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Archaic Incursion: Prologue: Part II: Outmanned, Outgunned, Outnumbered
Posted By: CoLd BlooDed and Nick Kang<broken_lizard12@hotmail.com, rappa092000@yahoo.com>
Date: 18 November 2004, 1:22 AM
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CoLd BlooDed
Archaic Incursion: Prologue: Part II: Outmanned, Outgunned, Outnumbered
Tenth Cycle, 21 Units (Covenant Battle Calendar)/ Aboard Covenant Boarding Craft, Cygni A System, heading for Human Carrier.
The boarding pod rocked unsteadily on a patch of turbulence, sending a Grunt down to the floor with a squeal. The craft rumbled again, and then the ride smoothed out and continued for its destination.
The Special Operations Elite in the back of the purple vessel, Trii 'Remoramee, lived for this sort of lifestyle. The team that belonged to him was highly trained, each soldier different... special; unique. That's why he had been chosen by the Prophet of High Reverence. The Prophet had chosen Trii to lead his soldiers to victory—and the SpecOps Commander would not disappoint.
His troops—two Elites, four Grunts, three Jackals, and two bulky, but loyal, Hunters—stood in rows of their own kind, silent, unmoving, unafraid. Trii was as proud as a born leader could be. Nothing could separate him from his men, nothing except death—something that would claim every life aboard this ship, one way or another, sooner or later.
The boarding ship hit a rougher trace of turbulence, and 'Remoramee consulted with the holo-panels flickering in a blue wake of color, his outstretched hand prodded the solid-like feel of energy. A screen came up indicating the crafts programmed coordinates, they flashed red on the abdomen of the massive human ship—which was a scanned, but accurate, diagram. Another display within the holo-panel showed the aft camera—the colossal sparkling blue Forerunner planet marked itself upon the view; beaches, islands, and forests indiscernible among the zoomed-in image. With a simple tap from his armored finger, the picture changed to the fore cameras. The flickering spectacle excited the SpecOps Commander immediately—he grinned ferociously.
Long fingers of cerulean-colored plasma traced itself along the hull of the large human Carrier, fired from Covenant warships off-camera. Hundreds of boarding ships came from all directions, some intercepting human missiles and exploding, clearing a safe path for others to venture through. Large, gaping mouths of smoke exhausted from floating wreckage, which was spinning, distorted, and bent.
There were three human ships in total, but the Carrier was the largest of them. On the other hand, it didn't supply the heaviest weaponry, opposed to the other two warships which were heavily laden with thick armor; massive armaments; and large, circular aft thrusters. They would be gone in due time, though.
"Excellency," one of the Grunts, Klakaw, turned to him, his black-armored body reflecting the dim purple lights installed into the curved ceiling of the boarding craft.
"What is it, Klakaw?" Trii asked distractedly, his face not turning to meet the lesser. His armored hands skimmed the holo-panel again, evaluating the schematics of the traveling space vessel—everything was untouched; no scratches, no dents, nothing to worry about entirely. They just needed to get to the ship and the team would work their magic.
"Well, I was merely wondering, is this invasion of the infidels' ships going to be enough to stop them from bringing their worthless civilization to the surface?" the Covenant SpecOps soldier continued to look at the team leader, his eyes cold with curiosity above his breathing apparatus—'Remoramee did his best to not greet those eyes with his own, he did not want to become vulnerable to the sick sensation which was sympathy. These troops, although his own, were expendable, and he'd send them to their deaths at the point of a finger if necessary—but, he'd also rather fight alongside a trained group of soldiers much more than he would with an amateur team... or by himself. He pondered the answer to Klakaw's question for meager moments; and then replied, still not looking at the lesser.
"If we succeed in our mission, that involving the death of their captains, then they won't have even have touched the surface before we're done with them." the Elite Commander said respectively, then slowly, he spoke. "We are the Covenant, we're stronger, and we win— no matter what the cost."
Klakaw looked unhappy with this answer, but came up with a "Yes, Excellency." and turned around again, not communicating with his peers because he wasn't permitted to. It was a weakness, Trii had taught them, if one needed to talk to commune; a silly rule, perhaps, to the untrained mind, but a strict and expectant rule to an expert—signals were the key to squad communication, but talking was tolerable for certain exceptions.
The holo-panel beeped, one low tone and one high, and Trii glanced at the screen. A mess of colorful Covenant characters appeared—red, purple, blue, green—all easily viable to the SpecOp Commanders eyes. They indicated that only one hundred meters (which was rapidly decreasing) left until they reached the human Carrier, which 'Remoramee had found out was named "Sank-chin", it was a hard word to pronounce for the Covenant leader.
