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This topic has moved here: Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Prologue is up!)
  • Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Prologue is up!)
Subject: [Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Prologue is up!)

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Over the next ten minutes, the thirty Marines and three Pelican pilots arrived at the bay, amassing themselves near their transportation. The planet of Atlas was visible now, its blue seas, dominant land and white clouds almost reminiscent of Earth itself. Some questioned how the Covenant could be so vile as to attack such a beautiful planet, as two other warships jumped out of slipspace near the Perfect Stranger. Admiral Ferguson pulled out a communication link device and hailed the Marathon-class cruiser and the other heavy frigate, the UNSC Leviathan and the UNSC Beyond The Heavens, both responding that their troops were ready to move out.

"Admiral," one of the Marines inquired, "why do we need three warships? Is there Covenant resistance in orbit?"

"According to ONI's surveillance, there is indeed an Assault Carrier orbiting Atlas as we speak. I have a feeling that the Covenant will send backup in once they realize that we're going after this cruiser, so we've rallied as many ships as we could get a hold of out here. Hopefully they'll arrive in time to meet whatever resistance the Covenant summon against our fleet. And it may also distract their efforts in capturing HAUBERK Base, although I wouldn't bet on it. For the mean time, I better get my departure speech over and done with, I'd imagine everyone else is on their way over already."

Seeing everyone so eager for battle gave the Admiral the confidence he needed to crush the fears that lurked beneath. He seemed to change before their eyes, ready to address the brave souls who were to be putting their lives on the line very soon.

"First of all, Marines, you will be split into three teams, Team Alpha, Bravo and Charlie. I will now ask First Sergeant Michael Kearns, Staff Sergeant Craig Baird and Staff Sergeant Paul Radisich to step forward.

As the three men stepped forward, the Admiral continued. "Staff Sergeant Craig Baird will be leader of Team Alpha, First Sergeant Michael Kearns will be leader of Team Bravo, and Staff Sergeant Paul Radisich will be leader of Team Charlie. Kearns is of the highest rank out of the three, so he will be your overall squadron leader on this mission. However, SPARTAN Team Theta will have the final say on Kearns's orders, seeing as they are of a higher rank, and are now in fact officers of the Naval Commission, as I myself am. And you can bet that they'll be the first to meet the Covenant head on when they decide to strike. Now, I ask you that remain to arrange yourselves into three teams of nine. Those on the left, stand with Baird. Those in the middle, you're with Kearns. And those on the right, you're with Radisich."

Proudly, the Marines now stood in teams of ten, to which the Admiral nodded, contempt with the squadron before him. He motioned for the pilots to board the three D77-TC Pelicans, who did so with enthusiasm, yearning to be once again behind the controls of their rugged stallions.

"Alright then, men. You'll be met by an ONI operative when you land, as will all the other troops who land with you. Once escorted inside, you'll be familiarized with all that they deem acceptable for you to know of the base and its surroundings. When the Covenant are detected, you will be alerted, and you will get your asses outside and select a post to guard. We will have hopefully enough troops to cover the whole mountain, for the Leviathan will most likely drop off an abundance of soldiers, possibly somewhere around the 80-90 mark. Each of the landing pads at HAUBERK Base should only allow three Pelicans on, so however many Pelicans the Leviathan sends, a few of them might have to use the landing bay outpost located on Mt. Avon, approximately nine clicks from your current destination."

The Admiral thought he was slightly veering off on a tangent, so stopped for a second, then continued once more, ready to see his men off.

"You will start off on sniper duty. One sniper, one spotter. Team up into pairs down on the mountain where you have more time. If the Covenant make it to within firing range of other weaponry, then let them have it. Do not let them claim that base, Marines. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" was the deafening reply.

"Very good then. You may board the Pelicans now. Alpha to the left, Bravo takes the middle, Charlie on the right. Good luck out there, soldiers. The fates of those men and that base down there now rest on your shoulders. Don't let them down."

With avid determination, the Pelicans' thrusters now fiercely blasted downward, hauling the birds off the ground as all had entered had been seated. Team Theta had split up due to four SPARTANs not being able to stand together in the now cramped space of one Pelican, so Boris and Henry had gone with Team Alpha, and Rodney and Baldemar had gone with Team Bravo. The troops saluted their Admiral as the dropships took off, and Admiral Ferguson returned the salute until their faces were no longer recognizable.

He turned back towards his quarters, still smiling. He believed they had a shot at holding them off. The bland, gray walls sparkled to the Admiral as his confidence still lingered about him. Although it will soon fade, no doubt, he thought. His thoughts then turned to the assault carrier that he and the other two ships would have to take on, and as he communicated with Vice Admiral James Marks of the UNSC Leviathan and Admiral Lindsay McLelland of the UNSC Beyond The Heavens, he was once again ready for battle. On his command, the three UNSC ships moved into formation, preparing to challenge the tyrannical Covenant war vessel that was capable of destroying all three ships with ease.



So, that's the second one out of the way. Please, tell me what you like and don't like about this. I really need some proper criticism on it.

Oh, and I'll be moving in two days, so I probably won't have much time, if any, to get on here. So I'll see you sometime next week, in all likelihood. Stay classy.

  • 08.17.2011 12:42 AM PDT

Very solid and captivating story! I love love love this! Can't wait for the next chapter, and passin on to friends!

  • 08.17.2011 6:32 PM PDT

One Love,
One Tru7h,
One Destiny.


Writer for TheGameFanatics.com

Brilliant as always, Keeps.

  • 08.18.2011 11:43 AM PDT

Bloody brilliant. Very good bloodguard. carry on.

  • 08.20.2011 8:15 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

hay guize

We're officially in our new house! There's still a crapload of stuff to bring here, but we've got the basic essentials done. We're even as far along as to have a computer set up, as you can plainly see for yourself.

No guarantees, as the internet's been a tad buggy, but the third chapter should be up by normal time, two days from now.

And thanks for keeping this alive. Now that I'm back, I'll be sure to do all I can for anyone who needs it.

  • 08.21.2011 11:32 PM PDT

No u

Awesome story man! Keep it going! (by the way: free at last!)

  • 08.23.2011 7:26 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!


Posted by: Doctor Jensen
Glad to hear.



Chapter 3: Darkness

The Marines put on the oxygen masks that hung from the Pelican's storage space as they left the sanctuary of their Admiral's mighty frigate and ventured forth towards the planet of Atlas. It almost seemed to lure the Pelicans over, promising them gains that went unheard by all aboard the three ships who lacked the hearing, words not meant for mortal tongue caressing the dropships and passing by those on board without a trace of revelation. As they neared the planet's atmosphere, they were joined by 11 other D77-TC Pelicans, all packed with men and women determined to protect the mountain base with all that they had in them. But, even though the Marines wore their focus and hardiness like their finest apparels, determined to not let anything distract them from what was required from them, the rich and luscious colours of Atlas's atmosphere did not fail to absolutely stun all those who were able to get a glimpse of it.

Its green landscapes, even from 29 miles away, looked as inviting and invigorating as a tropical island paradise, the mountainous landscapes, rolling hills and grand valleys seemed to be alive, as if those inbound with HAUBERK Base had suddenly gained a sixth sense of health, able to discern the emotion and vitality of the very planet before them. The seas and oceans, though not as vast as the ones of Earth, were still a sight to behold as their shine and spray attempted to reveal itself to the band of 112 Marines, 30 Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, four SPARTANs and 14 pilots, even from the outer reaches of Atlas's brilliance. Their colours of deep blue played melodies on the strings of the Marines' hearts.

Nearing the first few layers of the planet's atmosphere, the four SPARTANs, though they were not all aboard the same Pelican, all shared the same slight smile as they looked out the cockpit window at the planet's captivating view. Rodney looked around at Team Bravo, the ten Marines on board with him as he and Baldemar gripped the railing attached to the ship's roof. He smiled as he said, "Men, that view there is enough of a reason for us to defend this place with all we've got." Although his voice went unheard in the vacuum of space, everyone seemed to respond with a look of tenacity, as if he had spoken to their hearts and not their ears. Within minutes, they would start to pass through, into the planet below.

Rodney slowly looked around at Team Bravo, wondering as to what their thoughts were as the sun draped him in its warm and loving glow, his black MJOLNIR armour shining as if it also showed its approval of the men sitting with him. His low profile shoulder armour gave the impression that it didn't wish to hinder Rodney's movements in battle, and his chest armour was pocked with satchels containing ammunition and other necessities. If his mighty battlesuit was not equipped with shields, it would also likely be pocked with plasma burns.

Looking at Baldemar, the sun's glow only added to the colour of his armour, it seemed to be that of rust. His large, blue visor stared into the depths of the planet below as his armour stood as an opposite of Rodney's low profile armour. His shoulder armour was large and oval shaped, three white ridges jutting out on each plate. A large knife was attached to his left piece, the sheath bolted on as a way of keeping the knife in place. Baldemar excelled at knife wielding, and the fact that he had two knives within reach at all times was a sobering thought to anyone who saw him in action. His chest had a ring of grenades around it, as the SPARTAN-III was usually the most close-up of the four and required plenty of grenades to make his job easier, clearing out rooms without fear of wasting supplies.

