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the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
While Aran had been more than simply helpful despite her apparent inexperience, her rash decision in moving to aim her cannon at the cryo bay doors was one that immediately got the remaining marines' collective attention. Explosives were never a good idea within closed spaces unless you were a Spartan or similarly protected, which Aran was... but the rest of them weren't, nor were the cryo pods beyond the sealed doors. The initial shock and indecision at the hunter's actions was broken as the cannon attached to her arm clicked open and her aim was steadied, at which point two of the soldiers would move to block the door and the third approaching Aran to block her line of fire.
"Whoawhoawhoa! Bad idea. Tight spaces and explosives don't mix, you're shielded but we're not. Ship's got to get us home, let's not go putting holes in it." Dunlap said, voice clearly agitated as her left hand left the rifle she was holding and was placed on the side of the green cannon - the ODST was under no illusion that she'd be able to force it off target but was hoping that their collective objections would prevent the armored woman from doing it anyways. There were far safer ways to get the door open, although..... truthfully, Aran wasn't entirely wrong in the sense that they were on a clock here. Glancing back to the other two troopers by the door, one of the others would nod before his helmet tilted slightly towards the third, as close as one could get to a sidewards glance with a polarized visor.
"Think you can do anything with it?"
"Maybe? Can get the access panel off and cut the power no problem, that'll disable the magnetic lock but we'll still have to pry it open by hand. I don't think we're going to get any further than Pope and Forster di-" The third ODST started motioning to the door before turning to look towards the two other troopers that had been summarily executed by the Warlord only moments before - as he did so, however, the trooper would pause mid sentence at seeing they were no longer alone in the hallway. Coming from the same direction they had earlier were two massive figures, one black armored and all but identical to the ODSTs save for her size and another sporting a far paler blue set of MJOLNIR. Spotting the two downed troopers, the second one would glance to the first only to get a wordless nod in return, breaking off from her approach to kneel next to the ODST slumped against the red smeared wall. Yanking the smaller woman's helmet off, the Spartan would move with the practiced precision and efficiency combat medics were known for. As she did her work, the first Spartan would speak up from down the hall.
"Sitrep. I've got two contacts in the bay, what happened?"
"Brute Chieftain, Lieutenant. Cannon fodder went down easy enough, but he hit us hard. Retreated to the cryo bay and sealed the doors."
"Someone mentioned something about cutting the power to the doors?" The Spartan said, finally coming to a stop a respectful distance away from Samus and the troopers. The supersoldier's helmet was all but identical to the ODSTs', right down to the dark blue-silver of the polarized visor - although as she spoke the Spartan's gaze clearly lingered on the Hunter, her relaxed stance giving an impression more of open appraisal than anything else.
"Bauer's idea." The trooper next to Samus said, hesitantly removing her hand from the green cannon's casing. A moment later the second Spartan would approach the first from behind, drawing a glance from the Lieutenant which was met only with the subtlest of head shakes - however skilled she might have been as a medic there was nothing to be done for the two troopers struck down by the Warlord before.
"Do it. Opal, other side. Lance Corporal, I trust you know what to do with these." The Spartan said, moving to the door and handing the second of the three troopers two cylinders pulled from magnetic clamps at her waist - notably ones with pins on them. There were no unnecessary words spoken, no movements wasted and more importantly no questions asked by any of the troopers or the Spartan herself as each individual seemed to immediately understand what they were about to do from the moment the grenades were produced. With each Spartan having taken up a position on either side of the doorway with hands on their respective halves of the hatch, Barr would take up a position kneeling next to the Lieutenant as Bauer pried the access panel off the wall and began fishing around in its guts.
"Familiar with dynamic entry, Aran? Doorway should be clear, just make sure you hit your target. No explosives." Dunlap said, edging up towards Opal's side - albeit careful not to actually touch or make contact with the larger supersoldier despite being clearly ready to bring her rifle around and aiming down the firing lane at a moment's notice. Bauer, having found what he was looking for, would pause before his helmet turned slightly to glance at the others positioned at the door.
"Got it. LC?"
Glancing back, Barr would nod before bringing his hand up, three fingers visible - then two, then one. As the last finger lowered to form a fist there would be a spark from the access panel as the door's power vanished, and the Spartans would heave in perfect unison to yank the heavy metal portal open as the Lance Corporal pulled the pins and tossed the two cylinders he'd been handed into the room, a deafening boom filling the air and the blinding white flash of magnesium filling the cryo bay's door for but a split second before Dunlap and Barr took half steps forward to bring their rifles at the ready and aiming into the cryo bay.
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
While the wall structure would have held according to her scan data, she was jumping before she looked. She wasn’t flying this job solo, and the more she worked with the time-displaced remnants of the UNSC, the more she could learn. And while she was shielded, as Dunlap had pointed out, they were not. And the cyro pods were not either, though they were at less risk. That, however, was when her mind remembered just how much power an overcharged micro-missile had, and what it likely would do when a normal ballistic had blown the arm off of a frenzied Jiralhanae.
Before she could answer or consider options, however, two of the Spartans from back in the Armory had arrived, clearly geared up and ready for the expected fight. It was then she felt Dunlap release her hand from the viridian arm cannon, and allowing Samus to retract both the missile panels and the matter-energy construct super missile back the stored bank of her suit. The young Star Hunter took a step back as the ODSTs and the Spartans discussed the situation; better to observe when they knew this ship and the Jiralhanae as adversaries far better than she did. She had been a loner in the field and had faced the Kromus on Zebes, and little else.
