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Well Enough Alone by Ryan
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Well Enough Alone Part 1: Deceitful Dreams
Date: 14 March 2002 10:06 pm
Another gust of wind blew up from the valley, carrying with it the rain as it fell. This wasn't my idea of a nice day. Our squad has been camped out here in this rainy hell for almost a week now, fending off small groups of covenant with nothing to do but empty their batteries. I looked over at Mendoza, who's stare had become increasingly blank over the past 5 hours. The reliable marine was reminding me more and more of a flood zombie, so I decided to speak up.
"You must love that clump of sod, Mendoza"
"You know, I think it's becoming my best friend..."
"Heh heh, I know how you feel..."
This wasn't anyone's idea of fun. I'm guessing I've lost you already, so let me back up a bit. Our Pelicans were moving slowly away from the command shuttle, 3 of them in all. Our assignment was to scour this quaint planet for any signs of covenant life, and eliminate them if necessary. I should have known someone was up when they sent us in a group of three. As the Command Shuttle (hereby known as CS) faded slowly from view, I kept wondering what it was they had neglected to tell us. The sun shone brilliantly down onto the left side of the pelicans dingy interior, reflecting off the Sarge's boot covers. I smiled a I gazed at the blue sky around us, which was tastefully painted with white clouds. I leaned over to touch my helmet. I had taken it off for the flight, figuring I would have ample time to snap it back on if we ran into covenant. A few more moments passed as we glided through the air, which was unusually heavy here. All of us were on the tips of our toes, something had to give. It was just too calm.
Mere seconds after that fateful thought crossed my mind, a searing blue bolt of energy materialized from no where, impacting the 10th vehicle clamp on the Pelicans tail. I jolted up, and moved quickly over to the cockpit.
"Master Chief sir, did something just hit us?!" asked Paul politely.
"You could say that, we just took a plasma rifle blast to the rear stabilizer."
"Damn Covenant... wait... what's that rumbling?!"
Paul was rather dim for his rank, he was a un-seasoned rookie and hardly my definition of a reliable pilot. My thoughts drifted momentarily to Foe Hammer, and her un-timely fate. I closed my eyes and re-established my focus. My head swiveled to the left just as three more bolts hit our transport. One of them hit the underbelly of the Pelican, melting the Titanium hull and launcher hundreds of plasma sparks across the cockpit. The glowing hole it left in the bottom of the hull has yet to leave my memory. I glanced back at Paul, who was fumbling with the pelicans montage of cockpit switches. I watched his fingers stumble through the knobs and levers for a about 20 seconds, before I couldn't stand it anymore and reached my hand in. With a simple tap on the left control joystick, the pelican made a hard bank to the right. Wind tore through the hole in the floor, sending pieces of molten titanium and metal shards into the faces of my squad. The shots began increasing in their intensity at a rapid pace. Sergeant Johnson yelled something to the Marines, though I couldn't decipher what he had said over the screaming of the wind and plasma. Mendoza sat up from his seat and crouched over to the end of the cockpit and began firing his weapon.
"Covering fire sir!" yelled Mendoza.
"Roger that!" I snapped back.
We began colliding with more blasts, and our ride became more turbulent. I moved up to the cockpit again. Paul's hands were grasping the twin joysticks on either side of him, his knuckles white.
"Paul, we need to set this bird down - NOW!"
"I know sir... but, I don't want to take 'er in too close to the covenant's fire..."
"Stow the complaining son, Bank a hard left and pull 'er down into that outcropping of bushes to your 3 O'clock!"
"Uh...uh...Y-Yes sir!!!"
I almost felt sorry for Paul as he began to re-adjust our flight pattern, this was his first Pelican and I could hardly blame him for wanting to keep it in one piece. I grasped one of the side support beams as we began to drop our altitude. The howl of the wind became even stronger, this was it.
"BRACE FOR IMPACT!!!" shouted Paul at the top of his lungs. In the final seconds before impact I looked down at my helmet, for the first time since the covenant began firing I realized I wasn't wearing it. My heart fell heavy in my chest as a nervous panic came over me. We crashed.
Well Enough Alone Part II: Arrival
Date: 28 March 2002 1:17 am
That was really all I can remember of the crash itself. I can remember waking up as my squad tramped through the dirty waters of the swamp, one of them kindly splashing some water on my face to wake me. The Pelican rested about 5 feet from us, now nothing but a mangled piece of metal shards. Sparks jumped out from the remaining outlets which hadn't burned up, and a plume of smoke could be seen rising from where the cockpit was once located.
