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Act of Conspiracy, Chapter IX: Imminent Empiricism
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 19 March 2005, 6:50 AM
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Chapter IX
Imminent Empiricism
January 11, 2525
UNSC Destroyer Machitis
Slip-Space, En Route to the Atropos System
1930 Hours (Local Time), Fourteen Days Later
"Exiting Slip-Space in fifty-seconds."
Timothy Rossiter quickly scanned his instrument board as the call came out. All decks and compartments aboard the large destroyer had reported in and ready, prepared to make the transition from slipstream to normal space. The entire Bridge Crew worked quickly and efficiently to accomplish their respective tasks, finalizing the processes to concede back to the vacuum. This time around, though, even the Arsenal Operations personnel were busy, anticipating the possibility of this System containing threats—not unusual, either, since the nature of their deployment was under hostile prefixes.
Everyone on the Bridge, at least every who had been on a deployment before, was expecting this to be a moderately antagonistic System, since the preliminary reports and initial briefings foretold that the local government was under significant pressure by several organizations on a rampage to subdue the State authority under some kind of anarchist indication. He had seen the same thing happen once before, having served on this Rapid Deployment Force for several years, and knew that such uprisings were never quiet or controlled. Riots and public chaos were common, if not necessary, for these groups to complete their agenda, which made their jobs extremely difficult.
War mixed with innocents—or rather, civilians—was controversial, to say the least. It was an entirely different aspect of warfare, since the real enemy could hide among crowds of people who had no intentions of getting wrapped up in this mess, all while taking pot-shots at the personnel sent to put down such an insurrection. More often then not, unfortunately, many civilians would die simply because the distinction between friend and foe under these circumstances was nearly impossible. The results were always equivocal, and even the best and most optimistic wording still portrayed the obvious contention for such fights.
But despite the distaste for actions like this among peace groups and protestors, it was required and needed to keep the order of the land under the control of sane and competent leaders. For insurrectionists to try and impose their anarchy upon others brought not only support and opposition, but an entirely uncontrollable society that would inevitably crumble; this wasn't just basic sociology, this was common sense. This was exactly the reason the RDF was created under the United Nations Space Command, because the leaders of the United Nations knew that no one—anywhere at anytime—could tolerate resistance like this.
Although many disagreed, opting that governments should solve their own issues without dragging other nations and people into it, it was all for the common good; and all under realistic terms. Over the centuries of colonies and the expansion of new nations, it was unanimously agreed that something had to hold them all together to prevent the large and unneeded wars; the Jovian Moon Campaign, Rainforest Wars, and combat between the UN, Koslovic and Frieden forces during the early stages of colonization being painful truth that rebellious sects and acts had to be quenched. Not only did this save thousands of live, but it kept the link between nations—and furthermore, economies—intact and usable.
Hundreds of thousands died due to the indirect consequences of such war, poverty and starvation to name just a few. Those facts hung in the back of every mind as they set out to stop these wars; pre-emption at the core. They were not only fighting to save the few lives here, but the millions everywhere else that inherently depended upon the services and resources of this nation under the UN.
"Ten seconds to exit."
Rossiker turned back to face his superior. "Captain, the ship is ready for exit; all compartment report green."
Captain Henry Noland nodded. The older man was a veteran of these types of operations, and had on every occasion ultimately defeated any separatists or insurgents that threatened the well being of the United Nations. He had served under the UNSC for decades, and knew every finer point of combat to ensure their success and victory. While getting close to the age of retirement, everyone, including his superiors, recognized him as a brilliant tactician and formidable leader. He would no doubt be remembered after he left this duty, conceding to live out the rest of his life peacefully away from war. Rumors even abounded that this would be his last deployment.
"Exiting Slip-Space—" the Helmsman announced, stopping suddenly as the ship vibrated roughly. The crew held on securely as the transition was made, the destroyer glissading into the normal realm of space that everyone was used to. "Entering Normal Space; egress complete."
The black void, now cherished by all serving on these tours, appeared around them. Distant stars reached out for them, and a single dominant one brightly illuminated the large, gray ship as it coasted through the System. Ahead of them, like another distant star, was the planet Pacificatorius, the entire reason this small fleet had come to this mostly unheard of System. Atropos. The name was barely recognized by most of the crew as they talked about it prior to departing from the Epsilon Eridani System, the military center of the UN. Regardless of its recognition, it served an important link in the Human existence, and would be aided to retain its value.
"XO."
Rossiker turned to face Captain Noland.
"Perform System scans, and be ready to give me an initial briefing in five mikes. I have a quick video meeting with Captain Ramsey of the Diligentia. You have the Bridge."
