazy but don't shop for too long."

"Got it, sir." The Staff said. "We'll get it done. Like you said, we're tight on time so I think we should end it here."

"Roger that, Ep-1, I'll let you take care of business. 4-Actual out."

As the captain signed off, the Staff nodded them to their newest assignment. The platoon closed in on the tram. They stopped short of the doors to the third coach. Duncan and Zack were the first to peek inside.

Two long lanes of blue padded seats marched in a tight formation from front to back. The standing rows of four were divided into pairs by three walkways, one running down the middle and two more on the sides. The midpoint of the dozens-long columns of seats was marked by a staircase that led up to the second level.

The ceiling lights still worked. Duncan almost wished they didn't. The entire coach was a mess, soaked in a thin film of trash, from crushed water bottles and plastic wrappings to bloody medical dressings and discarded cartridges.

Zack whistled. "This is looking like a lot of work."

The Staff stepped in and grimaced. "There's no helping it. We'll clear a path here and there, but we don't have time to play janitor."

The platoon filtered in, picking their way across the bog of human refuse, some of which stuck to their boots. In a few places there was so much of it that the floral patterns of the carpet beneath were barely visible.

Yuri nearly tripped over a backpack that had been abandoned in the main walkway. He kicked it aside like it had laid itself there on purpose. "Hope this stuff isn't flammable."

"Who're you kidding?" Hector quipped. "If they hit us with the right ordnance, this'll turn into a matchbox."

The Staff paused to examine the staircase then turned to address everyone else. "Here's how this is going to work. We'll break up into fireteams, one for each coach. Ep-2, you take Ep-4, 8 and 9 and lock down the last coach back there. Whiskey-2 and 4, you take this one. Whiskey-1, you and 5 handle the second. Ep-5, 6 and 7, you're with me up front, we'll take the first. Ep-10 will rotate between the four in case anyone needs medical attention. We'll be concentrating our numbers for now so that the coaches most likely to be hit on route are the best defended. Hopefully once we get to the station, we can find some reinforcements to level things out a bit." He pointed to the outer walkways. "We'll use these two side lanes for gun positions at the windows. The way in the middle is always to remain clear for the sake of easy movement in and out."

The ODSTs weighed the plan. They accepted it in tacit shrugs or agreeing nods, all except Mackley.

"Wait, where am I going to be?"

"You'll be on the roof, Whiskey-3."

Mackley stiffened. "Sir?"

"The cockpit, rooftop, you're on forward observation. I spotted an access hatch behind the driver's station back outside. I want you posted halfway into that thing so you can see what's ahead of us. Be sure to stoop back in if something takes a shot at you."

The clarification granted the sniper a smidge of relief. "Oh...got it." He glanced at Lang. "Can I use the Stanchion, sir?"

"Negative. It's big, its powerful but it'll get you killed so far as maneuverability goes. You'll need plenty of it for any flyers that decide to take a crack at us."

"Copy." Mackley said, slightly put out.

"Try not to lose your head up there. That doesn't excuse everyone else either. If you see something along the way, call it out. I don't care what direction it's in so long as it's close or looks like it's heading our way. That clear?"

A collective "Yessir" affirmed his order.

"Alright. I'll go talk to the conductor to get us moving. Again, watch your sectors. We need at least one trooper per floor so keep your head on a swivel wherever you find yourself. Let's get it done."

The Staff hauled off for the door on the forward end of the coach. His fireteam as well as the smaller binary of Dalton and Reznik followed behind him. Mackley flashed the others a thumbs up then trailed after his sergeant.

Nova cleared her throat. "Ep-4, 8 and 9, with me. Time for some house-cleaning."

"I don't like the sound of that." Mito grumbled.

"Don't worry, it probably just means more work for me than you anyway." Hector groaned as the three of them headed past the staircase to the rear exit.

Duncan nodded off to Daz. "Good luck."

"I don't need luck, Ep-8, I need manpower, and right now I'm a tad worried about how uneven things are. You're looking at two people per floor. We're looking at one."

