A9 to C9
(Alpha Nine to Copper Nine)
Chapter 5: Second Prelude
Special Operations Officer Vor' Telam
Ninth Age of Reclamation
Unknown City, Unknown Planet
The descent through the planet's hostile atmosphere was a violent one, the pod rattling and groaning as it hurtled toward the surface. Even a seasoned warrior like Vor'Telam felt the weight of the g-forces clawing at his chest, though he remained composed, his heart steady with the resolve of a true Sangheili warrior. His pod smashed into the apex of a crumbling parking structure, the impact reverberating through the brittle concrete.
The hatch burst open with a hiss of depressurization, and Vor'Telam stepped out, snow swirling like ghosts around his armored form. The Type-51 Carbine hung ready in the pod's weapons harness. He retrieved it with swift, practiced movements, the cold steel familiar in his hands. The bitter chill bit at his exposed skin, but Vor'Telam barely noticed. He had survived worse climates on far more hostile worlds. His mind steeled, his faith was unshaken. This desolate snow-covered city would not break him.
He surveyed the surrounding area. The jagged skyline of the human city stretched in the distance, half-buried in snow and debris. Even through the swirling storm, the telltale signs of human construction were unmistakable. A flicker of disgust passed through him. The heretics had once called this world home. But now the storm had claimed it, a fitting end for those who desecrate the very ground the Ancients walked upon.
Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rattled the parking center. Vor'Telam instinctively ducked behind a slab of concrete as snow and debris flew into the air, thickening the already blinding storm. He peered through the veil of swirling dust and saw the source, another drop pod, this one human. Its metal frame glinted in the dim light as it settled into the snow, steam hissing off the hull.
A sharp movement caught his eye as the pod door opened with a metallic screech. A figure clambered out, silhouetted against the storm. The distinct black armor was unmistakable, an ODST.
Vor'Telam's mandibles clicked in thought. Special forces. This would require precision. Moving swiftly and silently, he positioned himself behind the jagged remnants of a collapsed wall, his Type-51 Carbine raised. Through the scope, he tracked the human's movements, finger curling around the trigger. He was just about to fire when his radio crackled to life.
"Ultra Zug-Zug to command!" The high-pitched voice shattered the quiet tension, the urgency clear in every squeaky word. Vor'Telam's grip on the carbine tightened in irritation. He stayed low, eyes locked on the human soldier ahead. The message continued in rapid, panicked bursts, but beneath the typical Grunt squeak was a strange composure.
"Zug-Zug here! Immediate assistance required, pinned down by enemy forces, coordinates sent!" More Covenant troops were here? Vor'Telam glanced back towards his target, before lowering his weapon.
"I can read you. This is Special Operations Officer Vor'Telam. I will be there shortly." Vor'Telam could hear 'Zug-Zug' sigh in relief.
"Oh, thank the gods! Just please hurry! They're about to break through—THEY'VE BROKEN THROUGH! FLIPYAP! COVER OUR FLANK! COVER OUR FL—" Zug-Zug's frantic transmission cut off abruptly, the sounds of gunfire and plasma bursts echoing before falling silent. The moment of stillness was fleeting. Vor'Telam received the Grunt Ultra's last known coordinates, his instincts sharpened. Without a second thought, he sprang from his perch, landing lightly on his feet. The ODST was still investigating his own drop pod, oblivious to Vor'Telam's swift retreat into the shadows of the war-torn city.
The journey through the crumbling streets was punctuated by the distant booms of battle, the occasional flare of explosions. The once-bustling city had become a frozen wasteland, its gleaming towers now skeletons consumed by snow and ice. His breaths came in steady puffs, visible in the frigid air as he pressed onward.
Finally, the sounds of combat led him to a plaza, an entertainment district ravaged by war. Vor'Telam's sharp eyes traced the outlines of several storefronts and shattered neon signs. There, within the perimeter of what looked to be a rotted, two floored café, was Zug-Zug's last stand. The Grunt Ultra was pinned down inside one of the structures, and the attackers weren't human as Vor'Telam had expected. Instead, a legion of unfamiliar robots swarmed the area. Some barely came up to his knees, scurrying about with surprising speed, while others, towering nearly as tall as Vor'Telam himself, moved methodically toward the building with mechanical precision.
