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IONCLAD: Second Prelude (last section)
Posted By: Capo Rip<oscar.archer@adelaide.edu.au>
Date: 18 December 2003, 12:39 PM
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1910 Hours PLT, July 22, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Hamilton Agricultural Sector A, Formalhaut I
Night seemed to be falling early, and great spotlights shone from the belly of the Ionclad down upon the corner of the bloodied field on the outskirts of Hamilton. Multiple shadows followed a number of marines around as they ferried policed Covenant ordnance and supplies from the city up into the main aft hatch. Most of the soldiers were already stood down, many getting chow and some even accepting the Master Sergeant's offer of a few hours sleep in the ship's cramped berths. Two teams had been detached, though, once the survivors had been found.
As it had transpired, the surprise Covenant reinforcements were in fact the search parties that had been hunting a shabby yet elusive resistance force that was hiding in the cave and mine-shaft network in the northern hills. They had been comprised of the remaining eight marines from what had become Fort Vengeance and nearly one-hundred and ninety able-bodied civilians, and children, without communications gear and only improvised weapons, yet had unwittingly caused a near-perfect diversion before dawn via a guerilla infiltration and bombing of a large supply cache. The fighters had evaded the pursuit all day until the sounds of Banshees, Ghosts and Grunt patrols had abruptly abated. They had just regrouped and decided to see what was happening when the MAC round explosion had echoed up into the hills.
Captain Ffrench had dispatched the Almagest's complement of Pelicans as soon as Spartan-111 had reported contact with the survivors. The evacuation had proceeded through to dusk. One dropship had remained dirtside; fireteam Echo, along with Doctor Benner and Turing had flown to the waterbound Covenant vessel following careful reconnaissance. It was hoped that analysis by the Construct would yield data immediately pertinent to the Ionclad's defensive systems - along with other information of interest to the UNSC.
Lloyd himself, back out of his MJOLNIR suit, stood at the foot of the ramp beside Sophia. The Spartans looked remarkably similar in lightweight standard UNMC camo fatigues (he still in his t-shirt, she in a long-sleeve khaki shirt). They were even the same height, although Sophia's deep brown-haired head was craned downward to examine the dark ink adorning most of her comrade's gigantic bicep.
"'Feet first into hell'... You really went native." She grinned.
He looked past her, brow furrowed beneath the peak of his sergeant's cap. "It turns out there are two sorts of ODSTs. Those that John told us about - we never had a problem with the corps before they jumped him that time. And, these ones. Recruited too late; a bit short, maybe," he met her brown eyes. "But they're more or less just like us."
Lloyd stared into the distance again, in the direction of the thrumming of a Warthog engine. The vehicle, one of the remaining TCVs, rapidly entered the perimeter of illumination and pulled up gently beside the ramp. Corporal Doubet swung himself out from behind the wheel, and Lloyd followed him round the back. Lying between the benches was Wong.
"Thought I'd better send someone to check the wreckage," Lloyd commented, for Wong's benefit. The two men lifted the grimacing pilot out of the tray. Clean white bandage wrapped much of his torso and legs, where Doubet had administered field biofoam and local analgaesics.
Four marines were hurrying down the ramp to take Wong on board. As they loaded him onto the stretcher, Lloyd turned to his corporal.
"Anything else to do, Sarge?"
"Get the team's gear squared away, and check on Heitz. Then get chow."
"Aye, sir." Doubet followed the stretcher bearers up into the ship.
Sophia regarded her fellow. "I know you know there's nowhere near enough room for a platoon on board. Ionclad was never intended for troop deployment."
"Relax," he replied, then sighed. "I'm gonna have to break them up, transfer most of them to the Almagest. Though..." He peered towards the city. "I have a feeling I might want more than just a single team..."
The thrumming of an engine rolled over the battle field and grew closer, a dipping headlight brightening through the night. The Spartan's sight made out an ATV and rider, which presently approached and pulled up behind the Warthog. Lance Corporal Maine immediately cut the power and alighted. The Master Sergeant could already tell that her search had merely confirmed the likely fate of her partner. He regarded her grimly set olive-skinned face, framed by her voluminous brown dreadlocks.
"Harrigan did a damn good job today," he spoke sombrely.
"I know, Sarge."
"So did you."
"How's Rostrevor?" she asked over his statement.
"The ship has an automedic," said Sophia. "He should be fine by now."
"Get inside," Lloyd instructed, "and get some rest."
The soldier started up the ramp, a weary slouch obvious in her step.
"She was close to her team mate?" Sophia asked softly.
"Very close. She can't help but get attached to people, that one. Makes her more determined. Her partner was the same."
Sophia regarded him again, until a private trotted down, brandishing a COM set up at her and saying, "Tango 403 on the horn, ma'am."
She slipped it on. "Report."
"Nearly done over here," said the dropship pilot. "Doc says we've got a complete image of the cruiser's specs. The systems themselves are underwater - do you want Echo to suit up and go down for a look?"
"Negative, we'll leave that for a full survey team from Reach. Bring the boys back, Lieutenant."
"Aye, ma'am." The link closed.
The Spartan returned the set and told the private, "Get Ensign Gillian to warm up the engines. We're getting you off this rock."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."
"Let's go, Lloyd," she said. "Get you settled in."
They strode up into the now cramped cargo bay, making their way between dozens of crates and the gauss gun-mounted Warthog Lloyd had insisted on keeping. Exiting the large room, they took a corridor forwards. Sophia then turned and led Lloyd up a flight of steps.
He knew where the cabins were - in the other direction. He had already stowed his MJOLNIR suit in one. "Where're we going?"
"Got a surprise for you."
They entered the ship's armoury workshop, a well-equiped room considering Ionclad's abbreviated construction schedule. The nearest bench was laid out with maintenance gear along with what was obviously a shotgun, but of a different configuration to the M90. Lloyd gravitated to the weapon, hefting it and examining the stock and the odd cables running from it to various electrical equipment.
"Its a crazy prototype I found on our stop-over," said Sophia. She watched for his reaction. "Some techie's bright idea of using modified Covenant needles as shot. No tracking capability, but they explode after impact. Not much ammo was made for it, but we brought it along out of curiousity."
Lloyd pumped one of the fat shells into the chamber, gripping the slide with obvious anticipation. "Mmm, daddy like."
"Come on."
The man reluctantly set the gun down and followed Sophia, past the benches and machinery, to a very large equipment locker that lined the aft wall.
Sophia unlocked the latch. She winked; words were unnecessary as she pulled the middle doors open.
The Master Sergeant walked forwards. The suits standing within were clearly MJOLNIRs, but they looked somehow bigger and stronger. And newer: they had that pearlescent sheen that Lloyd remembered from decades ago, before he had well and truly worn in his own.
"I stopped over at Chi Ceti IV - since Section Three had diverted us here, and it was on the way," Sophia said from behind him. "Doctor Bennet knew about a new phase of Halsey's MJOLNIR project, to put Covenant shield tech in the Mark V suits. The rest of our class are getting theirs at Reach."
"...Shields?" Lloyd ran fingers across the transparent ablative plate coating. He looked to the side, to the third suit along. Where the other two were iridescent green, this one had been modified to a barely reflective black.
He faced his comrade, comprehending. "We're not going straight to Reach."
She nodded. "One more pickup to make. ONI was very specific regarding its priority."
His eyes glinted. "Perfect."
To Be Continued
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