Dust and Echoes (RWBY/Halo)
Chapter 20: Into the Furnace
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Vyraj, Volga System
Nav Tundra
May 31st, 2541, 0315 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)
Seated inside an M650 Mastodon APC, Sergeant Johnson once again checked over his equipment. His helmet was strapped on securely, the HUD displayed on his goggles automatically linking to the suppressed MA5K carbine in his hands. When he put it to the side in favor of pulling out his M6S magnum, the HUD adjusted accordingly. The names of the rest of the soldiers with him were displayed above their heads, and on the bottom left corner was the motion tracker. Eleven yellow dots could be seen, all seated in neat rows. Not a word was said between them, filling the APC with silence.
Johnson was fine with that. Normally, he would've lifted his men's spirits by playing some flip music over the radio, but that was when they were going into battle against the Covenant. It didn't seem right to do that when they were dealing with Insurrectionists. It made Johnson scowl, and thankful that his face was covered by both the goggles and balaclava wrapped around his nose and mouth. It wouldn't do anyone good to see him angry, as Johnson needed to keep up his image for the sake of everyone around him. Still, his gut twisted over the fact that, even now with the Covenant pressing down on them, humanity was still wasting time and lives fighting each other. He had always thought that, in the face of an alien invasion, humanity would altruistically put aside their differences and work together for the common good, for the survival of their species. But clearly that was a naïve viewpoint. Humanity had fought and killed each other for their entire existence, and just because someone else came along and started doing it too didn't mean they were going to stop.
Still, despite his misgivings over the entire situation, he knew it was necessary. These Insurrectionists had murdered innocent people, and they had to be brought to justice. Both to avenge the people they killed since this began, and to prevent the Insurrectionists from hurting anyone else. Without anyone even saying a word, Johnson knew everyone in the Mastodon with him agreed. They had all lost someone to the Insurrection, so they were eager to put them down.
"We're coming up on the safe house," Lieutenant Dare's voice rang out over the Mastodon's speakers. She wasn't in the same vehicle as Johnson and his men. Rather, she was in a modified stealth Falcon used by ONI. Similar to a Prowler, the ONI Falcon boasted exemplary stealth capabilities that made it practically invisible to radar, thermal imaging, and more. Even the rotors were noticeably quieter than normal Falcons, making it perfect for sneaking up on an Insurrectionist hideout without them even noticing.
Taking that as his cue, Johnson began to speak, his voice carried over TEAMCOMM to all the other vehicles in the convoy. He said, "Alright men, listen up. We're coming in on the Workers Liberation Party HQ. Inside, there are going to be dozens of Innies who all want us dead and kicked off this rock. Well, I'm sorry to say that we're not going to be doing that. What we are going to do is put these bastards where they belong: a hole two meters deep, if they give us the opportunity."
His men all smiled and chuckled underneath their balaclavas, and Johnson continued, "But not their leaders, oh no. And especially not the head honcho himself, General Borisyuk. These high-value targets are to be taken in alive at all costs."
"Why not just put a bullet in their heads and call it a day, Sarge? A trial's just going to end with them getting the death penalty anyway, so why not save everyone's time and money?" a soldier inside Johnson's Mastodon asked, and Johnson turned to face him.
"Because the brass wants to make an example out of them with a trial," Johnson answered. "The people of Vyraj should accept that more than if we just kill everybody like we're hitmen. More importantly, it'll prevent them from becoming martyrs, and the last thing anyone needs is somebody following their example."
That answer seemed to be enough for the soldier, and he nodded in acceptance before checking his gear. A few others weren't as convinced, but they went along with it regardless. Ultimately, they were all professionals, and they were eager to see this through just as Johnson was.
Once again, the Mastodon fell quiet, and all they could hear was the faint rumbling of the engine. Occasionally, they would feel a bump in the road as they travelled over a rock or uneven terrain, but the Mastodon was able to keep itself moving like it was nothing. Soon, however, they felt the Mastodon begin to slow down, and Johnson checked his equipment one last time. His weapons had bullets in the chamber, his helmet recorder was on, and his VISR could switch in and out of low-light mode on demand.
When the Mastodon came to a stop, and the bay door slid down to form a ramp, Johnson ordered his men out of the vehicle with a few quick thrusts of his arm. Silently, with the only sounds they heard being their feet rushing down the metal, the marines stepped out onto the Nav Tundra. It was desolate, remote, with the nearest sign of civilization hundreds of kilometers away. The temperature was negative forty degrees Celsius, and a heavy wind kicked up snow and ice everywhere. But, with his insulated armor, Johnson was able to endure it.
Around him, he could see the other Mastodon and both Falcons land, their troops disembarking and moving into position. They had stopped in front of a large compound with a thick, concrete wall ten meters high surrounding it. Barbed wire fences lined the top of the wall, and sentry towers could be seen along key points. All of them unmanned, as sniper teams previously placed the day before had already taken them out just as the UNSC soldiers arrived. From the distinct lack of an alarm or movements inside the compound, their approach was undetected.
Johnson couldn't see any communication towers, either to receive or send out transmissions. He supposed that made sense. Wireless transmissions were never completely secure, especially from ONI and the army of Smart AIs at their disposal. Like countless other terrorists since the twentieth century, the Workers Liberation Party likely utilized couriers to plan and communicate among themselves. Primitive, but effective so long as one of the couriers weren't caught.
Forming up on a steel door, Johnson and his men lined up on one side. Dare and her men formed up on the other, with the two other squads forming diagonal lines facing the center of the door. The ONI agent in charge of this operation snapped her fingers, and an ODST briskly walked up and sprayed thermite paste onto the door's lock. The paste ignited, spraying sparks and casting a frantic, flickering orange light over the soldiers as it melted through the metal. After a few moments, the metal was completely burned through, and the reaction ceased.
Gently pulling the door apart, careful to keep the grinding noise of metal along metal as quiet as possible, the marines, ODSTs, and ONI agent entered the compound. Their weapons at the ready, they swept the area for any signs of Insurrectionists walking around. Other than the dead bodies of the sentries, there was none in the area. Johnson took the moment to observe the compound in closer detail. There were three buildings. One appeared to be a garage, complete with a pickup truck which he watched as a squad of marines slid up the door to clear out anyone inside. Another was a small guest house, and from the faint flashes of suppressed gunfire Johnson saw through the windows, there were some Insurrectionists inside.
Johnson's attention, however, was on the large bunker that the compound centered around. It was an ugly building, just a three story box made of concrete and only a handful of thin, rectangular windows. It looked more like a prison than a house, which Johnson supposed made sense. It would've been weird to see a mansion all the way out here. There were several solar panels and wind turbines behind and beside the bunker, telling him how the Insurrectionists were able to power themselves while staying off the grid. More importantly, he saw the power switch located on the side of the structure, and Dare was already having one of her ODSTs go over and switch it off.