His inspection of Team Bravo continued as he lazily, yet inquiringly gazed around the troop bay, though his laziness turned to focus and surprise as he spotted three red arrows on a Marine's insignia patch on his shoulder. Sure enough, as the SPARTAN directed his focus towards the corpsman's helmet, he noticed the red cross on a white background painted on the side. That's interesting, Rodney thought inquisitively. There's a corpsman with our team. With him, Mike the First Sergeant here and the other Staff Sergeants over on the other two ships, these Marines could be an official platoon. He lifted his hand to his helmet, pressing in a button which turned on his communication link to the rest of Team Theta.

"Hey," said Rodney bemusedly, "there's a medic on this ship. With him, Mike, Paul and Craig in their midst, they have a good chance of becoming designated as an official platoon. How about that?"

All three SPARTANs replied back with a smile on their face, for they knew that if the Marines aboard the three Pelicans from the UNSC Perfect Stranger were to become a platoon, it would be a major boost to their moral. Hopefully it'll happen, the SPARTANs thought together as they flew ever forward.

What felt like days to the soldiers passed before they started to phase into the planet's depths of blue. And as the ships soared down towards the planet below, almost gliding over the clouds bathed in the orange of a setting sun, they could not help but gape at the majestic view of the land below. The sky above the clouds was a magnificent orange with hints of red and yellow as the sun gently flickered and spread the colours of autumn throughout the heavens.

Eventually passing through the huddled clouds and tearing great holes in them as they descended, the wondrous Vexilles appeared before them in all their glory. The abstract line of mountains seemed to never end, as if the range went in a ring around the entire planet. They stood as proud achievements of nature's fine works of art, adorned with snow as if it were the richest material in existence. The rock they consisted of was a dark grey, withered by time and rain, yet still standing defiantly against the forces of the planet which sought their ruin. The foreseeable landscape laid in worship of the titanic monoliths, bathed in their iridescent reflection as the remaining rays of the sun still shone off the snowy peaks. Mt Arphos lay five miles north of their current destination, but the sight before them made Mt Arphos irrelevant. The tallest mountain on Atlas, Mt Vesper, towered over them at a staggering height of 9,477m (31,092ft). It served as protector of the Vexilles, watching over them as it stood to the sky, demanding respect from the heavens and the foreseeable land around it.

And as the three Pelicans passed the behemoth, maintaining a stable altitude, the radio started to pick up a call from their Admiral, Scott Ferguson. The miles between them still did not suffice to choke off the character of his voice, commanding and powerful, even through such a small speaker.

"Attention Teams Alpha, Bravo and Charlie, this is Admiral Scott Ferguson, do you copy, over?"

The pilot flying Team Bravo's Pelican responded, "This is Senior Airman Keith Daidalos, piloting November-375 with Team Bravo aboard. We hear you loud and clear, Admiral, over."

Each pilot responded in turn and the Admiral acknowledged them, waiting until all three had responded. Once they had confirmed their presence, Admiral Ferguson revealed the purpose of his contact with the three teams.

"Alright, you fellers in the back, listen up. From this point onward, you will officially be known as the 37th Rifle Platoon." Cheers erupted from the Marines as the Admiral continued, "First Sergeant Michael Kearns will be your platoon commander, Staff Sergeant Craig Baird and Staff Sergeant Paul Radisich will be your platoon sergeants and Crewman Vincent Moore will be your medical corpsman. I hope I've made myself clear. You will be part of Sierra Company, one of three rifle platoons and one weapons platoon. Your total numbers, excluding Team Theta and the 14 pilots, will be 142. Sierra Company's commanding officer will be Captain Rick Goodman of the Marine Corps, while your executive officer will be First Lieutenant Michelle Santoro. They are currently en route to HAUBERK Base with the 24th Weapons Platoon and the 38th Rifle Platoon from the UNSC Leviathan. Also joining you is the 145th ODST Rifle Platoon from the UNSC Beyond The Heavens."

Upon hearing the mention of ODSTs being a part of Sierra Company, the faces of Team Theta suddenly turned serious; their thoughts turning to evaluate what the implications of this situation would be. SPARTANs were disliked by ODSTs for the reason that they still considered themselves the elite force of the UNSC. For they were, as a matter of fact, thought to be the UNSC's most skilled and reliable units until the SPARTAN-II's were created, kicking the ODSTs off the top of the mountain and setting the standard for the top tier soldier. As Admiral Ferguson dismissed the 37th Rifle Platoon, Rodney once again activated his comm. link to his team.

"Team Theta, report. We can't let the ODSTs mean streak against us affect the defense of HAUBERK Base. What will our course of action be if they decide to turn this mission competitive against us?" he asked, beginning to formulate a plan.

"I don't like this, Rod," said Boris uneasily, "if we try to talk to them about settling down and not getting over our heads, then they're bound to do exactly that."

"Point taken, Boris. Henry, Baldemar, any ideas?"

Baldemar began with precise intentions. "I say we leave the hot-headed ones alone. Let us find troops we are able to communicate with on a professional and tactical level, and let them speak to their platoon on our behalf." His accent flared as he spoke, making it rather easy to devise that he did not think too fondly of the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers either.

  • 08.23.2011 10:14 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

"I like your thinking," Rodney acknowledged, finding Baldemar's suggestion to be a good one. "That'll hopefully settle any disputes they have against us."

"I hope you are right, Commander," Baldemar replied distressfully, "but I do not believe that our strategy will suffice for all of them. There will no doubt be a few of the troopers who will not listen. We cannot allow their goal to best us to detract them from their aid in protecting this base."

"Don't worry, Baldemar," Rodney assured his team-mate, "we'll sort them out. Won't we, Team Theta?" he asked with a confident grin.

"Yes sir," Team Theta replied, awaiting their landing at HAUBERK Base.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

14 blips slowly moved across the large, projected radar screen on the wall as the Colonel looked around, seeing his surveillance team hard at work at their stations. No doubt, if the Covenant actually dare to attack our station, these men and women will be on them like a cheap coat, he thought proudly, glad that such an efficient, skilled team was here in HAUBERK Base where they could be of his use. Computers and other technology hummed and small lights flickered here and there, vying for attention which nobody had for them. They'd grown to be just part of the background to the men and women stationed here.

"Have we got an ETA of Sierra Company's arrival yet, Skerten?"

The man seated at five separate screens swiveled his chair around, looking at the monitor on the right end of his working area. After pressing a few buttons, he looked up at Colonel Thompson and replied, "Roughly four minutes, Colonel." His Slavic accent made him sound rather relaxed, though he sat in wait for the Covenant to come, his nerves jittering with suspense.

Thanking him, the Colonel looked back up at the screen, hoping those 14 dots would be enough to stop the Covenant from reaching the top of the mountain. He set aside a few documents after arranging them neatly, and stood up from his desk, searching for anything that did not require immediate attention. Madness, he thought, the Covenant are on their way to our doorstep and I'm just sitting here looking over files. It just isn't right. I should be up there on those Pelicans, getting ready to go out on the front lines.

Skerten noticed the Colonel pausing at his desk, his mind adrift with the coming battle. "Something wrong, Colonel?" he asked, wondering why he wasn't heading out to the entrance lobby.

The Colonel looked up, snapping out of his self-imposed guilt. "No, Skerten, I'm fine, thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading out to meet our guests."

"Very good, sir." Skerten resumed his work as the Colonel stepped down off his platform and headed over to the stairs which would take him to the second top floor, where he would be able to leave the complex and greet the company of soldiers. Though the air was rather thin up at such a height, he would be able to get them inside without need of any voice amplification. Right now, the only problem he could think that the soldiers may cause was the matter of how much oxygen they would need. They had abundant reserves of tanks down in the storage areas, but the Colonel was wondering how it would affect the routine drop-off of oxygen supplies, and whether he would have to request more early.

His mind returned to the task at hand as he reached the entrance level, realizing that he wouldn't need to go outside, as the Pelicans would require the three retractable landing pads. He could simply stand at one of the access ways onto the pads and speak over the intercom. Approaching the stairs leading up to the aircraft delivery bay, he quickened his pace, attempting to get there in time to extend the landing pads. But as he reached the top floor of the structure, he spotted somebody already at the controls, turning around to salute him. Colonel Thompson saluted him back, then walked over to where he was standing.

"Extend the landing pads out, would you?"

"Yes sir," the man replied as he flipped a switch and pressed a code into the terminal. Expressing his approval with a nod, the Colonel turned to walk up one of the access ways leading up to where the landing pads would stop at once they had returned. Holes in the ceiling took form as panels retracted, allowing room for the large beams to extend out of the building. Machinery worked tirelessly, pushing the pads out for all of the world to see. The Colonel watched, enthralled, as the beams neared their stopping point. Once they had gone the required distance, they were automatically stopped by an inner mechanism, grinding the beams to a halt. Supported by smaller beams running down to the floor, which almost rubbed against the wall in front of them, the pads would wait until Sierra Company had arrived.