They were taking positions and readying a pair of cylinders Samus recognized via the pin as a flashbang. They were going to kill the lock system and force open the doors to throw those in. And the run down from Dunlap gave her all she needed as she switched her cannon to base power beam configuration and readied herself while the spherical bulge of yellow light flared and built up again. She’d learned a bit in her few fights so far with the Jiralhanae, and much was to stay out of close combat range as much as possible unless you had a sure kill in one shot.
Dynamic entry. She’d learned that back at the academy, used it a few times on Zebes. It was easier when you could unload five anti-infantry micro-missiles in as many seconds and didn't have a ship's structural integrity to worry about, let alone rows of cyro pods holding lives. But with only an Urtraghan and a Jiralhanae waiting for them, it would be easier pickings for the six humans.
A fwump sound signaled that her power beam had hit overcharge. Her visor went solid green milliseconds before the flashbang hit inside the bay and went off. The instant she had visual again, Samus charged in, her targeting scope locking to the Jiralhanae just before she let the particle beam pulse fire directly at the Brute, the roar of the overcharge echoing while the pulse crossed the physical distance between them. A drop down and shift into sphere mode, rolling and dropping a glowing blue sphere of pulsing light at his feet, and then the Hunter was using the momentum of her own roll to throw herself back out of sphere mode and flying at the disorientated Urtraghan. Compared to the Jiralhanae, a Kromus was by far the safer grapple target.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
All things considered, the plan was going perfectly. Unsurprising, considering the individuals involved and the training that they'd received as well as their collective experience - nearly all of them were specialists, and nearly all were veterans of several brutal conflicts. With the door ripped open by the brute strength of two armored Spartans almost precisely the moment the power to it was cut, neither the Brute or the Kromus behind him were given a chance to react as the two cooked flashbangs were tossed in with them, a blinding flash and deafening thump leaving the pair disoriented. Aran, as expected with her clearly augmented physique, was the first to react, cannon coming to bear and letting off another charged blast that washed across the Brute's shields, failing to drop them entirely but leaving them visibly stressed as they flared a brilliant incandescent white. With the ODSTs following only a fraction of a second behind, the situation should have been a precision job done well.
It was at that exact moment, though, that Heidi found all of her expectations for the younger super soldier dashed in the worst manner possible.
Even as the two ODSTs set to fire, Aran would rush ahead, morphing into a smaller sphere like form that would roll past the blind and deaf Brute and doing the worst possible thing imaginable in that moment, causing Heidi's gut to freeze as several small glowing charges were left at the creature's feet only to detonate a moment later. While they did exactly what Heidi suspected they were meant to, popping the Chieftain's shields to leave only static discharge crawling over his aged and battered armor, the beast fared far better than the nearby cryopods to either side of him, the glass and metal cracking and buckling under the explosive force to begin hissing white gas that would frost over the surrounding metal - and plunging the bay into darkness as alarms began ringing, leaving only the dim red emergency lighting to illuminate the bay. Things would only get worse as the ODSTs would begin to open fire on the Kromus only for Aran to shift back to bipedal form and physically charge the larger creature, blocking their line of fire and the first few on target rounds skipping off the Hunter's own shields in the process.
"Shit! ARAN, CLEAR THE LANE!" Dunlap shouted, Barr muttering a similar expletive as both quickly held their fire without a clear shot on their target.
This was.... unacceptable. There was no other word for it, and Heidi usually found herself very forgiving of mistakes as most people were only human - it was in their nature to be imperfect, fallible. But this? It was beyond reckless, placing everyone present in danger for a foolhardy maneuver that even Amanda would've balked at. As she should've. The first thing that had been drilled into every Spartan from day one was that you were not what mattered, the team and those around you were. It meant nothing if you won but your team lost, if personal victory came at the cost of those you were supposed to help and protect. With time slowing down and adrenaline flooding her system in the closest thing a human could get to panic while remaining perfectly rational, Heidi focused on the biggest threat in the room as she rushed ahead in the wake of Aran's explosives, her movement little more than a black blur to the ODSTs as her armor's thruster's fired, dropping low to slide under the recovering Brute's swing. Braking on the buckled metal behind him, the half ton of metal and person would kick off the deck to launch herself onto the Brute's back, the flash of a drawn knife signaling an end to the fight as the massive creature fell to the floor dead with her atop him and her blade buried hilt deep at the base of his skull.
Three seconds gone, and with the ODSTs filing into the room with their rifles brought to bare Heidi would yank the blade free of the Brute's neck as her other hand drew her M6 sidearm and fired off two quick shots into the back of its skull just to be sure before spinning to bring the weapon on target with the Kromus - and, somewhere in the adrenaline hazed background, Heidi could hear Opal's calm voice over the squad radio, already calling to the armory above for a rapid response team of engineers and medics to help deal with potential complications caused by the earlier explosion.
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
It felt good to be back, for lack of a better phrase. While he'd been wide awake ever since leaving cryo, Vincent had felt naked even clad in his armor - something about not having energy shields or the other bells and whistles that he'd normally taken for granted had done a lot to drive home just how vulnerable they were at the moment, especially after the close call he and Amanda had experienced clearing the path up to the armory. The trip there had been well worth it, though. While the five or so minutes spent with the ship's techs and quartermaster had felt like an eternity with the initial team sent off to reclaim the remaining cryo bays, Vincent found himself feeling much more in control with his armor's shielding and head's up display restored.... and, more significantly, the suit's all important active camouflage unit.