"I wouldn't worry about it. If everything works out, you'll have plenty of backup after we reach the station."

"If."

Lang laughed nervously. "You say that, Ep-8, but how much are you willing to bet someone outside of the ODSTs is willing to stake their life on a literal tank-train?"

"Well, from the way you put it, it doesn't sound like bad duty. In terms of survival, a tank's a pretty good bet right about now."

Daz shook her head. "If only we were in one."

"Ep-8?" Nova was watching impatiently from the rear exit.

Like Mackley, Duncan gave them a thumbs up and dashed to where he needed to be.

The rear coach was no less a mess than the first. Hector and Mito were using their boots to sweep away the smaller pieces of trash from the main walkway. They often stooped to pick up and hurl aside lost backpacks, suitcases or other large articles-turned-obstacles.

Nova shut the door behind them and turned their attention to the real task. "Me and 8 will be downstairs. Ep-4, 9, you're upstairs. Figure out whose taking which side."

"On it." Hector led the way up the central staircase to the next floor.

"I call dibs on the back." Mito said in hot pursuit.

Hector stopped mid-step. "You know if anything comes at our six, you'll be the first to get shot at, right?"

"So what? I get the better view."

With an amused resignation, Hector relented. "All yours, buddy." He turned back to Nova. "Hey, you still got that pad on you, the one you were talking about yesterday?"

"You need it right now?" She asked.

"No, but I need to make a call once we reach the station, somewhere with at least a half decent connection. It'd be great if I could make it quick."

Nova turned to Duncan who picked it out of one of his pockets uncertainly. He held up the datapad she had handed him back at Császári. Hector held out his hands for a catch and an underhanded toss landed the device in his grasp."

"Thanks. I'll be sure to give it back right after."

"I'll hold you to that." Duncan pressed.

Hector and Mito went on and disappeared up the steps.

Duncan shot his team leader a questioning look. "How'd he know about that?"

"Before I showed it to you, I told him about it. You two are the only ones in the platoon who have family in-system. Figured it made sense to ask you both if either of you needed it."

Duncan thought about it and the memory hit him like a brick wall. "Tribute?"

"That's right. You remember he has folks over there, don't you?"

"Yeah, he told me he was from there. I guess I just...never thought about it." He considered the last time he had been to Tribute years ago. "That's not even that far from here. Your average shuttle could take you there in a couple of hours."

"Yeah, big galaxy, small universe. I hope they haven't been hit yet. Then again, I haven't heard news about anything outside of Reach for a while now."

In his moment of contemplative silence, she cast a sidelong glance at him. "You're not the only one trying to hold it together out here, D. Remember that."

A low sound rose to his ear. Duncan recognized it as the familiar purr of magnetic acceleration. He felt a slight shift in the floor then saw the world beginning to slowly pass around them.

"Guess we're moving." Nova pointed to the immediate area. "I'll take the front section; you take the rear."

"Roger." Duncan hustled past the staircase and made for the door on the other end of the coach. It had a porthole window from which he could see them gradually pulling off from the tram stop. He settled down into one of the seats at the back. The comfy leather granted him an angle on the door as well as on everything to the farthest flank of the tram.

He watched the soldiers that ambled about the boarding platform grow smaller and smaller as the charity center grew farther away.

He could scarcely focus on any of it, on the way the tram passed smoothly over the frothing waters of the Hornád River or how they switched tracks to circle back east across the calmer Körös.

'You're not the only one trying to hold it together out here, D. Remember that.'

He felt rebuked.

He hadn't even thought of Hector's family or what he must have been going through in secret. While they were all on the same tram, only he and Hector were in the same boat. In some regards, Hector was worse off since he couldn't even be on the same planet as his own loved ones.

He inwardly scolded himself for not asking him how he was doing or offering an encouraging word like Nova and the others had done for him. He wondered if he could still make up for it going forward. Maybe.

Out of a need to be sure, he ran through a mental checklist of everyone in the platoon and where they said they were from. He should have felt some solace in making certain that no one else had family in Epsilon Eridani. But he didn't. Instead, he felt a pang of guilty curiosity.