Mendoza was kneeling in the swamp water about 10 feet from me. One of my men offered to help me up, I laughed at his offer and told him that I'd promote him to Chief if he could lift me. Needless to say he was un-successful. A moment later I hoisted myself up. Our surroundings were swamp like, to say the least. Moss and Lichen covered trees were all around us, vines winding from the twisted branches. A small brook wound its way through the trees, connecting numerous puddles of dirty water. The one we were in was rather large, probably about 20 feet around.
"Has anyone seen my helmet?," I asked.
Mendoza was the first to reply.
"Roger that Chief, it's just over there; next to the gear we've piled up"
"Heh, thanks Private."
I hobbled through the water, which was crawling with life. The Marines had piled a collection of weapons and equipment; my helmet was among the supplies. I leaned down to pick it up, and tipped it upside down to let the water trickle from it. Private Munson tossed me a towel, which came in handy as I wiped the water from the helmet. At last I was satisfied that my helmet was dry, so I snapped it back on. I also tossed up a MA5B Assault Rifle, and began walking towards the survivors. I un-locked the weapons safety clip, and the digital computer screen came to life. 34 rounds were left in the clip, which was really all I would need to tackle an ambush. Paul was strewn against a log, heavily bandaged an bearly breathing.
"Is the pilot alright, Sergeant?" I asked with a tone of worry in my voice.
"Somewhat. He's suffered a broken leg, and from the looks of it a concussion. He'll be alright if we keep his temperature down... honestly, that shouldn't be to hard - I'm freezing out here."
Another Marine made his way over to me, curiously staring at me. Finally he spoke up.
"Master Chief, sir, any idea what happened to the other two drop ships?"
"I haven't heard anything of it. They're probably in the same predicament as us right now. From the looks of it... we were never ment to complete this mission!"
A look of horror and surprise flashed across Sergeant Johnson's face.
"What on earth do you mean by that, John?" He asked sharply.
I let out a small sigh, and realized that all eyes were on me. I crossed my arms and began slowly pacing back and forth. Finally, when I knew what to say, I spoke up.
"Men, if Admiral Raul wanted to survey this area, he would have used a Longsword Interceptor... It could have provided a fly over infrared scan of the entire region in half the time - AND still have had room for plenty of Marines if it were shot down. Our detachment was sent out here to die, men, plain and simple."
Everyone was silent for a moment, no one knew what to say. I glanced around at all of the faces, all of them had a grimace look painted across them.
The Sergeant shook his head solemnly, "Great, just great!", he shot out uncomfortably.
I chuckled once to myself, and continued with my explanation. "That's not the end of it..." I was certain the hearts of my men sunk at that point. "You see, we were all traveling at a good rate of speed when the covenant ambushed us. From what I can tell, our dropship was the first to crash. The others most likely did the same; less than a minute later. However, at such a velocity, easily 600 meters could have been traveled during that time."
"...Meaning what exactly?" Spoke up a typically quiet Marine.
"The other two Pelican's could be as much as kilometer from our location. I don't think I need to outline just how long of a hike that would be... and we don't even know which direction to start hiking. Men, we're trapped. Looks like every squad for themselves."
That's pretty much how it's been for the past few days. We lost a total of 3 men when our transport crashed, including Paul - he died two hours after the accident. The covenant found out crash site shortly, and began hitting us hard. Ammunition has been running short today, we've probably emptied 900 rounds trying to dispatch of the covenant strike teams. So far, we've only lost two Marines trying to hold them off. That brings our grand total of survivors down to 6; myself included. Honestly, things weren't going to get any better. I was about to present some new plans to the Sarge', and suddenly a faint and muffled signal came across my suits transcom system.
"This is Pelican D-Dropship Janni 568, does anyone copy? Over."
Well Enough Alone Part III: Unforseen Shadows
Date: 8 April 2002, 6:23 pm
"Janni 689, we read you. This is search-team AB-197. Can you touchdown? We need immediate dustoff! Over."
"Negative, AB-197, no direct evac available just yet. I got your signal, but the tree canopy is too thick at your current position - I'm gonna touch down on a small clearing about 200 meters from your current position; it looks like there's another group of Marines waiting near-by. I'll pick them up first, then move in to pick you up. Be at these coordinates in 45 minutes, OK? Janni689 out."
A few minutes past, as the MC informed his Marines. There was nothing they could do now, and there was no point moving to the LZ now; since they would have to wait there until evac arrived, and there was already a squad moving in. They would wait.
30 minutes later - 17:46
Something whispered in the wind; the call of a distant battle. The screams taunted him, enraged him, distressed him. How could someone so powerful feel so hopeless? The mighty Master Chief, surrounded by misquotes and flies; incapable of saving a few good men from death. He swallowed slowly, calming himself.
I cannot loose, thought the Master Cheif, I will not loose.