The compound was suddenly plunged into darkness, but it didn't matter to Johnson as his VISR immediately switched to low-light mode. Normally, he would be simply using a flashlight, but in stealth operations like this the VISR was a much better option. He couldn't see if anyone inside the building was awakened by the sudden lack of power, but he did notice a few Insurrectionists being escorted out of the guest house, cuffed and with guns pointed in their general direction.
"Johnson, take your men and move in through the back. I want this place swept from top to bottom. General Borisyuk is not getting away this time," Dare ordered, and Johnson nodded before ordering his men to follow him. As he did, he went over the information on the Insurrectionist leader in his mind.
Originally a general in the UNSC Army, Borisyuk turned traitor a few years before the Covenant invaded. Using his knowledge of UNSC tactics and his own organizational skills, Borisyuk had managed to turn the Workers Liberation Party into a legitimate fighting force. But, unlike the Eridanus cell of the United Rebel Front once led by Colonel Robert Watts, the Workers Liberation Party had no distinction between civilian and military targets. Borisyuk always believed that the only way to win a war was to fight it without restrictions, and he took that philosophy with him to the Insurrection. ONI had tried to apprehend him dozens of times over the years, and each time he managed to slip away. But not this time, Johnson was going to make sure of that.
Coming up on the back door, itself flanked by two gated windows, Johnson silently ordered his men to open the door with a quick movement of his hand and fingers. Private Kappus immediately complied, moving over then kneeling in front of the door. He attached a spoofer onto it, then pressed a few key buttons which unlocked the door. Holding up his MA5K to his shoulder, Kappus slowly turned the knob then opened the door, granting him and the rest of Johnson's squad entry.
They piled through then spread out, carefully going room to room as they searched for any Insurrectionists. They didn't find any on the floor they were on, just a kitchen, a dining room, and a few offices that had intricately detailed maps and files. Marking the files for extraction, Johnson left the room behind while he and his men slowly began moving up the stairs. It was then that he noticed a flight that went down into a basement. Frowning, he ordered half of his men to descend and clear out anything that was down there. Hopefully, there wouldn't be, but he couldn't take any risks like that.
As the men under his command complied with the order, Johnson and the others moved up the stairwell. Faintly, they could hear Dare and her soldiers doing the same thing on the other side of the wall, their footsteps muffled and the wood creaking underneath their feet. They were moving so slowly, none of them showed up on their motion trackers. So, when Johnson got to the second floor, he and everyone else immediately stopped as a red dot appeared on the tracker. Turning in its direction, Johnson spotted a young man walking around cautiously. He appeared to be in his twenties, and was wearing a pair of sleeping pants, no shirt, and carrying a VK78 Commando rifle in his hands. He couldn't see what was going on, nor the marines just a few feet away from him, but he could tell something was amiss.
Johnson fired two suppressed shots into the man's chest, and he went down with a thud. Blood began to pool under him, and the marines picked up the pace as they moved around his corpse. Another dragged his body out of the way while the others continued their sweep. If one was awake, there were likely others. The prediction was quickly proven correct as Johnson heard more muffled shots through the walls, all from the suppressed carbines the marines were carrying. So far, the Insurrectionists at large didn't know they were there, but all it would take was one gunshot from an unsuppressed weapon and the mission would change drastically.
Opening the door to a bedroom, Johnson quietly stepped inside. He saw several beds, most of which had men and women sleeping in them. One was unmade, likely from the man Johnson had shot moments earlier. The last thing any of them needed was for another to wake up, notice the marines, then start shooting, so Johnson and his men quickly but quietly entered the room. Taking positions over the sleeping Insurrectionists, the marines acted as one and woke the Insurrectionists up by covering their mouths and pointing the barrels of their guns to their heads.
"Don't make a sound," Johnson whispered to the now fully awake and terrified Insurrectionists. As he and the marines moved to get them off the beds and cuff them to the frames in order to secure them, tying gags around their mouths at the same time, one of the Insurrectionists reached underneath a pillow to pull out a magnum. She was shot several times before she had a chance to fire off one of her own, making the other Insurrectionists cry out in anger and fear. But they couldn't do anything in their current position, and so after covering the body with the bloodied sheets of the bunk she collapsed back into and ensuring that the captured Insurrectionists were not a threat, Johnson left a pair of marines to watch over them while the rest continued to sweep the premises.
They repeated the action room by room, with some having sleepy or drowsy Insurrectionists in them. Those who were a threat were put down, but the rest were secured without harm. While Johnson knew that less scrupulous soldiers would've gunned them all down without a second thought, that wasn't his style. Besides, the more Insurrectionists they arrested today, the better the entire raid would look to the general public.
Then, as he and a few other soldiers began walking up to the third floor, a bright flash and a loud bang rang out from the floor above. A soldier right in front of him slumped over, blood gushing from a fresh hole punched through his neck. The shooter, an Insurrectionist wielding a Commando, was immediately gunned down by the other marines, but Johnson already knew it was too late.
Around him, he heard the other Insurrectionists, woken up by the gunshot, begin to shout in Russian. His motion tracker lit up as the Insurrectionists frantically began to move. They were rushing about, pushing heavy objects in front of doors and grabbing weapons to confront the UNSC marines with. Now knowing that stealth was no longer an option, the marines inside the base began moving as fast as they could. Kicking down doors and shooting apart their hinges, they were immediately met by frantic gunfire from the Insurrectionists waiting inside. Without any source of light, their shots went wild, impacting against wood and concrete without hitting the marines. Most of the time, as Johnson saw a marine get struck in the chest by a heavy 6.5mm round. The armor plating managed to absorb the round, but the injured marine still fell back and found it hard to breathe.
Tossing a flashbang into the room in question as he took point, the Insurrectionists became disoriented as it went off, allowing the marines to breach and gun them all down with two shots to the chest and one to the head. All around the dwelling, Johnson heard the sounds of muffled gunfire, pushing him forward even faster. When he came upon a large double door, he immediately pegged it as Borisyuk's personal quarters. On the other side of the hallway, Dare and her men came in as well, and both squads lined up on opposite sides of the door.
"Prepare to breach," Dare ordered, and a marine on her side rushed over to comply while pulling out an explosive charge. Another pulled out a flashbang, intending to throw it into the room as soon as the door was taken down. A pair on Johnson's side of the hallway prepared to do the same. But, just as the marines prepared to set the charges onto the hinges, they were immediately halted by a hail of gunfire ripping through the door. The marines were able to quickly rush back, with the one closest to the center of the doors catching a bullet in the arm, only for some kind of small object to be tossed through the blown open holes.
