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IONCLAD: Chapter 2
Posted By: Capo Rip<oscar.archer@adelaide.edu.au>
Date: 11 January 2005, 3:48 PM
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-Halo Ternion-
He Will Kill For You
1958 Hours, August 6, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
1.4 km from Covenant Intelligence Outpost, Alpha Lyncis III
"One minute to ORP."
"Acknowledged. ...May I ask a question, sir?"
"Yes."
"What sort of rifle is that, sir? I've never seen it before."
"You would not have. I built it."
Ionclad swiftly overtook the sniper team, thundering overhead towards the Covenant outpost as the ATVs and their riders powered up onto the escarpment.
"Custom 18.1 APFSDS round, 12.6 mm S.I.W. sub-projectile with carbon sabot. Unlike the S2 AM, the telescoping barrel is slightly rifled and the fins offset to increase accurate range. I used advanced optics in the scope to compensate. We're here."
Hideki brought his quad up, Maine stopping behind him. Level, rough rock stretched dimly before them, but in the distance beyond the marine thought she could discern the angular shadows of buildings rising from a dark plain. Good - the Covenant had not restored power yet, but no doubt they were working on it. The only illumination to be seen was the dim emergency lighting glinting from the two Covenant vessels berthed on a field at the far side of the base, and Ionclad's dimly burning main engines.
"Our FFP is that rise," Hideki stated. A nav point activated on Maine's HUD, superimposed on the topmost edge of a ridge that rose to the right and indicating its current distance. "We will proceed to it directly, but stay alert. We might meet search parties. Never ignore your motion indicator." He signalled the Master Sergeant. "Sir, Black Team proceeding to final firing position."
"Do your thing, Spartan."
The non-com turned to his team mate. "Ready?"
"Yes, sir," replied Maine.
Hideki twisted the ATV's throttle and kicked off. Maine followed closely. The vehicles bounced over the viciously undulating terrain, and very soon they were noticeably climing along the front of a sharpening ridge of earth and loose rock. The odd shrub had poked its way through the cracks, and crunched unheard under the tires of the speeding quads.
"Hold up," Hideki said sharply, his vehicle braking. "Contact. Long range. Other side of the ridge." The edge of the rise was less than ten metres above to their right.
Maine stopped her ATV and cut the engine, studying her motion tracker with half an eye as she dismounted and followed the Spartan forward. Red blobs blinked at the readout's edge. The humans climbed to the ridgetop, each bringing up their secondary weapons: Hideki had his matte black, silenced M6D pistol, and Maine gripped her battle rifle firmly.
They carefully crawled up the last metre then peeked over. The terrain was much steeper on the other side, but a narrow path was cut into the stone, and a patrol of six Jackals strode along it toward their hiding spot, one blue and five yellow energy shields swaying on their arms, and glowing plasma pistols held readily. They peered attentively from side to side, muttering in their grating, high-pitched language.
Maine and the Spartan bobbed out of sight. The helljumper did not normally tangle with Jackals so closely, but knew that, with their shields, direct engagement could become drawn out, and that meant they would raise the alarm. She looked at Hideki; he made a rapid series of hand signals - describing a small circle with his finger, opening his hand palm-down, pointing at her then the ridge and balling his fist thumb-upward (she nodded) - then was silently gone, slipping further along to get behind the aliens. As she brought her rifle up and took her position Maine briefly wondered how a swabbie had learned ODST field signals.
The Covenant troops were almost beneath her when she saw light and motion: a fizzing plasma grenade arced toward them from behind. The sharp hearing of one Jackal made it stop and spit out a warning at the same time as the device adhered to the rearmost creature's neck. It opened its beak to scream, but a 12.7 mm HE slug hit the back of its head at that moment and it instead noisily vomitted its brains across the inside of its shield.