Dusk has subsided rapidly, and the faint glow that once lined the shimmering leaves above him had fled just as the sun. Little light remained - enough for the Master Chief to see where he was going - but not much. The marines tramped through the swamp, setting up small lanterns to light the 'camp'. Certainly, it wasn't much of a camp. None of the marines had any place dry to sleep; but none of them thought for a moment they would sleep even if they did.
The nighttime sounds of the rain Forrest started quietly, almost inconspicuous at first. As if conducted with caution, the yelps of the odd bird, the howl of a frightened monkey, and the counter-calming roar of a jaguar echoed beyond the tree-line. Despite the faint glow of the torches, the trees blacked out what lurked beyond. Faintly in the deep shadows rustled leaves, stirring un-pleasant thoughts into everyone's minds.
Trying to block out the white noise surrounding him, the Master Chief listened as hard as he could. The battle far beyond had stopped.
That battle was short...Surely, a group of Marines would have held their own for longer than 15 minutes... the ambush must have vastly over-powered them...
His thoughts were Erie in his mind, and he wondered if the rest of his squad felt the same way.
"Did anyone else hear the shooting a few minutes ago," whispered sergeant Johnson, "or was it just me?"
Another Marine lifted his head and replied in a frightened tone.
"No, it seems to be over now... what do you think happened, sir?"
The young Marine gazed over to the Master Chief, waiting on his reply.
"Ambush." said the Master Chief quickly, before letting out a woeful sight.
"Yes... I agree... but, by whom?" shot back Johnson, who seemed quite frightened now.
"Hell if I know," replied the Master Chief, "something tells me that we're nex-"
The powerful Spartan was cut-off, a blazing plasma bolt tore through the tree line, furiously striking the Master Chief's armor. The sergeant was the first to return fire, a few bullets tore through the darkness, and disappeared into the seemingly infinite void beyond. A few moments past, but the squad heard nothing over the monotonous hum of misquotes. The MC reached into the rear of the pelican, his breath swallowed heavy into his lungs. Once more he snapped on his helmet, then clutched an assault rifle and proceeded back out to his Marines.
He was dumbfounded - they were no where to be seen.
I'm alone out here- thought the MC, they have me trapped, and I have nothing to loose!
No longer worried, he dashed over to the pile of weapons which were still scattered near a rock. He quickly clutched a few grenades, some MA5B ammunition packets, and a M6D pistol. He looked around the camp once more, took a deep breath, and dashed off into the darkness clutching his assault rifle.
Well Enough Alone Part IV: Blind Dispersions
Date: 11 April 2002, 8:33 pm
Command shuttle G-765: Un-colonized planet named Polti, just outside of earth's solar system.
18:12, standard time
The wind tossed the commanders hair gently as he peered through the gaping hole that was a shuttle bay. His skin, scared from battle and leathered from the searing heat of plasma blasts, was rubbed by the gentle breeze from 2100 feet as if it were a silk cloth. His hands were crossed intently behind his back, as he gazed into the blue nothingness that lay vastly before him. A young ensign walked up behind the commander, with a stern, solemn look on his face. The commander took no surprise in the ensign's approach; he had been listening quietly to the rustle of the trees far below.
"Commander, sir... I have news," spoke the ensign slowly, "The captain asked me to deli-"
"Skip to the point, son." Said the commander in a irritable tone of voice.
"Uh, yes, of course sir. I've received word that dropship Janni 689 has dropped out of contact, no distress signal has been sent. The last transmission from the dropship indicates that Wade was picking up some troops... sir..."
The commander let out a quick sigh, and circled around to face his young comrade. The look in the commanders eyes was that of pure disappointment; betrayal.
So it's final. I was right about Raul... god damnit, politics should have been abolished long before this war started - I wonder who's agenda he's fofilling now...
The ensign stepped back as the commander began to walk at a stern pace towards the shuttle bay entrance. Just before the commander stepped through the now-open doorway, the ensign shouted out a question.
"Sir -"
The commander halted and pivoted to face the ensign, who was easily 100 meters from him.
"Yes?"
"Any orders, sir?"
"Just one... I want immediate transport to UNSC head-quarters. So, ready a transport."
"But sir -"
"No buts, son. Just get it ready - I don't care if YOU have to fly it."
"Understood, commander. Just give me 15 -"
"Ten."
"Uh, alright sir. Ten.
UNSC head-quarters: 50 km south of Los Angeles, California.
22:34
As the commander walked into the commander center, he was enveloped in swelling red lights. The screeching drone of alarms shot through his ear drums like knives. Officers were everywhere, darting back and forth from various consoles scattered across the room. In the middle of the mess was Admiral Ryes, a middle-aged female with deceivingly hard eyes. The commander made his way to the admiral, poking her on the shoulder. She jolted around, now face-to-face with the commander.
"Ryes." Spoke the commander, letting off a small hint of a smile. The Admiral smiled back, but her smile quickly drifted into a look of importance.
