UNSC Battle Group Bruiser
April 26th 2526
Spartan Team Alpha
(3rd Pov)
"NO, this one goes there! That one comes here!" A Marine first sergeant shouted, "You physically cannot be this fucking stupid private,"
The aforementioned private could only strain out an apology as he pushed a metal crate across the cargo hold, "Sorry, sir. My mom made me this way,"
"NO, NOT THAT WAY," he shouted, face-palming. Before, "IF YOUR MOTHER IS HALF AS STUPID AS YOU THEN THE HUMAN RACE IS DOOMED," he yelled his frustration.
"We have been at this for 2 fucking hours, private. This should have taken 30 minutes tops, but because of your disabled ass, we are still not done," the man slammed his fist down on the crate he had just personally finished moving.
The young marine finally stopped wiping sweat off his brow, plopping onto the metal floor, his back against the crate he'd finished moving, "Is here fine?"
It still wasn't where the marine sergeant wanted, but it was about time for dinner, and he'd be damned if he let others get to the Salisbury Steak before him. "Just-Just leave it private," he spat out as he sighed, "I'll get the Lt to move it later," he mumbled.
"Thank god," the private mumbled similarly before standing up and making his way to his superior. But as he walked, he heard clunks against the flooring that neared him. He stopped, turning to the source.
Four giants in gray colored armor walked past him, not sparing a glance nor a word. They moved past in the direction of the hangar in formation at an even pace, a testament to their discipline as none of them were the same height.
"You sure you don't know anything about those new robots, Sarge?" he asked, his eyes not leaving the four figures.
The Sergeant who'd made his way beside him grunted, "No, and seeing as I've never seen 'em before, I'm willing to bet they're high above any of our pay grades." he too stood watching them.
The group moved through a doorway, the door closing behind them. "Now let's get to the mess hall, I'm hungry," the Sergeant said as the pair turned toward the door.
…
..
.
"So we are getting a newbie finally?" Shiela asked from the back of the group as they moved in a natural 2x2 formation.
"Yes," David answered from the front as they approached a pelican in the hangar.
The four of them walked by a navy pilot who was saluting them as they climbed aboard his aerospace transport. It would only be them for this short flight, so once they were settled in their seats, the pilot boarded, giving them a short greeting, but received no response.
He stood in awkward silence for a moment before he decided to just do what he was told and moved toward the cockpit.
"It's about time," Daisy said, sitting beside David.
Cal looked to David, "Do you know who it is?" she asked calmly.
"I do," David said cryptically as the four felt the Pelican lift off before heading through the pressure seal.
There was a pause, "So are you going to tell us or continue sitting there being vague and mysterious?" Sheila asked curiously.
"Maybe," David said, playing along, "Guess and I'll tell you if you get it right," he offered a game, "But everyone only gets one guess,"
Sheila sat up straight as she began to think. Cal's posture didn't change much, but one could tell she was much more engaged now. Daisy leaned in reluctantly, deciding to play the game to ease her boredom.
"Naomi?" Sheila was the first to guess, rattling off an answer.
David shook his head, "Negative."
"Come on, give us a hint at least," Sheila said, her voice changing slightly as if to beg.
Green checkmarks lit up David's HUD telling him that, though the other two didn't say anything, they agreed with Sheila, "Hm," he thought about something that would help them but wouldn't give away the answer, "They are in the double digits for our class."
A few minutes pass with silence coming through David's helmet. He figures that the three are talking to each other, working together to decide on an answer.
"Maria,"
"William,"
Both answers were delivered at once, only getting the same response, "Nope."
"Which one?" Daisy asked
"Both are wrong. You lose," he said, getting a couple of sighs of disappointment.
The Spartans felt the pelican as it jolted once again, indicating they had entered another ship. "Come on," David said, standing up, "He's waiting for us."
The transport landed, and the bay door opened, the light of a busy hangar inside the UNSC Jackpot, an Epoch-class heavy carrier. The ship was a massive 2500-meter-long behemoth of titanium with a displacement of 35 million tons. It was one of the largest ships humanity had ever produced and would be crucial for Operation: RED CARPET.
The Spartan team moved to the rear of the pelican descending its boarding ramp, only to be met with the familiar gray of another body in Mjolnir, "Jorge S-052 reporting for duty, Chief Petty Officer," a voice with a thick Hungarian accent.
"Drop the sir Jorge. We aren't strangers," David said, putting a hand in front of him.
"Sorry, David," he apologized as a habit before shaking David's hand.
Sheila walked up, giving him a look up and down, "So you're our new teammate," she said before turning to David, "Let it be known that he was my second guess."
"Nice to see you again, Jorge," Cal said with her usual proper tone.
"You as well, Cal," he said, keeping his polite tone despite his thick accent. They were just about to continue their conversation when a lone crewman approached the group of five super soldiers.
"Uh-uh *Cough*," he nervously cleared his throat. He looked at David, hoping that because he was at the front of the group, he was the leader, "Cap-Captain the- I mean Rear Admiral Fox has called for you and your team's pr-presence on the bridge," he barely managed to sputter out.
"Captain?" Jorge asked curiously. He cued his helmet speaker, allowing for the soldier in front to hear.
"We are under army jurisdiction currently. Ranks got converted, so now I am a Captain and you are a Master Sergeant," David clarified, getting a nod in return.
David turned, looking down at the crewman standing at average height, "Lead the way, crewman," he said in a flat tone.
…
..
.