Maine similarly opened fire, maiming the leader and adding to the confusion before the grenade detonated, sending dismembered Jackals off the path and flailing down the steep slope. As the dust cleared, plasma bolts suddenly tore up around Maine's position. Clenching her jaw, she leaned over and fired full-auto down at the remaining alien shape. She was joined by Hideki, and the screeching Covenant soldier was all but torn apart by the time it's corpse slumped to the fluid-stained path.
"No more contacts."
The woman glanced to Hideki's location but he was already out of sight; she slid back down the loose bank and met the black Spartan at the parked ATVs. Without a word he mounted his quad, kicked off the engine and continued up the ridge, with Maine hurrying to keep up. The climb finally began to level off after a further few minutes of hard revving and rock-spraying. The nav point drew into visible range: it overlaid the edge of an impressive overhang.
Hideki halted once more and Maine joined him, crouching in a jog to the firing position, surveying the dimensions and security of the area they needed to hold. The Spartan unslung his rifle and flattened himself to the dirt in a single motion. The barrel telescoped, he pulled back the bolt, checked the breach and the chambered round, and started a field diagnostic of the targetting system.
Immediately beside him, Maine retrieved her large lens from its case and moved to similarly prostrate herself. Glancing downwards, she spotted Ionclad as the vessel decelerated and hovered less than one hundred metres from the dark Covenant perimeter. "Green and gold teams are about to engage," she informed her new partner.
"Acknowledged." The Spartan nestled the stock on his shoulder and sighted on the base's boundary.
Trying to relax, the woman lay just behind his shoulder, aligned her lens and quickly began sectoring the area of operation.
Turing was an R&D simulation/optimisation construct and only a Smart AI by design. Very early during his heuristic patterning he was deemed most suitable for behind-the-lines, computational support for the egg-heads on whom the navy seemed to increasingly rely of late. His brief stint at starship navigation had supplied him with nearly an hour's worth of raw data, however, that could only be described as "exciting". Moreover, he had grown accustomed to accessing ship sensors and interacting with the other systems, so upon being transfered to Spartan 111's new armour in his completely new role as field tactical support, he had immediately established remote connections to every camera and radar he thought he would need. As Ionclad touched down in the el-zee, he set about tagging tac markers on the lines of initial infantry coming out to meet them.
The super-conductor crystal supporting his spatial awareness was surprisingly roomy: he suspected that this particular part of MJOLNIR had been designed by an AI. He could also "feel" Sophia's presense far more distinctly than when she was in Ionclad's pilot seat. "Green and gold teams, be advised," he transmitted with the suit's com-link, "Covenant welcome party is on approach, prepare to engage."
"Ooh yeah, hot el-zee!" whooped Private Heitz from his seat, between his squadmates, along one side of the rear loading section.
"Wait for it!" bellowed the Master Sergeant. The hatch began opening and the ramp extended to three metres over the dirt. The equilibrating gravity fields kicked up the dust, and it swirled up into the cargo cum troop bay. The dim yellow light flooded out into the night. Overhead, even idling, the main engines howled like a category three.
"GO GO GO!" Lloyd ordered. The soldiers thundered down the ramp by twos, dropping from the edge and setting off toward the enemy. Spasmodic plasma fire began zipping through the dust; Doubet and Hutt, on point, answered with regular, short bursts of MM55 and MA5B fire. The forward line of Grunts came into sight, the barking, scuttling creatures quickly falling from the marine's precise fire. Every soldier had disembarked, and the squads fanned out to provide support. The two men suddenly knelt, pausing to reload, the pair of Spartans passing them smoothly to take point.
Almost instantly, the first wave of enemy infantry was routed. The two green-suited super-soldiers, battle rifles held firmly, confidently, did not waste a shot, and ignored the incoming fire that splashed impotently off their shields. There were few stragglers remaining for the helljumpers - hardly less formidable in their own new armour - to mop up.
A second, bigger mass of Grunts began their rabid charge, and behind them, the Spartans could see a line of Jackals and the field commanding Elite warriors.