"This better not be a social call, James."
The admiral didn't offer James a chance to reply, rather she turned her attention to General Nacri who was running towards her, shouting her name. James, too, glanced over at the strange-looking General, curious still why there was such commotion around this usually docile building.
"Admiral Ryes, I'm receiving reports that two other intercept craft have been disabled. They're moving closer, ma'am!" Yelled the frantic Nacri.
"Clearly... get back to your post, general. I can see that from here." Snapped Ryes in reply.
Frustration had over-come James, who began to breathe deeper, waiting for a chance to jump in with a question. Finally, while Ryes was flipping through battle reports, he received the chance he had been waiting for.
"Debra, would you mind telling me just what the hell is going on here!?"
"Obviously you can't see I'm busy, but I am glad you showed up. I'm getting conflicting reports of multiple covenant battle groups closing in on earth. Most likely with 20 imperial class cruisers per group. Now, excuse me if my hair doesn't look quite right, OK?"
"Shit... you must be kidding!
"I don't kid, you know that. Our Navy won't be able to hold them off for long, Commander. This is incredibly bad news."
"I can see that... how long could we keep them busy, at best?"
"20 minutes, give or take a few seconds."
"That's just not good enough.... Wait a minute - assuming each one of those cruisers is home to some ten thousand covenant, how long could our military force hold them off?!"
"With the use of strategy... 16 hours. We could probably disable 20% of their entire infantry during that time; until our troops simply run out."
"That settles it, then. We need to enact the Polvan protocol. Order all eligible members of earth's civilian population to suit up. We have a job to do, lets get it done."
"A militia? Honestly..."
"We have enough arms, don't we?"
"Well, yes... but even I'm not authorized to present such orders to anyone. That's an order that has to be made by the civilian's tribunal - at least until the covenant land. Once they touch down, any admiral can enact that protocol. Oh, by the way... what happened to your regiment? Who's in charge?"
"I've left the captain of CS:G:765 in charge for now. Since Gregory died things have been..."
"I see. And the Master Chief?"
"John is on assignment."
"Oh... and when will he be back?"
"He won't. Listen to me, we need to talk somewhere more private."
"Yes... I agree. My office - follow me."
"Certainly, lead the way!"
Somewhere on Polti.
23:47
John dashed through the swamp, his boots uprooting lichen, roots, leaves, and dirt from the ground as he ran. Though his speed was brisk, he made little noise as he darted past trees, ground roots, and even small animals. His flashlight wasn't on - he would save that for later - right now he needed to find a ride. Multiple dropships were shot-down... but no Banshee's were involved in the strikes. There must be hundreds of covenant here; and a Banshee. I'll have to be quick if I want to avoid being shot-down like the Pelicans, but I'm sure I can get around the covenant ground troops. Now it's just a mater of finding their base.
Up ahead was a large clearing, possibly Janni's landing zone. The Master Chief continued towards the opening in the heavy greenery, but beyond the tree's was hardly a crashed dropship - it was a crashed covenant ship! The master chief's mind began to race, a covenant ship ment more than he could imagine. For one thing, weaponry - and hordes of it. Not to mention maps, critical information, and possibly aircraft. The ship was small, too. Most likely a stealth ship of some kind. The guards were the only problem, there were easily 40 covenant patrolling the ships entrances. A distraction was necessary, but what? Grenades - even the plasma variety - were far too risky. He would need something smarter, more original. Then it hit him - his assault rifle!
He moved along the tree-line with amazing caution; trying his best to prevent the covenant from picking up on his movements. Once he had moved a few hundred meters from his former position, the master chief kneeled down and placed his assault rifle on the branch of a tree, leaving it facing a small group of covenant guarding yet another entrance. He wrapped a vine around the trigger, and attached one end of the organic rope to a tree branch opposite the gun. He then used another vine to attach the gun firmly to the tree branch it was on, strengthening the knot until the vine buckled under the pressure. It had begun raining hard just a few minutes before, and there was a small gap in the canopy directly above the vine which was attached to his assault rifle's trigger. He looked up, there was a plant with a large, broad leaf directly above him. He leaped up, ripping off one of the leaves at it's stem. The leaf was sunken, almost like a bowl. It was more than perfect. Carefully he balanced the leaf on the trigger vine, with the bowl facing up into the gap in the canopy. Quickly the bowl began to fill up with water - and soon the pressure would be too much on the trigger, and the gun would fire off a few rounds into the patch of covenant far beyond. The set-up was complete, and the master chief jetted back to the opening where he originated.