"So, what've you got? We're set out here but a few of us are getting antsy."
As Amanda's voice crackled in over his suit's comm it wasn't hard to imagine who or why - she'd never been good with waiting, although Vincent didn't find it hard to imagine that the ODSTs alongside her were getting impatient, either. General anxiety had a habit of making one restless, especially given their current situation. Yes, the cryo bays were important and waking the ship's command staff was a critical step... but even if they got to the bridge it wouldn't mean anything if the engine room remained under Banished control. And they were Banished as it was difficult to mistake the armor and weapons carried as anything else... especially from the vantage point Vincent had, the nigh invisible Spartan having made his way to the upper catwalks in Engineering and passing several armed guards on the way there.
What surprised him most of all, however, were the presence of humans in the mix - civilians from the look of it as they neither carried weapons nor any form of protection beyond minimalist environmental gear, but they were clearly working alongside several Huragok in the large room, evidently having shut the reactor down for what looked like repairs and maintenance. Vincent himself was no engineer, at least not in a dedicated sense, but if he didn't know better they were in luck - the reactor looked to be in good condition, and if they could retake the space it wouldn't take long at all to get it running.
"Four Elites, six Brutes. Maybe a dozen Grunts, half as many Jackals. We've got Engineers and human civilians here, too." Vincent muttered, voice low out of habit more than anything else - with his active camouflage going no one was likely to even see the slight distortion of light with him hidden in the shadows above, nor hear him through his suit's sound canceling.
".... say again, civilians?" Amanda's voice answered, a definite pause of hesitation leading the question.
"Confirmed, eight civvies, techs from the look of them." Vincent answered, glancing down over the edge of the walkway to the individuals in question below. As he did another several seconds of silence would follow, far more than it usually took for Amanda to answer back - which he could only assume to mean that the civilians were going to complicate things, something confirmed a moment later as she spoke again.
"Copy that. We're breaching in fifteen, paint targets in advance. The Master Sergeant wants the civvies alive, same as the Engineers. Preferably unharmed."
Unsurprising. It complicated things immensely as a lot could go wrong in a firefight, but Vincent knew he would've made the same call himself. The civilians aside, Huragok were incredibly valuable - all the more so when they had no idea what state the ship was in yet. Edging closer to the edge of the metal walkway, Vincent would look down and begin looking over the room, taking the time to focus on each hostile in turn as red waypoints were painted over them and the telemetry sent to the two teams of ODSTs preparing to breach.
Judging from the distance they now kept from her, Aran got the distinct impression her actions had just created a wedge between her and the living relics of the twenty-sixth century. It didn’t click even as she looked down at the still twitching Urtraghan’s corpse, head and spine twisted in ways that revealed how many broken vertebrate it had endured before succumbing. Her move had brought down the Jiralhanae’s shields and allowed the Spartan to severe his neck with that rather large knife she'd pulled out, and though a few rounds had bounced off her own shield grid when she had tackled the lone remaining Kromus, turning the suit-enhanced power of even just her left arm had been plenty to snap its neck and spine in enough locations. It was enough done that they had cleared all hostiles.
And then the hyper-focused battle sense faded as she came back to being far more aware of her inactive surroundings than she was when engaged to see the damage even just the one sphere charge ‘bomb’ had done. It had done its job on the Jiralhanae...but it had also affected nearby pods. She could head the chatter from the ODSTs, radioing for techs and medics to hurry to the cryo bay, in all likelihood sooner than they had wanted to. Her instinct for doing things her way, as had worked on Zebes, didn’t hold as well here in a ship when opposed to underground caverns and infested Kromus strongholds. There was always a lesson to learn, it seemed.
A glance to the now blinking systems status told her that her suit had less than two hours of power to maintain full combat operations capability. Even a few minutes of a proper charge in her gunship’s containment chamber would extend her ability to do what she needed too. And it might let her clear her head more.
A moment later, once they had secured the area, Samus took a deep breath and mentally called up the recall protocol of her suit, causing a surge of energy to crackle over the metal plating and cause a great number of shocked eyes as the mass of the six foot three inch tall powered armor flickered out of existence and dropped Samus herself the few inches that separated her feet from the hard bay deck. A faint thud signaled her boots hitting the deck, the plates of her under armor suit glinting what little light hit them.
Something told her that the answer of “I can’t tell you that” in regards to the technology she was using was not going to help the wedge she seemed to have inadvertently put between her and her current companions. But she had a responsibility to her own to keep. Then again, none of these people likely had any idea what a Chozo was, let alone the legacy the Ancients had left behind.
It took a moment to uplink to her gunship from the comunit strapped to her forearm, but once the relay had confirmed her access, she was able to bring up her ship's communications array. A thought came to her after having to accept that this ancient vessel, even if still spaceworthy, was not out-running any modern vessel that could cross the distance between the Sol-Daiban galaxy and any of its satellite galaxies. And any fleet from Confed would take weeks to arrive.