"Target," whispered Maine. As her high-power scope sent the tag to Hideki's HUD, she continued, "Sector D. From TRP, right seven, add ten."
"Roger. D, right seven add ten."
"Red Elite, rearmost."
"Roger, Red Elite, probably commander. Target identified. I have point-eight crotch to head."
"Roger, point-eight crotch to head. Range set. No wind."
"Range received. Indexed."
BANG.
"One down," breathed the spotter. "Target, from TRP..."
Vacuum vapour trails began lancing down from the black ridge to the distant right, and intersecting the heads of the dozen-or-so Elites as they advanced behind the Jackals. The remaining ranks of Grunts fragmented into a mass of squealing, panicking aliens.
Lloyd hailed both teams: "Close in and clean 'em up, people!"
Heitz and Sterling surged forward, spraying bursts of automatic fire. "Yaaaah, Covie season!" cried Heitz, while the female soldier waded into the fray, 5 mm slugs blaring out of the submachine guns in both of her hands.
To the side, three Grunts turned and started shooting wildly. Lloyd peeled off, bringing up his secondary weapon: the experimental shotgun. With his shields sucking up stray plasma bolts, he activated the gun and pumped the slide. Leveling it, he aimed at the middle alien and fired. It was loud, and had a rough kick; the Grunt wailed and staggered, its whole side carpeted with tiny pink slivers. They then detonated in a violent pink mist, dismembering the dead creature and flinging its comrades into the air.
Lloyd let out a hoot, reeled and dashed for the nearest clump of panicked Covenant. "This is my boomstick!" he announced, loosing a blast to another Grunt's head by way of punctuation. The resultant explosion spread into a white-blue chain reaction as random plasma grenades were set off. With his shields scintillating he ran through the glowing mist to engage the next group of enemies.
Within a minute the barren battlefield was littered with Grunt corpses; Doubet and Hutt overarmed fragmentation grenades into the midsts of the Jackal cordon as they led the humans in. Dust, dirt and alien segments sprayed in all directions before the Covenant could begin to coordinate their fire. The closest Elite roared with rage, levelling its rifle before tumbling off of its feet as a hyper-velocity sniper round tore through its skull.
The last Elites and Jackals were swiftly overwhelmed by the UNSC soldiers' volumnous, coordinated fire. Sterling and Doubet led the way, continuing through the sprawling carnage at a trot to the waypoint. The others keenly scanned the bodies; "Clear!" the Master Sergeant announced.
"Shit, man, I should be dead."
Lloyd glanced back at Private Heitz. He was running gauntleted fingers over three brand new scorch marks that now blackened his chest plate where pockets had been a minute before. Three direct plasma hits that would normally have burnt and fused half his organs together.
"Stay frosty, son."
"This is black team," Hideki radioed. "Confirm no more contacts. Grading the road for you, sir. Nice and smooth."
"Acknowledged. Let's do this thing, marines!"
"Range recieved. Indexed," Hideki murmured. His rifle's stunning report rolled down onto the dark plains below. A moment of stillness. "Target?"
"...Sorry, sir," replied the marine. "Something's happening, right eighty degrees."
Hideki reverted to 1x view and looked right, past the dimness of the shrouded Covenant base. As the humans watched, one of the figates smoothly lifted itself from the ground on to which it had plummeted hours before, running lights glowing to life over the silver hull. The Spartan shifted his weight and concentrated into his scope.
"Do you see that, sir?"
"Yes." An Elite in irridescent gold armour was now visible beneath the levitating vessel. A scintillating, ultraviolet shaft also faded into veiw. The alien commander watched as teams of Grunts carried equipment loads past and began floating up into the ship's belly.
Maine made a gentle adjustment to her scope. "I have point naught naught four crotch to head," she ventured.
"Too far," demurred Hideki. "And we can't afford to alert them. Sergeant," he called.