He knelled at the opening in the thick trees for a moment, waiting patiently for his loud cue. After only 5 seconds the assault rifle went off, firing about 5 rounds before the leaf bounced off the rope; causing the vine to sag and the trigger to repress. He head the screams of covenant far beyond - maybe one of the grunts had been hit - and then it happened. 5 of the 8 covenant guarding his entrance ran over to assist the bewildered group of covenant which had been hit, leaving only an elite, jackal, and a grunt to guard the door. Now was his only shot, so John took to his feet and leaped through the opening; sprinting towards the poorly-guarded door. Thoughts raced through his mind once more, this would have to be done without anyone firing a weapon. His shotgun was still magnetically hooked to his back, and his pistol still at his side. In less than 3 seconds he would hit the elite hard - and he would be inside the downed covenant cruiser.
The elite turned his head, and a look of horror crossed his face as a massive black and green fist smashed in his skull. Feeling no pain, the elite flew through the air; blood and his body crashing into the purple metallic hull of the ship with a loud, wet thud. The grunt jumped up, and moved his arm towards his gun (which was still at his feet). The jackal had turned his head less than a second after the elite's body was hit - the jackal was elbowed in the face before he could let out even a yelp. The jackal fell over dead, and the master chief quickly turned his attention to the grunt, who was biting his lip and tossing the gun in the air, trying to get a grip of the trigger. John lunged forward, kneeing the small dog-like grunt in the face, smashing in his small skull. Satisfied with the elimination of the guards, he turned his head to glance at the group scouring the tree-line for the mystery marine. Just as the doors slid open, letting out a evil hiss, one of the elite's reached up with an assault rifle. The master chief pivoted and dashed through the doors, punching the control panel on the left side, causing them to slam shut and lock all at once. He was now inside - and from the time the rigged assault rifle fired to the time he had slammed the door only 9 seconds had passed.
He creeped through purple and pink hallways, one identical corridor after another. He figured that the ships control room must be located closer to the nose of the ship; though he had no clue which direction that was from his current position. Annoyed with the covenant architecture, he decided to continue along his winded path until he arrived somewhere. This ship wasn't very big, and unless he was going in circles (which he figured was quite likely) he would have to end up somewhere after a short time. Finally he arrived a cramped shuttle bay. Inside were three banshees, two covenant dropships, and a strange V-shaped ship that caught the master chief's eye. He had never seen a ship like this before, but was fascinated by it. It was slightly larger than a pelican, and shaped almost like a Longsword. It must have been the covenant's equivalent to the human longswords. He started across the shuttle bay platforms, and leaped down to the ground level. Still no covenant to be seen, all of the hallways had been completely empty. He knew there would have to be a guard here - and sure enough there was. Standing in the center of the room, just before the 'V-wing', was a elite commander; plasma sword glowing in his left hand.
Shit! Thought the master chief. This elite would require his shotgun to dispose of, he couldn't risk getting close enough to try and bop the elite from behind, and a punch to the face wouldn't be powerful enough to drop this golden varieties sheilds. John swiftly removed the shotgun from his back , and creeped towards the sword-wielding bastard. He needed to get a perfect shot, or it wouldn't work. The shotgun was only good at close range, and the elite was still 40 feet from him. The master chief didn't want to be close enough to fire two rounds; he would be chopped in two before the second shell left the barrel. He tossed the shotgun over into his right hand, and with his left hand he grasped the pistol at his side. He leaned out, and fired three pistol rounds as he ran backwards. After those three rounds, the elite was simply too close to take out with a pistol; so he tossed it at his feet and slid his finger over the shotgun's trigger. A massive bang echoed through the shuttle bay, and the elite's sheilds flickered brilliantly, before dying. That hadn't stopped the elite, though; he was still on a crash course with John. The shotgun wouldn't fire again for a second, so with no time to spare John dropped the shotgun, and rolled to the side; grasping the pistol in his left hand as he did so. The elite's devastating chop missed John by mere inches, the incredible heat from the blade caused minor damage to his sheilds. The elite's head pivoted, until he was looking straight down the barrel of the M6D. Without even the slightest bit of hesitation, the master chief fired - sending a bullet directly through the elite's mouth up into his brain - spewing blood everywhere. As the elite fell to the floor, John grabbed his shotgun and strapped it to his back once more.
Alerted now by the shotgun's blast, a door to the master chief's left slid open, revealing 5 special-ops elite's who immediately began firing blasts of plasma at the master chief as they leaped down towards him. He had no time to waste - so John dashed at top speed towards the apparent hatch of the covenant 'V-wing'. He leaped through into the cover of the cockpit, just as his sheilds ran out of power. He slammed his fist into a small button just beside the hatch, causing it to slide shut. A second later a bulk-head above him began to slide shut - so the master chief leaped through the closing doors, and found himself inside the cockpit. One small captain's chair was just before him, and he could tell this craft had been designed for an elite to pilot. Quickly he leaned forwards, past the chair, and tapped a small, glowing, purple button. He felt the craft rumble as it's engines burst to life. At a rapid pace John slid into the seat, and began pressing buttons. He placed his hands upon two holographic rods which protruded from the main console. The craft began to rattle as plasma bolts impacted the hull at a devastating pace. He leaned forward on one of the rods, and the craft jolted forward - screaming from the shuttle bay's open doors and into the clearing. He was moving too fast, the tree line was directly in front of him! Stunned at the craft's speed, the master chief pulled back on the opposite rod, causing it to veer upwards and scream into the night sky.
