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May 2023 It's been hectic this last year, but we are alive and celebrating our fifth year of adventure and tales. A lot has been worked on to help make the Monoverse one that everyone can enjoy and explore their story while becoming a part of the greater cosmos. All of you, new and long time players, stay safe, and see you in the Sea of Stars!
Her combat instincts were already in overdrive again as she drove herself forward, metal soles of her armor clanking against the deck while the heavy energy conversion whiir of her cannon shifting beam configuration and revealing the pulsing purple glow of the Wave Beam resonated. Even as the first Jiralhanae was hitting the ground, plasma burns still smoldering from the assault given it by the UNSC troops, Samus could see the movement coming at them. A flash-scan showed at least one more Jiralhanae coming, and they were plenty pissed from the roars echoing out of the armory.
“I’ll apologize to Mauk later,” she muttered as she dove, rolled along the deck, and snapped her cannon up just in time to fire a flickering burst of crackling purple energy. The burst discharged along the Jiralhanae’s torso, lashing threads of electrical energy coursing out from the point of impact.
And yet it was still standing, not even phased. And pissed.
“Shit.” The cannon’s blast muzzle unlocked and opened up as the building sphere of purple energy expanded into the size of a basketball just before the overcharged burst shot between them and hit the Brute at almost point blank range. That got more of the expected result as the Jiralhanae stumbled back while a crackle of shielding collapse ran over its body, eyes bugging in shock just before another shot caught it in the face. Aran leaped up as she had her chance, landing on its shoulders just as her cannon had built up another overcharged Wave burst.
“Hope you like enough amps to kill a bull elephant!”
And the cannon jammed into the Brute’s face just at the moment of discharge, causing a roar as over two solid amps and forty-seven megavolts impacted into its now unshielded head and arced down its spine. And yet, what had killed Urtrahgan with the same kind of direct force and charge into the nervous system ended up earning her a flying trip into the wall behind her UNSC charges. It took Samus a second to get her bearings back, but her suit was still recalibrating itself after that impact. Her quantum filament shield was crackling along the grid form as she pulled herself to her feet just in time to see the seething glare as she realized she had killed the Jiralhanae, but she had missed that there was a third Brute emerging from the armory, and her companions were moving to get position as far from its physical reach as they could.
And she wouldn’t have surprise on her side this time.
The flash up her spine came, this time saving her as the thrusters on her backplate fired and threw her clear of the raging beast just before the metal behind her caved in further as the Jiralhanae now occupied the space she had been in. Samus desperately tried to remember anything Mauk had told her about his species, and the first thing that came to mind after their weight and muscle mass, was the fact that they could berserker rage and cease to feel pain.
This definitely looked like smashing his fist into a titanium plate wall hadn’t phased him at all. Being the first two had been geared with infantry shields, odds were this one was as well. And she was not going to get the chance to fire an overcharged Wave Beam to drop its armor like the last one. A berserk mass upwards of seven hundred kilos of raging muscle that was ignoring any and all pain was not about to afford her the matter of seconds she needed to charge every precious shot.
“Aran, keep him in the lane!”
That, she understood. A shift into her sphere mode as the raging mass of fur and muscle dove at her again, slamming into the wall just as she rolled through its legs, reverted out of the change sphere, and spun to rapidly pepper the Brute’s back side with Wave Beam bursts. It was not going to drop its infantry shielding grid, but enough hits could chip enough away to keep it busy while the UNSC survivors got their mark. And judging from the crackling flare a second before the beast roared again and was now taking impacts directly, she had just collapsed its grid.
“Stay with me, you hairy ass bloated shit bag!”
“Worm!”
Thrusters fired against, this time launching her straight at the Brute a split second before she changed once more using the velocity to slip through his legs even while he had charged her. The problem became that as soon as she was back into her full state again, she was sent crashing against the wall. Her change sphere had lost the element of surprise already, and now sent flying down the other stretch of the corridor, Samus grunted as she skidded for about five feet on the deck, while her Jiralhanae opponent was bearing on her again.
Upside, she proved herself the bigger piss off than the UNSC humans and definitely had its his. Downside, her shields grid was screeching its alert at her to give the needed ten seconds time to fully recover, or she wasn’t going to get the fifteen it would take to just start refreshing from a collapse.
The viridian cannon gave a heavy click as the casing snapped open and shifted back to expose the ballistic configuration muzzle and the loaded missile. Thrusters fired to give her a needed boost and velocity to get herself under the speeding fists, another burst to push her around his side, and then her body twisting as the flash of warning fluttered up her spine and told her to fire now or never fire again. It was a split second later, thrown back herself from the force of the explosion, that Samus realized two things. One, her shields had collapsed and needed the precious seconds to reboot and refresh, but she was now back toward the UNSC troops.
Second, her missile had managed, against all odds, to apparently blow the Jiralhanae’s left arm off in what in hindsight had been his attempt to either grab her, or smash her, and as a result, his blood was splattered over him, her armor, and the deck. And berserk rage or not, losing an arm was going to slow one down regardless. Especially since he'd been thrown back by the explosion as well.
“Light his ass up!”
Somehow, Samus felt that things would have gone ten times worse if the humans hadn't been carrying plasma weapons.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Even as the first Brute fell to a firestorm of combined plasma fire, it was at that moment the ODSTs finally picked up on something that they hadn't before realized about Aran. She might have been trained, plenty skilled and equipped with the equivalent technology and physical capabilities of the UNSC's best... but she was young. No, worse - inexperienced, at least where her current opponents were concerned, and that was a lethal mistake when fighting Brutes. The last thing you ever wanted to do was get close when fighting them, yet that was exactly what Aran proceeded to do as the armored super soldier bolted past the smoldering corpse to engage the second Brute within the armory... without any apparent regard for the last, the lack of situational awareness only compounding the error. As Stacker finally came running around the corner at the sound of weapons' fire the shock at both the presence of the Brutes and Aran's rookie mistake was clearly visible on his face, even if only for a moment before decades of training and hard fought experience took over.
"COVER, COVER!"
It was hardly a necessary order as the marines that had roasted the first Jiralhanae were already recovering from their own disorderly response and were filing up around the doorway's edge with the metal frame providing protection from any reactionary fire from within the armory, but...... for better or worse, Aran had their full attention and the marines hardly seemed to matter much anymore. Stacker had no idea what sort of weaponry she was packing but it seemed powerful enough to kill a Brute just fine... provided you had the time to do it. Three to four seconds was far too long that close in, and while the first shot was enough to- damn. Shields. Considering those didn't handle plasma fire all that well it explained why none of them had noticed the tech on the first one they'd burned, but it was going to complicate matters once the rest of the ship's complement began arming themselves, and it pointed to whichever Covenant splinter faction this was being very well armed and equipped. Regardless, Aran's second charged shot collapsed the barrier easily enough and the second surprisingly even managed to kill the creature, albeit with a headshot, but not quickly enough to prevent the second Brute from reacting - nor suddenly throwing its weapon down with an enraged roar and charging the armored woman with enough force to launch her into the far wall.
Not good.
"Aran, keep him in the lane!"
