Code:
ABOARD COVENANT CARRIER PATH OF TRANSCENDENCE, EN ROUTE TO PLANET TOBIN, NINTH AGE OF RECLAMATION
Ship Master Exae 'Netamee stood at the raised platform that towered over the rest of the
Path of Transcendence's control room. The gold-armored Sangheili watched as other members of his race were busy entering in commands into holographic terminals down below. Before him was a floating display of the world that the Humans labeled 'Tobin'. Initial reconnaissance suggested that the planet was rich with sacred artifacts. The
Path of Transcendence's shipboard Luminary confirmed this observation, highlighting a wide area of the northern hemisphere with a cluster of golden marks.
Each mark represented a relic waiting to be reclaimed. More clues that the Gods left behind when they transcended the physical. The idea that such a wealth of holy relics and divinely inspired information was in the hands of the filthy primates caused 'Netamee to clench his fists. The Humans were vermin. A plague to be exterminated. They desecrated everything they touched, spreading their filth throughout the galaxy. Many of them had fallen to the Ship Master's blade. He wanted nothing more than to partake in the joy of the kill, to spill Human blood, but that time had passed. If fate had meant him to be in command of this ship, then so be it. Sacrifices would have to be made if he hoped to join his ancestors on the Great Journey. Regardless, he allowed himself to revel in his memories for a few moments.
"Ship Master, we count ten Human vessels," a technician reported. "Standard defensive formation."
'Netamee nodded. "No major threat." He opened the battle group's communications channel. "All ships fire at will. Seraph squadrons, provide cover for our landing craft. The Prophets have blessed this mission. May we do their will."
[hr]
Code:
COVENANT DROPSHIP, EN ROUTE TO THE SURFACE OF TOBIN, NINTH AGE OF RECLAMATION
The interior of the 'Spirit' dropship was cramped and uncomfortable, even in the cockpit. Special Forces Commander Karo 'Xytamee was forced to hunch over in the tiny compartment. But it was no matter, for within the next few minutes, he and his strike team of Sangheili would be on the ground. They were to land near a dense cluster of artifacts as indicated by the Luminary. Their mission, to cleanse the holy site of Human infestation and secure a landing zone for the reclamation teams.
The dropship suddenly began to rumble as it made contact with the planet's atmosphere. With a series of deft motions, the pilot compensated for the turbulence and the shaking began to calm. "One minute to landing," he announced.
"Pilot, open the intercom," 'Xytamee ordered.
"Yes, Commander."
"Warriors!" 'Xytamee bellowed. "We will be on the ground in less than a minute. See to it that you are prepared for combat! The filthy Humans dare to pollute the relics of the Gods with their presence. We will show them the price they pay for their sacrilege! Be ruthless, show the vermin no mercy, for they deserve none! We will grind them into dust, scrape them off like the excrement from our boots! And remember, if you fall in battle today, you will die with honor, your feet squarely set along the Path of the Journey!"
A chorus of affirmative roars reverberated through the vessel's tight quarters. "Side by side we march along the Path! We will uphold the sacred Covenant to our dying breath!"
The dropship lurched to the right to avoid a stream of bullets. Antiaircraft guns. A Seraph guarding their flank took several of the rounds head-on and erupted into a fiery ball of plasma. The debris collided with another Seraph in formation, causing it to tumble wildly out of sight. A Spirit dropship off their starboard side suffered a similar fate. The primitive projectiles speared through the cockpit and sent the aircraft spiraling towards the ground.
"Entering range of their anti-air weaponry," reported the pilot.
'Xytamee tensed somewhat. This was the part of combat he despised the most. Flying helpless in the sky, at the mercy of the enemy below, and trusting his life in the hands of a pilot. With his feet on the ground, the Commander could handle almost any situation. But here, in the air, there was not much else he could do but hold on and pray. Which was precisely what he did.
Down below, formations of Banshees were lining up strafing runs against the anti-air guns. Although picked off in twos and threes, they managed to reduce two stations into molten slag with their mounted fuel rod cannons. The resulting gap in the Human air defenses gave 'Xytamee's Spirit enough berth to squeeze though the nearly solid wall of bullets. Several other dropships followed suit, but one did not act swiftly enough. The craft took multiple rounds through its hull, likely killing the occupants in the holding bay. Listing over to the left, it took the full force of a large metal slug and exploded.
'Xytamee released the breath he had been holding. He was meant to fight this battle today. With the destruction of at least two Spirits, his strike team had lost a significant number of Unggoy and Kig-Yar, but they would have to make do.
"Making my approach now. After you and your team disembark, I will provide covering fire for as long as I can. Good luck, Commander."
"Thank you, brother," 'Xytamee said, placing his hand on the pilot's shoulder.
"Opening holding bay doors in ten seconds."
The Commander maneuvered his way out of the cockpit and into the starboard holding bay, making sure his plasma rifle and sword were secured to his armor. Mechanical whirring accompanied the opening of the doors, revealing the expanse of the holy site before them. The Luminary's readings did not give justice to the expanse of the ruins. Metallic structures were strewn about as far as the eye could see, each one a potential treasure trove of relics. And each one likely with their own hive of Humans. A large, cave-like opening hung in the distance. His holographic display confirmed that this was where the densest readings were.