"Grenade! Get back!" Johnson shouted, and the marines dove away and covered their heads. The IED exploded, filling the hallway with smoke and sending shrapnel in all directions. Those closest to the blast were peppered, and they cried in pain as the pressure in the enclosed space punched them all in the collective chest. But luckily the explosion, while deafening even through their hearing protection, wasn't as large or deadly as a proper military grenade. As Johnson, Dare, and the marines recovered and pulled the injured out of harm's way into adjacent rooms, he could see that none of the wounds were fatal so long as they got medical attention beyond the biofoam already being administered.
"You UNSC dogs! If you think you can take me in alive, you are greatly mistaken!" General Borisyuk mocked in Russian, and Johnson scowled underneath his balaclava. Gunfire momentarily ceased, and Johnson considered going back out there to peek inside the room. Instead, he pulled up TEAMCOMM and established a direct line to Dare.
"Lieutenant, did ONI give you any fancy toys to let us see inside?" Johnson asked, keeping his voice at a whisper so that the Insurrectionists wouldn't hear them.
"As a matter of fact, they did," Dare replied. "Sending in a recon drone now."
Within moments, the top right corner of Johnson's HUD was taken over by a black and white camera feed from a small drone that rolled along the ground. He watched as it exited the room Dare and her men were taking cover in, then it carefully inserted itself into Borisyuk's personal quarters. As he suspected, the General was inside along with two other Insurrectionist guards taking cover behind an overturned desk. Behind them was Borisyuk's bed, and no window to the outside world. All three were carrying HMG-38s, an old, obsolete rifle that the UNSC phased out decades ago. Two of them were reloading their weapons, but Borisyuk still had his at the ready.
When the Insurrectionist general noticed the faint glint of the drone's camera, he fired a quick burst from his weapon into it. The feed turned to static, and Johnson bit back a curse. Not just at the General's impeccable aim, but the lack of options they had. There weren't any windows, so they couldn't have snipers on the Falcons neutralize the guards from their end. They certainly couldn't go through the front door, as that was just asking to be shot. But, they did have one option available to them, and Johnson was already setting things into motion.
"Lieutenant, have your men plant charges onto the wall," Johnson requested. With a quick motion of his arm, one of the marines quickly walked over and carefully planted the breaching charges in a tall, wide rectangular pattern.
"Charges planted," Dare replied around the same time Johnson's man was finished. A heavy pause filled the air, and no one said a word.
"Breach," Johnson ordered. A moment later, both breaching charges activated, blowing apart the concrete walls and sending debris flying everywhere and greatly disorienting the Insurrectionists inside. Johnson, Dare, and the other marines rushed through, gunning the guards down while Johnson tackled Borisyuk to the ground.
"Keep him down! Keep him down!" Johnson ordered, planting his knees on Borisyuk's arms while ripping off and tossing away the knife and pistol the general had on his person. The man was struggling, trying to kick and punch Johnson off of him, but it was to no avail. A pair of marines rushed over and helped Johnson in holding down his arms and legs, with one quickly injecting an anesthetic into his neck, knocking General Borisyuk out within moments.
Breathing heavily, Johnson stood up and backed away. He idly noticed that his pants were covered in blood, as were his boots, but he ignored that for now as he reported through TEAMCOMM, "BOLSHEVIK is secured. I repeat, BOLSHEVIK is secured."
There was a brief pause, then Dare approached to stand over the incapacitated General. Looking down on him through the thin visor of her RECON helmet, she replied, "Good work, Sergeant. Bring the general outside for extraction, then assist in securing all the files and data inside the compound."
"Will do," Johnson said, then turned to the other marines who were beginning to carry Borisyuk up by his legs and shoulders, then said, "You all heard the lady. Get to it!"
"Yes, sir!" the marines shouted in unison, then began carrying Borisyuk out of the base. Johnson was right behind them, keeping a careful eye for any other would be dangers. As they went down the stairs, Johnson saw the other surviving Insurrectionists being escorted out as well. The marines didn't care that they weren't properly dressed for the sub-zero weather, pushing them into the cold and the just arriving Pelicans. As the Insurrectionists were loaded in, more marines piled out, helping to secure the compound.
Johnson watched as the Insurrectionists, once properly secured, were taken away across the snowy tundra. As they disappeared over the horizon, the twin moons hanging overhead providing the only light, Johnson allowed himself a moment to smile. Taking out a cigar and lighter, he pulled down the balaclava and placed the cigar in his mouth before lighting it. He breathed in the smoke, feeling it fill his lungs, then exhaled. A newfound warmth filled his chest, and he idly pulled the cigar out and held it between his fingers.
The fact that they were still fighting the Insurrection was and always would be a problem. Johnson knew that, but he could take solace in the victory they achieved this day. Hopefully, that would be the end of it, and Vyraj wouldn't have to worry about the specter of the Insurrection again. But, at the same time, he knew it would come back. It always did, but at least they'd bought a moment's peace.
City of Nova Moskva
June 5th, 2541, 1945 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)
"The successful raid by UNSC forces on General Borisyuk's safehouse in the Nav Tundra six days ago has proven to be a decisive blow against the Workers Liberation Party," the reporter declared through the wall-mounted TV screen in the bar Qrow was currently sitting in. Around him, several drunk patrons cheered and threw their arms holding drinks into the air. He, and the Huntsmen and Huntresses around him, remained silent however as they nursed their own drinks and continued to watch the TV.
"It will take time to fully determine if it, and other raids on Insurrectionist strongholds across Vyraj, will be enough to fully sink the rebel group," the reporter admitted, receiving a few boos from the bar's occupants before she continued, "What can be safely said is that the Insurrectionists on Vyraj have been crippled, and their attempts to intimidate Vyrajians have failed. General Borisyuk's trial is set to begin next week, and prosecutors have indicated they are seeking nothing less than life in prison without the possibility of parole. In a moment, we will be interviewing one of the marines who took part in the raid, who will give us an exclusive play by play of the raid itself. Stay tuned."
As the television went to commercial, everyone's attention drifted away from it in favor of returning to their own individual conversations. Qrow kept staring at the screen for a few moments, then quickly lost interest as yet another fashion line commercial came up. That was another thing that had proven to be universal among his people and Terrans. The inability to avoid a constant barrage of commercials, all telling you to buy the latest, hottest thing even though the thing you bought last year was perfectly fine. It may have just been his rough upbringing talking, but he never quite understood the drive some people had to acquire things they didn't really need. So long as he had clothes on his back, a roof over his head, and warm food in his belly, he was happy.