Brief static answered, then: "One moment, black team. Come on, take it all bitch!" Battle rifle blasts rattled down the com link, followed by unearthly, agonised shrieks. "Right, what is it?"
"I have a new target; impending containment breach. Black team is moving to engage."
"Understood. Good hunting."
The Spartan levered himself from the ground. His spotter packed away her gear with practiced haste as he compacted his rifle, saying, "We will move to a flanking firing position. I may need to engage directly."
Maine finished securing her gear. "Lead the way sir."
As the humans mounted their vehicles, a speckling of stark yellow-white weapons fire glowed from between the dark structures far below.
"Clear!" confirmed Private Heitz. He took point, leading Sterling swiftly to the corner of the squat alien building; the Master Sergeant covered their six. Bloodied, multicoloured armour crunched underfoot.
The Motion sensor winked red: Heitz rounded the corner and knelt in a single motion, and as Sterling assumed position above him they began rapidly picking off the surprised Grunts that crowded the wide dimness. Lit by strobing muzzle flash, the stumpy creatures ran into each other, panicking and screaming till the last slumped in a blood-spattered heap. Lloyd stepped out and around the helljumpers, taking point position and leading them forward, battle rifle shouldered, trigger finger tensed.
The team had already penetrated far into the installation, feeling around for areas of Covenant fortification, systematically hunting the aliens down and exterminating them group by group. The Master Sergeant took care to ensure no significant forces were left to regroup and attack from behind. The soldiers were drawing on all their training and discipline, leaving no gaps in defence, choosing, unhesitantly, their targets with care and precision.
And abruptly they were faced with an entire squad of Jackals. Heitz and Lloyd drew beads on the shield notches but had to evade the barage of volumnous plasma fire. The humans took cover behind one of the numerous equipment modules, which immediately started smoking and glowing, sparking at the edges. Sterling's arm flicked out, and a frag grenade arced towards the aliens, but as the Jackals began advancing they consolidated their ranks, overlapping their shields on all sides to form an immediately recognisable infantry square: the explosive bounced off the top, falling harmlessly behind them and exploding with a thump.
Heitz wasted no time in slinging his rifle and bringing the bulk of his SSM rocket launcher up to rest on his shoulder. Lloyd checked the fire-ready status, then showed two fingers to his team mates. Without further ado he hopped atop the module and began spraying the enemy shields with automatic fire, letting the plasma bolts chip away at his own protective field.
"...Two," counted Heitz under his breath, swinging out of cover and sighting. The mighty weapon trembled on his shoulder and smoke washed over his face plate as the rocket accelerated away, detonating against the foremost side of the square.
Half of the formation fell apart immediately. From his position Lloyd onto the remaining surface of Covenant shields with a shout of determination. He fired on automatic down into every gap he could see. The Jackals' organisation failed and the rout began.
The remaining ODST broke cover and circled the closely packed enemy with both SMGs, firing at the exposed sides and limbs of the confused Jackals. Lloyd waded out of the fray, crushing every alien skull within reach with his rifle butt. The last handful of Jackals still had not come to grips with the ferocious counter-attack, and some attempted to flee; all were consequently slaughtered as the humans concentrated their last shots upon them.
A feeling tingled the back of Lloyd's head. He whirled and side-stepped, just as a hot, pulsing fuel rod blast burnt through where his head had been. Now visible at the end of the area, directly in the marines' path, were a pair of crouching, crab-walking Hunters.
"Heitz!" Lloyd called.
"I'm on it!" The marine held his ground, squinting down his scope. One of the behemoths paused with the same intent, spines twitching, weapon glowing a menacing green. Heitz squeezed the trigger and the 102 mm explosive blossomed against the alien's chest, smoke mingling and contrasting briefly with irridescent orange fluids. Lloyd strafed obliquely, his battle rifle slugs pinging off the other Hunter's massive shield; Sterling was already at Heitz's side, yanking out the spent magazine, slamming the next in, thumping his helmet. The rocket flew true, blowing the distracted alien clean off its feet.