There was another rumble that went pronounced among the boarding craft, making it seem as though it was merely an aircraft skimming the fields of an open plain, Trii didn't let his knees buckle as the turbulence got heavier.
"We let the Prophets Decree guide us." the Special Operations leader said patriotically, "Don't stray from the path."
And with that statement, the boarding craft groaned and came to a stop—the Covenant infiltration team fell silent. They had arrived at their given destination.
Time to kill.
The charges set into boarding ships doors exploded, sending the human ones on the other side to the other end of the airlocks hallway. Trii watched his team file out into the filtered light.
1037 hours, September 25, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ Aboard UNSC Carrier, Sanction, in the bridge, Covenant controlled sector, closing in on blue planet.
Captain Jim Prollis stood with his hands behind his back, concerned with how the situation was going. There was no ring, Intel had proved false, but there was a planet. Did they dare land on it? Would it hold those horrible creatures shown in the clip on Halo 04? They were carrying so many people on this ship... it would be a shame to let their lives go to waste, he could always escape from this massive Covenant-controlled space vector and report back to Earth... but what would the Admirals think of him then?
"Damocles, analyze the atmosphere to that planet. I need to know if it's suitable for us to land on."
The flickering green AI flashed a dull blue, faint white digits scrolling along its holographic body. Damocles didn't even have to wait more than five seconds to give a response.
"Like Halo's atmosphere—which Cortana scanned before landing with the rest of the crew from the Pillar of Autumn—this planet has a sufficient supply of oxygen and nitrogen; technically equal to that of Earth." Damocles returned to his calm green stature and turned away from the glass view screen to face Prollis. "Shall we begin an evacuation of the ship?"
"Not yet," the Captain replied easily, almost routinely, "not until things get hot. We're just getting lukewarm."
"Acknowledged, Captain. However, I suggest a scan of the entire system to see how many Covenant battleships are in the sector orbiting the planet."
"You can try," Jim responded, moving to check on how a nearby technician was doing with his tasks. Red warning lights flashed blatantly in the captains' face. "But I think we're going to engage these ships before we are able to calculate how many CCS battle-groups there are in this area."
Damocles merely nodded, thinking, when a technician called to Prollis.
"Captain, a transmission is coming through for you from one of the other ships... do you wish to receive?"
"Let it through, Walters."
"Aye, aye, sir."
A large image grew onto one of the main view screens, pixilated, and focused in on the shadowy shape. Then it brightened, revealing none other than the Hiroshima's Captain McDonald.
"We're waiting for our orders to attack." the man said respectively to Prollis, "What do you want us to do? Shall we return back to Earth?"
"Standby—we need accurate readings of those ships before we attack. However, if worse comes to worse, we can land on that planet; Damocles scrutinized the atmosphere already, it's perfect for us. We're not going back to Earth—Halo or no Halo, we're going to find something on this operation worth showing to the UNSC and ONI."
"Roger, sir—"
An expected explosion from the background of the camera, the lights faltered in the picture, and then reddened, making McDonalds face look strangely like a smooth orange. Prollis took action.
"McDonald! Are you alright?"
"We've taken a hit to the thrusters..." he huffed angrily, as if in pain. "Requesting permission to return fire!"
"Permission granted, Captain." Prollis said, not looking near as excited as he felt. "Relay the order of attack to the Blitzkrieg. I want you to find the weak spots of the ships and use MAC rounds to pulverize them."
"Acknowledged, Prollis," McDonald spoke, his moustache (which Jim just noticed onscreen) synchronized with his lips. "Over and out."
The screen went blank, leaving the Captain of the Sanction to ponder on his battle tactics. He wasn't exactly the best tactician, but he knew how to lead into a fight determined and unafraid. Fear was for the weak, and he needed to concentrate at all times—fear made you faulty and disaster-prone.
"Captain, I suggest you move towards the planet while the Hiroshima and Blitzkrieg cover you. We are carrying the most important equipment and people, after all—it'd be much better if we made it to the surface. There's a low probability for the survival of the other two ships."
"You've calculated this?"
"Affirmative, Captain."
"Don't focus on the negative—we can beat the facts and electronic devices, it's my right to make sure these people survive." Jim knew this wasn't true, but his effort would not go unnoticed. "We'll attack together before they know we're actually here. Remember—we have stealth technology integrated into our ships, half the ships here don't know that we occupy the system. McDonald, on the other hand, has been discovered, but it's most likely this ship hasn't been discovered. So we're going to give them a little surprise. Damocles..."
"Yes, Captain?"
"Charge the triple MAC cannons to 100%, we have plenty of time to surprise them—then I want you to take a reading of the largest ship here and inform me when you've done so. Find a weakness if possible."