Commander Timothy Rossiker snapped to attention formally. "Aye, sir." He turned to the far side of the Bridge. "Operations: Full System Scan."
"Yes, sir."
He casually glanced over his own console, accessing ship information himself instead of asking for reports. The entire ship was at General Quarters, ready just in case they encountered a sizable hostile welcome from whatever organization was causing problems here, and all weapons were on standby, ready to be activated at their order.
Timothy switched screens to see the short-range tactical view around the Machitis, and saw the three other ships part of this task force reforming closer to them, mimicking the formation they held prior to jumping to slip-space two weeks ago. While their traveling time was similar, discontinuous properties of slipstream travel randomly inserted the ships in a general area around their intended exit point. He was no astrophysicist, and never really thought twice about it, but the perplexity of the situation always seemed to arise when they were forced to reform upon entering a new System. Perhaps someday they would perfect the technology to eliminate this rather annoying attribute.
"Commander, you may want to take a look at this."
The tone was not what Rossiker was hoping for when he had ordered the scan. Problems? While they seemed to be something to break up the continuous, and often repetitive work cycles, entering a System and possibly facing a threat was not the ideal situation in which to deal with problems.
The Operations Officer forwarded the results to the Executive Officer's console, looking across the large Bridge in silence as Rossiker looked it over. The crew waited tensely as their superior examined the information, not sure what to do until another order was given.
"What exactly does this mean?" Timothy said finally, looking up in puzzlement from the information he had just digested.
The Operations Officer pointed to the Communications Officer, obviously conceding to another expert who would know more on the situation. The Comm. specialist thought in silence for a moment before responding.
"It's a frequency code of some sort, being transmitted on UNSC private frequencies used only for authorized and pertinent communication queues." The Officer looked down again at her console before continuing. "Its origination is on the planet; I'll be able to be more precise once we get closer."
Rossiker nodded, not completely sure yet whether this was important or not. It was unusual, and the frequencies that this was being transmitted on were reserved for important and crucial messages between military units surface-side and in space.
"Establish contact with the National Guard command," he ordered, looking once again at the baffling encoded message on his screen. "Find out what their situation is."
Perhaps this was some sort of malfunction of the planet's end. Though rare, it was not an impossibility, and could occur. Regardless of this problem, they could rectify it soon and began dealing with the bigger problem facing the planet before them.
He considered contacting Noland, but refrained, opting to let his CO just find out when he returned from the short meeting. As far as he—or anyone, for that matter—was concerned, this was overall an insignificant problem. The larger issues still remained in defiance of this, and they would still have the daunting task of setting this government and planet straight from the terror threat that fought for power. The anxieties about that part of the mission bore a much higher antecedence, and such a task would require an exhausting amount of work and time to complete.
"Sir, I cannot raise anyone from the official government channels."
He looked over, feeling the wave of concern wash over him. "Try all standard and secondary channels."
The young Ensign worked for a minute before looking up again, her face clearly portraying confusion and bewilderment. "Nothing, sir. This place is completely silent, except for that encoded message."
Rossiker shook his head in consternation, trying to devise a rational explanation of this, but nothing would come to mind. Even if most of the primary communication abilities on the planet had failed or been destroyed, even amateur or commercial users would respond to their calls over the primary and secondary channels. It made no sense.
"Any ships in the System or orbiting the planet?"
The Ops Officer spoke up immediately, having already checked. "Negative, sir."
The situation had grown quite confusing, mystification washing upon all their minds as they continued along steadily towards the planet. The scene was normal, and the planet appeared unchanged and the background sun normal. Nothing seemed out of place, but a let felt wrong. The circumstances surrounding this were getting suspiciously ominous, and there was no explication whatsoever.
He reached over and activated the intercom. "Captain, sorry to disturb you, but we have a problem."
Rossiker and Captain Noland walked into the conference room, eyeing the occupants already sitting inside. The large table was configured with chairs along each side, facing a holographic projector in the center. The walls were lined elegantly with pictures and paintings of previous warships, all of them notorious for winning some battle or another. It was their legacy that helped create what the UNSC was today, and where they were heading.
Though at the moment, their future was an entanglement of abstruseness and confusion, not a glorious and prosperous destiny that these former ships called for. The findings in this System were far beyond what anyone could have ever expected, and more importantly, what could be possible. It was nothing less of shock to those who heard the news, and accepting this as reality was nearly out of their conceptual grasp. What could cause this?