The shout from the one marine at the doorway beside Stacker sounded like common sense, but it was easier said than done. Brutes were fast and unpredictable, and in a confined space... the fact that she'd survived the first blow alone was a small miracle, but the strain it put on her shields was obvious. Aran seemed to have something of a mobility advantage with the strange orb form her armor could take, but she wasn't going to survive a second or third hit if the Brute managed to land them. Another half second later, though, and a barrage of bursts from her energy weapon collapsed the beast's shields... only a moment before Stacker felt a pit form in his stomach as a small explosion illuminated the armory and made his ears ring. Secondary explosions were always a concern in such a space, and none of them were going to walk away if that happened.
Bar maybe the Brute, as while it had lost a full arm to the missile blast it was still standing and seemingly even angrier than before, all but ignoring the pain and blood loss as it staggered only from the physical force of the blast before dropping to its remaining three limbs with the full intent to rush Samus like the apes their race had been nicknamed for.
Luckily, though, Aran's earlier maneuvers had finally cleared the firing lane, placing the Brute between her and the marines who were already opening fire the split second before Aran called out to them, a veritable river of neon blue and green streaming through the doorway and splashing along the creature's back to engulf the Brute in a terrible multicolored mix of flames. Even then the creature paused not because of the pain but rather confusion as its more primitive mind was instead presented with new targets and a more immediate threat to its survival, turning around to face the door even as plasma fire continued to stream through it - and jolting forward for all of three steps before it finally fell to the deck, dead. The few seconds that followed afterwards were of relative silence as the last nervous weapons' fire from the doorway petered out not on the creature's apparent death but a moment or two afterwards, along with the stink and sizzle of burned and cauterized flesh and hair.
"Rollcall. Any casualties?" Stacker finally said, voice elevated but otherwise unshaken. As each marine present began to sound off and Stacker was pleased but unsurprised to hear no reports of injuries given the fact that none of them had gotten anywhere near the apes, however, it wasn't them he was expecting to hear from. The last thing they needed at this point was to lose an important trump card, especially when the fate of the Spartans down in Cryobay C was still uncertain. Stacker wasn't expecting most of them to walk away from this, especially now that it was clear they were dealing with a much larger and more organized group than a random band of Jackal pirates, but every super soldier they had to throw at the problem upped their odds dramatically.
"Sweep and clear the armory, get your gear. We need the place ready if more of our people show up." Stacker called out, the ODSTs at the doorway finally filing into the room - and giving the supposedly dead Brute on the floor a wide berth even as the older soldier walked past it, pausing only to unload a single Carbine round into the corpse's head just to be absolutely sure.
"Aran?"
It'd always been said that you couldn't dream during cryo. Insisted, rather, by the numerous scientists within the UNSC, and they had both the logic and the numbers to back it up. The brain had virtually no active neurons while one was frozen - no brain activity meant no thoughts, and no thoughts meant no dreams. It should've been a simple open and shut question, but it'd been long perpetuated by naval staff and the marines most commonly subject to cryo that you did dream during the process, and the number of such reports was hard to dismiss. Vincent himself had always been on the fence where the issue was concerned. He liked numbers. Concrete information. Assuming that the source of such information was reliable such things hardly ever lied, and you could infer a great deal from a supposedly small sample size or only a partial view of the greater whole, and Vincent had always been good at it. As a solo operative and later working within ONI he'd had to be as a matter of survival, and the science behind the argument from UNSC academics was sound.
Still, he had his own experiences, and many of them ran counter to what logic dictated. He'd never had dreams of the traditional sort, but Vincent had always found himself reliving old memories during his time in cryo. It might've just been that hazy period while one was waking and defrosting, but it was hard to make such an argument when one was abruptly brought back to consciousness without that warm up period safety regs demanded... not that he'd ever really noticed.
One of the lesser benefits of the augmentation process that most Spartans from the III class tended to take for granted, and one that Vincent had never really thought about until his time aboard the Infinity with the IVs who had experienced the process before being inducted - Spartans and cryo went rather well together, and for the most part they seemed to suffer none of the ill effects that stock humans did. As Vincent was yanked back to consciousness that fact left him remarkably clear headed, almost as one might've felt waking from a light nap, and it took him only a moment to realize where he was. A moment later it clicked that he was still wearing his MJOLNIR as the ghostly blue HUD flickered to life at the edges of his vision, although the jet black armor was largely nonfunctional and running on auxiliary power. More or less to be expected, though. With the emergency jump from Sol the only way the suits would fit in the cryo pods was to power down as shielding would've gotten in the way, and there simply hadn't been enough time to remove the suits. A jump start was all the armor needed to regain full functionality, and that was an easy enough process with a trip to the ship's armory.
Although... emergency jump or not, Vincent wasn't expecting an emergency thawing. As the cryo pod he was in hissed open the flashing yellow lights of the corridor beyond didn't tell the Spartan much beyond the fact that things apparently hadn't gone according to whatever plan the captain had in mind, although it wasn't until he stepped out of the pod and looked down the hallway that it registered how badly it'd gone.
What were apes doing on board? At least three casualties, two of the KIA, and as Vincent stiffened in response a hundred different questions flashed through his mind along the yellow light playing across his armor. A slight tilt of his helmet would shift his vision elsewhere to the other pods lining the walls, a handful of them missing. Taken by the Brutes? Or jettisoned by the ship's AI? One of them was Zachery's, but the others... Heidi and Opal were still there, climbing out of their pods and demonstrating similar reactions to his own, the former two looking up to make what amounted to eye contact for a fully armored Spartan. Heidi's own armored mirrored the coloration of Vincent's, although the visor he found himself looking into was the same silver blue of the ODST's own helmets, the rest of her armor visually striking a balance between the older Mark VI with ODST armor plates and matching helmet. Opal's, conversely, was sky blue with a golden visor matching Vincent's own - her helmet, however, of the Rogue designation and the rest modeled after Mark VI's Scout variant. The only one whose response differed was Amanda's, the brown smudged EOD armor taking note of the Brutes and moving to pick up one of the Spiker rifles to inspect - not without delivering a spiteful kick that caved in the corpse's skull, however, and that was before she'd even taken note of the marines that had popped open their pods. Along with every other one in the bay, it would seem, as several dozen other individuals would begin to emerge with varying levels of grace, hacking and coughing as they recovered from the rough thaw.
"Alright, people. Walk it off, head to the armory. Engineering staff, that includes you. Master Sergeant will brief you all when you get there." A rough voice would call out from the end of the hallway, evidently the one that had flipped the switch. Unlike the other three marines present this one was far older and uninjured, and Vincent immediately recognized the patch on his fatigues - one of the 105th, which explained a lot.
"Spartans get first picks on weapons, they've got point."
As Vincent glanced away from the man to Heidi, the only feedback he got was an almost imperceptible shrug. Technically speaking most every Spartan outranked UNSC personnel until you got to commissioned officers, but they knew nothing of what was going on and with Brutes on board... Zachery had been the one in command of their fireteam, and with him gone it fell to Heidi even though Vincent had once held rank. Sending a commanding officer behind enemy lines was hardly ever a good decision, all the more so when he was usually alone.