Through the holographic view-screen, he saw millions of flickering stars laid before him. Moment later, he had left Polti's atmosphere and adjusted his course towards earth. ETA: 2 hours. A smile crossed his face, but was soon replaced with a look of complete horror. A blinding flash was seen in the sky, one which would have been invisible to the average human's naked eye.
A reactor went critical... a human cruiser just exploded...
Well Enough Alone Part V - Waiting Game
Date: 30 April 2002, 6:30 pm
UNSC head-quarters: 50 km south of Los Angeles, California.
00:03 (The second day)
The doors to the office slid open, klaxons still blaring beyond the doors. Ryes led the way, stepping past confidential documents which were carelessly strewn on the floor. Commander James Moore followed closely, taking his seat facing the Admiral's cluttered desk. Ryes took her seat, swiveled to face Moore, and quickly leaned back; her arms now crossed impatiently.
"Nonsense... the Master Chief, not coming back? I find that highly un-likely, given his performance prior to; and following the battle of Reach. Please explain to me what in gods name you were talking back there."
"Seems to me Raul was playing us all for fools, his orders clearly stated that John:117 should participate on a search & recon mission. He was given the orders directly, I was not informed of any specifics. It has come to my attention that all three dropships involved were shot down, along with a Evac bird I sent in as a pro caution. I can only assume that he-"
"Alright. Assuming that number 117 has been... eliminated... What do you propose we do?"
"Vice Admiral Raul is our obvious target, ma'am. He's been a protestor of the SPARTAN project since day one - and now he's crossed the line. Though I'm of no authority, I'd suggest an immediate appointment with a court-martial."
Ryes sneered; she had offered her comrade promotion numerous times, all of which he had refused. Ryes thought about it quite often, Hell, He'd be Vice Admiral by now if he wasn't such a noble bastard...
Commander Moore was 44 years old, Ryes was two years his senior. Both had joined the military at the age of 16 - the youngest inductees ever during peace time. Debra Ryes was an Admiral's daughter, hence her early enrollment. What set her apart was an unusual relationship with a rather stubborn Marine; Moore. James had been inducted thanks to his father; a deceased military hero with more ties than red blood cells. The two had met onboard the small Frigate "Athens", 27 years ago.
Debra quickly stood, and marched towards the door.
"I'll send the order. As for you, James, I'm assigning you to one of our newer ships: The Alaska Territory. Expect to be part of a unique mission - one typically suited for SPARTANS. I'll get Cpt. Louis to brief you once you're on board. God speed, James."
"Same to you, Dragonfly."
UNSC Battleship: Uniden - En Route to intercept Covenant Assault Fleet
00:28 The Second Day
The bridge of the Uniden was larger than most, 25 ceiling-high consoles lined the room. Captain Rick Wong took his seat; a leather chair embrasened with the letters "United Nations Space Command: Uniden". His mind was a hive of worry, his palms were coated in a slimy layer of sweat, and his face was a pale white. Only five more hours and the largest Covenant Assault in human history would take place against Earth; and only a half hour remained before his ship was within firing range of the fleet.
The holotank on the bridge lit up, flickered briefly, and emerged a male AI with a striking resemblance to a cave man. Though he was technically a "smart" AI, the bridge crew referred to him as if he were the stupid variety; as his voice sounded very much like that of a metal retard. After glancing around the bridge for a few moments, the brain-dead AI turned toward the aggravated Captain,
"Engines holding steady at forty five percent, Captain. MAC gun charging... She'll be hot by the time we're ready," said Butch. It's creators - who died on reach - named him Butch for obvious reasons, such as the half-eaten slab of beef he grasped in his left palm.
"Glad to hear that, Butch. Continue as you were... there isn't much we can do, anyway."
"Shall I continue on our current course, then?," asked the AI with a particularly stupid look on his un-shaven mug, "I need to know what your orders are."
"I just gave you them, piss-head. Intercept course: aka: Suicide."
Butch seemed saddened by that, and let out a short whimper before vanishing into the Holotank.
"As you wish... meany...," sniffled out Butch through the holotank's speakers.
Wong tapped a small button on his chair's left arm with the word "AI mute" inscribed on it. The sobbing noise dissipated, and the bridge returned a dead quiet.