"Now, to wait," Colonel Thompson said aloud to no-one in particular. But he didn't have to wait long, for a few seconds later, he heard the familiar whine of D77-TC thrusters approach. 14 of them, he reminded himself, wondering for a second why the rocketing sound was so loud. He noticed the sun had set, looking out into the nearly darkened sky.

Three Pelicans landed on each pad, leaving five to seek out Mt. Avon in search of somewhere else to stop at once they had dropped off their troops. As everyone clambered out onto the pad, now lightly covered with snow, the other five dropships continued east, seeking out a place to land. The Colonel signaled for the man positioned at the terminal to retract the pads on his mark. He picked up the intercom transmitter connected to the wall and began to address the company outside.

"Welcome, Sierra Company. We'll be retracting those landing pads that you're standing on now, so don't panic if the pads jolt or shake. We'll have you inside in about a minute, so breathe easy. You won't be out there in that thinner air for long. See you inside, soldiers."

He gave the signal, to which the man responded by entering the code again and flipping the switch back to stasis mode. This would shut the control off once the pads had fully retracted. They responded immediately to the command, slowly bringing the company into the delivery bay.

Outside, two ODSTs were staring down Team Theta. The four SPARTANs looked back, imagining that the two were scowling behind their silver visors.

"Well, so far, we know two to avoid," said Rodney with a rather blank face, trying to lighten the mood. The joke got a bit of a reaction from his team, but ultimately, they didn't have high hopes for a stable alliance with the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers on this mission.

And as the light outside faded, that which ruled in light's absence quickly came to take its place. The darkness watched on, uncaring, as a mass of Covenant warriors marched across the countryside, approaching the Vexilles with intent to slaughter.



(And there's another one. I doubt I'll be on very regularly for a while, so if I'm not up to scratch with everything, it's because we're still getting our house organized. I'll try to be on for everyone else as much as possible, but yeah.)

  • 08.23.2011 10:18 PM PDT

Great stuff. Haven't finished it all yet, but I'm hyped to read the rest. Got one more post to go.

  • 08.25.2011 2:59 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Posted by: S p h 1 n X O 7
Great stuff. Haven't finished it all yet, but I'm hyped to read the rest. Got one more post to go.
Thanks, man. Now you'll have even more to read.

Chapter 4: Arrival

Sierra Company's descent was rather painstaking, but those that were bothered by their pace didn't dare complain. Bit by bit, they were edging into an ONI base, and the Office of Naval Intelligence didn't exactly have the reputation of a particularly nice bunch of folks. Still, though, they would prefer being cooped up in a place full of spooks than sleeping out on the pads all night, they were at least grateful to have air to breathe and a warm place to sleep. If, of course, the Covenant didn't attack until morning.

Around 30 seconds later, the slowly moving pads finally reached their destination, and the ceiling panels which had risen to create holes for the pads to reach out to the world through moved down to close the holes off once more, shutting Sierra Company away from the darkness outside. Coming to a halt with a reasonably loud clunk of metal hitting metal and machinery powering down, the troops took to the yellow and black access ways set up next to the pads, providing those who landed with a way off and back on again. Their striped handles were impossible to miss, which was a necessity for occupational safety protocols.

Making their way down to the cold, metal floor of the room, the company noticed a man dressed in a black uniform, with the badge of a silver eagle pinned to his chest, signifying the rank of Colonel. He had a hard-set, clean shaven face, no unusual features to his credit, but the look he had to him would be instantly recognizable. His brown, hazel eyes held no warmth, nor did his face hold any sign that he was trustworthy. ONI for you, First Sergeant Mike thought to himself as he and his platoon assembled in front of the ONI operative, as did the rest of Sierra Company. They saluted their superior, to which the Colonel returned.

"As you were," he ordered, his face betraying nothing to the men and women before him. The company fell at ease, though most of the troops did not feel at ease around the spook in front of them.

"I am Colonel Thompson, head operative of HAUBERK Base. It is our job in this structure to research and survey the Covenant forces that wages war with humanity, as I'm sure you have already guessed. I trust that you know why you have been sent here." The soldiers replied with a look that told the Colonel that they indeed knew the situation at hand. "Let me fill you in on what we know so far. If you would, follow me. This way."

The ONI operative turned on his heel and walked briskly towards HAUBERK Base's main set of stairs. While the soldiers followed, Boris quickly dashed to the side of the room and placed his turret down before reuniting with Team Theta.

"Why did you leave your turret up there?" Henry quickly asked over his team's comm, even though they were side by side.

Boris held his button down to reply. "Too many people. Thin stairwell. Besides, we'll be going back up sooner than later."

As it usually was with ONI, there was one public set of stairs, and several hidden ones. Of course, such information was classified, and nobody but the operatives stationed at HAUBERK Base were allowed to know all that the structure hid from outsiders. Dimly lit, the stair route only reinforced feelings of uneasiness in Sierra Company, as its shadowy walls gave the company a feeling that there was more to this base that met the eye.

"Where are we headed to, Colonel?" asked Captain Goodman, wondering why he didn't just tell them when they arrived.

The Colonel suppressed an urge to turn around. Don't, his mind commanded, they aren't your men. Causing trouble with the company sent to protect your base from a Covenant armada is not a good move. Sighing, he replied over his shoulder, "There's a briefing room on the 9th floor. I can use the equipment in there to transmit the data I have on this here pad," taking the currently inert device out of his trouser pocket to show the soldiers behind him, "so you can all see for yourselves what has transpired over the last few days. Unless you and your 156 accomplices want to gather round and try to see it on this five inch screen."

Captain Goodman would have replied with a retort of his own, but he noticed the Colonel's scolding tone and thought better of it. "No, sir."

Focused on determining what he wouldn't tell the troops behind him in the briefing room, the Colonel didn't reply as he pocketed his data pad once more, leading Sierra Company further and further into the ominous structure. His intuitive mind was working like a factory, selecting events from the reports he had made and either scrapping them or approving and adding them to the reservoir in his head that would be processed and presented to Sierra Company.

Sometimes the Colonel cursed his mind; there were times where he wished he was out there on the battlefield, taking lives in person. But his brilliance had acted as a weight upon him, dragging him down to meager tasks like reports and strategies. Although he knew that such things were vital in the war against the Covenant, that didn't stop him from acquiring a dislike for the skill that had gotten him into the position of power he was now in. He didn't care for promotion, which the UNSC were probably planning on giving him sooner than later, sometimes all he could think about was being out on the field and answering his call to arms. But reality eventually sank in whenever he went off into his mind, and this occasion was no exception.

They made it down to the 9th floor, where the 12th floor was the top level. The Colonel opened a dull orange door, holding it open as he walked through, which prompted each member of Sierra Company to do the same as they passed through the door frame. He led the 149 soldiers down a somewhat brighter corridor, alternating doors on either side leading to offices and other facilities. Each room hid its own secrets, and held its own significant importance to the role that HAUBERK Base played. But such rooms weren't what the Colonel was heading for. An offshoot which led to the briefing room was his target, and he had his hawk-like gaze firmly fixed upon it. Posters of protocols and studies littered the spaces on the walls, each vying for the attention of whoever passed them by, wishing to inform Sierra Company of the information they possessed.

The Colonel picked up his pace as he rounded the corner, traveling down the small offshoot in the corridor, passing a few doors that seemed to be of more importance than the others. The white doors seemed proud of what they stood in front of as Sierra Company followed the ONI operative, stopping to obtain a security clearance card from his pocket. The automated locking machine greedily accepted the quick swipe of Colonel Thompson's card, and allowed him to enter an eight digit code which would let him through into the briefing room. None could guess its size as the Colonel rapidly entered the code, having almost a year's experience at entering codes which changed every three days. At last, the machine let him through, and he opened the door to a vast room that could hold multitudes of people.

From a structural point of view, the room was almost similar to the briefing room on the Perfect Stranger, although the atmosphere of HAUBERK Base made their briefing room seem a lot more sinister and secretive, its darker walls still hiding whatever it could from the company. Also, near the front of the room where a projector hung, readily anticipating the projector to be activated, there was a large wooden table that looked to be made out of mahogany. The inner craftsman of a few members of Sierra Company reached out, taking in the wonderfully made and preserved table, varnished to perfection. Around this table were exactly 36 seats, each of the same wood as if they were the table's offspring, tightly huddled around their parent.

He gestured up to the top of the room with his hand splayed out, where seating ascended row by row. There were 13 rows in total, with 12 seats to each row.

"You may be seated. If you wish to stand, I have no objections."

Most of the company settled themselves upon the metal seats, while Team Theta and a few other Marines and ODSTs stood. Team Theta only stood because the seats didn't look sturdy enough to hold their weight, each individual SPARTAN weighing around 1,00lbs in their gargantuan MJOLNIR armour. And the few ODSTs only stood because the SPARTANs were standing as well.