There was one person on the list that he couldn't account for. One whose presence had been so constant and yet Duncan had no memory of ever hearing the same question that had been asked of others being asked of them.

:********:

The ride east was abnormally tranquil. Out of everyone, Duncan's position at the rear of the tram made him one of the last to see anything. Due to the windows as well as the relative height of the guide rails, he got a pseudo-bird's eye view on the sights of Alexandria. The route was the same that other trams had used to move between the station and the buildings taken by Bravo. Because of that, he spotted more than one familiar locale, from a full pass at Császári to a distant glimpse of the Galactic Cup Committee Building.

From there the cityscape melded into a collage of locations and sectors that he vaguely recognized. He enjoyed the peace and quiet of it all in so far as a city under siege could be considered quiet. Patrolling regularly from window to window, he was happily surprised to not see them taking any fire. The trip was going smoothly, almost too smoothly.

He didn't mind so long as it stayed that way, and it did.

Soon the forest of windows and balconies faded off as they entered an urban clearing, one populated with the public parking garages and sprawling commercial centers that encompassed the Maglev station. NA Central stuck out in the middle like a mushroom in a meadow or a Gravball stadium in a small town. The dozens upon dozens of strands of Alexandria's magnetic railways cobwebbed towards it from both ground and air, heading to its honeycomb of docking stations like jet streams to the eye of a hurricane. A multitude of other trams moved as swift clambering spiders along many of those strands, blowing into the heart of the transportive storm from the north, south and east.

1st Platoon's tram was one of few coming in from the west. Speeding down their elevated railway, they were swimming against the outgoing current of a school of trams that passed below, hurtling out from the station on a westbound course. They were each full of civilians heading towards the different landing zones established by the ODSTs. They spread out across the many diverging guide rails that branched back into the city and slipped away from sight.

The platoon's tram bulleted towards the building.

"Heads up," The Staff said. "We're heading for Dock 22. There's a refueling team as well as Army reinforcements and Marine engineers waiting to come aboard so make sure your areas are clear enough to walk through. The second we're done loading up, we'll pack the civilians in and head out."

To Duncan it sounded straight forward. The route to Dock 22 was anything but. They went down a gentle descent as an increasing jungle of elevated railways rose above. Then they were going up again before reaching one of the connecting junctions. A twitch of a switch rail and the subtle shift of the polarity pathways pulled them leftward off their longstanding rail and onto a northbound course. They rose higher through a viny tangle of infrequently occupied guideways before their path brought them closer to the building. The titanic walls loomed up on their right in a mishmash of bare metal, glassy elevator shafts and exterior staircases. Some of the hall-sized alcoves, NA Central's docking stations, flitted past every few seconds.

Their path pulled them to the building even tighter, like a belt around the waist of a giant, until mere meters separated them from the structure. The rails pushed them along a minor ascent for a while before leveling out with the same gradualness that the conductor began to use on the brakes.

They glided past another station brimming with crowds of waiting passengers, still slowing down as their true destination came within sight.

Like the one prior to it, the sizable alcove of Dock 22 was occupied though not as fully. Its largest occupant was a gargantuan maintenance gantry. The tall, table-like platform was ready to roll out on its own railways. Its sheer size made it capable of lifting potentially damaged sections of the tram to safety. It was something Duncan thought could definitely come in handy as the transport hissed to a stop beside a seated waiting area.

Once they were at a standstill, he got a good look at Dock 22's occupants. They were all either helmeted servicemen or part of NA Central's hardhat-wearing maintenance staff. The doors of the four coaches slid open. The crew of around 50 helpers moved towards them like an incoming shift change.

Duncan and Nova strolled over to meet those coming in on their side. The first to the threshold were a squad of Army troopers who hauled in several DR 44 Transit Boxes, ammo crates.

"Where do you want these?" A sergeant asked.

Nova pointed them inside. "Put them in either of the side lanes. We'll need them somewhere accessible. Bring some upstairs too."