Then she remembered that CAS class carrier she has seen out in NGC-1911. Were they also with the Banished? Any fleet from Sangheilios would not have broken formation and arrived one ship at a time like that. If they were with the Banished, and the Banished were indeed working with at least one faction of the Kromus, then they might have trouble coming their way. And the problem was that any hyperburst she could send would take at least two to three days to get to either Daiban or Sol Sector.
Wait...there was one option that could meet them fast enough, and they had a transmission relay within range of the Magellanic Clouds. And as they were in an emergency situation, one that had not be expected when Kea’ton sent her out here, the conditions warranted it. A series of taps at the holographic keypad entered her commands to her ship, and with the hope she could get the message out with needed time, Samus queued the transmission system and took a breath while closing out her remote link. And hopefully now, they might have help coming.
Now she just needed to patch up what possible harm to her working relationship with the ship's survivors she may have done, and get them all home to Sol in one piece.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
A needless gesture, apparently. While the black armored Spartan had drawn her sidearm and already had it aimed at the other hostile in the room, the reflection of the now twitching form of the deceased creature in her silver, angular visor got the message across loud and clear. While any professional sense of trust that there might have been was now gone, Heidi was given the distinct impression that the other armored woman was far more experienced fighting these new creatures than she was Brutes. That said... she was impulsive. Undisciplined, prone to rash action much as the Alpha company washouts had been, especially those turned drill instructors for Beta company. The Alphas had always been a bit more prone to violence before more subtle solutions, but the washouts exemplified that mindset to a fault... much as Aran here did. And while that aggression could be a valuable tool if utilized and directed properly, if left unchecked it usually caused more problems than it solved.
"Medics are on their way. We've got other problems, though, there were additional contacts in the operations room and they're not there anymore." A soft voice said into Heidi's ear, Opal electing to use her suit's radio to speak privately to her teammate. She wasn't wrong. They still had no real idea of what they were dealing with or how big a fight they were potentially looking at if an alarm was allowed to go off. Much as the ODSTs probably wanted to lay into Aran they had bigger problems to deal with - and right now there was nothing more they could do here with their training.
Training that nearly got Aran shot again as a flash of light went off in the cryobay, every rifle held by the survivors - Spartans included - snapping up to ready positions as the woman's armor disappeared to leave the blond haired teenager standing in a much smaller, slimmer armored bodysuit. It wasn't entirely possible to get a read on the ODSTs with their faces covered by their helmets and reflective visors, but their body language said enough. That even one of them hadn't immediately fired off a nervous reactionary shot said volumes of their discipline and self control, something that ran directly counter to the well known reputation the 105th and others had for brutality. Still, that wasn't to say they certainly weren't thinking about it as none of the three immediately lowered their weapons.
They didn't have time for this.
"Lance Corporal, operations. We need that door open. Rest of you fall in line." Heidi said, her curt tone immediately garnering the attention of the leathernecks as she shifted her weapon away from Aran and returned it to her hip clamp. While the Privates seemed slightly more hesitant to lower their weapons, Barr's timely response and his brusque walk past Aran seemed to be the little push they needed to refocus on the job at hand. With the three ODSTs already at the door and preparing to execute a maneuver similar to the one that had breached the cryobay's outer room, Heidi and Opal would move to follow, although not before the former paused with a glance to Aran.
"Area's secure as it can be, but I'd suggest returning to the armory. Medics are going to have their hands full enough here as is. Engine room should be ours again shortly and I suspect we'll need as many hands on deck as possible. Beggars can't be choosers, whatever intel you can give the Master Sergeant will be useful when the captain's thawed." Without waiting for a reply, Heidi would continue on towards the end of the bay, gauntleted hands finding purchase on the doors as Barr counted down to the power cut.
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
It wasn't necessarily that Vincent was surprised, but there was always something of a not so quiet but satisfactory thrill when a breach went off damn near perfectly. It had taken him all of eleven seconds to paint all of the visible targets and another two to position his own not insubstantial bulk to prepare for his own contributions, but as he did so the world seemed to settle into a slow, heavy silence as the last seconds ticked away. That silence would then be immediately broken as the room erupted into controlled chaos. Three separate doors would open - two on the ground level, one on the second - and as they did so a blinding white light and thunderous clap would reverberate through the open space inside the engine room as multiple flashbangs were thrown in. With all but one of the occupants blinded and deafened by the unexpected assault on their senses the ODSTs at the doors would be effectively uncontested as they opened fire on their preselected targets, the waypoints that Vincent had painted moments before all but guaranteeing clean shots well in advance.
The only ones that weren't in that line of sight were his own responsibility.
Dropping down nearly fifteen feet to the second level walkways, the metal threatening to buckle under the weight of his armor, the Spartan would burst into movement to cover the one or two remaining meters to one of the enclosed monitoring stations where two of the Jackals stood watch over one of the human technicians and a Huragok - relatively protected from the flashbangs, they were unimpaired as the giant came into sight, squawking in alarm as they brought their carbines to bear. Fast, but Vincent was quicker, two surgical burps of his suppressed M7 submachine gun painting the interior of the room purple. The Huragok, predictably, made no attempt to fight back itself, squealing in terror and turning to try and find an escape out of the enclosed space that wasn't occupied by the perceived threat. What wasn't expected, though, was the momentarily frozen human technician snapping into motion at the sound of the Jackals hitting the deck and starting to reach for one of the fallen aliens' carbines on the floor.
"Don't." Vincent snapped, more out of instinct than anything else as the grip on his SMG tightened and brought the weapon in line with the man - at which point he immediately froze again, hands hesitantly coming up in a nonthreatening gesture.