"You and Amy take point. I'll stay here and cover the rear with Opal, we've got wounded anyways." Heidi said, the woman's vaguely accented voice coming in over his helmet's comms. Nothing that the other individuals present would be able to hear - the ability to have such private conversations had long since become habit unless they were forced to directly interact with non-Spartan personnel, although not one formed out of malignance. It was a safe space, one shared only by those who had lived through and bonded over the same upbringing and set of experiences. Heidi's call definitely made sense, though. Opal had always sort of taken up the role of both medic and comms specialist, and having Heidi stay with the other crewmen would keep a rear guard and allow her to relay whatever the point team found to the rest. As for him and Amy.... he'd always been the infiltration specialist.
Amy? She just killed things, and was very good at it.
"You heard her. Come on." Amanda responded, collecting a second Spiker from the other fallen Brute along with the creature's ammo belt and the single plasma grenade on it - before throwing the explosive to Vincent, him deftly catching it more on instinct than conscious thought before stowing the item on one of his armor's magnetic clips. As the other Alpha graduate moved towards the cryo bay's door Vincent would glance to the fallen marines before moving over to them, taking a moment to carefully prop the bodies up in a sitting position against the wall. They wouldn't need their stolen weapons anymore, and given Amy's own preferences... the carbine and plasma pistol that both men had been using seemed appropriate. Sidearm clipped to his armor and carbine in hand, Vincent stood up and moved to follow Amanda out into the hallway beyond the cryo bay.
Her armor was just finishing up a full refresh of its quantum filament shielding, signaled by the flicker of the hexagonal grid afterimage that encased her. After a moment, having caught her breath, Samus slowly pulled herself to her feet and gave the Master Sergeant a nod of appreciation. “Not the worst I’ve had, I’ll say that, but Jiralhanae aren't exactly a combat experience I’ve had outside of a few training sessions back at the academy.” Even that had been under very controlled conditions with a Jiralhanae who had admittedly far better temper control than most of his clan. “Truthfully-"
“That was your first real fight with a Brute, wasn't it?”
So it had been obvious. “Outside a cadet back at the Confederation officer academy, who was Jiralhanae, I haven’t met any, let alone fought one.” She noticed the odd look on Stacker’s face when she had mentioned her old academy friend. Relations with the Jiralhanae must have still been rocky back in the era that these people had been from. “Like I said, Master Sergeant. A lot has changed in four hundred years, and a few name changes of the government is the least of what’s different.”
Her missiles had refreshed as well. Good. While she hoped to not need them in such enclosed quarters, it was still good to be at as full a capacity as she could be. Samus took a chance to make a quick scan while her ODST companions made their sweep of the armory, noting that she was getting a few odd readings on some of the other decks. “We haven’t run into any Kromus yet, which truthfully has me we wondering what they're doing here. I saw a number of their ships when I jumped in-system, and while I admit they’re not as bad individually as a Jiralhanae, they typically come in packs, and they swarm.”
Things had settled a bit, and the ODSTs had gathered everything they could. While the encounter hasn’t been the best it could be, Samus also was used to working alone. Two months from her appointment as a Star Hunter, and it was really her first actual mission outside the Zebes liberation. Outside that, she’d gotten some private work under her belt, but nothing on this scale.
And then something occurred to her. “Master Sergeant, would there be a terminal here I can uplink into in order to get the layout schematics and possibly systems condition of the ship? The more of this ship and it’s possible space worthy state, then the more options we have, because I think I'm starting to figure out what the Kromus and these other pirate groups are doing here, and I'm pretty sure neither of us want this vessel in their command.”
400 years old or not, resources were resources. And these people deserved to go home.
As reasonable as the question might've been on the surface, it was still one that made the Master Sergeant pause for a moment with hesitation clearly written across his face. Times may have changed, but military protocol tended to be quite clear about civilian access to military hardware and information. Aran was capable, no doubt about that, but while she'd been helpful to the point that none of them would've made it there alive without her help.... she still didn't hold any rank he recognized within the UNSC chain of command. 400 years or not, they weren't home yet and such action could very well be seen as an offense worthy of court martial at the least.
Of greater concern, however, was the reminder that they weren't the only ones on board the Anvil, and if Aran's claim of the year was true....
"Damn."
With that now at the forefront of his mind Stacker's hesitation shifted to anxiety. They hadn't heard anything from it yet, and it was entirely possible that the AI had self destructed after so many centuries... possible, but unlikely. Something had kept the ship running and in one piece over all that time considering they were never designed to run that long without refueling or maintenance, and the cruiser hadn't just wound up in the middle of nowhere on its own. Something else they were going to have to tackle at some point - rampant AI were unpredictable to say the least, and his silence ever since the cryopods were cracked open didn't bode well. Mind racing now, Stacker would move to one of the lockers where the other ODSTs were beginning to strap on their gear and more combat appropriate uniforms, the sky blue and white cryo fatigues quickly replaced with matte black and gray camouflage and armor plate - and, far more iconically, the downcurved silver blue of polarized visors.
"Can't say. Wish I could but it's not my call. Squad we sent to the other cryo bay should be back soon and that's where all our engineers were, they'll get it sorted. Man who can make that call is two decks down in bay Alpha - captain and the rest of the bridge crew should be there with a few more of our boys." Stacker continued, going through the process of donning his own uniform and armor almost purely by muscle memory as he spoke. Much as he disliked simply deflecting the question Aran had posed and as much as it may have helped to give her what she'd asked for... there were priorities. The ship wasn't leaving whatever rock they were on without a bridge crew, and so long as the chain of command was still - theoretically - intact, it wasn't his decision to make. Slipping his own helmet on and the transparent visor flashing over silver as it polarized and hid his face, Marcus nodded to the ODST beside him as the man passed the Sergeant an MA5 rifle. Checking the safety to ensure it was on before pocketing the magazines that were handed to him only moments later, the helmet would turn to look at Samus again as he spoke.
"Soon as we've got everyone out of cryo we can see about getting the ship up and running, then leaving. More people we have kitted up the faster we'll clear the ship of hostiles. Bay Alpha is two decks down, elevator across the hall will take you straight there. Any volunteers?" Stacker said, the last question directed around the room to the other men and women present - followed by a resounding chorus of positive responses. Despite the apparent lack of deliberation, however, five of the remaining dozen ODSTs would separate to begin approaching the door to the hallway and the elevator beyond as a group, their demeanor considerably more confident than before now that they were again armed and able to fight back. As they passed Samus, however, one of the larger ones roughly an inch or two taller would ball a fist and bring it down with a solid thump on one of her shoulder plates, an uncharacteristic sign of solidarity rarely shown to those outside their respective corps.
Bravo Squad-
PFC. Shanna Dunlap - MA5D Assault Rifle PFC. Frank Bauer - MA5D Assault Rifle PFC. Gregor Pope - MA5D Assault Rifle LCpl. Kurtis Barr - BR85 Battle Rifle Cpl. Colette Forster - M90A CAWS (shotgun)
The thump of respect given on her paldaron surprised the young Star Hunter. She had seen it enough back at the academy between cadets of the same unit, but rarely had ever experienced that sense of comradery herself. It was unusual, but helped her feel more sure in the situation, especially since a rescue and recovery operation had hardly been in the plans. But part of why she was given the burden and responsibility of being the youngest appointed Star Hunter in Federation history was the ability to adapt to any situation. She needed to be in control of the situation and not be overwhelmed. She’d already paid that price in Norfair.