Like a pair of stone-faced club bouncers, they let the squad inside as the other coaches were doing. The next to step up were the maintenance workers who they pointed to some of the more egregious piles of refuse. Armed with trash bags and trash clamps, the workers marched inside to alleviate the problem. Hector and Mito had come down to help the soldiers lift a few of the boxes upstairs. While the Army troopers were coming to give them reinforcements, the workers reaped a harvest of litter from between the chairs and walkways. The former increased their numbers, the latter were giving them extra room to maneuver. However, the most pivotal members of their newfound assistance were found in those who remained outside.

The platoon-sized detachment of the Marine Corps of Engineers was present. The engineers were busy using their tools to make micro-adjustments to the frames and supports of their valued cargo.

On the boarding platform, between the waiting area and the tram was a seeming auction of heavy-duty weaponry.

Two long lines of guns stood in an uncaged menagerie for their prospective patrons. The item list ranged from racks of SPNKR rocket launchers and tripodal M247H heavy machineguns to the firehose-like LAU-65D missile pods. The latter's black nozzles were raised high like the proud snouts of guard dogs. Even several MVPs were present in the imposing forms of M68 Gauss cannons that were set atop stationary pedestals.

"That's one heck of a lineup." Zack comm'd. "Is all that for us?"

"Let's find out." The Staff said, walking out from the first coach. The rest of the platoon emerged as well and gravitated towards his conversation with the engineers' commanding officer, a woman who introduced herself as Warrant Officer McCarthy.

"Your colonel's flipped the bill for you guys logistics-wise so you can have your pick of the litter in terms of turrets and rocket launchers." She said, gesturing across the lineup. "We still have plenty in stock. That said, we don't have a surplus of the big guns like those missile pods."

The Staff examined the largest class of weaponry represented. "I'm guessing the Gauss cannons are a premium?"

McCarthy grinned. "If an arm and a leg sounds like a premium."

"Good thing I've got four of those then. Alright, I'll take 12 of your launchers and 24 of your M247s, eight turrets for each coach, four for each floor."

McCarthy nodded. "And the big guns?"

"You said an arm and a leg, so I'll take a pair of each: two missile pods and two Gauss cannons. Post a cannon on both the front and rear coaches. The pods can go on the two middle ones."

"Sounds good. How're you paying?'

"Sorry but I don't really have time for a downpayment. Can you take credit?"

McCarthy let out a sardonic laugh. "If you can get these civvies out of here safely, staff sergeant, that'll be credit enough. Give us a minute, we'll have your stuff loaded in five."

The warrant officer issued orders to her platoon of engineers, directing squads to certain weapons and then to designated coaches. Tripods were folded. Barrels were lowered and braced by human hands. The first wave of engineers shuffled through the doors of the coaches like delivery boys, carrying racks of rocket launchers and M247Hs as well as corresponding boxes of 102-millimeter SSMs and 12.7-millimeter rounds. Relaying a message over her comm-unit, McCarthy got the gantry moving. The giant platform wheeled along its allotted railway towards the tram. It stopped above the weapon lineup. On its underbelly, the Marine in the underhanging control room worked the levers. The gantry's crane lowered over one of the Gauss cannons, allowing other engineers to fasten special cords to its pedestal. A thumbs up sent the weapon on its way and the crane lifted it into the air. The gantry pushed further forward before jutting out an extension that held the emplacement over the rear coach. It was slowly lowered with the care of an artisan and his masterpiece.

A low hiss suddenly grew in pitch and Duncan's attention was returned to the tram itself.

Two pairs of maintenance workers had stopped at console stations on either end of the boarding platform. As one worker typed on a holo-screen, another stood watch at the edge. Duncan saw what they were looking at.

Two large couplings protruded from the boarding platform towards sockets on the tram. Long poles of midnight black wiring followed them out. The electrical conduits slipped into the sockets and locked into place. A low hum emitted from the tram. Its lights noticeably brightened, so much so that Duncan hadn't realized until then just how dim they were.