Well, that certainly was a surprise. Vincent couldn't say that he didn't have experience fighting other humans as many of the Alphas' first deployments were against the last vestiges of the Insurrectionists towards the height of the Covenant War, but it was certainly a new experience to see any working with Covenant races. Not unheard of as there had been rumors of the odd fringe group among the Covenant splinter factions here and there accepting human members, but still a first. There would be time to marvel over that particular curiosity later, though. For now, they were on a time table.
"Monitor station, clear." Vincent said, his voice joining a chorus of other call ins from the various ODST teams and Amanda on the lower floor. From the sound of it things had gone off as perfectly as they could've hoped for - no wounded or fatalities.
"Excellent work, people. Breach teams, move bodies to the first floor for disposal, civilians as well - soon as we're sure the brigs are clear we'll hold them there. Tech teams should be arriving soon, keep the Engineers here - they'll probably need the help." The voice wasn't Amanda's. One of the other ODSTs, but it hardly mattered. Stepping slightly to the side of the doorway to present a path out, Vincent would motion out with one hand to the human but keep the SMG trained on the man as he reluctantly moved to comply.
That was...perhaps unexpected at best to find weapons having to be lowered from her. It took a second to realize these people were on hair trigger nerves, having lived through what they perceived to be the most horrific conflict in history, and they had been shoved over four hundred years out of their world and into one that had suffered that nightmare trice more over. And they had yet to see just what they had come back to.
The fact she was armed in technologies and weapons they had likely never seen before and were setting their likely already shaken senses on further edge didn’t even occur to her until after she had already noticed the results.
“I...should have warned you about that.” No immediate response. But the looks she was getting were all too familiar. “My suit has a recall function, there’s a containment chamber in my ship that can recharge its cells and power the self-repair functions.”
It took a few minutes before one of the Spartans spoke to her. Curt, to point, but giving her a directive that was taking her out of her element. Any other situation, she could, and was almost ready, to invoke Federation authority. Something none of these people would recognize. Maybe once they were back to Sol and the entire situation could be explained, but for now, she had to get them to be willing to work with her. And as she had somewhere damaged the trust between them, the sooner she repaired that, despite her distaste for someone else telling her what to do, the better.
And, as she finally let herself remember, they had years of wartime experience. She had a week of infiltration and strategic sabotage before being given her role as a Star Hunter, only because she had been nominated by Admiral Dane, and because of the weight her parent’s names had carried. Something that, here, with those time lost soldiers, did nothing for her in favor or ills...which Samus was admitting, was fine by her.
“I’ve sent a relay message to an organization that operates a number of transport and recovery services, they should be able to help us get this ship back to Sol Sector once we get her operational and off the ground.” After a moment taken to flick the safety catch off of the rather large handgun weapon holstered via her left leg plate, Samus drew the weapon out with a discernable whiir sound emanating from the firearm as it blinked to life. Better ready than unprepared if she was giving her suit a chance to build more charge back up. “Should still have access to my suit’s navicom data, so getting back won’t be hard.”
Despite trying to show willingness to cooperate, the young woman still had the uneasy sensation of perpetually being an outsider.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
While Heidi hadn't been intending to pay Aran any more mind as the ODSTs gathered at the door to the cryo bay's Operations room, the Spartan nevertheless glanced back with a subtle nod of acknowledgement. She had no idea where the younger woman had come from or why she was here beyond the stated reasons, but Heidi could appreciate her willingness to cooperate all the same. The girl was rash and prone to action before thinking if recent events were anything to go by, but self awareness was a rare trait in most individuals. If it meant avoiding future debacles like the recent firefight almost became Heidi could allow herself to overlook it, provided that it became an opportunity for growth. Aran made her uneasy in a general sense, but on reflection it likely wasn't her status as an outsider as much as the feeling that she was still a rookie in over her head - and that was a dangerous thing when the rookie in question was out to prove themselves.
"Door's open in three, two, one..."
Focusing her attention back on task, Heidi and Opal took hold of their respective sides of the door and pulled once again as power was cut, the remaining two ODSTs bringing their rifles up to clear.... an empty room. Heidi had suspected as much given that their motion trackers had read no contacts, but it was a good idea to be prudent all the same. As useful as it was the technology could be fooled. As the Lieutenant used to say.... machines were easy to break. People weren't. With the Lance Corporal unslinging his own rifle to follow the two Privates into the control room, Heidi and Opal would do the same, hauling the door closed behind them and twisting the metal with an inhumanly strong grip to seal the entrance to the cryo bay behind her, leaving only Aran in the room.
"Sergeant, bay's clear. Multiple contacts falling back, Sierra 106 and 301 in pursuit.
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
There weren't many of them, but it was a shock all the same to see the humans that had survived the breaching maneuver gathered on the deck - mostly clad in white worksuits that doubled as environmental protection, the kind you normally saw on reclaimed worlds that had been glassed and still lacked a proper atmosphere. Aside from the one that had made an attempted grab for a weapon when Vincent had cornered him, there had been no further incidents as they'd been rounded up alongside the various Huragok scattered about the engine room.