“Then I need to know at least what this ship's slipspace capabilities are, because we are about a hundred and sixty-five thousand light-years from Sol System and the Terran Confederation, and if the Kromus are here in any capacity with renegade Jiralhanae, Sangheili, and Kig-yar, then Border Worlders being out in the Large Magellanic Cloud is the least of my worries as to what is going on.” They sadly would not recognize the terms and powers she had per the Hunter Accords, but they deserved to go home and find the new lives that they deserved after four hundred and twenty years lost in space. “My gunship is fast, but I can only carry three, maybe four extra people beside myself, and it’s still about a week back to Sol for me.”
“How the fuck-"
“Not the time, Marine!”
No, she wasn’t surprised or offended. She'd spewed worse out at the academy, let alone during Zebes. “My ship has an...experimental drive. But unless this old girl can hit five hundred light.-years an hour or better once she's spaceborne, then I need to send a priority hyperburst to Confleet HQ for one of their big ships to come give us a tow.” Dane would no doubt be over the moon at this kind of recovery and rescue being pulled off...nothing to say of the cloak and dagger operations she'd always heard about in the Department of Advanced Warfare either. They would definitely owe her one for not handing this over to GalFed for processing back into the galaxy, and Kea'ton would back her.
Her head’s up display interface blinked an alert. She was down halfway through her maximum combat capability operation time, meaning she had about two and a half hours before her suit started shutting down systems to extend its power supply and allow her time to get back to her ship and recharge, or find a place to get a slow trickle charge to at least slow the drain. “You said Alpha bay was two decks down, and that's where your command staff is?” Samus at least had her scanner pulse to map as she went along, limited in range as it was. “I need a com frequency I can reach you once we have the captain and the senior staff thawed and on their feet. After I brief him as best I can, I need to send a status update to the Federation Capitol and notify ConFleet that Terra best get the red carpet out for a long overdue return.”
And then the heavy whiiir of her cannon shifting into Wave Beam configuration filled the air just before she moved to join the ODSTs. It was there she paused a moment, turning her head to glance at Stacker with the emerald green visor. “And if you come across any crazy ass insectoid-crustacean bipedal lifeforms with pincer claw hands that you don’t recognize, assume it’s a Kromus, aim for the head with as heavy of artillery as you have, and blow their brains out as fast as you can. They have natural armor plating, pretty decent at taking damage from lower range ballistics, those claws can shoot high charge energy bursts that will melt your face off, and they will swarm you once they know about you.”
If he were to be completely honest, very little of what came out of Aran's mouth meant anything substantial to Stacker. The distance bit he vaguely understood as the size of the Milky Way galaxy was something that most people learned in passing to some degree during primary education, but fact of the matter was that the intricacies of interstellar travel just didn't mean anything to most unless you were pursuing a career in Navy or public transport. Almost every man and woman in that room were grunts, boots on the ground, and Stacker himself was no different - the only individual that seemed to understand at all was the one armory technician present, and he was quickly silenced out when he began to voice his disbelief.
In truth, though, very little of that mattered in the short term. None of it would matter if they couldn't get the ship into space again, which created a very clear set of priorities where Stacker was concerned. He was a relatively simple man, and there were things prowling the ship and likely outside of it who wanted them dead. No concrete information on if there were more still coming. So as relevant as the information might have been, fact was that they couldn't act on it until the more immediate and pressing concerns were dealt with first.
Getting the captain and crew out of cryo, then breaking orbit.
"Best get the captain and bridge crew thawed, then. After we get off this rock I figure we'll last long enough for the taxi to show." Stacker said, voice carrying the barest hint of exasperation as he spoke. They needed to move, and needed to move quickly - much as Aran probably understood the situation (admittedly likely better than he did), the Master Sergeant understood that time was of the essence and they didn't have enough to debate. Her point had been made, but he wasn't in a position to do anything with what he'd been told regardless. Head turning slightly to one of the ODSTs that had paused and turned around to wait for the armored woman, Stacker made a gesture to get their attention before pointing to the hunter.
"Patch her into comms as you go."
Easy enough to give her access to the frequency they were on, but that wouldn't mean anything without the required encryption keys - and that would take a few minutes. As the first ODST nodded back in response, another would simultaneously call out as two green dots would suddenly appear on most of their motion trackers, roughly overlapping the elevator that Stacker had directed Samus to moments earlier.
"Service elevator, two friendlies coming up."
Whisper quiet save for the soft hum of the motors coming to a halt, the wide doors would crack and part open to reveal two figures standing on board the platform, both towering over the ODSTs - one clad in worn and scuffed black, helmet straight out of the history books, the other only a couple of inches shorter but sporting much stockier brown armor. Most notably, however, was while the slightly taller one was armed with a plasma pistol and carbine similar to the ODSTs before accessing the armory... the shorter of the pair was holding two Spiker rifles identical to those the Brutes in the armor had been armed with, blades clearly showing signs of combat. All the more obvious, though, was the weapon attached to the back of her armor, a massive war hammer clearly appropriated from a kill and nearly as tall as she was, clipped to her armor at an angle so as to not impede normal movement.
"Clear the elevator, we've got another team heading down!"
Not missing a beat, both Spartans would quickly move to comply with the request, moving towards the armory and skirting past Samus and her volunteers - not, however, without the black armored one's helmet turning with an almost imperceptible glance as he passed her. She hadn't been among the ship's crew when they'd gone into cryo. Where had she come from? Obviously a friendly given the demeanor of the ODSTs, but....
"Spartans, we've got hostiles on board. First priority is to clear the ship, take back Engineering and the bridge. McAvoy, charging station and diagnostics." Stacker called over, although he was already moving to assist the handful of remaining troopers in clearing the messes that the Brutes had left while taking stock of the armory's contents - the ODST that had been objecting to Samus' earlier claims quickly moving towards the back of the armory where the heavier machinery designed with MJOLNIR in mind was located.
Bravo Squad-
PFC. Shanna Dunlap - MA5D Assault Rifle PFC. Frank Bauer - MA5D Assault Rifle PFC. Gregor Pope - MA5D Assault Rifle LCpl. Kurtis Barr - BR85 Battle Rifle Cpl. Colette Forster - M90A CAWS (shotgun)
The predecessors of the ÆSIRs. Four hundred years after their heyday, they were required reading in the army academy, and still legends respected and sometimes feared in the former Covenant races. There hadn’t been a Spartan seen in the galaxy since the second Machine War, over two centuries now. They had become myth, and yet, here were two of them, alive and very much ready to fight.
“Holy fuck.”
To say they were big was a gross understatement. Her own ÆSIR enhanced advanced combat instructor back at the academy had been a mountain of a man at just under six and a half feet barefooted. She'd considered that impressive as it was, but nothing readied her for what Spartans hit. The one taller one in black armor was well over seven feet tall in armor, making her in her armor look like a child in terms of size ratios, and likely experience and skills. Whomever was behind those visors, wearing what her suit calculated at almost a thousand pounds of titanium armor a piece, enhancing force multipliers, speed boosters, and four centuries of cryo...They were the legends her father's unit had been named for. They were what ÆSIR had aspired to.