Walking over to a small, metal booth, the Colonel pulled his personal data pad out again and flicked it on. It came to life in a glow of blue, and as he pressed it in search of relevant data, the screen flashed, and the light blue glow casting onto the Colonel's uniform made him look pure and humble. Something, which he would openly admit, he was not. He worked for the Office of Naval Intelligence, the shadiest branch of the UNSC. It was their job to keep secrets and provide misinformation; they had committed countless acts which would put a normal man in jail. Even execute him, in times of war. ONI was, it would seem, above the law. And no man could be absolutely honest when they worked for ONI, especially someone with power. Colonel Thompson had learnt this the hard way. Though he could not afford to regret it, there were times where he wasn't proud of his actions. He didn't feel like the man he should be.

  • 08.30.2011 10:28 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

After finding what he wanted, the Colonel turned a console on in the booth and activated the projector. He placed his pad down onto a black square, and it immediately began synchronizing with the console, transmitting data which would be sent to the projector. When the process was completed, the screen at the front of the room suddenly flickered to life, capturing the picture that was being projected onto it with ease. The picture appeared to be taken from a security camera, although this camera pointed over the mountain range and towards the sky.

"We captured this footage a day ago." As he spoke, he pressed a key which began to play the footage, showing snow falling and a clouded sky. But this simplicity was suddenly interrupted as a Banshee flew overhead. The purple craft slowly circled the area in a wide arc, and then took off again. "Why that Covenant unit was patrolling a god-damned mountain range, I can't say for sure. But what matters is that we've been spotted. And now the Covenant are on their way."

His curiosity piqued, Captain Goodman asked, "What kind of movements have you detected? What are we up against?"

"For the moment, numbers aren't fully understood. An increase of random settlement attacks have significantly increased, and we've spent all the men we can for now trying to intercept them. But things aren't working out in our favour. If you're wondering how this is relevant, let me explain. My intelligence and surveillance teams and I have come to the conclusion that Covenant troops have landed at random locations, attacking whatever they find on their way over here. Eventually, a whole damn army's going to meet up at our front doorstep."

"Why don't they just fly their troops up the mountain and save them the trouble of scaling Mt. Arphos?" First Lieutenant Santoro asked, puzzled by the extra effort that the Covenant were going to.

"Our guess is that they don't think we know what they're up to, and they're trying to avoid radar detection. I can certainly say that they're going the wrong way about it, with all they've destroyed so far. And that's not all. We've installed a plethora of defense systems up and around the mountain, which will certainly kill off a good number of them while they're unaware of the danger."

"So what do you need us for, Colonel?"

His face started to sink, seemingly weighed down by what he was going to say next. "If our calculations are correct, they're going to be able to get up this mountain with more than enough troops to lay waste to this base, no matter how many our automated defenses claim." He almost looked broken, as if the realization had waged war with his body and laid waste to him. His farmer-esque accent, coupled with the grief that wracked him made the Colonel sound a lot older than he was. "Sierra Company, you and the inbound air defenses are all we've got to try and stop those bastards from tearing this place apart. And you'd better damn succeed. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" the company trumpeted in response, now more determined than ever to fulfill the mission they'd been assigned with and protect HAUBERK Base.

The Colonel's dark eyes slowly considered Sierra Company as he looked the room over, his face starting to settle once more. "May you do us proud." He turned to the door, fighting a lost battle in his head. As he reached it, he stopped and looked back at the men and women seated.

"I almost forgot. You'll be sleeping in this room tonight. I'll check back on you periodically, alerting you on any new situations we encounter. Our days on Atlas are roughly 29 hours long, so you'll be bound to get enough rest for tomorrow. But if the Covenant attack between now and then, you'll be alerted by an alarm system loud enough to wake the towns below us. I expect you to be up and ready the moment I open this door, is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" came the reply again.

The Colonel nodded, satisfied with their willingness to defend his base. He opened the door, taking one last look at Sierra Company before shutting them in.

"You heard him, people," Rick said with an air of authority just as authentic and commanding as the Colonel's, "be ready to kick some Covenant ass when they show up."

"Yes sir!" the company shouted determinedly, ready to do just that.

Marines and ODSTs then stood and walked around, troops gathered into groups and started to discuss the coming battle. Higher ranking soldiers walked around, getting to know the rest of the company. Eventually, the mood started to lift a bit for Sierra Company, with smiles spreading across the room. Some started to make jokes, and some started to tell fond stories of distant times and places. Even Team Theta smiled, though one couldn't tell as their helmets cut off all human features from the outside world.

Captain Rick Goodman walked down the stairs to where Team Theta now sat against the wall, talking to each other and getting ready to go talk to the platoon commander of the ODST squad. They noticed him as he approached them gallantly, a smile on his sculpted face and a physique forged by war. They stood to meet him, each towering over him in their armour. Rick was forced to look up as he stopped in front of them, keen to finally talk to the legendary warriors that even the Covenant feared.

"Team Theta, it's an honour," he professed, unable to hide his fascination with the SPARTANs as he extended his hand. "Your names?"

The four introduced themselves by name and number, one at a time as Rick shook each of their hands, able to feel the raw power in their handshake even as their grip was only gentle.

"Captain, would you be able to tell us who the platoon commander of the ODSTs is?" Rodney asked, hoping to settle any quarrels that might arise.

Pointing to a seated man clad in black ODST battle armour, he replied, "That would be First Sergeant Todd McAlister."

Rodney stepped forward, wishing to speak to him. "Thank you, Rick." He turned to his team, signaling for them to stay put. They nodded, and continued to converse with the Captain as Rodney made his way up the stairs to the ODST that he had been directed to. Eyes locked onto him as he approached the First Sergeant, the eyes belonging to ODSTs that didn't like what they were seeing.

"What do you want?" asked one of the ODSTs, unimpressed by the SPARTAN in front of him.

Rodney didn't look at him, but answered, "I want to speak to your platoon commander." He looked over to the man in question. "Todd McAlister?"

The First Sergeant looked up at Rodney, eyeing him speculatively. "That's me. Name and rank?"

"Rodney G-257, Commander. May I have a word with you?"

Todd stood to face Rodney, willing to accept. "Okay, SPARTAN. What do you have to say to me?"

Rodney looked over the 105th ODST Rifle Platoon, hoping to gain their approval. "I want to make sure we're on the same page here." He turned, and looked at some of the other ODSTs that were boring holes in him with their glares. "We may not like each other that much, but as of this moment, I will not have your dislike of me and my team affecting your performance on this mission. You saw the Colonel stand before us, and you saw just what this situation is doing to him. And he's probably tougher than all of us put together. We cannot afford to bicker with each other, not while that man and all the ONI agent and all the other men and women in this building are counting on us to hold the Covenant off." Looking back to the First Sergeant, he let his words sink in. "Can I count on you, Sergeant?"

He nodded, depolarizing his visor to show his face to the SPARTAN. "You're right. Don't worry, Commander. We'll play nice for now. Right, men?" A few grunts of approval and other means of expressing their answer answered him. As Rodney turned away, Todd reached out and put a hand on the giant's shoulder. "One more thing. Just cause we're buddies now, doesn't mean we won't go easy on you. Leave the tougher ones to us, we'll take care of them for you," he mocked with a wicked grin on his face.

Rodney was thankful that he had his helmet on, for the scowl on his face would have provoked them to attack. "I'll keep that in mind." Todd let him go as he walked back down the stairs towards his team, who were still talking to Rick, and a few other Marines who had joined the conversation. Damn it, he thought, they're still as arrogant as I remembered them to be.

As the hours passed, battle plans were organized. Rick and a few other soldiers stood at the front of the room, going over plans while a few others hooked up their tactical gear to the console that Colonel Thompson had used to synchronize his data pad with. Using their gear, they were able to draw out possible situations and strategies. Although, between plans, Sierra Company talked and laughed with one another, a few even eating MREs that they'd brought along. When the Colonel periodically visited them, his news was never really significant, just updates on positions and affirmations of defense systems being ready to go. When the need for sleep arose and gently lingered around Sierra Company, they each lay down or sat against the wall, still ready for action. But sleep still came to them, letting them be, lifting their burdens away as they dozed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  • 08.30.2011 10:28 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Once the oxygen tanks had been arranged for Sierra Company on the entrance floor, Skerten's replacement headed down the stairs, making his way down to the surveillance quarters. Light would not come for a good seven hours more, so the place was still rather ominously lit with dim bulbs, lighting the stairwell just enough to see properly. Once the sky was lit, solar bulbs would begin to glow and properly illuminate the stairwell. He made it down to the 2nd floor, opening the orange door and stepping into a room buzzing with activity. He did his best to keep his footsteps unheard as he made his way over to Skerten's station.

"Morning, Skerten," the man greeted him. Skerten looked up from his work, rubbing his eyes and noticing the time.

"That time already, Doland?" he yawned, realizing how tired he was. "Thanks, I would've been up all night."