Vincent was no stranger to fighting other humans. Most of the Spartan IIIs to survive the Covenant War had come from Beta and Gamma companies, however, but Alpha was the exception. When they'd graduated in 2536 their first "test" deployments had been against Insurrectionist forces, not the Covenant, and while Vincent had been pulled from the rank and file early on he'd still seen his share of fighting the last of the rebel holdouts before the Covenant either crushed or convinced whoever remained that they had a common enemy. Pointing a weapon at another human didn't bother him in the same way it did many of the younger IIIs or the IVs.
So why was it that these technicians made him so uneasy?
Standing towards the back of the ODSTs encircling the captured technicians, Vincent's massive jet black figure was an imposing one, something that wasn't helped by the suppressed M7 SMG he still held - now, however, in a passive two handed grip as his reflective golden visor gave the impression of an impassive, unblinking stare. One that he was thankful for as a few of the technicians kept stealing glances his way, the armor providing a safe sanctuary within where Vincent could simply think it through.
They weren't salvaging the Anvil. Vincent didn't quite have the qualifications of a combat engineer but even he could tell that much. The engine room wasn't being torn apart, but rather maintained. Most of the readouts had kept some semblance of timekeeping function despite the inability to synchronize with a more well kept network, and those alone told him that the claims Aran had made to the ODSTs in the first cryobay weren't wrong. The reactor should have been empty, full of nothing but helium and spent plasma... but it wasn't. Not topped off, but enough fuel to get them places, and most of the parts that were laying around the room were old UNSC standard that had been ripped out and replaced with newer ones, presumably because the originals had burned out or broken.
And that also left the matter of the ship's AI, something that Vincent wasn't at all happy not knowing. Where was she, and what kind of state was she in following what had to be a decent into rampancy? At first glance Vincent almost would've called the recovery of the cruiser a rescue until he got to the bit about the cold blooded execution of the cryopod inhabitants.
Whatever thoughts he had on the matter, though, were cut short as the radio in his helmet crackled to life.
"Lieutenant?"
"Yes?" Vincent answered, although outwardly he didn't shift a muscle - not until he caught the same technician from before stealing a glance at his SMG, the Spartan subtly shifting it and watching the man's eyes follow.
"The cryo bay containing the Anvil's command staff is ours again, but there's been a slight complication. The team sent there is handling it but we need you back in the Armory, there's been another development."
The heavy clank as the bay doors were forced shut once more, a thud as the locking mechanisms were manually engaged, and then, she was alone. Like always, the outsider. And normally it didn’t bother her, but in this instance, she felt like something was different. Possibly because it was her first actual mission as a Star Hunter, as opposed to the small private mercenary jobs she had taken to manage her finances in the time since Zebes.
But she had her original mission to keep too, which was to find out what exactly was really going on out here. Rescuing human troops displaced from their place in history had not been a part of the parameters to this assignment, and she had been working as best she could to go with the flow of events so far. But this was...something she was not expecting. And a Star Hunter was supposed to be in command of a situation, but she did not feel in command of the situation at all.
Made all the worse by the damaged impression she'd already seemed to have made. Kea'ton was not going to be happy to hear about this, and it was her first mission. She only had the position because Admiral Dane had spoken for her following Zebes, and her human parents' own reputations had helped. But so far, she’d broken non-contact parameters, already soured things with the very people she was trying to save and get back to Sol, and damaged a number of occupied cryo-chambers, now necessitating a tech crew to get here sooner than later to repair her screw up. And all she had in return was the knowledge that at least one faction of the Kromus had folded into the Banished. Who had not been considered a factor in events in the Orion Spur since they had gone quiet following the Machine War.
A series of boot thumps caught her attention as she realized she had gotten lost in her own thoughts. Her paralyzer came up ready, but to her relief, it was the medics and tech team. She gave a sideways glance to the row of pods as the techs hurried to their work, then took off in a rapid pace back down the corridor. Her navicom data guided her back through the deck corridors and to the service lift, passing a few more of the ship's surviving crew on her way, and waited as the lift was keyed and slowly closed to take her back up to the armory bay.
Her reception, she could assume, would depend on what was already reported back of how things had gone in the alpha cryo bay.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
"Explain."
Anger was not an uncommon or even remotely unknown emotion among the Jiralhanae. Caius knew this as well as anyone who had been made to deal with his kind, but he was also quite well aware that the mark of an experienced warrior was a sense of unwavering self control - the ability to use such emotions rather than be used by them. Even in spite of that knowledge, however, the Brute found himself barely able to contain the anger he felt at that moment, the very air in the small room around him heavy with rage and the black fur on his hide rippling with barely controlled aggression.
The only thing stopping Caius from slaughtering the smaller Brute kneeling before him was recognition that this soldier was merely the messenger.
"The team giving the report is still being pursued so we'll need to wait until they return to be sure, but it would seem some of the ship's original crew have escaped oversight and begun retaking the other cryogenic bays aboard. It's likely safe to assume-"
"That they're reviving other crew members, yes. What other conclusion is there?" Caius responded, cutting his subordinate off with a rhetorical question that the smaller Brute wisely did not answer, instead falling silent.