The Executive Officer and Commanding Officer of the Machitis took their respective seats and nodded for the Intelligence analyst to begin. The projector lit up and flashed a scene of the planet before them, nearly every minuet detail readily visible to them as it rotated slowly. Pacificatorius, the dominantly blue planet with extensive oceans separated only by three large continents, was a sight to behold, and in all its majestic beauty viewed from space the moment of worry was nearly lost upon the officers around the table. Such preoccupation wouldn't last long, however, as the Intel analyst stood up.
"Initial scans," the older man began dryly, "have shown that planet is in no way altered physically, and that no force around or near it has hampered the ability to communicate via any means with us and those on the surface. Another startling fact to consider, though, is that there appears to be no ships in the System—only scarce, unknown debris fields—which is quite odd considering that this planet is one of the largest producers of seafood in the outer colonies. I cannot make any presumptions or predictions at the moment, but it appears as if all activity has ceased."
A thought not lost upon them all. Rossiker stared at the floating holographic planet before him, thinking about the circumstances surrounding this situation. Ever since they had entered the System, the mystery abounded conspicuously, as if taunting them to search deeper to find the answers. The questions loomed in each mind, taking natural priority as they contemplated the reasons of possible events leading to such a phenomena.
"What of the situation surface-side?" Noland asked.
"Largely unknown. Because we have no contact with anyone down their, we can only speculate the reasons around this." The Intel analyst looked on at the hologram, partly thinking as he continued. "I suggest that teams be dispatched to the surface to contact the proper authorities, possibly after this we can find some answers."
Noland nodded, turning to the commander of the Marine units assigned to the task force. "Organize three teams to head to the surface, each team to a different city of appropriate stature to contact anyone of power." The Colonel nodded back, writing down some information quickly. "I want an answer for this in thirty minutes."
The rest of the staff looked on silently, still partly struck in awe and confusion. They were all dying to know the reasons for this, and suspicion was creeping into each mind—as was fear. Was this enemy they were sent to subdue really capable of inflicting this type of damage? Was this threat something to be taken far more seriously then even the objective analysts and their predictions? Question after question swept through, grasping for its moment of thought before another progressed by.
"Dismissed."
2010 Hours (Local Time), Aboard Pelican Dropship
Captain Adam Mahaffey, Marine Corps, looked intently at the small digital display of the field computer on his lap, watching as the red dot—indicating the ship he was aboard—moved along briskly over the topographical map towards the capital city of the planet. Standyle.
While he couldn't see outside, chatter from the pilots was not optimistic, and they kept commenting that they could not see nor contact any aerial flights anywhere near them. And furthermore, they couldn't see anything, or anyone, moving on the ground. It was if the place was evacuated or ordered to stay indoors—or something—because of this terror threat. He wasn't expecting the worst, but it seemed as if the worst case scenario as actually playing out on this planet.
Maybe this insurgency was really that big, that capable. He had been deployed twice during operations like this, where rebellion threatened the sovereignty of a nation. He had seen them rise, and then fall after additional forces were called in to overpower the menace. But this time around it seemed different, and by the obvious confusion created by the initial entrance to this System, it appeared as if they had something greater to fear.
A soldier next to him looked on in silence, but it was obvious the young Marine would speak up sooner or later. Mahaffey knew why, and dreaded each time he had to explain to some bewildered soldier who had never seen his kind work besides them. He was no Company Commander, nor some Executive Staff member for some regiment CO; he dealt in Battlefield Damage Assessment, a profession thinning by the year. It wasn't his job to secure a hill, but rather to evaluate the losses and inflictions of the fight for the hill after it was over. That aspect always seemed the slightest bit disinteresting to some Marine carrying a rifle, but they never stopped asking.
He pushed the inevitability out of his mind for the moment and recapped his orders for this mission. While initially his job was to help assess the damage associated with this government-terror threat skirmish, now he was being deployed with an initial contact team to find out what was wrong with the communications and lack of activity on and around this planet.
"Again, no contact with anyone on the surface," the pilot said over the intercom. "So we're setting down in a field downtown; that should get you close enough to contact anyone important to find out what the hell has happened."
Mahaffey stared across to his two teammates, assigned and trained specifically for BDA. The two Lieutenants shook their heads, not wanting to try and answer the questions floating in all their heads. The good news was that they would be finding out very soon what the cause of this was, and the sooner this was rectified, the sooner they could get on with the primary goal of eliminating the terror threat.
The officer in charge of this team of Marines stood up at the rear of the compartment. "One mike, gentlemen!" He yelled, indicating their arrival would be momentary. The twenty Marines under his command quickly finished any final checks before they would be disembarking. They had to be ready for anything, including worst-case scenario, and that meant ingress to hostile territory. The rifles were chambered and ready, prepared to face anyone who dared bring the UNSC Marines into this domestic fight.