And she was going to see them in action.
“You okay?”
One of the ODSTs, the one who had tapped her paldaron. Her surprise and awe must have shown in her body language. After a moment to get her composure back, Samus gave a curt nod before moving aside while the two titans made their way back to the rear of the armory, no doubt to get equipment better suited to their needs. It wouldn’t take them long, so it was best to prepare herself for what they were doubtlessly going to encounter.
“First time seeing one for real?”
Again, she nodded, though she had better grasp of herself now as she got her mind back into job mode. “Spartans haven’t been in existence for the Confederation since the 2760s, when the process was lost during the Machine War.” He was puzzled, obviously, and she didn’t expect him to know what it all meant. “The fleet will get you guys caught back up. Right now, we just need to get this old girl into space and get out of here.” If they could get the ship back into space.
The Spartans, no doubt, would be a bit as they geared up. “Master Sergeant, if you have no objections, I’ll take the ready group and sweep ahead to Alpha Bay to wake up your command staff. If the armory was any indication, we may be expecting more resistance along the lines of what was here, and I’d rather be there if and when we run into any Kromus.” Those foes, unlike the Jiralhanae , she was vastly familiar with fighting in close quarters
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
"Part of the new class, you think?" Vincent said as he and Amanda moved towards the back of the armory as requested, the room a flurry of activity as troopers suited up, passed out weapons or ammo and cleared space in a general sense - the assumption being that plenty more leathernecks would be coming, and soon. Not unreasonably, though. At least sixty were on their way, and if the sound of another elevator out in the hallway was anything to go by they were only moments off. Even in spite of the deafening activity, though, the black armored Spartan was sure to keep his helmet's sound dampening active, the words spoken meant only for the armored woman just ahead of him via a private comm line. It was a safe space for the IIIs, and supposedly the IIs before them - a place where they could remain somewhat isolated from those who were simply different. Amanda's response, though, was merely a subtle shrug, so small that those who hadn't gotten used to communicating purely through body language while armored would likely miss.
Unsurprising. Amy had never really been one to ask questions beyond the barest of basics. All she needed to know was that the ODSTs seemed to consider the new arrival an ally... so as far as Amanda was concerned she wasn't a potential vent for the woman's ever present aggression. Placing her appropriated Spiker rifles on a bare table top, Amanda would wordlessly move to follow the technician as he motioned to one of the stations, moving to connect a diagnostics tablet to the armor to ensure the suit was properly tracking user eye movement.
Left to stand and wait, Vincent would bring the Carbine up over his head before slotting it onto the magnetic clamp on the back of his suit, helmet turning to glance back towards the hallway again and the other armored individual outside. It wasn't MJOLNIR, at least so far as he knew of it, and just going off of height alone she wasn't a Spartan. Not a II or III, anyways, but she could have been towards the lower end of the IVs' spectrum... maybe. She certainly carried herself as an augmented individual would - there was definitely a unique mannerism to how people moved after being torn apart and rebuilt stronger and faster than they'd been born, but something was still off about that. It left Vincent more than simply uncomfortable. He'd always been one of the more curious of his class, but experience had long since taught him to be wary of unknowns and she definitely qualified as one. After another moment, however, additional movement would start sliding across the golden reflection of the room and hallway beyond it as additional troopers from Charlie Bay arrived, a number of them helping to carry two of the wounded ODSTs that had thawed the bay's occupants. Behind them and bringing up the rear were Heidi and Opal, the latter's pale blue armor smudged red from the first aid she'd administered.
"Two wounded and two MIA, one KIA. Otherwise accounted for, Master Sergeant." Heidi would call out, notably the only one of the group to speak directly to someone outside of the squad since waking. As she and Opal strode into the room they would take note of Vincent and Amanda in the back, the latter immediately peeling off to approach the ready station and rejoin the rest of the squad. Stacker, despite the single curse word uttered at the announcement of the death, would still be visibly relieved as the relative success of the earlier gamble was made apparent. They had numbers now, and that meant they had a chance - anyone looking to take the ship would be in for a fight. Shortly after delivering the brief report, Heidi would move to claim one of the MA5 rifles being stacked with the arms intended for freshly suited troopers, inspecting the weapon and attention clearly elsewhere as she began to collect ammunition for the gun and seizing another M6 sidearm. Spared of a need to ask for further elaboration, Stacker would look towards Aran again.
"Right, better get moving. I'll send what help we can, but in the meantime we've got to take back other areas before they realize there's a problem." Stacker said, tone hurried as the relatively cramped armory was transformed into a nexus of noise and activity.
It was never going to be something he'd get used to, the cramped confines of human vessels.
One didn't live for as long as he had or attain a level of success within the Banished without a myriad of different experiences and challenges to overcome, but no matter how many times he'd been aboard human vessels the tight quarters always served to make the warlord feel out of place. It was a constant reminder of how wrong it was for him to be aboard - standing at a solid nine feet tall and over half as wide in the shoulders, rooms intended for much smaller occupants were always difficult for him to move in. Making it all the more difficult was his armor, a collection of steel and crimson painted nanolaminate and titanium plating passed down from his father and his father before him. Tradition had always held a strong presence within the lives of his people, and not only entering military service but excelling all but demanded the armor be worn whenever on duty - both as a mark of his rank and of his pride. As much as other military entities might have avoided such practices as it supposedly marked commanders for assassination, the Warlord knew that he and others like him relished the idea of such challenge, yet another chance to prove their might and potentially climb to even greater heights within the Banished.
Despite their similar size, however, the Brute could not help but wonder if any similar thoughts passed through the minds of the other beings within the cramped cryo bay alongside him.
Many had been... reluctant to allow the Kromus and their various subspecies within the Banished ranks. They were not the Covenant nor were they an entity such as the Swords of Sanghelios or even the Galactic Federation Police, despite their arrangement with the Border Worlds effectively making the collection of once murderers and thieves a somewhat legitimate entity, but... even in spite of their background, many among their number still held a personal code of honor. It was the only thing that had allowed the organization to remain functional after the disappearance of their founder centuries before, an event that might have spelled the end for any other similar group - it hadn't been a cult of personality, but so far as he was aware the Jiralhanae leading the Banished during their inception had done so through not only strategic brilliance but sheer charismatic presence. All of the former Covenant races that had joined came from a shared background, a common kinship, and humanity had long since proven their worth and earned the right to stand alongside them.
But the Kromus... they seemingly lacked any of the principles that set other thinking races apart from common beasts, lacked the ambition to become anything more than a devouring swarm, a pestilence upon others. They demonstrated loyalty and intelligence, yes, but to what end?