But now wasn't the time to really focus on that, so he shifted his attention back to the men and women sitting around him. As he did, Qrow drank from his glass of vodka, savoring the taste as it swirled down his throat.
"So, Johnson," Robyn Hill spoke up as she held a beer bottle in her hand. "Now that you caught their leader, what's next?"
"It all depends, really," Johnson replied, taking a swig from his beer bottle. "Based off experience, there should be peace for at least a few years. With all of their leaders either dead or arrested, and their resources destroyed or seized, the Workers Liberation Party doesn't have a whole lot to work with. Things should be quiet."
Robyn nodded, then pointedly added, "After?"
Johnson didn't say anything at first, merely taking another drink. That was all the answer Qrow and the others needed. He wasn't surprised. During his youth, Qrow had seen it happen all the time. Authorities would put down violent groups who were disturbing the peace, sometimes wiping them out to the man, but the inherent problems that led to them popping up in the first place often weren't so easily solved. Problems such as exploitation, corruption, lack of proper enforcement of laws, and many more. When an ideal ran contrary to the prevailing social order, such as colonial independence, it was even harder to stamp out.
Qrow knew that the UNSC won this fight, and it was a fight that they deserved to win. After what he and the others experienced nearly a month ago now, the Workers Liberation Party earned what came to them. But the idea of an independent Vyraj was not so easily destroyed, and so long as there were people on the colony who believed the UNSC were tyrants, more Insurrectionists would come. The only question was whether they would be better or worse than those who came before. Qrow hoped for the former, but in his heart, he knew the latter was far more likely.
Frowning and shaking his head, Qrow downed the rest of his drink, then motioned to the bartender for a refill. As the bartender pulled out a bottle of vodka to comply with Qrow's request, Johnson raised an eyebrow and said, "Going pretty hard on the drinks, aren't you, Branwen?"
"Don't worry, I know when to stop," Qrow dismissed, waving his free hand while the other held the glass for the vodka to be poured in. Once the bartender was done, Qrow took a small drink then placed it down, stared right into Johnson's eyes, and added, "Also, this is the first time I've been able to have a drink since we left Remnant to go on this little interplanetary road trip. After everything we've been through, I think we deserve this."
Johnson didn't have anything to refute that, especially when Harriet held up her own beer bottle and said, "I'll drink to that."
At once, the other Huntsmen and Huntresses clinked their drinks together then gulped some of the contents down. In slight amusement, Johnson joined in the fun. While his concerns over Branwen's drinking habits hadn't subsided, even he couldn't deny them this moment.
"Have to say, I'm a bit sad to leave this little ice ball," Elm spoke up as she looked around the bar. "We hardly got to spend any time here at all before things went belly up, and now that it's all finally calming down, our ship gets repaired and we have to leave. We didn't even have time to test and see if we could get Dust working."
"Yeah. It would've been nice," Abby replied with a slight sigh. "But I'm excited to see where we go next. Hopefully, things will be calmer."
"Knock on wood," Qrow quipped, rapping his fist against the table in emphasis.
While most took his comment at face value as a joke, chuckling to themselves in amusement, the paranoid part of himself worried that it wouldn't be. The past few planets had been one incident after another. First Covenant pirates, then Insurrectionist terrorists. At the rate things were going, they were likely to face off against the Covenant proper next. Hopefully, his doomsaying was completely off-base, but Qrow had long since come to grips with the fact that his luck never kept things quiet for long.
As Qrow stewed in his thoughts, Johnson spoke up and said, "I'm just glad that even though we lost a few good men, the mission went more or less as planned. That doesn't always happen."
Sienna nodded, then asked, "You mean like the hostage situation in that diner?"
Johnson was quiet at first, and the celebratory atmosphere was extinguished. Abby was giving her leader an incredulous glare, and everyone suddenly felt a lot more uncomfortable than they were just a few seconds ago. Sienna was unapologetic, and Harriet looked ready to tell her off, only for Johnson to quietly reply, "In war, things get…hazy, very fast. Soldiers are expected to make split-second, life-or-death decisions that can affect not just yourself, but the lives of others and the success of the mission. There have been many times where I've been put into that position, and let me tell you it's not something you want to be in."
The marine sergeant took another drink of his beer, then asked, "Are any of you aware of Operation: TREBUCHET?"
The Huntsmen and Huntresses looked around at each other, then shook their heads. Clover then answered, "I'm unfamiliar with the operation. I assume it was a military campaign against the Insurrection?"
"That it was," Johnson confirmed. "In response to numerous civilian and Insurrectionist uprisings across the Outer Colonies, the UNSC launched Operation: TREBUCHET to pacify them. It began in 2513 when the United Rebel Front attempted to overthrow the Eridanus system's government, and it quickly spread across the Outer Colonies. Things got messy quickly. Until the Covenant arrived and put the operation on indefinite hold, it was the main conflict humanity found itself in."
"You participated in the campaign," Vine respectfully prompted, and Johnson nodded.
"Since the beginning," Johnson replied. "Took part in many missions against the Insurrection. Some went just as planned like the one a few days ago, others went completely belly up. But there was one towards the end that stuck with me, even now. In 2524, Operation: TREBUCHET had spread to the colony of Tribute. We were sent there to destroy the bomb-making capabilities of Insurrectionists on the planet."
"How did it go?" Robyn carefully asked, although Qrow felt that she already knew the answer.
"Bad," Johnson admitted, frowning and taking another swig of his beer. "At first, everything was going well. We entered the target area, a struggling industrial city, and managed to find then neutralize a bomb-shop without losing anybody. Then we found out that they'd been smuggling the explosives in the synthetic rubber treads of tires, and one such shipment had just been sent into the planet's capital city. After tracking the hauler down to a diner, we made our way over and I took up a sniper position with a Stanchion while everyone else went inside to secure the explosives. Everything almost went off without a hitch, then the Insurrectionist bomber realized what was going on. She took a young boy, no older than eight, as a human shield and threatened to detonate the explosives if we didn't back off."
The veteran sergeant sighed and hung his head, then continued, "I was ordered to take the shot."
"You didn't," Casper whispered, her eyes widening at the implication, but Johnson quickly shook his head.
"No, I didn't. I couldn't shoot the woman without hurting the kid, so I hesitated" Johnson clarified. It wasn't as much of a relief to Qrow and the other Huntsmen as they had hoped, however, especially when Johnson added, "But, as I waited for an opening, the boy's father lunged at the woman to try and save his son. She detonated the bombs in the confusion, killing all but one marine in the diner. Thirty-nine civilians and three marines died, all because I hesitated."
The table fell silent as the Remnantians looked at the sergeant. Clover then spoke up and said, "That wasn't your fault, Sergeant. The Insurrectionist took that boy hostage and detonated the bombs, not you."
