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0500 Zulu September 4, 2563
900,000 km outside Tacyon System
UNSC Necromancer

      Second Lieutenant Jack Madison awoke peacefully via neural stimuli after roughly 6 hours of sleep. 'Damn,' he thought, 'I was banking on having at least eight hours. They must have some serious work needs doing.' Ever since the last campaign the Foxtrot battle group had fought in, they seemed to be running short of everything from toothpicks to MAC rounds, and especially skilled personnel. Plus, over 50% of the fleet had damage of one kind or another, and many were critically hurt. The Marine and Army troopers had been shuttled from their amphibious ships to places like the Necromancer. Mainly they had done little things, such as spot welds, and the clearing of debris, but those with civilian maintenance backgrounds were asked to do complex stuff, such as reactor repair, or weapons systems diagnostics that the AIs were just too busy to do. And considering the "brain" power of an AI, that meant that there was a major amount of things to do.

      Lt. Madison was on his way to form the squad for some PT drills, then some early morning strength training, and finally, a few hours at the shooting range. His squad of Delta Force Recon was cleared of work detail duty because they were elite, and a part of the preciously small remains of a once powerful UNSC Armed Forces. Not only were casualties becoming astronomical, but populations were at an all time low, as was recruitment. Earth had been hit twice, hard. But the UNSC had reached deep and pulled out the power to retake most of the Inner Colonies, and a handful of the Outer Colonies. The population had rebounded, but it was still below the norm. It seemed to be a stalemate now, with both sides fortifying their territory heavily, and occasionally coming out from behind their defenses to slug it out in 'No-Man's-Land', a small arc of systems which no side had the strength to take and hold. And so time passed, and the human race grew stronger on a daily basis. But sometimes it was not enough, and people still died, and ships still blew up faster than they could be replaced.

      But at least it was improving, somewhat. Weapons and technology once available only to elite units like Jack's and SPARTANs were finally entering large production. Things such as the PWS-134, which fired 20mm air burst explosive shells and contained a computer link to the helmet of a soldier, and a laser range finder, which fed target data to the computer. The microchips in the helmet would then feed that back to the nano chip inside the individual bullets, telling them at what range to detonate. When the weapon was fired, the 20mm shells would be spit out at a rate of 300 rpm (rounds per minute), decimating anything in it's path. Jack had used one of them, and was immediately hooked. And because of it's miniscule alloy weight, he could still carry more traditional weapons as well as a sidearm and grenades. He went nowhere without it, even on the ship.

      Another big improvement was the newly integrated sights and body armor. All UNSC troops now recieved armor as close to low level MJOLNIR as possible for non-SPARTANs. They lacked shielding, but contained a full faceplate, neural implant, and access to a company based AI at all times, although it wouldn't be the same as having one for yourself. The armor was coated with the same plasma dissipating layer as the first generation MJOLNIR. The weapons and even grenade sights now were displayed on the Heads Up Display inside the helmet. Computer uplinks would take data for every type of UNSC weapon in service, even custom jobs, and alter the recticle accordingly. The helmetbound computer also factored in range, wind resistance, air pressure, muzzle velocity, round size, gravity, and barrel droop, as tended to happen with a hot barrel. The sights were so advanced, plus the new PWS-134, that all one had to do to hit a target was to put the recticle on the target and pull the trigger. However, Jack's squad still did weapons training daily, with and without the helmet mounted recticles. Because machines could and did break. Often.

      While he mulled this over in his mind, he entered Muster Area B6, his assigned company muster area. His 14 member squad were the only ones in this room, however, because most of the company was spread out over the ship, training or drilling, or still asleep in their barracks. As soon as he walked through the threshold, he was greeted by howls and catcalls from his troopers.