Such had long disturbed the Warlord's sleep ever since their ilk had been allowed a place within the Banished, but no words had been spoken of it. They had long since made their place by accepting other outcasts and outlaws so long as rules were followed and - above all - results were produced, and for the time being both conditions had been met. He would watch them, especially when given a group to supervise and command as he had been here, but so long as they remained loyal and productive there was no need to sow discord where there was none. As four of the creatures - resembling misshapen and diseased Sangheili - moved to identify and mark cryo pods for transport, the Warlord would remain at the end of the hall opposite the only closed door leading into it, his gravity hammer planted to the floor. The room behind him was of little concern, occupied by another four Unggoy that were prepping gravitic devices to transport the pods once they were safely detached, but...
He wasn't deaf, and while it was very faint there had been sounds from either the level above or below that had sounded an awful lot like weapons' fire. At the same time, however, no alert had gone out over the battlenet. Surely if one team had encountered resistance of any kind they would have sent for help? Maybe. Or maybe the Kig-yar were having too much fun, as they had always erred more towards sadistic tendencies than not.
Regardless, he'd been given a job to do and he would see it through. Grip tightening on the hammer's hilt, the Warlord would remain standing at attention, brandy colored eyes on both the Kromus ahead of him and the door beyond them.
It was odd and a bit off-putting to be staying with a squad instead of scouting ahead on her own. The last time she’d been with a combat unit before this whole ordeal had been the Sangheili Shadows unit that had accompanied her onto Zebes and rescued the half-dozen Chozo survivors who had been holed up in the ancient city. They had left on a Brood jumpship since her own runabout had been wrecked in the descent attempt, and left her to her work alone.
This was vastly different, as she had five other people to watch out for, and they were also, in theory, watching out for her. Strange to think in terms of managing a team on her first independent assignment. Even if she hadn’t exactly invoked Federation empowered authority, as none of these people would likely recognize and respect it. It was possibly better for her that she was a rookie and not used to throwing around the Hunter Accords as needed. A more experienced Star Hunter would have likely been so used to calling on Daiban’s authority that, ironically, things with the UNSC troops here would have potentially gone very bad.
And a thought came to her. Kea’ton had insisted on a human agent for this, to help make it easier to possibly alleviate any tensions with the Border Worlders. Especially a human that was so famous for devastating the Kromus command structure like she had done on Zebes. If he had known about this ship and what it had carried, would he still have assigned her? Or would he have gone straight to General Morris and informed Confed right away?
But that, right now, didn’t matter. It was working as well as it could, all things considered. And as of yet, their move down the corridors had been unchallenged. Ironically, that was setting off warning bells in her head. Samus had come to expect that pirates and salvage runners weren't idiots, and anyone in Kromus territory not being harassed by the Space Pirates of Krom was either a bigger fish, or something else was going on. And her gut instinct was disturbingly the latter. She hadn’t known any Kig-yar in truth, despite many a cover story on her usual genetics, but she did know that they had been impacted by the Kromus harassments since the mid 2910s. And the Jiralhanae had suffered as well in the war. Not many species in the Orion Spur had escaped losses due to the Magellanic Cloud borne invaders, and it was unheard of for any species to not have even a degree of resentment for what they had done.
“So, what kind of outfit are you with again?”
That was the ODST who had given her the shoulder pat earlier, glancing her way for a moment. It was quiet enough, and no one was exactly breaking radio silence. And no doubt, she had drummed up a lot of curiosity with her antics outside the armory, to say the least. And a chance to catch some of these soldiers out of time up wasn’t exactly a bad way to break the ice.
“I’m with the Star Hunters, they’re a special agency that answers directly to the highest levels of the Galactic Federation government.” Most times that being the Chairman himself. “Most times one of us is called in, it’s to avoid large scale operations to handle a situation…like the one I was originally expected to handle.” A pause as she fired off another scanning pulse to get her mapping render further developed. “They say that Star Hunters are the first and last line of defense in the Federation, each one with unique talents and abilities that set them apart.”
“So a lot of enhanced humans are running around now? Working for this...Galactic Federation?”
It took her a minute to remember that for these people, the Covenant’s client militarized races were all they knew of non-human species. They didn’t know about the vassal worlds that had escaped combat demands at the price of having any kind of say in those days. Ironic those species had founded what would become the Federation, and were now the ones with most of the political power.
“Mostly non-Terrans, actually. Maybe a dozen human-borne agents out of about ten thousand throughout the explored Orion Spur region and over thirty known species.”
That earned her a whistle from one of the other ODSTs. They had heard her explain a few times the centuries they had lost during cyrosleep, but it was now they were getting an idea of how much things had changed. It was relieving the tension, at least. “The Federation is centralized around Daiban in the Al'kya system, it’s about seven thousand light-years from Sol and the main core region of the Terran Confederation. Which is where I’m hoping I can get you folks back to once this is over.”
Something was up ahead, a metal clanging like a tool hitting the deck. Her instincts kicked into overdrive again as her cannon snapped to the ready. The clicking of the various assault arms as the ODSTs followed suit echoed behind her as Samus triggered another scan pulse. Something was up ahead...multiple somethings. So much for a quiet walk through to Alpha Bay.
“Who’s up for an enthusiastic walk down the deck corridor and giving a big hello to our guests up ahead?”
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
The clanging sound, as it would turn out, was exactly what it sounded like - as Unggoy were far from the most graceful or coordinated races among the Banished ranks. Having evolved to traverse ground on all four limbs in an ape-like manner as opposed to merely their two hind legs, having to resort to such movement not only slowed them but heavily impeded physical coordination as well... not that they could complain all that much, however. Unlike the dark ages heralded by the arrival and presence of the Covenant, the galaxy had ultimately changed for the better so far as they were concerned. Despite still being fairly close to the bottom of the barrel where social standing was concerned, they were no longer forced or conscripted into roles. Rather, every Unggoy now within the Banished were there because they chose to be, whether it be for profit, ambition or merely the promise of a better life, and in the latter case many simply chose to accept menial roles within the organization rather than military service.
As a meritocracy, however, mistakes were still frowned upon even within such roles as they could remain costly, particularly where expensive equipment was concerned.
Such as now.
Having been carried by two Unggoy working in concert the crate had been dropped by one, allowing one end to slam into the metal deck with a loud clang that reverberated throughout the ship's hallways - and had the other Grunt that maintained a steady grip on the box been capable of it his face likely would have gone pale. While they only understood the most basic of information about what they had been entrusted with, both were aware that the equipment contained within was critical to accessing the cryo bay's more well protected functions and protocols that couldn't be utilized without a Huragok otherwise... all of which were busy elsewhere repairing broken and decayed portions of the ship, and despite that work being nearly completed breaking something so valuable would likely place a permanent black mark on their records. Following a short exchange of sharp chitters and barks mixing both Sangheili and their native language, the metal crate was gingerly set down by the second Unggoy as the first began to move off at an awkward loping gait for the lift again, intending to retrieve a repair tool if it was needed.
Only to, as he rounded the corner, freeze as he saw that they were not alone.
Occupying the hallway were several black armored creatures that the Grunt only vaguely recognized as human, one of them a veritable mountain - and all of them armed. Combined with the presence of the gold clad one with a very large cannon replacing their arm and it was practically all of the little mechanic's worst nightmares given form, and after only the briefest moment his fear driven paralysis would be broken as a single yelp of sheer terror split the air. Abandoning all sense of decorum, the Unggoy would spin and flee, dropping to all fours to move as fast as possible all while screaming out a warning to his coworker that would immediately turn and make for the cryo bay in a slightly more dignified fashion, moving as fast as his off gait waddle could carry him.