"Why are they charging us up manually?" Hector asked. "Shouldn't the station's AI be able to handle that?"

"It should, unless the guidance system's too strained for it." The Staff pointed out. "With all the traffic going on right now, I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, we need to speed things up. Troopers, help those engineers with the gear. I'll send our new Army guys out to give us a hand."

The platoon got on it. They moved to the weapon lineup and aided the engineers in ferrying their cargo.

Duncan helped two of them lift a turret into the rear coach. They placed it on the right side of the staircase while Nova helped another crew with a turret on the left side. Both of them then took the butts of their rifles and bashed open the nearest windows. They raked aside the last remaining shards and cleared the way for the turrets to be pulled closer. Their barrels peeked through the makeshift gunports. A few twists and turns of the weapons' handles showed a promising field of fire of some 180-degrees. Neither street nor sky, left nor right would be safe from a solid burst. Better yet, their positions beside the stairs would isolate them from the surrounding seats. As such, damage from any return fire would be kept to a minimum.

A third turret was laid up in a closet beside the door to the third coach. There it would remain as an extra.

Duncan helped the engineers lift in the fourth.

Nova pointed them to the rear. "We'll need a gun in the back."

They hurried away to the backdoor which Duncan took care of, kicking it off its hinges. They inched the turret across the threshold so as much of the barrel was outside as could be possible without exposing the gunner.

The electrified sizzle of arc welders sounded overhead. It was coming from the second floor where he guessed the engineers were beginning to weld the guns into place. That way they wouldn't risk tumbling over once the tram got underway. More muffled sizzling came from somewhere further overhead, from the roof where one of the two Gauss cannons was being secured, pedestal and all.

The engineers he was with pulled out wires from the power boxes that were fastened to them like backpacks. Each clamped a welding rod into an electrode holder, a wrench-looking device wired to their packs that provided enough insulation to keep them from shocking themselves to death. They slipped down face shields from within their helmets and moved for the turret, but Duncan stopped them.

"Wait, whoever's stationed here is going to feel it the most if we suddenly slow down. They might pull the gun out with them if they try to hold onto it."

One of the engineers lifted his faceplate. "What do you suggest we do then, trooper? You want to move it somewhere else?"

Duncan already knew a better way. "No. Let's take the tripod and brace the two forward legs against the walls here. The last one can keep it standing. At least then this'll have more support if anyone yanks on it."

The engineer looked at him curiously.

Another cocked his head. "We can do that but..."

"Yeah?"

"You might get a lot more maneuverability out of that thing than you asked for." The other engineer said. "In terms of balance, that'll push back its center of gravity. It would swing from left to right at a moment's notice if someone doesn't hold it the whole time."

Duncan judged it a fair trade. The gunner would have to stay on point in exchange for more speedy reactions. Whatever came at them from behind would have a split-second opening between being spotted and taking fire. That seemed manageable given the chances of an ambush from the rear. He was running through the scenarios so thoroughly that he was beginning to think the gun would end up in his own hands before long.

"Sounds alright to me, let's do it."

The engineers looked at each other and relented. Duncan gave them the extra hand they needed to lean the weapon back and raise its forward legs. The 'feet' were propped against either side of the doorway. The welding rods came out again. Duncan polarized his visor against the dangerously bright blue light that crackled in front of him. A similar commotion emanated from the rest of the coach as the other two guns were seared down to the floor.

Duncan inspected the aftermath once they were finished. A mechanical stitchwork of fused metal had melded the tripod to the coach itself. It would serve as the anchor of the M247. To be certain, he waited until they were sure the fusion was complete before maneuvering the gun around. It was looser than normal but it also granted him more wiggle room. He could turn it whichever way he needed and at twice the usual speed. He even dared to lean back while holding the handle, much to the worry of the engineers. The weapon didn't budge or groan.

"That'll do." He said. "Thanks guys."

"Thank us if you survive on that thing." Another engineer said. "Hope it works out for whoever gets saddled with it."

"That'll be you."

They turned to see Nova standing behind them. She scrutinized the awkward positioning of the emplacement with an incredulous glare.