      First, there was his great friend, Assault Expert, and Team-2 leader, Staff Sergeant Tony D'angelo, known as Daga, or Greasy Tony, and sometimes just Grease. His call sign was "Knight", and he acted like it was his holy testament. He bought in to honor and loyalty like a 20th century capo in some Mafia, and hated the Covenant with a passion rivaled by few. He often carried 2 SMG-900s in thigh holsters, a PWS-134, an 8-guage gas- operated, magazine fed assault shotgun, called an MK9D (known as the "Big Mak"), and an assortment of pistols. He swore colorfully under his breath in Italian in every engagement, without noticing it.

      Next there was Specialist Alicia Boggs, the Team-1 sniper. She was a beautiful woman, with curves and bulges in all the right places, but she had eyes of blued gun steel, and would not hesitate to pull the trigger. She and Jack had had a long time attraction, and had actually dated for a short period of time in their first assignment in the regular Marines. She had been his first choice for his handpicked squad, preceding even D'aga. What resulted was a sexual and romantic tension between the two so thick as to deflect a bullet. However, their relationship allowed them to predict each other's actions with an uncanny air of psyche. Call sign "Contrail".

      Also there was Specialist Hitoshi Mishimitsu, a 5' 6" Asian man, call sign "Yoshi". The man was a stealth specialist, and belonged to neither team. He also fit the stereotypical description of a ninja like his Nomex Stealth/Infiltration suit. Short, thin, agile, and surprisingly strong for his build, he often carried one 90 cm full tang katana blackened titanium blade, one 65 cm full tang wakisashi blackened titanium blade, several throwing knives, a silenced MA2B assault rifle, and 2 M9C silenced pistols. He was a very quiet man in person, and deplored conversation. He often got into trouble by trying to rely too much on himself, instead of asking for assistance.

      Lance Corporal Henderson Greene was Team-1's demolitions man, and carried loads of C-12 and Semtex into battle, along with a fully automatic 40mm grenade launcher, 2 SMG-900s, and an M23 SSR Rocket Launcher, which, when combined with the M403 guidance package, could be turned into a heat seeking missile launcher. He was a 6' 8", 260 lb. black man, with a jolly disposition, who often could be observing laughing out loud while blowing hordes of onrushing enemy troops to smithereens. Call sign "Bam Bam".

      His prodigal protege, Corporal Will Jameson followed in Greene's footsteps, "Pebbles" was highly deadly. He used the older weapons, such as the MA5K, an old MA5B AR modified with a 350 round drum magazine, a longer barrel, and upgraded sights. Also, he used the near ancient M19 SSR SPNKr Rocket Launcher as his heavy weapon of choice. He too carried mass quantities of explosives, and his armor was modified to be heat resistant, in case he screwed up. This was a point of humor throughout the oversized squad.

      The Team-2 Sniper was none other than Jack's own younger brother, Alex Kelly, call sign "Kid Brother". He was constantly trying to match the skills of Alicia, who was quite a bit more experienced than him. However, this competitiveness drove him to perform above what most believed to be a near perfect shot. He was beginning to breath down Alicia's neck in battallion match shoots, and he also had a huge, obvious crush on the next member of the squad, Janey Hatfield.

      Specialist Janey Hatfield, call sign "Hot Lips", was arguably more attarctive than Alicia. She was more curvy, and much warmer than Alicia, and was not slow to show it. Many believed her to be a flirt, but behind her ample bosom, and soft brown eyes, lay a warrior spirit, which came out rather quickly in high pressure situations. She was an assaulter, carrying a PWS-134, an MA11 Battle Rifle, several pistols, and a 14 cm combat knife. She was crazy about Alex, but would never show it, for it was too much fun to tease him with an almost peek here, an almost glimpse there.

      Corporal Joe Henter was a Team-2 assaulter, and carried a load identical to Specialist Hatfield. His call sign was "Chains", because he was married, and he was teased about being "chained down" by a single girl, but he payed it no mind. He was unknowingly of British descent, and very proper about everything, down to the last syntax of his decievingly charming British accent. He carried a PWS-134, several pistols, a single SMG-900I, along with radio equipment. He carried the hyperwave radio communicator, which allowed him to communicate with ships in orbit from a planet's suface, and also at extreme ranges. This allowed him to speak with FLEETCOM HQ on the newly retaken Reach.