Even as both entered the bay, their warnings had already been heard loud and clear by all others present.
"All Unggoy to the control room. GO!! Kromus, to me!" The warlord shouted, his earlier unease given form as the two Grunts hurried past his bulk and into the room behind him, locking the door as they went. Where other Jiralhanae may have simply used them for cannon fodder... that was not their role here. They were technicians, noncombatants, and there was no honor in utilizing them as living shields to waste the opposition's ammo. They had their role within the Banished and he would not squander their expertise. The Kromus, however, were another matter entirely. Bred for battle and armed at practically all times, the warlord had no moral compunction regarding their use in a fight, and as they dropped what they were doing the four crustacean like aliens would array along the edges of the bay, bringing their wrist mounted energy weapons to the ready.
The warlord himself, however, would remain dead center in the middle of the hall, blocking access to the closed door behind him as he hefted his hammer off the ground and dropped it into a two handed grip, stance wide.
“Seven contacts, two running while four are moving to engage us and the last one seems to be holding position.” The barrel of her cannon began to crackle with purple tendrils of electrical charge as she could hear the clanking of chitin plated feet on metal deck. She knew that sounds very well, and it told her right away what was coming at them. Kromus, and depending on which sub-species, an overcharged Wave Beam shot would be enough to send them into seizures, if not outright kill at least one of them if it hit right.
If not? Well, natural armor plating served well enough, but something told her the ODSTs were more than capable and well equipped to handle a few Kromus. It was when they swarmed from everywhere that their real danger became indisputable.
“Cover the hallway and make sure our back is covered.” And now her feet shifted just before the golden yellow plates of her boots made their rapid impacts against the deck. “Aim for the heads, Kromus have thick exo-skeletal armor, but it’s thinnest at the head!” The coming clattering came around the corner just as Samus dove into a roll and came up to slam into the lead hostile. Eel-like head structure, definite bio-mechanical integration of artificial limbs and body structure and eight glowing beady eyes.
Urtraghans.
Her cannon jammed into the space between its mandibles, unleashing the overcharged wave beam and sending a lethal burst of kinetic force and electrical discharge right into the Pirate's brain. The point blank impact was enough to blast through its unarmored undermouth and through its skull, leaving a convulsing mass on the deck as the electric charge lit up what was left of its nervous system.
A pair of high charge plasma bursts flew by as she felt her spine shiver an instant before she dove aside and avoided the glowing blue bolts. Her shields flickered for a moment as one grazed her side, but it was enough to keep her out of danger as she lined the pair of Urtraghans into range for her ODST companions, then bent back and morphed into sphere form to roll out of the path of fire as the five marines opened up on the Kromus offshots. Some rounds merely bounced off their body exo-skeleton, but several managed to catch the eel-headed Pirates in the face, downing them seconds later.
That left one.
“So what bring you Kromus out here to work with a bunch of Kig-yar and Jiralhanae that are a hundred and sixty-five thousand light years from home?” Samus inquired as her cannon came to level at the Urtraghan while the barrel slowly shifted as the violet pulse of light began to charge into form. “You probably know who I am and what I did to your buddies who invaded Zebes, so let’s talk.”
A hiss emanated from the Urtraghan, its mandibles clicking angrily. And yet, a second later, it was slammed against the wall and screeching as it was thrown back down the darkened corridor. Moments later, a heavy crash thundered through the deck as a glowing gravity hammer slammed down to take the place of the Urtraghan. It was the massive bulk holding that hammer, then, that garnered the attentions of Samus and her ODST companions.
“So, this is the Hunter that the Kromus speak so fearfully of?” came the low growling voice as the fur-coated mountain stepped toward the group of humans. “I have heard of your accomplishments, the terror you inspired on the Chozo planet. Truthfully, I consider this meeting an honor.”
Visor or not covering her face, the abject shock was all too clear in Aran's shifting posture. Did he just say Chozo planet?
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Fools, the lot of them! Had he not ordered the beasts to fall back into the cryo bay, a more defensible position from which they could seal the doors and perhaps deter the humans from the assault? Instead they had rushed ahead, eager to meet the enemy much as younger Jiralhanae often did and perished in the process. The humans on board this vessel came from a different age, one rife with conflict where their kind had been constantly outmatched - those that survived as long as these ones had were all hardened veterans, individuals who knew war as few who now lived did. It was of little surprise that the Kromus had been cut down so quickly, the humans' discipline serving well to counter the beasts' lack of it.
It was only by dumb luck that the last of his.... no. The Warlord restrained himself mid thought. The cannon fodder whose life he'd just saved was not fit to call itself a soldier, a warrior. It was too much to hope that the creature would take the words he had spoken and the opportunity granted by the humans' pause to retreat, but if the Unggoy had done as ordered the far door of the cryo bay would be sealed anyways, buying them precious time needed to leave the ship and inform their superiors of the security breach. Every second he bought now increased their chances of salvaging this operation.
Something that at least one of the humans seemed to grasp, be it consciously or by instinct as the Hunter halted, seemingly in shock following his comment on Zebes. Having frozen as the Warlord spoke their tongue one of the ODSTs would suddenly twitch as their rifle was brought up to aim and fired without hesitation, the Brute surging forward as the bullets grazed his armor's shielding without effect. Crossing the gap between himself and the soldiers with a low, loping sprint, the first hammer strike would catch the last of the ODSTs to react as the rest scattered, the weapon slamming the soldier's midsection with a sickening crunch of armor and bone as the female was thrown into the far bulkhead before collapsing to the floor, unmoving. Taking another half step forward and altering the path of the hammer's momentum, a second human would be caught in its path as the others retreated, one or two panicked shots firing into the air but otherwise failing to find their target for fear of friendly fire. Despite the speed of his rush and the disorganized response, however, the surviving soldiers were beyond the immediate reach of a third hammer swing... save one.
Taking another half step forward as his flank was presented to Aran, the Warlord would abandon his right hand's grip on his weapon to lash out with a bare fisted blow intended to strike the Hunter over the head, with any luck sending the woman into the far wall and dazing her before she could recover from his earlier revelation.
Bravo Squad-
PFC. Shanna Dunlap - MA5D Assault Rifle PFC. Frank Bauer - MA5D Assault Rifle PFC. Gregor Pope - MA5D Assault Rifle - KIA LCpl. Kurtis Barr - BR85 Battle Rifle Cpl. Colette Forster - M90A CAWS - KIA
Samus barely had time to recognize the flash up her spine that warned her of danger when she found herself backhanded by the Jiralhanae. The filament grid shielding crackled, but held, and she managed to catch the wall with her feet and push hard to send herself flying as her boosters fired in full fury. The built up charged shot flared and slammed into the furry mountain, causing a massive flare of his own personal shields as the electrically charged pulse slammed into him and cause him to stumble. Protected or not, the kinetic force was still there, and a second attempt to hit her missed as she shifted into sphere mode, using her own momentum to hit the ground and curve her velocity to bring her behind the Jiralhanae and shift back into full form.