"I know that," Johnson admitted, "but the fact remains that had I taken the shot and killed her, everyone else in that diner would've lived."
"But you would've killed the boy," Fiona pointed out, and Johnson shrugged.
"Maybe," Johnson said, then shifted his gaze to her. "If I took the shot, the boy probably would've been killed. But I might've been able to avoid hitting him, and without the shot he died along with everyone else anyway."
He sighed and shook his head, then looked at the others and said, "Either way, it happened and there's no changing it. I've had to live with that decision ever since, and I still don't know if I made the right one. If you were to ask me how I would change things, to be honest I don't know. All I do know is this: sometimes you have to make hard, difficult choices. Choices that can make your stomach churn, but if you don't make them, people can die. The problem becomes recognizing when those hard choices actually need to be made. If you can find someone who can make that call every single time without fail, let me know. I'd like to give them a beer."
With that, the table fell silent once more, and Qrow let his thoughts sift through Johnson's words. He certainly could see where the sergeant was coming from. From his own personal experience, Qrow knew that there were many times where he had to weigh different choices and options, none of which were particularly pleasant. He dreaded every time they came up, and hoped each time it would be the last. But, in this line of work, it was inevitable that more would come. Trying to think otherwise was only a recipe for disappointment.
"But enough about that," Johnson said, breaking the heavy atmosphere that was consuming the table. "We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves. Just try not to have too much fun. I'd rather not have to carry your drunken asses home. I'm looking at you, Branwen."
"Screw you, Johnson," Qrow shot back through a slight smirk on his face, and the others chuckled at the exchange.
The table fell back into conversation, shifting without real focus onto a myriad array of subjects. Some were lighthearted, others more somber and serious. But, overall, Qrow found that he was enjoying himself. Time seemed to drift by as the happy atmosphere inside the bar infected everyone, and the struggles they had been dealing with for the past few months seemed to melt away. It was a temporary respite, Qrow knew, but he would enjoy it for as long as possible.
He had just finished his latest glass of vodka, feeling a slight buzz at the same time, and was about to request a refill when Johnson's phone buzzed. Perplexed, Johnson held the phone up and saw that he had received a text message from Shakespeare. Qrow looked at it from across the table, and when Johnson pulled the message up his entire body froze.
"Winter Contingency declared. Evacuate immediately," the message read, and Qrow felt his heart sink and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The others quickly noticed what they were looking at, and they shared the exact same reaction. They all knew exactly what that message meant, and Qrow cursed his luck to the deepest depths of Hell for it.
They all looked at each other, none saying a word. Then, all at once, they quickly got up from their seats and exited the bar, Johnson wirelessly paying their tab as they left. Part of Qrow felt it wouldn't matter soon, but he was glad they did it regardless. In the cloudless night, the light of the twin moons shining overhead, the party moved as fast as they could. Without a vehicle to transport them directly to the spaceport, they had to settle for a brisk jog.
"How close are they?" Sepia quickly asked, his eyes darting around for any signs of danger.
"Patrol fleet slipped in half an AU away from the colony," Johnson answered. "Fleet's moving to engage, but without ODPs they're not going to last long."
Qrow bit back a curse. That didn't leave them a whole lot of time to evacuate the colony. While the fleet orbiting Vyraj was impressive by Remnant's standards, he had read enough about the UNSC's space engagements against the Covenant to know that it wouldn't be nearly enough. That motivated him and the rest of the group to keep moving, controlling their breathing so that they wouldn't tire themselves out too quickly while making sure to avoid running into any civilians along their path.
"Get to the spaceport, now!" Qrow tried to tell a family of Vyrajians who moved out of the group's way. But all he got in response was the family looking at him in confusion. He prepared to say it again, but then he realized that no matter what he said, they wouldn't understand him. After all, he didn't speak their language, and the only reason why the soldiers knew what he was saying was because of their translators. Qrow cursed his luck even more, and silently begged Johnson to warn them of what was coming. But the sergeant didn't, and the anguished look on his face told Qrow that the necessary language eluded him as well.
They continued to run as fast as they could, careful not to leave Johnson behind. To the marine's credit, he was keeping up with them fairly well. At the exact same time, Qrow cursed the fact that the bar they had chosen was on the other side of town. Around them, they saw the city begin to shift and change. Sections of the road began to lift, walls began to seal shut, forming pathways that undoubtedly led to evacuation centers. Those outside were starting to get confused and worried, especially when police officers and soldiers began setting fortifications and urging people to exit their homes and leave in an orderly fashion. Flights of Hornets and Longswords flew overhead, the roar of their engines shaking the glass of the city underneath them. To complete the image, a UNSC Paris-class heavy frigate took a defensive position overhead, looking like a shark protecting its eggs.
More and more people were outside now, confused and frightened. While many were desperately asking the police and soldiers what was going on, all they got in response was simply being told to move along in a quick but orderly fashion. Qrow couldn't help but notice how the sea of civilians were being specifically directed out of their way, giving them a relatively open lane to the spaceport.
Then, much to Qrow's surprise, a trio of Razorbacks pulled up. They deposited squads of soldiers who began unloading sandbags and heavy weapons to block off a section of the road. Rather than drive off once their cargo was deposited, the drivers threw their arms towards Qrow, Johnson, and the other Huntsmen and Huntresses to hop onboard. Without needing to be told twice, they hopped into the nearest available seats, and were driven straight towards the spaceport. Entire sections of the road was cleared out just for them, and with each and every passing second, more and more of the city of Nova Moskva became a militarized zone. Some of the civilians were beginning to realize what was going on and were starting to run, but most were still confused.
Still, despite the fact that they were now in vehicles, it was still taking them time to get to the spaceport. Both due to the sheer distance between the bar and the spaceport, and how mazelike Nova Moskva was becoming. It slowed them down considerably, especially when the civilians finally got the widespread notification to evacuate after roughly an hour. Qrow got the distinct sense that the UNSC had held off, wanting to organize their forces as much as they could before inciting panic, with the bonus of getting the Remnantian delegation as close to the spaceport as possible before issuing the widespread evacuation order. In any case, as soon as the message was plastered across every single screen in the city, it fell into complete pandemonium. The once orderly crowds surged as terrified civilians ran as fast as they could to the spaceport. Many ignored the cleared lane made for them, jumping out in front and forcing their drivers to slow down even more. The blaring of the Razorbacks' horns went unheeded, and the drivers cursed. But they didn't try to simply run over them, which Qrow was thankful for.
When the hairs on the back of his neck rose even higher, Qrow turned his attention skyward. To his horror, Qrow could see explosions among the stars, undoubtedly the UNSC fighting the Covenant. The sight made the terrified civilians run even faster. While a few of the explosions looked purple and white in color, the vast majority were orange and yellow. That told him more than enough, and he gripped the frame of the Razorback even tighter.