Donald smiled. "No problem. Always happy to help. Now go and get some re-"

Suddenly, the room turned red with warning lights and worried sirens blared. The large monitor on the west wall cut to a camera feed as it showed a staggering army of Covenant troops at the foot of the Vexilles, staring up at Mt. Arphos with the hatred of a race that lived for war. They all began forward on the blood-curdling battlecry of a Sangheili, promising them the chance to tear their enemy apart.

The Colonel stood up from his desk quickly, his face set as if he was going to head down the mountain and face them on his own. "Activate defense systems, enable auto-targeting."

"Defence systems on stand-by, Colonel."

Colonel Thompson stared at the monitor, nearly trembling at just how many had come to take HAUBERK Base as his confidence started to chip away. "Good." Fears welled inside of him, but he clamped them down with a force of will. "Let's see how they like our welcoming gift."



(Hmm... wasn't expecting this one to break the two-page barrier. But, oh well. Enjoy!)

  • 08.30.2011 10:30 PM PDT

●▬▬▬▬๑۩۩๑▬▬▬▬▬●
Shadow's (Internet) Myths
●▬▬▬▬๑۩۩๑▬▬▬▬▬●
Steam Username: xxxZealot (Add me <3)
¤´¨)
¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·`Shadow Legacy

*slowly claps*

  • 08.31.2011 12:21 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!


Posted by: ShadowLegacy
*slowly claps*
Shadow? In the Gallery? Am I dreaming?

  • 09.01.2011 3:23 AM PDT

●▬▬▬▬๑۩۩๑▬▬▬▬▬●
Shadow's (Internet) Myths
●▬▬▬▬๑۩۩๑▬▬▬▬▬●
Steam Username: xxxZealot (Add me <3)
¤´¨)
¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·`Shadow Legacy


Posted by: OfTheBloodguard

Posted by: ShadowLegacy
*slowly claps*
Shadow? In the Gallery? Am I dreaming?


I lurk most of the time. Reading everyones fanfics. They amaze me. Some of the talent here is absolutely amazing. Makes me wonder why they waste their obvious writing talents in the fanfic genre. I'd love to see some of the people on here (such as Wolvers) make their own universes. It'd be breathtaking.

  • 09.03.2011 3:58 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!


Posted by: ShadowLegacy
I lurk most of the time. Reading everyones fanfics. They amaze me.
Well, why don't you comment more and tell everyone how much you like their stories? I'm sure they'd appreciate it.
Some of the talent here is absolutely amazing. Makes me wonder why they waste their obvious writing talents in the fanfic genre.It's probably a matter of time, and how much of it that people have. But, you're right. That's why I like it here so much. :D
I'd love to see some of the people on here (such as Wolvers) make their own universes. It'd be breathtaking. I feel unloved... loljk

  • 09.04.2011 12:48 AM PDT

only the best game ever.
~Sur Squishy
XBL: D a r k s t a r
PSN: darkstarrr
Minecraft: The_Dark_Star

Forum Rules | Terms of Use | Code of Conduct

Wow! I actaully read thorugh the entire thing. That is how interesting that it was!=)

  • 09.04.2011 8:33 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!


Posted by: blade246
Wow! I actaully read thorugh the entire thing. That is how interesting that it was!=)
Great! I'm glad you found it interesting enough to read though. That must mean I'm doing something right. :)

  • 09.05.2011 5:49 AM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Next chapter, comin' at you.

Chapter 5: Tension

It almost seemed that the stairwell was fearing for its safety as the Colonel ascended its steps. It desperately wanted his reassurance that everything would be ok, but he didn't have the time. He charged up the worried stairwell as he left his surveillance team to size up the army that had begun its attack, steeling himself to face Sierra Company and lead them to their stations. Sirens still blared and red, flashing lights bathed the building in a bloody glow, a possible foreshadowing of events to come if the Covenant were able to get inside HAUBERK Base. Forcing thoughts of bloodshed away and trying to keep calm as he ascended the stairwell at a frantic pace, he could not help but see the malevolent army outside inside his head, imagining them climbing the mountain at a frenzied pace, every step and grab in the name of murdering humanity.

Days seemed to pass to the Colonel before he finally made it up to the 9th floor, his mind still assaulted by thoughts of butchery at the hands of the Covenant. He kept in stride as he ran towards one of the level's doors, pulling the handle down and barging through the orange door in one swift motion. His eyes once again fixed on the offshoot that almost seemed to mock him as he ran towards it, trying to waste as little time as possible. Nearly skidding as he slowed down enough to make the turn into the offshoot, he ran for the bulky end door guarding the briefing room that Sierra Company had spent the night, hopefully prepped and ready to serve. He came to a halt as he stopped just short of the door, fumbling in his pocket for his card. Swiping the card through, he then hammered in the eight digit code which was to be changed tomorrow.

Opening the door, his hopes had been fulfilled as Sierra Company stood at attention, ready to depart.

Skipping formalities, the Colonel urgently beckoned the soldiers to follow him. "Come on, people. You're needed topside, now!" The urgency in his voice compelled them to follow. He hurriedly pushed the door open as the soldiers neared it and the door swung until it hit a magnetic patch on the wall behind it and locked itself in place. As the last man exited the room, he gave a somewhat forceful pull to release the door from its magnetic prison and let it close as he ran with his company. God damn it, the Colonel thought to himself as he ran, why can't I keep calm?

Suddenly, his thoughts were scrambled as Team Theta stormed past him, making their way up the levels at a ludicrous pace. SPARTANs wearing the MJOLNIR power armour were known to be able to run about 50km/h, with a few being able to run even faster. Seeing the SPARTAN team suddenly quelled his fears, and he thanked his lucky stars that he'd have such fearsome soldiers on defense.

Precious seconds ticked by as the Colonel reached the main entrance floor. Team Theta stood at attention, hardly moving a finger. Yet, they seemed ready to kill, barely anything restraining them from rampaging out onto the mountain and taking lives as they pleased. However, the Colonel didn't stop to notice as he ran past the SPARTANs, stopping at the intercom he had used to speak to Sierra Company when they had arrived, which resided next to a security terminal. His finger traced a menu of buttons, buttons that changed the intercom's destination. He eventually found his surveillance quarters and held the button for three seconds before picking up the transmitter, choosing not to activate the system's video feed. The Colonel wasn't sure he could look into the eyes of whoever answered him and keep from shattering.


"Speak to me," came a voice, probably Doland's.

"This is your Colonel, Doland. If that is you on the receiving end."

"Aye, sir. What do you need?"

The Colonel felt the urge to lean his head against the darkened wall, but quickly suppressed it. He couldn't be seen looking weak, not now. "What's happening down there? Are we holding them off?"

"They're now aware of our defenses. Our translating systems have told us that they're getting in touch with their air units, they're awaiting take off orders. Someone's gone off to deliver the message in a Type 32."

"Ah, hell," the Colonel moaned. "What about our air units? Have you mobilized them?"

"Yes sir, take-off in three."

"Understood." He paused slightly, then added, "Good work, Doland." He placed the transmitter back on the wall, somewhat relieved at the news he'd been given. He looked over at the security terminal, making sure that everything was still on stand by, waiting for enemies to show. Taking a large breath in, he turned to face Sierra Company behind him, already standing in formation.

"I've just heard from our surveillance team. The expected air battle's to occur pretty soon. I was going to have you out there as fast as possible, but I can't risk having you get decked by those damn Covenant aircraft. We are to hold in here until our flyboys show up and hopefully force the main bulk of dog-fighting away from our base. Or at least, that's the plan. We'll be getting F-97s in first, followed by GA-TL1s, AV-22s and AV-14s, then hopefully we'll be able to get a few AC-220s in if need be."

Sierra Company still seemed on edge, despite the time they'd still be able to spend indoors. Rick broke the silence that ate at their nerves. "What do we do now, Colonel?"

For a moment, it appeared that he had not heard the Captain's question, his gaze aimed randomly out to the heavens as if the ceiling didn't hinder his vision in the slightest way. But then, he replied with a sigh, "For the moment, you stay here. We'll receive word from someone when it's deemed safe for you to be out there without major risk of being cut down by air fire." He left the next part unsaid, though his thoughts continued anyway. But that doesn't mean you won't.

A few soldiers winced like they had read the Colonel's mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Signs of activity now flourished across Rolleston Air Base, as soon as they'd been told to stand by, nobody had messed around. Every pilot knew what was at stake on this flight out, so they'd made sure that this would be a run for the record books. The sun had yet to emerge from its slumber, and although darkness still ruled the land, lights strewn around the air base shone against the blackened sky, bright enough to let progress continue without fault.

Four main runways were lit with square bulbs built into their tarmacadam surface, red lights ran down their sides and blue through their middle. Technical Sergeants and mechanics were running pre-flight and system checks on all aircraft departing the numerous hangars around the air base, running over crucial programs and mechanical necessities as soon as the command had been given to stand by. Planes were rolling out, with final approvals on aircraft set to fly.