"Aye, Captain, charging." Damocles eyes shifted rapidly as if reading an invisible document. "I've analyzed the largest vessel, a CCS-class Flagship, and found a frailty in the hull near the substitutes they use as generators. Thinner shields. It would trigger an explosion as soon as a MAC round impacted through the weakness in the metal, destroying the Covenant warship immediately. I've also analyzed that this is the vessel that is currently targeting the Hiroshima. I suggest we take action, Prollis."
"What percentage are the cannons at?"
"The first two are at 71%, but the third has sustained some damage over the trip through slipspace. I'm surmising the damage was from a traveling asteroid or comet that impacted into the MAC. It's unusable."
"Your guess is as good as mine, Damocles." He turned to the massive bridge window and said: "Now, I want you to target that hull fragility and fire once the two MACs are fully charged."
"Aye, sir."
Moments passed as plasma flew by the on the view screens, fired by the Seraphs that zipped around quickly in space. Stars—bright and faint—littered the black sky behind the massive blue world in front of them. A glittering haze shone off the planets surface and reflected the light from the nearby sun, creating a beautiful portrait in Prollis' mind that would be kept for years to come. He sighed, wishing for that moment to be back at home, when the Sanction rumbled tremendously. The viewscreens flashed red, and the captain witnessed a lance of searing hot energy burst forth from the cannons, then, with incredible speed, impact into the hull of the nearest Covenant capital ship; it lit up, electrical lines surging back and forth across the invisible barrier which protected it. The second MAC round fired, bypassing the shattered shield system and crippling the enemy vessel within seconds. Fires exploded from the crushed mainframe, atmosphere vented violently in an array of dark colors, shapes drifted aimlessly across the massive puncture, and the Captain of the Sanction felt a vague triumph.
"Good work—" Prollis began, but was cut off by a distant explosion; a bright yellow hue lit up the bridge, and something started to beep incessantly. "Damocles, report!"
"Analyzing..." the Sanction's AI said distractedly, then, once finished, turned to the Captain. He spoke gravely: "We've lost the Hiroshima."
"Already?" Prollis reflected on all the lives lost on that one ship, which seconds ago was a fully operational machine; a machine that took years to create and moments to destroy. "Damnit..."
"And on that note," Damocles stated clearly, his mechanized voice emerging over all the activity in the bridge, "the Blitzkrieg's hull stands at a healthy 74-percent; however, I don't think there's a good chance that both ships will escape alive—there are too many Covenant warships. Plus..."
"Plus what?"
"There are hostiles in the ship."
"Goddamnit!" he snarled, leaning towards the microphone; into it he spoke: "Radar shows incoming internal contacts, standby to defend boundaries. Combat teams, reform to nearest airlocks, decks four to six; you've got company."
Prollis buried his face in his hands, sighing frustratingly; hiding from the fact that he and his massive crew were screwed.
1120 hours, September 25, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ Aboard UNSC Carrier, Sanction, Guard Quarters, Outer Halls.
"Don't you think this whole thing is a bit quick? I mean, we don't even know what we're up against!" exclaimed Greg, holding his SMG against his shoulder-blade.
"I heard we're not even landing on a Halo... but some unchartered, backwater planet." Jessica, the female Marine said smoothly, her hands rested on her slender hips, she smiled. "Prollis is really taking a risk getting us down there."
The First Sergeant—Tony "Godfather" Fanguchi—spoke up, giving his two cents as he always did; whether he was being strict or relaxed, Greg knew, the Sergeant was always right.
"Don't even think of badmouthin' the Captain, Daniels, he'll get us out of this mess in a fix." He winked at her, jokingly, and turned to face the rest of his troops, "Don't underestimate Prollis; he knows what he's doing."
One of the weightier Marines stepped forward, an M9 HE-DP Fragmentation grenade clutched in his fingers, it being tossed from hand to hand. "One of them ONI spooks onboard saw what was happening on the bridge... they said it was Hell up there... explosions left and right... I think we've even lost one of our Cruisers to the hundreds of Covenant bastards out there."
The Italian First Sergeant was about to respond, but a bright flare of red and a familiar voice cut him off.
"Radar shows incoming internal contacts, standby to defend boundaries. Combat teams, reform to nearest airlock, decks four to six; you've got company."
Fire Team Foxtrot sprung into immediate action, being on the fifth level. Fanguchi began shouting out specific commands to his soldiers, "Lock and load! Keep your fingers on your triggers! Take out anything that isn't Human!" He paused, a flashing red light down the dim hallway, outlining his shadowed silhouette in a slash of crimson. "Follow me."
The five soldiers of Foxtrot trampled down the hall along with many other Marines, ready to take on anything that opposed them.
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