They were within sight of the spaceport when, suddenly and without warning, a large explosion formed overhead. Qrow's attention was immediately drawn towards it, and to his horror he saw that it was the frigate firing its MAC gun at something off in the distance. The superheavy slug slammed into an energy shield, which pulsated and shone a bright blue, illuminating the bulbous vessel descending from orbit. It was a CPV-class heavy destroyer, and the sight of it made the sea of civilians around them cry out in fear. Volleys of missiles shot towards the Covenant destroyer, exploding harmlessly against its shields without so much as making them flicker. As the frigate tried to reload and move to a safe position, its opponent retaliated by firing a pair of plasma torpedoes. They burned through the titanium alloy armor as though it wasn't even there, and the frigate promptly exploded so intensely it briefly formed a second sun.
The shockwave sent everyone nearby tumbling to the ground, and at that very moment, Qrow's luck once again reared its ugly head. The driver of his Razorback lost control, and they careened off to the side and into a nearby storefront. Crashing through the glass and into the thick concrete columns supporting the structure, the front end of the vehicle caved in, and the engine died.
"God damn it!" the driver cursed, desperately trying to turn the engine over, but it wouldn't budge. Qrow could only stare silently at the wrecked vehicle, knowing it was his fault but unable to find the words. He mindlessly stepped out of the vehicle, noticing from the corner of his eye that the other Razorbacks had kept going while the rest of the Huntsmen were already running out of the store. His mind was then broken out of its trace when he felt something tug violently against his arm, pulling him out of the store as well.
"Branwen, come on! We have to go!" Johnson yelled, urgently dragging Qrow by the arm.
Knocked out of his stupor, Qrow began to run as fast as he could. Weaving through the crowd, he saw police and Army troopers attempting to keep order, to little effect. People were rushing over cars and fences, knocking them down as a sea of terrified people swept across them. In front of him, Qrow saw a woman carrying a child trip and fall, and people nearly ran right over her in their mad dash to safety. He quickly pushed people out of the way alongside Johnson and a few other Huntsmen and Huntresses nearby, lifting the lady up. She didn't even say thanks before running off.
Qrow then jumped slightly as he heard gunshots ring out. As they did, a large shadow fell overhead as the Covenant destroyer began launching swarms of attack aircraft and dropships. Banshees, Spirits, and Phantoms, by the looks of it. Pods were also being dropped all along the city, but at the moment at least it wasn't bringing its weapons to bear against them. Still, Qrow couldn't help but gawk at the imposing figure, reminding him of a bird of prey looking down on them all as though they were nothing but rabbits.
The Banshees were the first to arrive, and they immediately bombarded the crowd with bolts of blue plasma bolts and green fuel rod bombs. Victims were incinerated, smoking corpses littering the ground while others caught in the explosive blasts outright disappeared from existence. The screaming increased even more, and Qrow wished that he had his weapon on hand to fight back with. But he didn't. Neither he nor anyone else in their little party was armed, for there was no reason to be when they set out.
"No!" Harriet cried out as the Banshees made another pass, cutting down more and more people. A few bolts came uncomfortably close to Qrow and the others, and the heat washed over him. He felt his Aura noticeably dip, but he was more focused on the now dead and smoldering bodies that fell to the ground beside him. They continued to run, and to his surprise found the flaming wreckage of the other two Razorbacks ahead of them. Each sported considerable plasma damage, telling Qrow exactly what had happened. While the drivers were dead, luckily the Huntsmen and Huntresses' Auras protected them from the worst of the damage. The survivors immediately joined Qrow's group, and they ran together towards the spaceport.
"I need a gun! Give me a gun!" Sienna shouted, speaking for everyone as Phantom and Spirit dropships descended, depositing Covenant troops right into the middle of the crowd. Gunners on turrets began firing into them, while the soldiers began shooting at anything that moved.
Harriet prepared to rush towards them, her body sparking as her Semblance began to activate, but Clover quickly stopped her from going in. As she looked at her commanding officer in surprise, Johnson quickly yelled, "We can't stay here! You are too important! We need to leave, now!"
"Harriet, come on!" Clover yelled.
Harriet looked as though she wanted to protest further, especially as more and more terrified screams were cut off by the sound of plasma fire, but she reluctantly relented. Qrow could see that Vine and Elm were preventing the Happy Huntresses from rushing in as well, just as Yuri and Gron were preventing Abby and Sienna from trying to fight the Covenant off. Only the Vale delegation appeared to be in relative control of themselves, but their fury was easily conveyed on their faces. Qrow shared their sentiments. He wanted nothing more than to go in and fight the Covenant off, to stop this wanton slaughter, but he knew they couldn't.
With a heavy heart, Qrow and the others turned and ran. Around them, more and more Covenant soldiers arrived. From all the briefings Qrow had gone over, he recognized each one. Elites wielding plasma rifles towered over everyone, firing their weapons in short, accurate bursts. A few were cackling with glee, taking joy in the murder. Jackals carrying energy gauntlets boxed people in, allowing Grunts and their Elite commanders to gun them down with ease. Overhead, amidst the flights of Banshees, were Drones who were picking up civilians, policemen, and fully armed marines to either rip them apart or drop them to their deaths.
Not that the humans weren't trying to fight them off. Marines carrying rifles and wearing only half of their were firing at the aliens, doing their best to hold them off and let the people evacuate. Warthogs drove in, gunners firing their chainguns and tearing right through the Covenant's shields and ripping their bodies to shreds. Hornets dueled with the Banshees, and spent shell casings rained down on everyone. Fiery explosions rang out everywhere, and the destroyed husks of Banshees and Hornets crashed onto the ground, crushing anyone unfortunate enough to be in the way, both human and alien, under their weights.
But it was immediately clear that the UNSC was outmatched. For every Covenant they killed, more immediately arrived to replace them. Their weapons were struggling against anything other than the cannon fodder, bouncing off of the shields while the Covenant's own firepower tore through whatever defenses the human soldiers had. There were plenty of Grunt and Jackal bodies lying around in pools of their neon blue and purple blood. But there were hundreds more humans on the ground, making it difficult to move around them.
As the fleeing Huntsmen rounded the corner, they saw squads of fully armored marines rush in. Scorpions, Mastodons, and Warthogs were firing their weapons at the alien invaders, and the marines themselves were ushering terrified people past them so that they could have a clear line of fire. Once again, the temptation for Qrow to grab a gun and lend a hand appeared, and he forced it down to keep moving. But he was forced to stop when a marine right beside him suddenly had a two-pronged energy sword thrust though his back and out of his chest. A cloaked Elite appeared, tossing the limp body aside and turning to the nearest person, who just so happened to be Qrow.