      Lance Corporal Eddie Price was a capable assaulter, but a magician with field medicine, and Team-1's medic. He carried a standard PWS-134, plus a pistol and a wicked looking combat knife, a full 20 cm of carbide steel, only a single theoretical "rung" below diamond hardness, and about as expensive. He used this massive knife in everything from combat to opening a crate of ammo, or an MRE-I package, to cutting clothing or debris from a wounded soldier. Call sign "Knife", he was always up at the front of everything. He could hold his own as a marksman, knife fighter, of in hand-to-hand combat, but deplored violence. He was as close to a conscientious objector as a badass Spec. Ops Marine could be, but no pussy. If you made any comment like that around him, you did so at risk of your life. But he would rather heal you than harm you, and everyone who had ever "gone under The Knife" had survived. Price had never lost a soldier in his care.

      His Team-2 counterpart was an Aryan giant by the name of Franz Fritz. The man was almost the exact opposite of Price. He enjoyed firing automatic weapons until his hands went numb, preferably into the carcasses of a Covenant soldier. He didn't enjoy medicine, but it made him feel useful, and he was crisply efficient at it. He carried the basic load of a medic: BioFoam, gauze, blood plasma sacks, and a field surgery kit, but his weapons were unique. He carried two vamped up MA5Bs, an MK9D, two M0R Magnum Load pistols, and a carbide titanium shortsword, modeled after an ancient Roman gladius. However, this metal was created from negatively charged titanium molecules, and would actually be able to deflect a blow from a Covenant plasma sword. While dueling would be out of the question, it had saved his neck plenty of times to warrant the high cost of the blade. Call sign "Germ".

      Rounding out the squad's heavy weapons aspect were the Russian twins, Vanya and Andreyev Kosovskiya. Both were heavy weapons specialists of powerful builds. They were of average height, though both weighed nearly 250 pounds, all muscle. Vanya preferred a Vulcan Mk. 99 rotary cannon, with a bore size of 35 mm, as well as a PWS-134, an MK9D, several M0R Magnum Load pistols, and a titanium sickle. Andreyev was partial to a 40mm autocannon, a PWS-134, an MA11 Battle Rifle, and 2 SMG-900Is, as well as a massive titanium warhammer. Apparently, the twins had done some research on their homeland, Mother Russia, and found an old Soviet Union flag. Before battle, Vanya would cross his sickle with Andreyev's hammer and shout 'Mother Russia!', and then share hearty laughs. Call signs "Comrade" (Vanya) and "Bear" (Andreyev).

      The last man in the squad was another non team-specific trooper. He was a recon specialist, who worked as the eyes of the unit. He was a Hispanic man of Colombian descent. Juan Domingo Martinique was quick tempered, passionate, and intelligent, but fiercely loyal and easy to be friends with, but hard to be an enemy to. Dom, as his friends called him, held grudges for the length of his life, and forgot nothing. He was quick to speak his mind, and even quicker to back up his words with action. He loved firearms and weapons of any kind, make, or design, and was something of an expert on classic antiques and new prototypes. His intense hate of the Covenant did not stop him from marveling over their designs and ingenius mechanisms, either. He would usually carry a semi-auto 10-guage shotgun of custom make, two SMG-900Is, and two Beretta M1s. These were classic remakes of the ancient weapon, with improved ammunition, grip, alloy construction, and recoil absorbers. These were his babies, and he carried silencers for them, just in case he needed to drop someone or something quietly. But, since these affected the power and accuracy of the guns, he often neglected them. Call sign "Loco".