With utmost precision and care, an F-97 Skyhawk taxied onto the runway, its misleadingly sleek body hiding ferocious amounts of thrust. The F-97's hawk-like nose stared down the runway like the bird of its namesake. Eagerly, the pilot flipped switches and looked over screens, running final checks before Flight Command asked him to confirm that his fighter was set to launch.

"F-97 3004B, is your status green?"

The pilot, Airman Gary Seymour, increased his pace in time to finish his diagnostics run, no faults showed in his hardware. This bird'll soar without a hitch, he thought to himself while he flipped a switch, activating his radio transmitter.

"Green all over, Flight Command. We're good to go."

"Roger that 3004B, you're cleared for takeoff."

That was all he needed to hear. Almost giddy with anticipation, he slowly lurched the throttle forward, coaxing the fighter up to takeoff speed. The F-97 immediately responded, jets gently burning as it got up to speed. Gary gunned the throttle as he neared the runway's edge and the bird took off with a deafening blast, eagerly awaiting the chance to roam amongst the clouds where it would be at home once again.

The Skyhawk's thrusters burned brightly against the darkness above, blue flame streaked with hints of white would be visible to anyone tailing Gary's fighter. He resisted temptation to engage the jet's almost savage afterburners, which would open up a valve that released an extra amount of biofuel into the engines, as well as ramming as much air as it could inside to burn. The ravening afterburners increased the fighter's thrust by almost double its standard output. He only resisted the urge for he would be flying in a formation of four craft, so he'd have to wait for them to catch up. I hate being the first out.

Fortunately, his radio started picking up a signal from two other fighters a moment later, each signaling their presence and confirming their position in the formation. Soon after their arrival, Gary's radio clicked again and the last fighter to arrive took his place in the sky with the other three F-97s.

"Alright!" Gary was excited now, he could finally hit the nitro on his bird. "Are we ready to soar, people?" 3 hearty replies came over Gary's radio, and now his grin spread from ear to ear. "Let's do this." He pushed another lever forward, letting double the usual air/fuel intake into his engines. The four Skyhawks immediately reacted to their added combustion, taking off with a violent shake. The jets soared up into the clouds, where they retained their title as kings of the sky, ready to swoop down on those unfortunate enough to be in their line of fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  • 09.06.2011 8:09 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Restlessness scraped at Sierra Company's patience, bit by bit, as they were forced to wait indoors. As was evident with an ODST staring at Boris, his helmet obscuring his scowl, some were handling the situation better than others. All they'd been able to do for the meantime was get their oxygen tanks set up. Those who had brought backpacks with them to store gear had made room for the tanks to be placed in their packs, while spare packs had been placed with the tanks for those that hadn't. The packs clipped on magnetically to strips present on the Marine's and ODST's Battle Dress Uniforms, or BDUs for short.

Boris hadn't noticed the glaring ODST yet, he was too busy staring around the entrance floor. The room was round in shape, the floor above was where the ceiling took the shape of a dome, which was how HAUBERK Base looked from outside. As the structure went into the mountain, it took more of a quadrahedral shape. The eight facilities that were visible had entrances full of different equipment, entrances which also doubled as space for the facilities when they retracted back into the building. Big metal shells marked their end point, with a hole for people to enter and exit through. Boris almost smiled to himself as he now casually glanced back at the ODST who, obviously, wasn't admiring his armour.

"What's the matter, buddy?" Boris asked, smirking behind his golden visor. His deep, twangy accent only added to the joke he was about to make. "Is my fly undone or something?" A few Marines who weren't paying attention to the situation gave out a great laugh before they turned around and realised just who it was that had spoken.

"What are you trying to prove with that damn turret of yours, huh?" the ODST jeered angrily. "You trying to go for the whole walking tank cliché crap or something?" More heads started to turn, noticing the imminent commotion between the two men.

Boris smiled, looking down at the weapon he had always favoured. "I use it," Boris challenged, gently placing the hefty turret at the trooper's feet, "because I can carry it."

At that, the ODST flinched under his helmet. He looked down at the colossal weapon, but his bravado soon took over and he looked back up at the SPARTAN, almost thankful he had his helmet on. "What, is this some sort of joke? Huh, freak? I can lift this, no problem."

Still smiling, Boris watched on as the ODST made a show of getting ready. He then stooped down, once again, drawing out the time by making sure his grip was secure on the turret's custom grips. He then began to heave, trying to get the SPARTAN's gun in the air. But the effort was in vain, he had no hope of getting the turret off the ground. Still though, he tried, and tried. Eventually, exhausted, the ODST gave up, drawing out his M7S and shooting the turret with at least half a clip before Boris surged forward and placed a crushing hand on the ODST's wrist, forcing him to drop his gun. Almost all at once, Marines and ODSTs alike yelled at the angered solider, wondering if he'd lost it. A few even drew their weapons on him. Team Theta stood on alert, each SPARTAN in a barely noticeable crouch.

The commotion that had been created roused Colonel Thompson from the depths of his mind and snapped him back into reality once more. Reacting to what had just unfolded, he quickly walked over to the soldier, who was still staring at Boris, despite First Lieutenant McAlister's attempts to get him to stand down. He instantly noticed bullet holes in the M247H that the bigger SPARTAN-II had arrived with. The few that had their weapons aimed at the ODST lowered then as they noticed Colonel Thompson standing in front of him.

"You!" the Colonel bellowed, and the ODST jumped in shock as he turned to see the Colonel staring him down with a look of disbelief. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

For a moment, the ODST was silent, weighing replies in his head. The anger he felt towards SPARTANs momentarily subsided as he realized how foolishly he'd acted.

"I-"

"Actually, I don't think I want to hear it. As far as I'm concerned, nothing you can say will account for your behaviour. You're an ODST, aren't you? Don't you lot parade around and proclaim to the world that you're the best?" The Colonel waited for a reply, certain that a murderous expression would be present behind the ODST's visor.

"That's because we are, sir," the ODST replied, his anger suddenly reignited.

"Oh, really? Well, from that demonstration, I'm inclined to disagree." The Colonel folded his arms, casting his judgment down. "Name and rank, soldier."

"Gunnery Sergeant Arthur Vienna, sir."

"You mean Corporal Arthur Vienna, soldier," the Colonel replied, suddenly thinking of something else as the now Corporal started to object. "And another thing, Corporal. This man walked in here with three guns. I think he should leave with three guns as well. Hand over your rifle and all its spare ammunition."

"What?"

Did he just object to my authority? the ONI operative wildly thought as he lost his temper."You heard me, soldier! If my memory's correct, you're also armed with an M6C. If you're as good as you say you are, then you shouldn't have much trouble stopping that entire army with it! So be the 'better soldier' and hand over your rifle!" The Colonel demanded, now absolutely livid.

Henry looked to Rodney for action, noticing he was bound still by his own anger over the situation. Sighing calmly, he walked over and placed a hand on the ONI operative's shoulder, to which Colonel Thompson turned his head and stared. His anger soon lost its ground as he stared into an intimidating pale silver visor, masking the face of a man who knew only war.

"That'll be all, Corporal," the Colonel finished as Corporal Vienna handed over his rifle and all the ammo he had on him. Boris nodded, almost thankfully, as he found space to store all the clips he'd been given. He looked up once he'd stored all his ammo, casually holding his M7S by its grip as he saw First Sergeant McAlister standing before him.

"Look, SPARTAN, I-"

"Don't bother apologizing, First Sergeant, it isn't necessary. Just make sure he doesn't try and pull something like that again."

"Roger that, Lieutenant." McAlister turned around again, noticing that Colonel Thompson had gone back to stand near the intercom again, having calmed down considerably after Corporal Vienna's insubordinate actions.

Boris's three team mates approached the SPARTAN-II, glad the ordeal was over.

"Boris?" tentatively asked Baldemar.

"I'm alright, Baldemar. Stupid things like that don't bother me." Boris's face set as he replied, realising that the ODST might just be getting to him. Nah. He doesn't deserve such a thing, he thought as Baldemar cleared his throat.

"That was not what I was going to mention, Boris, I know you better. I was just going to tell you that if he had done that to my gun, I would have... well..." Baldemar then started to overdramatically punch thin air in front of him, bringing slight amusement to the four SPARTANs for a time.

But just as things were beginning to settle again, the building suddenly gave a slight shudder as machinery started to whirr. Everyone immediately looked towards the Colonel for an explanation, who's eyes suddenly widened in realization of what was taking place.

"Covenant air units. They've reached our building's security perimeter." He started to look around as HAUBERK Base's facilities started to retract. The floors in the facilities' entranceways submerged, and walls retracted equipment as space was made for the incoming facilities to hide in. With a crash, all eight came back into the base, offered protection by panels that had flipped down to cover the spaces that had been left exposed by the facilities' retreat.