Covenant V-Wing fighter, 25 minutes distance from the Covenant fleet.
00:52 The Second Day
After a few atmospheric checks, the Master Chief was satisfied and removed his helmet. The cockpit was alarmingly cramped, not to mention purple. John had often wondered why the Covenant fancied that color like they did, but was given little opportunity to think about it. His job was to win, not to study. The buttons of the small craft were all foreign, just as all Covenant language was to John. Despite the comprehension barrier, John curiously tapped a few holographic buttons; his fingers crossed that one of them wouldn't be "eject". After a few useless taps, one button revealed a map of the entire area. Earth's solar system could be seen on the left edge of the map, as well as numerous colonies that he was familiar with. One stood out: Reach. His mind began to drift again, but quickly jutted back to the matter at hand - John saw something was very wrong with this map. A small distance from the dot indicating his current location, was a massive swelling of purple, moving at a very brisk pace - considerably faster than human cruisers.
That must be a Covenant fleet... no... it's too large! Besides, how could the Covenant have found Earth?
A few moments past as John pondered this. For one thing, that massive purple area must easily contain five hundred ships, which is more than humanity had left! It was settled, this was a Covenant fleet. John glanced down at the Navigation, and after a few seconds of complex algebra he had calculated a course. Imputing the course took a few more minutes, but the Fighter quickly burst to life. It's engines began to hum quite loudly, and the fighter jolted to life as it veered into slipstream space. ETA: 22 minutes.
Well Enough Alone Part VI - Settin' the table
Date: 1 May 2002, 4:00 pm
UNSC Air Force Base - Montana #3
Near Seeley Lake, Montana.
01:03 The Second Day
Tower 18C was alive with activity, officers scrambling about from consoles, orders being blasted over the Telecom channels. The entrance of a general would normally signal the attention and salute of his underlings, but this was not the case today. Even the lowest ranking officers continued franticly with their business. The large windows of the tower displayed trillions of stars in the night sky, and the blinding runway lights far below. The general stepped into the middle of the room, and waved his hand at one of the secretaries, who dashed towards him at a stiff pace.
The general looked up at the ceiling, waiting for the very silent aid to inform him. After about 30 seconds of staring blankly at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his back, the general turned back to the stupefied young man with a look of impatience.
"Is there a reason I was woken, son?" asked the general, continuing with his tone of impatience.
"Yes, a massive one, sir. Admiral Ryes is on the phone, she's been demanding to speak to you."
"This must be serious... I'm guessing that's why the base is lit up like it's Christmas?"
"So to speak. I could explain, but I'm sure the lady could do a better job. She seems quite worked up, general."
"I'll take the call here."
The general wiped sweat from his brow, and reached down to the phone's receiver. He took a brief breath as he placed the receiver to his ear.
"Hello! 'Bit jumpy today, ma'am?"
"Shut up, General. We have an Alert 163. I am trying to get a hold of the damn politicians, I need authority to order a militia."
The general grabbed his chest, nearly having a heart attack. After a short, intense pause, he spoke back up.
"That has to be the heaviest sentence I've ever heard... I'll see what I can do. I assume you want the fleet to land on earth so we can load their bellies full of lead? We'll have an inner-atmosphere welcome party just in time for 'em, Ryes."
"Good then. I'll be in touch; Ryes out."
The general opened his mouth to speak, but was interupted by a ring tone. She had hung up.
As he looked through the window, XV8900 fighter jets took to the sky, tearing through the air at a absurd pace. They were gone, but the end had just begun.
UNSC: Frigate Uniden, Intercept course with Covenant battlegroup
01:05 The Second Day
The Uniden seemed almost graceful as it slid through slipstream space. It's bulky hull was barely visible against the backdrop of trillions of stars; the ship had been running dark for the last five minutes. Wong had given the order to prevent immediate Covenant fire upon exiting slipstream space. Deep within the ship rested a massive nuclear explosive, almost un-matched in size by any other bomb ever created. Per Commander Moore's suggestion, the bomb would be detonated while the Uniden was positioned within the core of the Covenant armada. Wong had programmed the self-destruct system of the frigate to detonate at the exact same second as the Nuke - a desperate attempt on the crew's part to cause more damage. Commander Moore had also suggested the second "Keyes maneuver": landing longswords armed with Nuclear explosives on the hulls of Covenant ships while their shields are down, then waiting until the shields re-activate to detonate. This was of course all extremely risky, and not one of the crew believed they would get that far; but they had to try, it was their duty.
"Captain sir, engines charging at fifty percent," a rather chipper ensign barked, "MAC gun at ninety three, and she should be ready to go as soon as we enter normal space."