Three other higher ranking officers were assigned to the team of Marines, their job to be the official contacts with anyone from the government and then relay information back to the task force orbiting overhead. Mahaffey didn't pay too much attention to them, knowing that they would most likely ignore them and focus solely on their own tasks. This meant that the three-man BDA team would work alone, doing what they can to make an accurate evaluation of the situation for the commanders above.
The Pelican transitioned to hover, then began descending. The rear hatch opened slowly, the rear-gunner keeping a experienced eye on the surroundings as the craft descended the remaining altitude to allow the Marines to get off. Nobody was in view, and more importantly, no incoming fire, so they exited carefully but quickly, setting up a security circle as training dictated, covering all avenues of fire.
The commanding Marine quickly surveyed the situation, then deemed it safe, allowing the senior officers and the BDA team to exit the craft as well. Mahaffey jumped from the compartment down onto the grass of the downtown park and looked around carefully. The area appeared normal at first, but he could already sense things were not right.
The grass in this park was long and uncut. The trees and bushes seemed overgrown, and trash littered the area. The streets were mostly empty, only random cars in awkward positions taking up the roads. The high skyscrapers still stood tall, and the buildings around the large park remained intact, but nothing seemed usual. The city—known to house seven million—was empty as far as they could see, provoking an eerily silent representation of what was supposed to be a busy and active megalopolis.
In fact, only the wind could be heard aside from the Pelican. No birds or animals were about, completing the spectral scene only imagined in dreams and theatrical productions.
"What the hell is going on here?" Mahaffey turned to face the Major who had made the statement, speaking for everyone present who was staring at the unrealistic setting around them. The gray, bland setting was cast by a gray sky high above, lighting the area with a dull effect that brought a wave of apprehension to each mind.
"Captain, find me the most direct route to the capitol building." The Major ordered after a moment of silence. "Then tell the pilots to relay the situation to the incident commander."
Mahaffey nodded and quickly opened up the field computer. He accessed the city map and plotted a route for the building of interest, no more then a mile away. He quickly saved the results and nodded at the Major, then motioned for one of his own subordinates to tell the pilot what to do.
"Okay, Lieutenant," the Major said to the team leader. "You and the Captain lead the way."
The group quickly and silently came to a halt, seeing the large intersection ahead. The sight was questionable, as a black substance lay in a large pile in the center. They had made their way from the park down the main avenue towards the absolute city center, where the capitol building was, but this sight readily stopped everyone in their own tracks, well before arriving at the destination.
Mahaffey stowed the field computer and pulled out his pair of high-power binoculars to get a better view. It wasn't far off, no more then fifty meters, but the substance was hard to make out. Further investigation by his magnified device revealed no more information, prompting him to look back at the Major with a shrug.
The Lieutenant quickly motioned orders to the two Squads or Marines, and they began advancing carefully along each side of the deserted street, stepping over scattered trash. The silence of this city ate into each of them, bringing a new wave a fear each step deeper into this relinquished concrete jungle. The shops and buildings they passed were empty, though not left unscathed by some rampart chaos; windows and doors were broken, and contents were scattered about inside and directly outside these businesses. Surprisingly, it didn't seem as if these were acts of looters or desperate citizens trying to obtain goods for survival, since the contents didn't seem missing, but rather only scattered about.
No bodies were seen anywhere as they had made their way through the city to this point, but evidence that bodies may have existed at one point vaguely filled the air. Suggestive smells flowed through the draft, but they seemed distant and light—nothing of serious concern.
The rifles in the Marine's hands were out and ready the entire time, but each soldier somehow knew that no one would be ambushing or attacking them. Nothing seemed to exist in this city, and the abandoned buildings and streets beckoned at them inarticulately to seek further and uncover the answers to the questions that abound. They would hopefully find some explication at their destination, or at this intersection.
Mahaffey was not armed with a rifle, but kept his pistol tightly in his hands as they moved up into the wide intersection, the charred substance blowing slightly across the intersection and up the street as light wing gusts picked up and herded trash down the sidewalks. He was beginning to get a sneaking suspicion of what that black, fine matter really was.
"No way, no fucking way..."
The lead elements stopped as they got a closer look at the intersection. Mahaffey continued moving forward, stopping only after he also saw the epidemic. Amongst the black ashes were bone fragments, barely intact and blackened from some intense heat source.
This city was never deserted.
Its occupants were slaughtered.
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