Also whirring were the eight 70mm defense turrets that were slowly being mechanically pushed out of the base, ready to defend. The Colonel turned back to the security terminal, pressing a few buttons which brought up a radar. "Where are our air units?" he quietly asked himself, not seeing any incoming friendlies. His brain quickly started evaluating possible strategies, then found only one that might prove successful. Yet, it'll also most likely prove costly.

Once again, he turned to face the company behind him, already regretting his finality. "Sierra Company, I've reached a decision. Until our air forces get here, we're going to need heavy weapons fire out there. Our defense turrets alone may not be enough to hold them off, especially if they're able to land and drop off soldiers. Those with appropriate weaponry, on my signal, you get out there and do what you can to hold the Covenant back."

"Yes sir," came the committed reply.

Looking back at the security terminal, he started searching through security camera feeds, almost flinching at the turrets starting to open up on incoming Banshees. He found one built into the very tip of the base's roof, overlooking the whole of Mt. Arphos. Satisfied, he stood back and watched as enemy ships and fighters went up in balls of hauntingly blue plasma. But, as each craft fell, more came to take their place. Somehow, they had figured out that the entrance to the building was on the west side of the dome and had concentrated their fire on that spot, only allowing three turrets to be of use. The Covenant's advance was starting to gain momentum, and they were starting to get close enough to land their dropships. Now or never, the Colonel thought to himself.

"Alright, people. Make final checks of your oxygen tanks, then get out there and do some damage."

"Yes sir!" the 24th Weapons Platoon and a few other soldiers chanted, heading out the now opening door. Team Theta followed right behind them as they stepped out into the heat of battle.

  • 09.06.2011 8:10 PM PDT

Posted by: Commander GX
Bungie.Match.com: Our Johnson knows what the ladies like.

:D

  • 09.07.2011 1:49 PM PDT
  • gamertag: [none]
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You said omni-gel?

  • 09.07.2011 3:14 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Posted by: M94 Mushroom Man
:D
Awesome story, guy. :)
Posted by: prophecy 999
You said omni-gel?
I didn't, but commander tempu did in his fanfic, Divine Sword of Justice.

  • 09.08.2011 4:27 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Sup dawg, I heard you like chapters, so I... am going to put another chapter up.

Chapter 6: Cavalry

A barrage of heavy weapons fire screamed towards the nearest incoming Phantom as the now weaponless dropship slowly descended, attempting to let its passengers off in time to escape back down Mt. Arphos. At a hurried pace, the Covenant inside jumped out of the critically damaged ship, but as the wounded Phantom turned to escape, five more rockets struck, and a hail of bullets and grenades fiercely crashed against its exposed side. The Phantom slowly lurched, electricity and plasma starting to arc and leak as it started to lose altitude and fell towards the mountain. With a groan, it struck hard rock and bounced towards another Phantom that had landed lower down the mountain, ready to drop off more foot soldiers. Luckily for Sierra Company, the two Phantoms collided and went up in a plume of plasma, melting snow underneath their demise.

A few soldiers yelled out in triumph, but the platoon commander of the 24th Weapons Platoon saw the darker side of the matter. Taking off her oxygen mask momentarily, she ran up to the base and stepped inside.

"We need more ranged weapons, Captain! Their Phantoms are landing further down the mountain!"

Rick nodded and looked to First Sergeant McAlister. "You heard her, Sergeant. I want you and your platoon out there taking care of the foot soldiers while everyone else works on dealing with the Covenant aircraft."

McAlister saluted, before looking back and commanding his platoon to move out with his arm, swinging it over his head with his palm splayed and then pointing at the door. He started towards it, with his team closely following him. It automatically slided into the wall beside it as McAlister stepped on a sensor, and he quickly broke into a run as the situation outside demanded that he take action.

Upon reaching a suitable position, McAlister and his team immediately dropped to one knee and started to fire down upon enemies that were being dropped onto the mountain with alarming frequency. The Covenant were starting to get much larger numbers safely onto ground, and it wouldn't be long before they gained the upper hand. However, now that ground units as well as air units were being targeted, Sierra Company had a slightly better chance at holding their attackers off until air support arrived.

A large explosion tore into the ground where Marines had previously been standing, the Phantom responsible soon met its end, rocked to the core by the might of the UNSC's heavy weaponry. Damn it, that was close, a few Marines thought to themselves as more plasma missiles hurtled their way.

Over the next two minutes, the sky started to fill with aircraft and the mountain started to accommodate more Covenant soldiers, despite Sierra Company's best efforts to keep them at bay, eventually bringing out all of their soldiers onto the frozen battlefield. The Colonel wanted to protest against the decision, but he accepted that it was probably for the best. He kept his sight on the security terminal's radar, pleading for reinforcements, not wanting to stare outside as dying screams of soldiers pierced him like arrows.

Wait.

The Colonel's eyes opened wider as he did a double take. Could it be?

Sure enough, Colonel Thompson wasn't seeing things. Four friendly blips were approaching. He ran for the door, opening it just in time to see two Marines killed, plasma burning into their skin. He recoiled in shock, then steeled himself once more.

"Sierra Company!" he yelled at the hop of his lungs, "Get inside! Fighters approaching!"

Just as people started to run for the base, Scorpion missiles rained down from above, and four Phantoms were instantly annihilated.

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"600ft from target. Enable your weapons systems, men."

Screaming through the blackened heavens, four pilots flipped on their targeting systems and enabled their guns, ready to kill. Four green lights came up on each man's HUD, and Gary smiled as he gave his next order.

"400ft. Swoop, now."

Like comets on a crash course with the planet below, four Skyhawks fell out from the clouds, and Mt. Arphos welcomed them with open arms. Targeting systems linked to the pilots' HUDs registered missile lock accordingly, and each pilot prepared to let loose as they confirmed their lock on separate targets.

"Fire."

Each Skyhawk sent two Scorpion missiles hurtling towards their unsuspecting prey. The missiles reached manic speeds as two missiles each went at one Phantom, smashing into them with titanic force, instantly blowing them apart. The pilots then locked onto other targets with their 50mm machine guns, which used targeting systems also linked to the pilots' HUDs and fired as they rocketed towards the mountain. Gary managed to down three Banshees before they passed over the summit of Mt. Arphos, and the four jets pulled up and shot into the sky, appearing to leave as fast as they'd arrived. A few Banshees gave chase, but they weren't nearly as fast as their opposition.

Gary had ordered his squadron to loop over the mountain, then to go their separate ways and engage all the enemy aircraft they could. With unrivalled speed, they powered through the sky and came back down to face off against more aircraft. Each pilot had missile lock once more, but no order was given as their flight formation had broken off. They were free to do as they pleased.

Thundering back down towards Mt. Arphos, they shot their remaining missiles at another four Phantoms. The missiles recklessly impacted against their targets and detonated with staggering violence, utterly tearing the dropships to pieces. After their targets were felled, they split up to tear up the rest of the Covenant aircraft that were now taking full action against them.

As Gary slowly pulled up, shooting off a few rounds into a Banshee in his line of fire, another Banshee swooped down and quickly fired a fuel rod projectile at its oncoming assailant. Gary had no choice but to quickly react, banking left and turning slightly before suddenly banking right and pulling up, forcing his aircraft to roll around the sickly green projectile in an almost cylindrical motion. Gary's Skyhawk passed over the Banshee's shot upside-down as he continued to roll out of his maneuver, aiming for the Banshee with his cannons. By the time Gary had completed the "barrel roll", his foe had been shredded.

More and more aircraft continued to progress towards the mountain, on the attack against the UNSC. And it was slowly becoming more and more apparent that four Skyhawks weren't going to be able to cut it against an entire Covenant air assault. As two more Skyhawks rained down from the heavens, one of Gary's fighters succumbed to the searing plasma that relentlessly assaulted it, going out in a triumphant explosion as it coursed into the snowy ground beneath.

"All UNSC aircraft, listen up. Longswords inbound. I repeat, Longswords inbound," one of the new pilots notified as he proceeded to let loose on a Phantom attempting to deliver more troops up Mt. Arphos. Gary silently thanked whoever he thought would hear him as he evaded more plasma bolts hurtling towards his fighter.

But his relief quickly faded as he spotted an unidentified target on his radar. Activating his radio, he quickly asked, "Do any of you guys know what that thing is on the radar?"

"I'm not receiving any info on the bogey either, 3004B," one of the new pilots replied. "You guys stay here, we'll have a look. It's moving slow, so it might be a biggun." Gary was slightly confused at the word, but didn't object as he noticed on his HUD that the two newly arrived Skyhawks still had two missiles each. Hopefully that'll do.

"Roger that. Signal if you can't take it alone."

"Will do. Over and out."

Flying wing to wing, the two majestic Skyhawks screamed towards their new target as it slowly lumbered through the air. Upon entering visual range, their pilots both confirmed missile lock. What they saw perplexed the pilots a little bit, for the giant aircraft almost looked to be a chimera of Covenant vehicles. Two sleek hulls protruded from its front, almost resembling the front of Banshees. Stubby wings jutted out of the craft's sides where the hulls ended, and a rudder of sorts sat high at the centre rear. Three plasma mortars sat atop of the giant bomber of sorts, one atop of the rudder and one on each wing.