"Clear," announced Lloyd, checking his threat indicator: no contacts within range. "Sterling, take point."
"Yes sir," she agreed, rapidly reloading.
The com channel spoke, "Come in, gold team."
"I read you, Spartan," Lloyd answered.
"We have secured the entrance to the central tower," Sophia spoke. "Proceeding with search."
"Acknowledged. We'll keep things stirring up here."
"Have fun." She closed the frequency, and followed Doubet through the arch and into the structure, with Hutt bringing up the rear. Faint red points pulsed on the motion sensor.
"I detect the highest levels of backup power from approximately fifty metres below this position," Turing reported, "corresponding to the likely location of the bulk of this installation's computing resources."
The Spartan nodded. "Let's find it, then."
"Radar shadows reveal a rampwell at the near end of the corridor."
The team moved swiftly along the dark yet oddly curved and coloured interior. Red FOF signals, brighter now, showed up ahead. "Keep it neat, Hutt," said Sophia.
"No signs," he confirmed.
Emergency lighting illuminated the area beyond, but not to the extent that the shields' of the lurking Jackals failed to glow from around the edges of the opening. Doubet advanced, back to wall, leaning far enough to see dark alien hide through the shield notch. His 9.6 mm round tore the creature's spine apart; Sophia rushed in upon the Jackals hiding behind the opposite corner, knocking the first's shield aside and putting a trio of bullets through its chest; she then bore down upon the other as it backed away, its panicked fire splashing over her armour's scintillating shields. Hutt had already advanced around the far side of the rampwell, flanking the remaining enemy, and now opened fire with his MA5B. The rounds forced the spasming alien body against the wall with a wet crunch.
The corporal swept the area briefly then clicked on his softlight and lead the way rapidly down into the gloom, checking every corner via the enhanced optics of his ODST armour. The descent ended at a heavy door which failed to conveniently open.
"Think you can make it work?" Sophia asked Hutt, sweeping her weapon over the surrounding darkness.
The soldier crouched close to the barrier. "Possibly, considering the near total lack of security that the Covenant have expended on this place so far. They never expected us, did they?" He thumped something block-shaped against the metal, and it stuck.
"That is a highly likely conclusion," agreed Turing over the team frequency.
"But if it's all the same to you," Hutt continued, standing, "I'd rather blow the bitch open."
Green team retreated up the ramp, crouched and tensed. Hutt hit the detonator, the door vanished within a mass of dust and smoke, and they charged back down and in, angling for the blobs of red on their threat indicators. During the last half-hour, Sophia had come to appreciate the tactics employed by the helljumpers: where a team of Spartans would perhaps pause, anticipate certain eventualities in an engagement, and make appropriate preparations, the marines of the 105th had a tendency to simply descend upon the enemy like avenging angels, relying on sheer tenacity to secure survival and victory. The new approach, to the Spartan, was curiously liberating.
Reports began ringing out through the haze as the humans engaged separate groups of stunned Covenant troops, predominantly Grunts. The suppressing fire strobed bright yellow and Doubet, twitching his rifle towards every silhouette, picked out a deep, glinting red shape. He charged, opening up with three-round bursts that ricochetted away from the alien's silvery protective field: the Elite roared in reply, drawing its plasma weapon and raking the marine with bolts of energy.
Doubet was still firing as his leg, suddenly numb, collapsed beneath him, and crying through gritted teeth, he fell.
The soldier's mind blanked, then his eyes sought a point of focus as he rolled onto his back. It was not really the searing pain over his body that bothered him, but the lack of response from his leg: attempts to right himself met with no more effect than the spears of agony that shot up his spine. This, however, served to snap his mind into focus, in time to hear the red Elite growl - he was sure he heard it speak Standard - "...Human filth." The fearsome being raised its armoured hoof to stomp Doubet's head in.