A flash as the charge up of her cannon reached peak overcharge again, readying another wave beam pulse as Samus skidded a few feet and turns on the sparking heels of her armor to bring her aim at the ready. “I’m not sure how fast that field of yours can refresh, but I’m pretty sure I can load and fire a micro missile that’s got five times the explosive power of an M21-C rocket in the time before you can pull that stunt again." And as quickly as it formed, the violet sphere of destructive energies was sucked into the now expanding barrel port while the outer shell plates swung open and back to reveal a pulsing green ballistic missile. "So talk fast...how do you know that much about Zebes, and why the hell are Banished Mercenaries working with the Kromus?”
She had mentally kicked herself for not remembering before about the industrious organization of castoffs, exiles, and mercenaries who had banded with the reformed remnants of the Covenant. They hadn’t been a threat per say to the Orion Spur...but they were no allied nation of the Federation's. And if this group had taken to working with the Kromus...
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Even as his fist connected with the side of the Hunter's helmet the Warlord knew it wouldn't be that easy. The resistance his blow encountered was more reminiscent of energy shielding, and indeed the Jiralhanae saw the flicker of something immaterial but still very much there as his opponent was thrown into the opposite bulkhead. Much to her credit, though, Aran was quick to recover despite the initial shock his words had brought her. Rebounding off the wall, the warrior had been expecting another contest of physical ability as she charged him - instead his vision would be momentarily blinded, not by actual harm to his physical self but rather the explosion of electrical discharge that slammed into his armor, arcing over his shields in a brilliant display of pyrotechnics. Blindly swinging with his free hand simply to deter further assault as his vision returned, the Hunter was quick to evade and put distance between herself and his reach, arm cannon again at the ready and aimed squarely at his center of mass.
Rather than firing again, however, she would instead speak.
"You just answered your own question. Where else would they go after what you did to them at Zebes?" The Warlord responded, voice deep and rough after initially huffing in mild surprise. Either someone was an avid historian or their activities in the Spur were not as quiet as the Banished leadership had thought. He wouldn't have been surprised had one of the ODSTs or other soldiers on board the cruiser successfully identified those salvaging the ship, but the Galactic Federation was hardly well known for their ability to gather intelligence much less act upon it. It had taken them nearly fifty years to understand the extent of the Kromus threat before being forced to react to an attack that was as much an insult as it was a declaration of war. Although... someone had clearly failed in their duties as Aran was here, and the Warlord wasn't so naive as to believe that her presence was a product of simple chance.
Still, if she wanted to talk he would be happy to oblige her. Time was on his side here, and it was evident that the woman had never fought one of his kind before - at least none that were experienced and worthy of their commands. The earlier discharge of her weapon wasn't something that would take him by surprise again, and whether or not her change in weaponry was in recognition of that fact... the choice itself was a sound one but her selection misguided, the Warlord only briefly glancing to the projectile peeking forth from the cannon shroud. It was not a threat, or at least a significant step backwards from the energy weapon that had depleted a considerable chunk of his armor's shielding despite its inherent durability. Shielding that would recharge given enough seconds to do so, nor did that take into consideration the Unggoy that were leaving the ship and liable to seek help even as they spoke.
Something that the other soldiers present apparently recognized as well, even if Aran didn't.
The moment that he finished responding the hallway would erupt with the roar of gunfire, a hailstorm of automatic fire slamming into the Brute's shields that would flare a bright blue in distressed response. Reacting almost through pure muscle memory rather than conscious thought, the Warlord was quick to recognize that he was in a poor tactical position - outnumbered four to one, and the surviving human shock troopers were no longer missing their shots after being given a chance to recover. Falling back to the cryo bay's doorway just as his armor's shielding broke, static discharge crawling over the nanolaminate plating, the Warlord would see the Kromus he had thrown back into the bay peeking around the corner, weapon in hand as it fired off a panicked shot down the hall - catching one of the human soldiers in the chest, melting the armor plate and making them stumble back, rifle fire tracking off target.
Perhaps not so useless after all. Survival of the fittest compared to his dead brethren, at any rate.
The last shots puckering and deflecting off of his torso plating, the Warlord would finally escape line of sight as he exited the hallway and spun to slam one of the emergency buttons on the wall, door slamming shut and sealing behind him. Shaking his head and shoulders in an almost canine like fashion, the Warlord glanced back at the Kromus that had retreated back into the bay with him, the creature looking to him in turn for orders. His action might have bought them precious seconds to think and plan - more importantly, for his shields to recharge - but it had also cut off their only avenue for escape. Sooner rather than later those doors would open, and he would have nowhere to go.
Bravo Squad-
PFC. Shanna Dunlap - MA5D Assault Rifle PFC. Frank Bauer - MA5D Assault Rifle PFC. Gregor Pope - MA5D Assault Rifle - KIA LCpl. Kurtis Barr - BR85 Battle Rifle Cpl. Colette Forster - M90A CAWS - KIA
She didn't have all the answers, but pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. And she couldn't fault the ODSTs for interrupting. That Jiralhanae had beenstalling her.
“Not gonna lie, Aran. You really don’t know Brutes.”
That was Dunlap. Two of their numbers were dead, and while not be due to her actions, Samus still felt a twinge of guilt; they were living history, and they could possibly be the last of their families.
“I’m not used to seeing them as an enemy.” It was blunt and true. “One of my best friends in the army academy was a Jiralhanae, his name is Mauk.” Assigned to commanding a tactical unit on the frontier regions with the war broken out again, last she heard from him. Not many Jiralhanae served with the Confederation, but he was one of them, born on a colony planet granted his clan and of a much easier temperament than most of his kind. “And the Banished haven't been an aggressor toward the Federation even before the Machine War.”
A dull crackle emanated from her cannon as the loaded overcharged ballistic dissipated back into base energy and the plates of her cannon shifted back into energy projection configuration. That Brute and his remaining escort were holed up in the very bay they needed to reach. “Upside is that there are only two of them now, and they're trapped in the same bay we want. Downside is...”
“That’s the bay we want, and command staff is inside.”
A nod. She didn’t have any beam weapons capable of doubling as a plasma cutter, and even that would take several minutes to burn through. It was then she had a thought. “Do any vents of access ducts run into that bay? If I can get in there, I can trigger the doors open again and you three in.”
“That still leaves that furry asshole and his buddy to deal with, and he’s had time for his shields to recharge.”
And the ship's command staff was in there. Which was her primary worry. Her visor ran a scan of the corridor as she turned to put some distance between her and the bay door; they would hold against what she planned. The building charge started again, and once she reached the projected safe distance, Aran spun on her heel and took aim. “They'll be safer on the other side, but we need to get in there before that maniac can start smashing pods and kills your command crew.”
And then the plates snapped into ballistic configuration just as the low whirr of the charged sphere of light sucking into the barrel was heard and the pulsing green missile loaded up again. “I’m gonna need about fifteen to twenty seconds before I can reload my missile bank and fire any more of these puppies if we need them, and they pack five times the power of an infantry rocket, so I’d get clear.”
That was the only thing she waited for as her visor ran targeting locks.