Even from a distance, he could see Zug-Zug huddled inside, desperately returning fire. The Grunt Ultra was holding his ground, but the odds were grim. The enemy was preparing to deploy some kind of heavy weapon, likely a machine gun, its barrel glinting as it was maneuvered into place by the Pawns.
Vor'Telam clicked his mandibles softly in thought. He wasn't here for a direct confrontation, not yet. No, stealth would be his advantage. Activating his active camouflage, his form shimmered and vanished from view. He crept silently toward the enemy lines, their focus entirely on the building. He could hear the drones barking orders and shouting amongst each other. One of the Enforcers, likely their commander, pointed towards the building.
"Four units here. Await my order and execute flanking maneuver into the target building. Wait for fire support." Four Pawns approached the makeshift barricade and began preparing themselves, though some were visibly shaking. Vor'Telam approached the Enforcer. Before anyone could notice, he grabbed the Enforcer by the shoulder and drove one of his plasma daggers into the drone's back. The Enforcer's front exploded with sparks and metal flying outward. Vor'Telam cast the Enforcer's body aside before turning to the rest of the drones. Whom were just now realizing something was wrong. He gave them no time to react and began to open fire with his carbine, sending shot after shot of irradiated energy bolts towards the fragile Pawns.
One Enforcer leapt towards Vor'Telam, attempting to stab him with a combat knife he had removed from his leg. Dodging to the left, Vor'Telam grabbed the Enforcer by his arm, quickly bracing his foot against the Enforcer's chest and ripping his arm off, it sparked and sprayed oil onto the snowy ground. The rest of the Pawns and Enforcers turned their fire towards Vor'Telam, though some missing, mostly due to the fact that half the Pawns were either holding their guns wrong or not even aiming, what shots that did hit Vor'Telam were absorbed by his combat harness's shields.
A Pawn, either through bravery or stupidity, leapt towards Vor'Telam with her shotgun raised up with a bayonet at the ready. Spinning around on his heel, Vor'Telam slammed the severed arm, now turned blunt weapon into the side of the bayonet wielding Pawn's metal skull. A crack spiderwebbed across her screen and sent the Pawn tumbling into the snow, now screaming out that she was blind. Though her screams were silenced when the Sangheili wrapped his three fingered hand around her neck and hurled her into the group of Pawns attempting to set up the machine gun nest. The Pawn slamming into the gun shielding and toppling to the ground, motionless.
Falling back into invisibility again, Vor'Telam readied a plasma grenade and chucked it towards one of the Pawns now struggling to readjust the machine gun to point at him. The grenade stuck directly to the Pawn's head, now sizzling and glowing a brilliant blue. One of the 'crewman' pointed at his friend's head in worry.
"What the hell is that thing?!" The now stuck Pawn scratched at his own head, before checking his salmon colored helmet. "What thing?! What is it? Is it a spider? Get it off!" Rather than just standing there and talking. The rest of the panicking Pawns just dove for cover. Rightfully so too, because no sooner than that did the stuck Pawn explode into a brilliant, blue ball of crackling plasma that left very little behind besides a now melted circle of snow and a scorch mark. With a sufficient enough distraction keeping the Order trooper's fire off of his position, Zug-Zug leaned out from his hiding spot and fired upon some of the scattering Pawns with a plasma rifle clutched tightly in one of his hands. Blue bolts of energy coursed downrange, suppressing and or outright killing some of the Pawns trying to find new cover from the pincer attack they were not at all ready for. Zug-Zug's suppression, though was interrupted with a high caliber round striking the concrete next to him, damn near taking his head off.
The shooter revealed himself to be an odd combination of a Enforcer and Pawn. Not tall enough to be an Enforcer, but not short enough to be a Pawn either, something with a sleek design that looked very aerodynamic. On the drone's back was a jetpack, something that wasn't foreign to Zug-Zug, having served in exo-atmospheric raiding parties plenty of times in his career. The jet toting drone cycled a round on its rifle, and circled back around to get a better shot at either Zug-Zug or Vor'Telam. Zug-Zug would attempt to lean out from cover and fire at the flying drone, though with very little success due to just how agile it was in the air. It was one of the few times in his life that Zug-Zug actually WISHED that a Kig-Yar were around, he was positive one of them could nail that bastard easily.