"Good. Ready all Archer missiles, and I want that MAC gun as hot as you can get it... We're going to burn the engines and blast the shit out of their front line with everything we've got. I want enough fliers in the air after we're disposed of to finish the their 'wounded'."
The officer swiveled his chair and returned to his post, biting his lip.
"Sir, entering normal space in five..."
"Understood. Hold tight boys..."
As the Uniden slipped from slip stream space, it seemed to materialize directly in front of the Covenant fleet. Hundreds of them, all shimmering brilliantly; Their opalistic purple hulls gleaming under the blazing rays of a nearby sun. The Covenant ships either didn't notice the nearly invisible Frigate, or they just didn't care. Either way, thought Wong, They won't expect this...
The Uniden waited patiently, almost dead in space, while the Covenant Cruisers moved slowly towards the doomed vessel. The NAV console lit itself up like a Christmas tree, and with only seconds remaining officers frantically scrambled about the innards of the Uniden preparing the bomb for it's only known use, death.
"Engines at one hundred percent Captain! Initiating full burn towards the flag ships NOW!"
The battle was incredibly short. Three quick blasts from the Uniden's dual-MAC weapons, twenty searing bolts of plasma from small guard ships which seemed to lead the fleet. Just as the MAC bolts struck the two flag-ships, easily one hundred Archer missiles tore away from the Uniden, circling about and careening into three selected cruisers - the missiles disabled their shields, while three longswords landed on their hulls. The MAC rounds easily disabled the shields of the three lead Cruisers - however Wong knew the shields were running at minimal strength when the rounds struck, and would re-activate at full power seconds from now. Just as planned, three longswords landed on the ships milliseconds prior to the shields re-powering. By now, the Uniden was half it's former size; All of it's outer decks, as well as the two-meter titanium armor, had melted away from Covenant fire. The Uniden tore past dozens of Covenant Cruisers, and her engines began to over-heat under the extreme pressure. Mere seconds before the finishing blow struck the shriveled piece of molten metal that was the UNSC's first hope, it's engines and nuclear explosive exploded. Smaller Covenant ships were tossed aside like toys, larger ones braced as their hulls began to buckle under the pressure. Approximately seven ships were eliminated by the explosion itself, another four suffered severe damage, and yet another twelve ships were without shielding; at least temporarily. Before the Armada could align itself after the explosions wake, eleven longswords crept through the stunned Covenant defenses. The ships landed gracefully on eleven Covenant vessels; and just as the ships re-gained power to their shields, they were wiped clean off any radar map in the universe.
Dispite the Uniden's lacking size, she and her crew had disposed of twenty three Covenantships, and damaged four. A record among the UNSC. However, their efforts aside, another four hundred & seventy seven ships continued towards earth.
Head Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI Headquarters), London, England
01:16 The Second Day
Director of ONI Chris Barfield strode into the well-lit meeting room being watched very carefully by twenty of his colleagues and subordinates. Chris took his seat at the rear of a large table, gazing carelessly around the newly renovated area. He noticed Admiral Raul had also taken his seat five chairs down, so he began the meeting,
"I've received word everyone, The Uniden has completed her mission with an outstanding success. Though the blast radius may be distorting our radar figures, it seems Captain Wong's efforts disabled at least twenty Covenant ships!"
Admiral Raul smirked and spoke up, reading intently from a fax slip he had been handed upon entering,
"You're awfully gitty, Barfield. The Uniden was an unusual success, one we are very un-likely to see again any time soon. I just hope you realize that, Barfield, the odds have not changed."
The bickering and muttering of the staff ceased shortly after Don Raul's words of wisdom. They all seemed to look towards Chris for either a pep talk, or a better plan.
"I'm well aware of that... I took my ridilin this mornin'," replied Chris with a smile and chuckle, "From the way you're acting Don, I guess we can all infer your mission was a failure, no?"
Admiral Raul didn't seem to enjoy Barfield's sarcastic remarks, but chose to set his personal feelings aside; something easier said than done.
"I can't give you specifics," Rual started, "However, I can almost guarantee that SPARTAN one seventeen is still alive. The Covenant stealth ship we downed in that region should have provided him with ample opportunity to get his ass off that rock. I'm quite sure he'll pop up on our radar maps soon enough; flying some moronic space craft, no doubt..."
Chris sat back with a content grin, though sat back up quickly after scanning the fax slip he had received.
"Fair enough. We'll play along with this for a while, Admiral. I just hope your plan to keep one seventeen from dying works. If it doesn't, I'll surely see that your head is the one which ends up on the chopping block... Comrade." Replied Chris with an increasingly sarcastic tone of voice.
Barfield sat up promptly, and starred intensely down at his fellow agents before speaking up once more.
"As for the rest of you, let's finish readying operation NETSWEEP before our un-invited guests arrive. Meeting adjourned."
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