"Me?" Duncan asked.

"Who else? You told them to put it that way, plus you look like you're the most comfortable with it. That's your post, Ep-8. You've got a few minutes to make peace with that before we head out."

He accepted the news as well as anyone who'd been expecting it.

He shrugged and brushed off some dust that had gathered on the weapon's shield plate. "Copy that."

Some of the engineers took their leave of the tram though not all. Several stayed aboard the coach. Each had their disembarked comrades toss a rifle to them through the doors. Weapons in hand, they scattered themselves to strategic points among the seats and settled down. Half of the Army trooper squad that had come in, the other half having gone upstairs, did the same. They sat themselves in vital positions near windows or by ammunition boxes, all except for two who Nova had tasked with manning the remaining turrets.

"Ep-8, I'm heading to the roof." Nova said as she jogged up the stairs. "Ep-1 says I've got the Gauss."

"You're really leaving me all alone down here?"

"Oh, shut up. You've got plenty of company and plenty of cover, way more than I will. Good luck."

Nova went up, leaving him as the sole ODST on his floor of the coach. He wondered if that would be enough. The soldiers and engineers taking residence behind him were sure to be a big help, but how big?

He would have preferred if at least one other shock trooper was there alongside him, if not for the sake of tactics then at least for the sake of comfort.

A loud, one-note blare of an emergency siren ended his contemplations. The sound ended as soon as it began.

He looked out around the doorway, past the railings of the tram's exterior observation deck. His eyes landed on the number '22' painted in large white print on the back walls of the dock. They fell further to the long row of viewing windows below it. A legion of fidgeting silhouettes moved behind them.

Doors opened and a crowd leaked out onto the dock. Through the aid of shepherding soldiers, the trickles of civilians streamlined into a shuffling river that picked up speed as it crossed the waiting area. More soldiers guided the current so that it split again at the boarding platform, organizing into slower streams that funneled through the doors of the coaches.

The space became filled with muted whispers and worried looks. Peering over his shoulder, Duncan watched the first inflow of civilians march up the staircase. After what he gauged to be around a hundred different footsteps passing to the second floor, a hundred more diffused into the first. Many curious, suspicious and even reassured glances were aimed his way as men and women, children and adults, young and old got into their seats. Eventually all the remaining spots were taken though not everyone had sat down. Some of the stragglers who had run in late were forced to remain standing. The engineers and soldiers gave up their seats for them however while they in turn found use for the dangling ceiling handles.

Duncan listened in on the comm-chatter from the rest of the platoon. From what he heard; the tram was packed to capacity. Each coach was on the verge of bursting. They could take no more. Mercifully for the transport, the last dregs of the civilians had already come aboard. The doors slid shut.

A minute later the Staff spoke to the platoon. "Get ready. We're a few minutes overtime so we'll have to make up for it however we can. That said, there's a higher chance now that we'll run into that assault wave."

"Where's Flyboys?" Yuri cut in. "Weren't they supposed to be hanging with us?"

"AMX-9's running an emergency fire mission for 5th Platoon at the moment. They'll be linking up with us in a few. In the meantime, we're on our own. Watch your sectors. Call out whatever hostile contacts you see and make sure to let your backup in on the situation. If everybody locks down their AO, we'll make it through this in one piece. Whiskey-3, what's our weather report?"

"The skies to our west are clear, sir." Mackley reported. "Well, clear as they'll ever be at this point. No sign of that wave yet."

"Then let's move."

Seconds after the order, a snakish hiss rose from the charging conduits which disconnected from the tram and retracted into their housings. The familiar purr of magnetic acceleration began to grow, filling the interior. Their passengers braced themselves. Parents fastened their children in their laps while couples held their loved ones close. A few closed their eyes and shut them tight.

Duncan kept his own wide open, shifting them in every direction. He tensed at his new gun, standing guard as the tram levitated a few inches above the rail and began its departure from Dock 22, picking up speed as it rushed away from NA Central.

Prioritas – Priority