Deciding that it looked far too formidable to be left alone, the pilots decided to take action. Hammering down buttons on their flight yokes with their thumbs, they sent four Scorpion missiles blistering through the air, striking the behemoth directly on its nose. Yet, the giant bomber did not fall. As they thundered towards the Covenant craft, the extent of the damage was revealed, for it was barely able to keep aloft. Electricity arced and plasma spewed from damaged areas, but the beast refused to die as it soldiered on towards its target. All three of its plasma mortars aimed for the two fighter jets and shot three giant bolts of plasma careering towards them, but they had the skill and situational awareness to evade the mighty projectiles.

As they ever so slightly split up to pass the bomber on each side, they shot at damaged areas of the lumbering craft with their fighter's cannons, doing further damage. Both Skyhawks pulled up until they faced the opposite direction, then rolled 180 degrees and leveled out to attack once more, dropping to meet their target. This time, as soon as they locked on to it, they immediately hosed the bomber with bullets. After seven seconds of continuous fire, it finally gave in and departed from existence in an enormous ball of plasma.

  • 09.13.2011 6:43 PM PDT

The tide is turning, brothers! Let us take our kingdom back!

Coming back over the mountain in a wide arc, the two Skyhawks rejoined the mad dogfight and took out a couple of Banshees as they passed by other Covenant craft at speeds their enemy couldn't hope to match.

"The bogey looked to be some sort of experimental bomber of some sorts, or possibly a building siege platform. Upon our attack, it survived our four remaining missiles, and we were forced to take it out with our guns. If any more come, we can't let them near the base or they'll pound it to bits," one of the pilots reported, his voice echoing dread at the thought of having to fight more of them without missiles.

"Roger that, 3072B. Hopefully those Longswords arri-"

Gary was suddenly at a loss for words as he saw five of the larger blips appear on his radar, as well as another surge of incoming Phantoms. Five Skyhawks won't be enough for this, he thought as ice started to form in his gut.

"Oh, -blam!-. Anyone got a plan as to how we deal with all this?" he asked desperately, plans being tried and tested in his head. "We're out of Scorpions, and our cannons alone won't be enough to stop all five of those things."

"That's affirmative. We might have to call out the troops garrisoned in the base we're defending."

Suddenly, a new and powerful voice came over Gary's radio, promising all that Gary wanted for the moment. "That won't be necessary, boys, we can take those bombers out before you have time to thank us." Two Longswords approached, along with the last formation of Skyhawks that had been mobilized to defend the ONI base. Relief washed through the pilots as reinforcements blazed a trail through the night sky, ready to engage.

Gary exhaled in relief, for the situation hand finally had a solution, reading off his HUD to find a designation for the voice on the radio that would appear as they spoke. "You don't know how happy we are to see you two, 5092C."

A hearty chuckle served as a reply to Gary's thanks as the last formation of Skyhawks arrived on the scene, trailed by two Longsword interceptors. In shape, they resembled the flying wing design of the first stealth bombers designed over five centuries ago, except the Longsword had a large tail fin at its back to aid with stabilization and maneuvering. Also, stealth was not the primary focus of the interceptors, that role was weaponry. The Longsword could practically be armed to the teeth with different weapons, and these two were no exception, each housing two M9177 ASW/AC 110mm MLA rotary cannons, and four ASGM-10 missiles as secondary weapons.

Dipping over the base's roof, the new Skyhawks unloaded a cluster of missiles on incoming targets and sped past the massive dogfight as two Longswords roared overhead HAUBERK Base, aiming to intercept the five larger unidentified blips that were making their way towards Mt. Arphos.

"Any defense weapons onboard these bigger types?" asked a Longsword pilot, her voice revealing only a hint of worry.

"Negative, they're only armed with plasma mortars. Given enough time, any kind of aircraft could take it out, provided that they have the agility to dodge the mortars themselves."

"Understood, 3072B. Oh, and by the way, these puppies aren't just any kind of aircraft. Remember that, will you?"

A sigh came over the radio before the Skyhawk pilot replied, "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled to herself as her ever reliable targeting systems started to get a signal and attempted to lock onto a target.

"What do we do to these guys? Should we launch an ASGM-10 at 'em and see how they hold up?" she asked her fellow pilot flying closely beside her.

"Read my mind, ya' did, lassie," came the heavily Scottish accented reply. The two Longsword pilots had known each other for as long as they could remember, and although they didn't really need to ask what their battle plan would be, they went over it anyway, for old time's sake. It was evident that both pilots favoured their secondary missiles compared to their guns, although their guns possessed immense stopping power. And considering their two Longswords each boasted two of the mighty 110mm rotary cannons, they made for mighty dogfighters.

"Heh. I've got lock on the middle target, and I'm sending one missile out to go welcome those lovely Covenant bastards to our domain.

"Well, in that case, I better lend you a hand. Ya' wanting me to fire at a separate target?"

"You read my mind," she softly chuckled as she sent a missile rocketing towards its prey. It never gets old, does it.

She had aimed for the middle bomber, while her fellow pilot's missile connected furiously with the left most craft of the formation. Both bombers slightly lurched, unable to power their way past such brute force. The force of the impacts ripped one of the bulbous hulls off of the middle craft, and the right most craft had its rudder decimated, leaving it with only two mortars.

Moving to counter, the formation quickly began to shoot giant balls of plasma scorching through the air, hissing as they sought to wreak havoc upon UNSC metal. One of the Sangheili pilot cursed about his experimental Type-49 Building Siege Platform's lack of defense turrets in his native tongue.

"Is that all ya' got, ya' great bunch a' pansies?" the Scot pilot heartily roared as he hammered down his cannon triggers, getting in a few shots at the Covenant ships before he was forced to swoop downward and avoid the savage rain of plasma. His Longsword slightly protested at the maneuver, but he was sure that 'she'd' be able to handle it. Glancing at his radar, he noticed his fellow pilot had banked left to work her way around the five craft formation and was starting to bank right once more, aiming to come round from behind.

"I might try somethin' different, and attack them at their left. I do hope that their great bloomin' mortars can't swivel so I can get a decent shot at them."

"Understood," his fellow pilot replied, concentrating on bringing her interceptor around for another shooting run. Slightly easing the afterburners to make more progress, she eventually leveled out on an altitude above the Covenant craft, something she'd intended to do as her fellow pilot banked below her, now also bringing his craft around.

She trained her sights upon the left craft of their formation, letting her targeting systems lock on. When an icon on her HUD confirmed the lock, she sent a second missile screaming towards it. The powerful AGSM-10 missiles were apparently powerful enough to bring down one of their ships with two direct hits as her missile connected and knocked the left most craft out of the sky. Her fellow pilot let out a great laugh as he opened fire with his cannons on his closest target. But his mood quickly darkened as it started to split from its formation, as did another craft. Both pilots recognized the maneuver instantly.

Damnit, she thought to herself, that's actually rather clever. If they start to let one or two of their ships hang back, and we go for the front ones, then we're easy picking for the two at the rear. Quickly thinking to herself, she tried to evaluate what the best course of action would be. I don't want to use all four of my missiles on one formation, but that might be the only way that we can take them down. A thought of later formations threatened her finality, but she waved it aside as a king would a peasant.

"I'm using the rest of my missiles. There's no other choice, we cannot let these things anywhere near HAUBERK Base. I suggest you do the same," she instructed, pulling her throttle right back to compensate for the slowing craft ahead.

"On it, lassie, I'll take the other slowcoach."

Her focus lay solely on the craft ahead of her while her Longsword's targeting systems achieved lock on. There was nothing else in the world to her as her thumbs slowly pressed two launch buttons upon her flight yokes, launching the last two of her missiles away and into a second Covenant bomber. It passed from existence in a final show of brilliance, but she did not see its beauty. All she saw was another target's end.

As her fellow pilot let his second and third missile scream forth and wildly impact against the other Covenant craft that had stayed behind, Designation 5092C kept her cannons roaring at the only undamaged bomber left standing. Bullets struck and struck against its unknown alloy surface, but it still persisted, unwilling to relent in its crusade against humanity. However, there was no known metal that could withstand the force of a Longsword's cannons for more than too long, and the craft soon succumbed to its wounds, pitching to the ground in spite of all the pilot's attempts to pull up. Plasma started to leak from the craft, and after an eternity it exploded in mid-air, long before it could hit solid ground.

Realizing it was all alone, the damaged craft took a few wild shots out at the night sky ahead, its pilot hoping he'd at least hit something before he went on to the Great Journey. After four successive fires, one last missile struck the rear of his craft, and he was engulfed in holy flame as his dreams of ascension were fulfilled. Though, what he met, nobody could ever know.

5092C let out a long breath that she suddenly realized she was holding in. "That was too close," she sighed, the tension that had wracked her only partially loosening its grip.

"Aye."

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  • 09.13.2011 6:44 PM PDT