      Finally, there was himself. John Patrick Kelly. Of Irish background, Jack was the most capable soldier in the group. He was an average sniper, having hunted game all of his life, and he could handle a rocket or grenade launcher, but he was a wizard of small arms. He could hit anything at any range, with no computer aid. He was a brilliant strategist behind his emerald green eyes, and had an IQ of over 175. He carried a PWS-134, as well as two M0R Magnum Load pistols, and an authentic-looking KA-BAR knife, of blackened titanium carbide alloy. It had a full 18 cm blade, with a deep blood channel and reinforced wristguard. But his most curious weapon was an odd looking rifle. It looked big enough to be a sniper rifle, but lacked the scope. It was an SRsk75, a Slavic looking weapon, with visible traces of the ancient AK-47s of the 20th and early 21st centuries. It had an extremely long range, and when combined with the infrared/gamma/low light sighting capabilities and laser rangefinder of his new helmet, it was lethally efficient. The big gun could strip the shielding from an Elite in three shots, and kill it with another, sometimes two, but only on one of Jack's bad days. And he rarely had one.

      Jack had first been a regular Marine, in the same unit as Alicia. But he was quickly promoted and sent to ODST school to get his "silver shuttle" badge, making him a drop certified killing machine. He eventually rose to command a platoon of Helljumpers, and was recruited by Delta Force as a squad second in command, a master sergeant. Once in Delta, he was rapidly promoted to second lietenant after only one campaign, and was sent to the Delta Force Recon division, the 97th. He was now the elite of the elite of the elite, and given the choice of his squad. Most of the troopers under his command he had known at one time or another. Alicia had been in his first unit, he and D'Angelo had been friends since high school, and he had met Hitoshi while on a mission in which ONI was riding shotgun. Hitoshi had been the operative that they were ordered to extract, and a friendship had been struck instantly in that barren desert world. He had known his brother Alex, of course, from birth. Janey Hatfield, Eddie Price, the twins, and Domingo Martinique had been his Helljumpers, and Franz Fritz and Joe Henter had been part of his Delta squad. He had led this squad for several months now, taking zero losses whatsoever, and the worst injury was a torn ACL ligament in Dom's knee after falling into a 5 meter deep ravine, because he had lost his footing on a loose pile of shale.

      Jack's troops often operated hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers away from the nearest UNSC combat personnel, so support or reinforcement were out of the question, as was speedy extraction or air support. The only things they had were what they brought with them, and if they didn't have it, they had to improvise. There was no walking down to Requisitions and ordering a new one. But, sometimes they were part of a large offensive, with all of that at their disposal. However, even then they rarely took advantage of it, because theywere used to not having it, and they usually didn't know what to do with it. Their normal objective was to infiltrate without detection, and then annihilate an unalert enemy with extreme prejudice, and then to slip away again. They never took prisoners to be deported back to a UNSC prison; they took hostages, and would use them for information, or as a forced guide, and then execute them. They gave no mercy not because they were cold and heartless, but because they all knew that they would be given none. Their reputation was as great as a SPARTAN's, and they had killed every type of Covenant imaginable. They had killed minor prophets, one major one, engineers, Elites, Brutes, Hunters, Jackals, Grunts, and even an AI or two with their intrusion software. If they were captured or cornered, they would be slaughtered to the last. With this in mind, they always went into battle with a ferocity matched by few and feared by all. This is their story.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next installment! Sorry about the length of this one, it's a monster. But, I was reading through it and I realized that I couldn't break any of it up, it would end up sucking. As it is, it's still not complete. I was hoping to get in their drilling and such, but then I did a quick word count, and realized that I needed to end this pretty quickly. But, in the future, don't expect them to be so long. And you might have to wait a week or so for the next one, as school work is piling up, and baseball season is starting in a day or so. Wish me luck! Thanks again, and I will clear up questions about the title and the series on the comment page. Gotta go jam to some AC/DC and Metallica, now so rock on! m/m/

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