Seizing this opportunity from the Gods, Qrow refused to run and turned to face the Elite as it charged him. It swung its energy sword down, only for a silent and furious Qrow to catch the limb by the wrist. The Elite, stunned, looked at Qrow's hand in astonishment, then Qrow grabbed the front of the Elite's battle-harness with his other hand while kicking it right in its back-jointed knee. Its shields popped as they kept him from mangling the appendage, but the leg still gave out from under it as Qrow finished pulling the taller Elite down while pushing the captured sword arm to meet it. The alien's startled warble was cut off along with its head as it was bisected at a rough angle by its own energy sword. Flash boiled blood and brain matter spilled out of its skull, and Qrow let the heavy corpse fall to the ground as the blades deactivated, breathing heavily. Idly, he looked at the sword projector that he pulled from its slack grip into his own hand, stained a dark purple, and as he clenched it tighter the blood oozed through the gaps between his fingers.
The sounds of combat around him broke Qrow from his thoughts, and he turned to see the other Huntsmen and Huntresses pulling similar results against other Elites who had attacked the people directly around them. Like Qrow, they managed to surprise the Elites that had only seen them as more harmless civilians, and put them down with little difficulty with just their bare hands, taking no small amount of glee in doing so. But several Elites and other Covenant troops had witnessed them. While the Grunts and Jackals looked terrified, the Elites looked ecstatic, and many of them put away their plasma rifles and carbines in favor of pulling out energy swords.
While Qrow would've loved nothing more than to meet those battle-hungry aliens head on, he knew they didn't have time. So he instead pocketed the Energy Sword hilt and grabbed the Needler off the corpse of the Elite he had killed, then turned to run. The other Huntsmen and Huntresses did the same, but they were pursued by dozens of Covenant troops who were quickly gaining.
"Fiona, now would be a very good time to pull something out!" Robyn yelled, firing a scavenged plasma rifle behind her back. Others were doing the same with their captured weapons, including Johnson who had grabbed a plasma pistol off the body of a Grunt he had killed.
The sheep Faunus held out her hand as she continued to run, and before Qrow's very eyes he saw her materialize a large Burn Dust crystal into thin air. For a moment, he was worried that it would lose its luster and go inert, but to his surprise it remained. Fiona smiled in relief, then gripped the crystal tightly and tossed it behind her.
"Shoot it!" Fiona yelled. Qrow immediately complied, aiming his Needler at the crystal.
The shards of blamite sang through the air, homing in the body of a Grunt that had stopped to curiously pick the crystal up. When enough of the shards had embedded themselves into its body, they supercombined. The pink explosion ripped the Grunt to shreds, and simultaneously ignited the Burn Dust crystal. A massive fireball ripped through the ranks of the Covenant, incinerating those closest to it. Others were set on fire, and they flailed about in agony before quickly succumbing to the flames. Only those furthest from the blast were unscathed, but they still stumbled from the force of the explosion. This allowed Qrow and the others to gun them down, giving them momentary respite.
As the dust settled, the Huntsmen, Huntresses, and astonished marines breathing heavily, Robyn turned to look at Elm. She then said, "Well…at least we know Dust works on other planets now."
That was, indeed, cause for celebration, especially since it immediately proved to be extremely effective against the Covenant. A few of the marines who had witnessed Fiona's Semblance in action were even looking at her as though she was a divine figure, making the Happy Huntress slightly uncomfortable. But now wasn't the time to focus on that.
Johnson quickly ordered everyone to keep running, and without looking back they ran towards the spaceport. Around them, terrified civilians ran in the same direction while marines and soldiers ran towards the Covenant. Many to their certain deaths, but in the hopes that they'd be able to hold the Covenant off just a little while longer. But the Covenant's approach was incessant, and any attempts at stymying them lasted for only a few moments at best before they were wiped away.
As they neared the spaceport, Qrow watched as hundreds and thousands of civilians tried to pile into packed spacecraft. UNSC personnel were trying to keep everything moving in an orderly fashion, but in the chaos it was hard to do anything of the sort. But Qrow's attention was on the Covenant aircraft zooming through the air, firing their weapons into the escape vessels. One attempted to take off and flee, but a flight of Banshees targeted and destroyed its engines. The spacecraft lurched to the side, then crashed onto the ground and into another vessel. Both went up in massive explosions, nearly knocking Qrow off his feet.
It was then that he realized what was going on, particularly as the concentration of the Covenant forces increased more and more. The Covenant were attacking the spaceport with the express purpose of preventing anyone from escaping, leaving the people trapped on the ground as helpless as fish in a barrel. It made him sick to his stomach, and he wanted to scream in outrage at the murder he was seeing, but he couldn't.
Instead, all he could do was continue running towards a Pelican from the Midsummer Night. A squad of ODSTs were preventing anyone from getting onboard, and Qrow recognized Lieutenant Dare among them. She had an M6C pistol in her hands, occasionally taking potshots at Covenant troops who dared to get too close. But, when she noticed Johnson and the Huntsmen delegation arrive, she immediately hopped into the troop bay and ushered them in with a frantic wave of her arm.
"Come on! Move, move!" she ordered, staying to the side as a marine gunner fired a mounted heavy machinegun out of the troop bay.
Johnson and the others moved around the gunfire, piling into the back and sitting down. They barely even had time to strap themselves in before Dare sat down in her own seat, and the troop bay doors closed. Qrow couldn't help but notice that the ODSTs stayed behind, continuing to fight off the Covenant with their assault rifles, rocket launchers, and the mounted machine gun that was practically tossed out the back of the Pelican so that they could use it.
"We're all in! Take off now!" Dare shouted at the pilot.
The Pelican's engines, which were already primed, ignited and went into full thrust. Harder than any other takeoff he had experienced up until this point, Qrow was thrown back into his seat. They climbed through the atmosphere, dodging oncoming plasmafire the best they could. A few managed to land their mark, making the dropship dangerously shake, but before the Banshees could shoot them down a flight of Longswords arrived to destroy the Banshees. The Longswords quickly moved into position to escort the Pelican, and as they entered the vacuum of space, Qrow felt the exertion on his body relax.
Wanting to see for himself what was going on, Qrow pushed up the harness then floated over to the Pelican's cockpit. He looked over the shoulders and heads of the two pilots, who were making a beeline towards the Midsummer Night which was taking shelter behind Vyraj's twin moons. What he saw made his heart nearly shatter.