"Zug-Zug here. They have an airborne soldier up with a long range weapon. Advise caution. Moving to neutralize if possible. "
Zug-Zug looked down to see that Vor'Telam was still busy completely dismantling the drone's attack force. Vor'Telam gave a confirmation over the radio and remained in active camouflage, continuing to stick with his guerilla style attacks on the bewildered machines.
Zug-Zug frantically scanned every inch of the frozen concrete around him, his heart pounding in his chest. The bodies of his fallen squad lay strewn about, their cold hands clutching mostly useless plasma pistols. His anxiety grew as another shot cracked off the concrete near his head. He had leaned out too far. Cursing under his breath, he ducked lower, the panic rising as the drones' relentless fire forced him to hurry. His eyes darted, searching for something, anything, that could save his hide.
His gaze finally landed on something at the top of a broken-down staircase leading to the café's lower floor, a splash of yellow. Zug-Zug's pulse quickened. That could be it. Without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby chair and flung it through the shattered window. Glass exploded outward, and immediately, a sharp ping echoed as the sniper drone fired at the decoy. Zug-Zug didn't wait to see the result. He dove forward, adrenaline fueling his every move as he sprinted toward the stairs and took a headlong dive into cover.
Panting, he peered around the corner, his breath visible in the freezing air. The yellow object was a Type-33 LAAW, gripped tightly in the frozen hands of a Grunt Minor, now nothing more than a corpse slumped against the stairs. Zug-Zug wrestled the launcher free, fingers trembling, hoping beyond hope that there was something left to fire.
He inspected the launcher's chamber—one shot. Only one.
The jetpack-wielding drone descended gracefully onto a nearby balcony, overlooking the desolate square below. His rifle gleamed in the pale light, the scope scanning the chaotic battlefield. Through the lens, a thermal camera displayed the faint, fading heat signatures of his fallen comrades. The cold bite of the wind tugged at his combat scarf as he adjusted his aim, the flickering outlines on his screen slowly growing dimmer.
Then, something unusual caught his eye, a faint, but unmistakable thermal outline. Hidden in the haze of dying signals was a figure that should have been invisible. The drone's artificial lips curled into a subtle grin beneath the scarf as he honed in on the shape.
Vor'Telam.
The Sangheili's active camouflage, though effective, could not escape the drone's thermal sight. Vor'Telam crouched behind a barrier, unaware of the crosshairs now resting on his silhouette. The drone's finger hovered over the trigger, his grip steady as his scope remained locked on the target. The wind whistled faintly through the ruins, and the drone licked his lips, savoring the moment.
Slowly, methodically, he began to squeeze the trigger.
A sudden, deep WHUMP echoed through the square, drawing the drone's attention from the scope. From the café, a massive green bolt of energy crackled with unstable radiation, tearing through the air. For a brief moment, the drone was transfixed by the swirling, volatile charge of plasma before instinct took over. He launched into the sky, narrowly evading the bolt as it slammed into the balcony. A thunderous explosion rocked the structure, sending debris flying, green light casting eerie shadows over the square.
The drone glanced back toward the café, spotting Zug-Zug peering from behind a shattered doorframe, the Type-33 LAAW still smoking in his hands. The Unggoy had returned for more.
The drone's eyes narrowed behind his combat scarf. He quickly raised his rifle, snapping off a shot that tore through the café wall with a sharp crack, the kinetic force shredding through concrete. Zug-Zug ducked deeper into cover, the wall barely holding together.
The drone paused, studying the lack of movement. Zug-Zug wasn't coming out. Calculating, he pulled a special blue-tipped round from his bandolier and loaded it into the chamber. His fingers deftly tapped a button on his scope, activating a tracking system. A line scanned the café, mapping the structure with precision, calculating angles, assessing cover. The display showed a high confidence reading—105% chance of a successful hit, with a mere 5% margin for error.