It was a troubling development. Unexpected, unacceptable, and as the black furred Brute turned to look outside his makeshift command room's viewport to gaze upon the ancient cruiser's hull he could feel a low growl building in his chest. This had been an easy assignment, one that should have been an easy stepping stone up the Banished chain of command. Any threat to success should have come from outside, likely from native Kromus that still answered to their homeworlds' leadership rather than the master Caius himself reported to. Everything he had done here had been in preparation for a threat of that nature, not one from within. Even following that line of thought, though.... it troubled Caius that the situation on board the ship had gotten so far out of hand. The Jiralhanae he had left in command of the group that was now fleeing was dead, and to defeat him in combat was no small feat. Jiralhanae warlords were not to be trifled with, and that individual had been a skilled veteran, a mercenary of the Kromus War previous that had survived numerous combat encounters with the raiders back in Sol-Daiban. The fact that he had been defeated quickly enough to prevent an alarm from being sounded along with a number of troops under his command....
"Recall any survivors from the cruiser, they are not to remain aboard. Commanders are to rally their troops near the entrances, they have ten minutes to prepare. Their priority is containment. Afterwards they will storm the ship on my order and retake it from the ground up on my order. No sooner." Caius said, gravely voice unusually calm in direct contradiction to his stance. It was an unusually cautious order for him, but there were clearly factors at play here that he had not anticipated in advance. Until he knew what he was dealing with the Jiralhanae refused to carelessly throw away any more troops.
"Once that is done the technicians that have made it back are to ready my gear."
Doors hissing open, Vincent found himself pausing as the space ahead was hastily cleared by a surprised weapons technician that had been moving one of the many crates kept in storage out for unpacking. Reflective golden visor wordlessly following the smaller man as he moved for a few seconds, the Spartan would wait until he had gotten well out of the way before entering the armory again, clipping his M7 to its magnetic hip holster in the process. While much of the space was no longer occupied by ODSTs recovering from cryo and arming themselves it had instead been replaced by many of the technicians from his own bay. Rather than claiming weapons for themselves, however, they were instead unpacking crate after crate of military ordnance from storage, the far door at the other end of the room opening to allow several individuals to unload several more crates off of the service lift with haste before the emptied elevator closed and began moving down to the lower decks again, likely for another such team returning from storage.
Rank and file Navy hadn't always gotten along with Spartans even before the organization of a rival military branch, but Vincent had to appreciate their hurry all the same. It had only been a few minutes but the ship's crew was quickly getting ready for a fight.
"Spartan, over here." A familiar voice called out, a waving arm off to Vincent's left drawing his attention to Stacker and several other noncommissioned officers that had suited up in their charcoal colored ODST BDUs. Situated around a table covered in gear, ammunition and their individual helmets, a space had been haphazardly cleared to make room for a crudely drawn but relatively accurate map - in the center of which was a simple representation of the Anvil from an overhead view, surrounded by several other structures and symbols.
"Reporting as ordered. It was mentioned there'd been a development?" Vincent replied, voice calm but relatively detached - while they were hidden by his visor, he couldn't help but gaze over the map rather than the ODSTs in front of him. It was difficult to tell given the hastily hand made nature of the map but there was enough on it that Vincent recognized to give him an idea of what was going on.
"Unfortunately. We're told you're the resident explosives expert. How much can you carry and set?"
"Depends. What do you need me to hit?" Vincent started, glancing to the ODST that had spoken before another caught his attention again.
"A few things, we'll cover the details when Aran arrives from the lower decks. Until then I suggest grabbing whatever you think you'll need from the gear the techs have been unpacking. Don't worry about sharing, if you can carry it it's yours." Stacker said, glancing to the service lift as it opened again - and frowning as a blue suited individual he did not recognize stepped off.
There were some stares as she stepped off the lift, and that was none unexpected. “The Spartans suggested I come back here since they felt I could do more good helping you out and updating your captain once he's been revived from stasis.” Was it dawning that she was that same person previously wearing almost two meters of powered suit when they last saw her. Maybe explaining was a good idea.
“My powered suit has a translocation recall to and from its containment chamber on my gunship, Sergeant. I can recall it back when needed at any time, but it was down to half capacity when I was heading back, and any recharge time will help.”
The remaining Spartan was there, and he had been talking to Stacker when she’d arrived. One could only imagine what was going on behind that reflective visor, let alone what they’d ge discussing. She got the feeling, though, based on reactions, that the accident in the cryo bay had not exactly been fully disclosed yet.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Stacker's slack jawed response wasn't so much one of incredulity as much as it was incomprehension. He'd always been a smart man, but an academic he was not - his was the kind of intelligence that kept a person alive through some of the most brutal conflicts imaginable, not the type that got you into Harvard. Adaptability and pragmatism over theory, and while the man understood some of the individual words coming out of Aran's mouth and comprehended the fact that the kid was indeed her.... well, frankly it wasn't his problem. She seemed to know how to take care of herself and while the call up from the armory had been hectic and short on details it seemed that Aran herself was unharmed. But surprised?
Everyone left standing in the armory aside from the technicians had participated in the Requiem campaign, and once you'd stepped foot on a Forerunner installation you'd seen just about everything.
".... right. About that. It's probably safe to assume you had a ride here. Did you land nearby?" Stacker started, looking down to the hastily drawn map on the table and reaching down to brush a few yet to be filled rifle magazines and other detritus clear of it as he waved Aran over. Vincent, for his part, simply nodded to the two men before turning and proceeding towards a nearby table after a moment's glance around the room.
"Problem's a fairly simple one. We sent a few runners to the topside decks to get the lay of the land, and they found these." Stacker started, pointing to several drawn icons placed in a relatively even circular arrangement around the human cruiser.