The impressive UNSC fleet which had been guarding Vyraj was in the process of being completely annihilated. Burning husks were all that were left, with those that remained futilely firing their MACs and Archer missiles into the fleet of Covenant warships assaulting the planet. But the heavy rounds were absorbed by the Covenant's shields, and it only took one or two plasma torpedoes to completely destroy the human ships in turn. A flight of Seraph fighters noticed them and moved to intercept, but their Longsword escorts immediately broke off to engage. They provided enough of a shield to let the Pelican pass by, but Qrow could see the Longswords begin to get shot down as well.
They passed through a large debris field, and to Qrow's horror, he recognized it as the wreckage of Chernobog Station. Dead bodies of humans caught inside when the station was destroyed floated past them, and while the pilots tried their best to avoid them, a few bounced off the Pelican's hull with a dull thud. The sight nearly brought Qrow to tears, and behind him he could hear a few of the more emotional Huntsmen and Huntresses begin to do just that. But he forced himself to remain strong and keep watching.
Soon, they came across the Midsummer Night, its hangar bay open for them. As soon as the Pelican landed, the hangar sealed shut and pressurized atmosphere flooded the chamber. Only then did the Pelican's troop bay door open, and Qrow and the other Huntsmen and Huntsmen rushed out as fast as they could. They made a beeline towards the bridge, passing by dozens of technicians at their stations as they prepared the ship for immediate departure. When they arrived at the bridge, they noticed right away that it was awash in activity, with Commander Keyes standing over the holographic table and barking orders.
"I want the slipspace drive online now! Shakespeare, prepare a random jump as soon as we are able," Keyes ordered, and Shakespeare nodded from his holotank without otherwise saying a word.
"Commander, MAC gun is fully charged and all Archer missile pods are primed!" a crewmate reported, and Keyes nodded at the news but didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his head to look up at the Huntsmen and Huntresses, and breathed out in relief after noticing none of them were missing or otherwise harmed.
"Commander, we should be ready to depart in less than two minutes," Shakespeare declared, and Keyes nodded as he turned his attention back to the holotable.
Without looking at the Remnantians, Keyes began to address them and asked, "Were there any complications?"
Clover immediately stepped forward and answered, "A few close calls, but nothing serious, Commander. Huntress Thyme was able to demonstrate that Dust works outside of Remnant's atmosphere, which proved essential to our escape."
"At least we get something out of this goddamn mess," Keyes growled, then slammed his fist onto the edge of the table. No one else said a word, for none knew what to say.
Instead, Qrow slowly began to walk to the front of the bridge so that he could stare out the window. The others, one by one, joined him, and soon everyone was watching as the Covenant finished wiping out the rest of the human defenders. Faint points of light could be seen as spacecraft trying to flee from the planet were shot down, with only a few managing to escape into slipspace. Once Vyraj was unable to defend itself, Qrow watched as Covenant vessels began to move into place over its cities. Then, in unison, thick purple beams came crashing down onto the surface, splitting apart the clouds underneath and burning the ground into glass. At the exact same time, Covenant warships crisscrossed around the planet through its atmosphere, almost as though they were searching for something but not finding anything. As each ship finished, more destroyers arrived and promptly began glassing the section of the planet below to devastating effect.
All Qrow could do was stare silently, his arms dangling limply by his side. People began to tear up and cry, with Abby and Fiona being the loudest. Sienna and Robyn respectively tried their best to comfort their sisters-in-arms, but even they were having difficulty in keeping it together. As they continued to watch the Covenant glass Vyraj, each second representing the murder of millions, a cruel realization began to bubble up from Qrow's gut.
Everything they had done on Vyraj, all the effort spent on bringing the Insurrectionists to justice, all the death both they and the UNSC caused in their struggle against each other, it didn't matter. None of it did. Had they done absolutely nothing, the Covenant still would've arrived and burned everything to the ground. It was a bitter, sobering reminder of what actually mattered in this newly expanded universe he found himself in, and it was a sentiment he knew everyone shared.
When Shakespeare said that the slipspace drive was ready, no one paid any heed as they continued to stare out the window. No one said a word as the Midsummer Night turned around, then disappeared into the void.
[~][~]
Hello, everyone. Here is the latest chapter of Dust and Echoes. Special thanks to Jesse K and NaanContributor for their help in bringing this chapter to life.
Hello, everyone. Here is the latest chapter of Dust and Echoes. Special thanks to Jesse K and NaanContributor for their help in bringing this chapter to life.
The arc on Vyraj is now complete, and the true, painful lesson has been drilled into our heroes' heads. That in the face of the overwhelming power of the Covenant, all other conflicts are merely petty squabbles and distractions. Many of you predicted that this would happen, and you were correct.
We're entering the final stretch of the Covenant Arc. Strap yourselves in, it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Now, to answer some of your questions, the point of the prologue chapter was two-fold. For one, it started as a proof-of-concept that was the first thing I wrote for this chapter. It was written before decided to turn it into an actual story. When I decided to take the leap, I decided to turn the proof-of-concept into the prologue, with the idea being we start in media res then go back to work our way up to that event, thereby explaining all the little things it revealed. ARTEMIS armor, Salem's plans, Remnant being a shield world, the UNSC/Remnant alliance, all of it. After the prologue, we are purposefully keeping the story in chronological order. We're not the biggest fans of stories that hop back and forth between timelines. It's very hard to pull off. Also, once the Covenant Arc is done, we plan on having the Integration Arc that divides the Covenant Arc from the Battle of Remnant Arc to be a series of timeskips that highlight the most important developments and key points of the war, both from human and Covenant POVs.
You guys will have to wait and see what we have planned for the White Fang. Needless to say, the events of this arc will have major repucussions, not just for them but for everyone else. As for RvB characters, you'll have to wait and see. Same with Flood vs Grimm.
I'm glad so many of you are liking the slow-and-steady approach. I felt that it ensures I'm able to properly convey exactly what I'm trying to show all of you. So far, I think it's working. And don't worry, we're going to get to RWBY and JNPR in due time.
Also, Abby Redwall was indeed based off of the series of protagonists from the Redwall series. I'm glad you all caught that.
As for Adam, you guys will have to wait and see what we do with him. All I will say at the moment is that his characterization will be in line with his canon personality. This goes for all of the canon characters in my stories. I pride myself in making it so that, even though the circumstances change, how the character respond to said changes is entirely within their characters. One of the things I hate the most is when characters are written OOC in fanfictions, and I strive to avoid that trap. On that note, the parallels between the White Fang and the Insurrection was entirely purposeful, hence why I had Sienna be a major POV during this sequence of events.
That's it for this time. I hope you all enjoy, and let me know what you think. If any of you have a TV Tropes account, any assistance in updating the TV Tropes page would be greatly appreciated.
See you all next time!