A grin tugged at the drone's face. He lived for odds like these.
Taking a steadying breath, he adjusted his aim and fired. The blue-tipped round ricocheted off a back wall, rebounding with perfect precision toward Zug-Zug's position. It was designed to turn cover into a deathtrap, a deadly game of angles.
A second later, the bullet streaked toward the hiding Unggoy. Though, the bullet struck, not Zug-Zug, but an invisible form that had just barely leapt in front of him. A loud sparking sound sounded off and a crackle of energy burst forth. Looking up and realizing that he wasn't dead, Zug-Zug instead saw Vor'Telam standing in the path of the intended killshot, now visible, and his shields down, managing to absorb most of the brunt of the shot. Underneath Vor'Telam's helmet, however, a grimace was stretched across his mandibles.
The sniper toting drone, seeing an indicator that his shot had indeed contacted, gave a long sigh of relief, slowly cycling the bolt on his rifle and snickering to himself. "Hostile is K. I. A..." The drone dreamily said to himself, enunciating the letters just to drink his victory in even more.
"One more for the records...haha...Ahh...Yeaaa..." The drone settled down onto a nearby building's façade. Stowing his rifle on his back, he activated a communication device within his chassis.
"VERGIL. This is Watchmaker. I've neutralized the hostile at..." 'Watchmaker' glanced down at his wrist where a holographic, tactical map appeared before him. "Sector 4C. Uh...unfortunately, the response team didnt make it. Requesting further orders?" 'VERGIL' responded with a binary message, informing Watchmaker to remain in the area and ensure that it is secured so that another team may fully secure the area for future use, and to recover the equipment and bodies of the previous squad. Watchmaker grit his teeth. "Understood. Standing guard..." Before he could close the channel, VERGIL made another inquiry about the hostiles that managed to kill the previous team in the first place, who/what were they?
"Ohh...um. It was two hostiles. One of them was around...226 centimeters tall...looked like a dinosaur almost, I-" interrupting Watchmaker's...simplistic description of Vor'Telam, VERGIL insisted that Watchmaker just transfer data based on what he witnessed in the past hour or so for observation. Once the away team recovered the bodies of the team slain by the new, unknown enemies, they could analyze the data further.
"...Understood..." With that, VERGIL severed communications and Watchmaker was alone once again. Standing up. Watchmaker reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a packet of "500 Percent" cigarettes. Placing one into his mouth and using some sort of electrical discharge from the tip of one of his partially severed fingers, the cigarette lit up with a soft, red glow. Leaping off the balcony and hovering gracefully down to the cafe's balcony, Watchmaker approached Zug-Zug's position to perform one of his 'favorite' things to do after a kill, loot for trinkets.
"His buddy must have abandoned him. Tough break, shortstop." Watchmaker muttered to himself, his cigarette at the corner of his mouth. Opening the door, he glanced to his right, and leaning against the wall in a bloody mess was, nothing, absolutely nothing. There was just empty concrete. Watchmaker's LED eyes widened and his lip curled against his cigarette.
"There's...there's no way...I got a hit marker! I hit the little bastard! How the hell could he have-" Pausing, Watchmaker brought up his scope from his rifle and looked down at the floor, there were thermal tracks, two tracks were just barely visible leading down to the bottom floor of the café. Upon following them, they lead out of a back exit and deeper into the entertainment district's alleyways. Though there was no sign of the two hostiles anywhere. Watchmaker's lip quivered. Bringing his rifle back into his arms, he contacted VERGIL once more upon boosting himself airborne again.
"VERGIL, this is Watchmaker. Two hostiles are still active in Sector 4C. About to begin pursuit." Though VERGIL responded by ordering Watchmaker to remain in the area and wait for reinforcements. A searing, blinding rage caused the drone to grit his teeth and just shut his communications off completely.
"Try to get one over on me...We'll just see about that buster brown" Watchmaker mumbled shakily, carelessly loading another magazine into his rifle, before finally taking off deeper into the city in his now personal hunt.