"Anti-air turrets. Big ones. Not pointed at us - guessing whoever's in charge expected company. That'll change real fast once we try to take off, though."
"Tyrants?" Vincent finally said, the ODSTs looking up from the map and over to the armored giant, the man having paused his perusal of the explosives covered table to ask the question. The other ODST's mute stare said more than any number of words could've, a single and oddly casual "Damn." leaving Vincent before the Spartan returned to his task at the table, placing the charge he was holding back down to go and search the room for a satchel.
Her ride? Certainly, she had had mentioned it before, but with the chaotic situation as it was, she wasn’t offended. “My gunship is magnetically clamped to the ship’s hull, and I have my sensor shroud active, so most things aren’t going to pick that bird up.” A tap at her arm strapped navicom projected a holographic image of the heavy cruiser’s exterior as far as her ship could scan to help along with Stacker’s own hand drawn map. “If you need me to help take some of those turrets down, I should be able to manage decently well, since I can let loose with some micro-missiles there.”
Her eyes wandered to the Spartan as he was gathering up explosives. Would she be asked to accompany him if they used her help with the artillery turrets? It was something crawling at the back of her mind, like she should have been learning some valuable lesson, but it was just on the tip of her mind. “Also, I've sent a hyperburst message via the local relay buoy to an organization called Galaxy Railways, they should be capable of helping tow the ship back into Sol-Daiban and get you all back to Sol. They’re the only resource available with translight capabilities of reaching us within a day or two once they get my message.”
Hopefully, Stacker would understand having to use what resources she had available.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Cloaking? That bit Stacker understood perfectly well, paraphrased or not, although the usage of it in the same sentence as the word 'gunship' made little sense to him. Well, at least so far as he understood the technology, but then again he'd heard rumors of some fairly revolutionary technologies being tested by the Office of Naval Intelligence and if Aran had been truthful as to how much time had passed while they'd been sleeping in cryo... changes were to be expected, he guessed, and he wasn't about to look a heavily armed gift horse in the mouth. Frankly, the same could be said about her following statement mentioning help able to reach them as fast as she suggested.
"Actually, we had something different in mind. You said 'gunship'. How do you feel about close air support?" Stacker said, glancing to the other ODST seated with him.
"Right now those turrets aren't pointed at us, our concern's going to be what happens if we try to break orbit while they're still in play. If you've got a ship small enough to qualify as a fighter or conventional gunship, though, you're already well within their firing arc, too close for them to hit effectively. All we have on board are two Pelicans outfitted as transports, not assault craft, but if we can get something in the air it'll also make repelling any attempt to retake the ship a lot easier." The second ODST continued, gaze steady as he simply watched and waited for Aran's response. The man very much understood her desire to take the fight to the enemy in a more personal sense, especially give her question and initial reaction as she watched the Spartan gathering gear, but everyone had their role. And, on a more pragmatic note, the less people leaving the ship the better - every second spent recalling people on the ground after those guns were down was a second wasted, and it was far easier for one person with active camouflage to make it back than a group of people.
"Assuming you're up for it we can designate targets you can hit simultaneously."
Aerospace combat. That would be a first, but her lithe little ship was certainly armed well enough for its size and class. Her shielding systems were far better than a ship as small as hers normally would, but it wasn’t exactly a normal build as it was.
“That shouldn’t be an issue, Sergeant. My shroud keeps most sensors from picking my gunship up, and she’s fast enough to avoid most things I'll run into. About twelve guns and a pair of ballistics launchers should make short work of those turrets.” She just needed to get back to her ship and detach to make way once they sorted the plan. “So long as I don’t run into any more of our enthusiastic ‘friends’, I can be back to my ship and detached within fifteen minutes.”
That was of course once she had summoned her armor back. And since she had made Stacker aware of that unique method of hers, Samus hoped that recalling her powered suit back would be less nerves triggering than when she had sent it back to its containment chamber. “So what's the plan, what all do you need me to blow to hell, and when do you want me on it?”
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
"Plan's simple enough. Upper decks should be clear, no hostiles between here and wherever you parked your bird. Give us a shout once you're in the air and we'll patch you into the B-net and start feeding you targets." Stacker said, the second ODST nodding in silent but obvious approval as Samus replied in a very familiar fashion. Moving with slow, almost casual deliberation the man would retrieve his own helmet from the table and slip it on, giving a mild slap to the side to ensure it wasn't going anywhere, the soldier would likewise retrieve his rifle from the table before getting up to start approaching the elevator with a single glance back to Stacker over his shoulder, tapping the side of his helmet. Wordless as it was the action would likewise draw a nod from Stacker as well, the older noncom straightening his sage green cap.
In doing so, however, the Sergeant's attention would shift back to the black armored figure sifting through the gear atop the table in the back.
"I assume you've already got something in mind?"
"I know what 'danger close' means, I'll keep my distance. Plenty of other uses for this." Vincent replied, helmet not turning even an inch away from his task but simply raising one of the satchels he'd stuffed to the bursting point with every explosive device within his considerable reach. Going directly for the AA guns while they were being painted for close air support was never a good idea - shit happened, and while MJOLNIR was tough it wasn't invincible. If simple infantry grade plasma rounds were able to burn clean through the shields and plate within seconds he could only... no, he didn't have to imagine what something on a gunship or fighter could do, he'd seen it happen. He'd leave the big targets to the younger augment, turn his attention towards the ongoing holding action on the lower decks.