The vermin were alerted to their presence. Small arms fire, originating from an outpost at the top of a nearby hill, pinged uselessly off the Spirit's hull. Despite the primitive nature of their projectile weapons, concentrated fire from higher caliber weapons and explosives could potentially spell doom for their dropship. It was time to move.
"Warriors, disembark and find cover!" 'Xytamee ordered, igniting his energy sword before leaping from the open holding bay. The rest of the Sangheili followed suit, unleashing a fearsome war cry as they hit the dirt and charged forward. Shields flared as Human bullets found their mark, but inflicting no damage. Karo 'Xytamee and his elite team of warriors advanced fearlessly, towards the enemy's position. One step closer to reclaiming this world's holy relics.
[hr]
Captain Barret reached the
Intervention's bridge after a frantic sprint. Tyr was already there, dictating information to the bridge crew in the Captain's absence.
"Glad you could make it, Captain," the AI greeted dryly.
"Pleasure's all mine," Barret retorted. "What's our status?"
The bridge's weapons officer, Ensign James Dorman, chimed in. "Sir, MAC gun is online and charging. Currently at 57 percent, charging at three percent per second. Archer missile pods are on standby. Point-defense turrets are also on standby."
Barret clasped his hands behind his back. "Excellent. Ensign Hall, put us in position over the drop zone. Once the ODSTs have been deployed, we need to assist the rest of the fleet."
The helmsman nodded affirmatively. "Aye, sir," she replied. Her slender fingers were already busy at work, entering in commands in tandem with Tyr's calculations.
Barret had given the ODSTs ten minutes to be prepared. The
Intervention would be in position to drop the soldiers just in time. The scientists needed to be extracted, and ASAP.
The Captain cleared his throat. "Tyr, open the intercom in the armory."
"Yes, Captain"
[hr]
Virgil reached the armory after a brisk walk. He would have ran, if it weren't for the frantic traffic of crewman scrambling to their battle stations clogging the halls. After reaching the armory, he was quickly suited. He then donned his helmet and did a quick test of its VISR system. The other ODSTs in the room gained green-colored outlines, indicating friendly forces. Their weapons and equipment were outlined in a faint blue. Satisfied, he switched off the VISR.
Virgil then reached for his BR55 on the weapons rack amd slapped a magazine into it, yanking the charging handle and engaging the safety. His sidearm was quickly loaded as well and placed into its holster. As he was strapping grenades and spare ammo to his suit, Captain Barret's distinctive voice came over the intercom.
"Helljumpers, I repeat myself when I say that I hate sending you into situations where I don't have intel, but I guess I have to do it again. What I can tell you now is that we have confirmed Covenant presence on the surface of Tobin, and they're closing in on the scientists in the ruins. Your objective remains the same. Extract them, and damage as much of the ruins as you can. We can't let the Covenant get what they came here for. Tyr will be updating you with data as soon as we have it. Good luck, Barret out."
Virgil grumbled. The continued lack of specifics was beginning to strike a nerve with him. '
The Captain's excuse better be good'. He polarized his visor and rested his rifle against his shoulder. "Mount up, people! We're going in hard and fast, and I'd rather not be late. Maybe after this is over we'll find out what the hell's going on out here. But for now, we got people to extract and some real estate to deny. Get in your pods and let's give 'em hell."
The drop pods were situated in a room not far from the armory. Each one had a name engraved on the hull. Virgil strolled down until he found the one labeled
. He backed into the pod and relaxed into the seat. After strapping himself and his gear securely, the door to the pod closed, sealing the trooper inside. Despite going through the routine so many times before, the moments before a drop were always the most agonizing. He gripped the handles tightly as the pod turned around and positioned itself over the drop area. In the corner of his HUD, a timer began ticking down from 30 seconds.
It was ODST custom that the soldier in command drop first, a custom that Virgil proudly carried on. He, like many other squad leaders, preferred to lead by example. Set a precedent for the men and women under his command to follow. It was good to remind them that the people in charge of them were being exposed to the same dangers as they were. It also served a practical purpose. In a combat situation, it was a necessity that Virgil organize the squad as quickly as possible to assess the situation and move forward.
Virgil gripped the handles tighter and prepared himself for the inevitable kick of the propulsion charge.
The last seconds seemed mock him in their sloth.
"We drop feet first into Hell! Oorah!"
The charge detonated with a muted
thud, propelling the pod out of the bay and hurtling down towards Tobin's surface. Adrenaline pumped through Virgil's system as his stomach lurched upward, filling him with the sickening feeling of free-fall. Thrusters kicked in, causing the pod to accelerate forward ahead of the rest of the pack. It began to shake violently as the friction began peeling away at its protective ceramic skin. Virgil preferred not to dwell on the fact that the skin was the only thing keeping him from cooking alive in the pod.
"Echo Actual beginning descent."
'
Here's hoping it holds'.