In a flash of pearlescent green, Sophia was upon the alien, ramming her shoulder into its sternum and driving it back. It roared and grabbed at her but the Spartan ducked her head, claws and arms skidding frictionlessly over her helmet, both bright shields sparking. Her elbow connected solidly with its neck twice, and the alien shielding finally failed; pressing the advantage, Sophia wrapped her arm under its head and squeezed.
The weapons fire ceased. Hutt emerged from out of the settling dust, training his gun on the alien and moving to Doubet's side; the corporal knelt up, retrieving his own rifle. The marines watched while Sophia gradually overcame the gurgling Elite, and, with a series of cracks, its neck broke and it died.
She threw the corpse to the side, checking the motion sensor and securing her battle rifle. "How's the leg?" she asked Doubet. She could see where plasma had splashed over his shin armour, and above it, the weeping, cauterised wound.
He stood, favouring his uninjured side. "I can fight," he answered and
took out a tube of biofoam.
"...Good. You have guard duty, Corporal. Secure any other entrances, Hutt - we don't want Jackals sneaking in."
"You got it," Hutt replied.
"The main-frame can be accessed from the far wall," Turing advised.
The petty officer switched to her interteam channel. "Master Sergeant."
"Go ahead."
"Green team has attained the objective. Request gold team secure the front door."
"Acknowledged. On the way now."
Sophia turned her attention to the alien computers: banks of pearlescent purple panels overlaid with holographic screens that constantly pulsed and shifted.
Turing remotely probed at the edges of the electronic systems, encountering the sort of automated security he expected. Intrusion was an art even more foreign to him than tactical navigation, but working from first principles he derived the cryptographical mathematics he needed and applied them, peeling away the security software like onion skin. He began detecting tracts of data, intelligence that would be undoubtably invaluable for ONI, yet Turing allowed no distractions - he would write suitable data scavenging programs once his objective was fulilled, and catalogue it later.
"Where are you, brother?"
He gingerly traced several thousand separate interogative routines to their common destination and piggybacked on one through the final firewall. What he found, at first, remained as unfamiliar to him as the convoluted alien computer realm he had already navigated. Yet there, at the centre, was what had been the core code of a UNSC AI construct, dead and dissected - the digital equivalent of a corpse on the autopsy slab.
Not without a curious sense of loss, Turing englobed the information, beginning the intricate process of disentangling M'Bantu from the relentless tendrils of Covenant scavenging code. At this contact, something within glowed to life, and the AI felt an irrational hope cloud his processes, anticipating the revival of his fellow construct. But all too abruptly, the source of reanimation became apparent.
"Petty Officer," Turing communicated, "M'bantu is unsalvageable, however he appears to have left a message for us."
"What does it say?"
"Unencrypting now... standby." Clever: rewriting your core memory so the Covenant can't anatomise the information - as long as they want access to your storage, at least. "ATTENTION... COVENANT POSSESS COORDINATES... REACH SANCTUARY SIRIUS... PROXIMA LUCIFER... EARTH--"
"What?" Doubet burst out involuntarily.
"...FORTY-FOUR PERCENT (ERROR CALCULATION... UNAVAILABLE PROCESSOR CONSTRAINTS) PROBABILITY... INTELLIGENCE COMMUNICATED TO ENEMY... CORROBORATING DATA REQUIRED... FACTIONAL SPLIT IN LOCAL COVENANT FORCES... 'Captain, the Bugs have found some sort of new weapon'," spoke a grating, heaviliy-accented synthetic voice, "'and they're taking it straight to Earth. We've never seen anything like this, and I don't think the Covenant can control it as well as they think they can.' ...That's all there is, skipper," concluded Turing. "I've made a raw recording. M'bantu's processor core is embedded behind the center panel in front of you. We should try to recover the hardware, at least."
SECTION 1 OF 2
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