The Spartans made their way to the bridge of the heavy carrier under the watchful eyes of many different personnel. In a simple sense, they were freaks, or rather, never-before-seen technology, as their trained discipline combined with their Mjolnir made them appear to be machines to the average soldier.
To the normal men and women, it was a spectacle, and to the Spartans, it was just another day.
Once they reached the bridge, the five of them stood at attention shoulder-to-shoulder, except for David, who stood at attention a few feet in front of them. The rear admiral seemed to be reviewing information on Covenant ships carefully, as on the hologram table between the Spartans and the admiral was a Covenant cruiser displayed.
"Spartan team Alpha, reporting," David said in a cool voice.
The rear admiral looked up from his data pad. His blue eyes flickered as his head slowly tilted to look up at the visor that reflected the dull blue light from the golden orange glass. He exhaled as he took a small step back subconsciously. He paused, their appearance having caused him to momentarily forget what he had planned to say.
"At ease, excuse me," he said, apologizing for his lack of acknowledgment. The Spartans, as if synchronized, moved to the at ease position, causing the admiral's eye to twitch, "I assume you are Sierra Zero-Zero-Three correct?" he glanced at the white numbers on his breast plate, numbering 003, and kicked himself inwardly for calling out the obvious.
David responded with an affirmation, "Correct, admiral."
He nodded to himself, "I've read what little information that High Com gave to me regarding… Spartans," he somewhat struggled to find an appropriate word, "And despite the fact I was only deemed worthy enough to read three pages that were heavily redacted. I was able to gain an understanding of your impressive skills."
"But I want to make it clear that while you are on my ship, you are under my orders and will do as I say. Understood?" the man asked seriously as he glanced at the five visors.
"Understood!" the five said in sync.
"Good," the rear admiral nodded before turning to glance at a data pad, "We still have a couple of days of downtime before our jump. You are free to do whatever-"
"Sir! Emergency transmission from Circinius defense!" A crewman sprinted to the group from another part of the bridge. He caught everyone's attention as both the rear admiral's and the Spartans' heads turned to him.
The admiral's face turned grim; he had a bad feeling. "Put 'em through," he turned back to his table, but was carefully listening.
There was a burst of static before a frantic male voice began yelling, "THIS IS PHALANX 2 HAILING ON ALL COMS. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK AND NEED IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE."
"Put me through," the rear admiral said as a communications officer nodded before giving him a thumbs up that he could be heard.
"Phalanx-2, this is Rear Admiral Gregory Fox. What's the situation? Who's attacking-Insurrectionists?" he asked seriously, and being sure to keep it clear and concise.
"NEGATIVE NEGATIVE NOT INSURRECTIONISTS. IT'S ALIENS IN PURPLE SHIPS-OUR DEFENSE SHIPS WERE ANNIHILATED IN MINUTES. WE NEED HEL- WAIT- THEY'VE CHANGED THEIR COURSE FOR THE STATION. THEY'RE HEADING RIGHT TOWARD U-"
The transmission cut to static, and the screaming vanished. There was silence on the bridge; it wasn't fully manned, but the ones who were on the bridge didn't have anything to say. They looked at their leader, the rear admiral, for his say on what to do.
"Sir, should we begin vectors for a slip-space jump to the Circinius system?" one of the officers asked.
The admiral was thinking, hunched over with his hands on his holographic table. His eyes seemed to betray his discomfort with the situation. "Damn it," he finally cursed, "No, we aren't finished loading, and we already have our orders." his decision was final, and all who were on the bridge knew there was no changing his mind.
David paused for a moment, "Sir, may I MAKE a suggestion?"
The man across from him studied him for a moment. He had a feeling that he knew the gist of what the thing in front of him would say, "What is it, Captain?"
If David could stand up straighter, he would of as he began to give a request, "Allow me and my team to take a prowler and try to give the planetary defense force some help,"
The admiral stared at him, pondering his request. It wasn't a difficult ask, per se. He had more than a few prowlers for stealth operations and reconnaissance, and though they were the only piece of technology that humanity had that beat out the Covenant. He doubted the Spartans were the type to allow themselves or something so important to be captured.
But the possible loss of Spartans on what seemed to be a battle already lost presented a serious gap in logic.
"And you think your team would be able to beat back the attackers?" the rear admiral asked a leading question, trying to get a handle on the thoughts of the Captain.
"No, sir," David responded instantly. He wasn't naive. They'd run out of ammo before they finished all the ground battles, most likely, "But we can give Circinius a fighting chance, and can delay the Covenant long enough for some civilians to escape,"
The rear admiral sighed. He couldn't help but admit it was a pretty good answer. One that stirred his own feelings, "And you understand what you're asking for?"
"We do," the visor on the Spartan seemed to glow as he said his words with conviction.
"Louis, get Captain Richards to bring her prowler to the aft docking bay," the rear admiral turned around to his communications officer, getting a "Aye, Aye," in return.
Turning back to the Spartans he gave his conditions, "You will get a Sahara-class prowler and that's it. I am going to go ahead and raise the alarm on the WINTER CONTINGENCY protocol for Circinius IV," his voice dropped as leaned in being as serious as a surgeon giving orders to a nurse, "You will be back here by the 1st am I understood?"
"Yes, sir!" he got five affirmatives from different voices.
"Dismissed, Captain Richards will be here within the hour and she won't be waiting long," he said as they turned to leave. He called out behind them as something nearly slipped his mind, "And good luck! I have a feeling we'll need all the Spartans we can get by the end of this war,"
===============================
I am back :)