Monomachiarum is a multifandom experiece that takes the characters into the chaotic future of the 30th century in the great expanse of space. Our lore is a combination of worlds brought in from other franchises, lore created by the site founder, and user-submitted information in order to make a vast and diverse setting. Add your pages to our grand story no matter who your characters might be or where they came from before. This is a place meant to explore possibilities and open new doors. Canons and OCs are welcome, just so long as they can fit into the setting with a little bit of reasonable modification here and there if necessary. So what are you waiting for? Join us today! If you'd like to get to know our community more, feel free to check out our Discord channel.
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!
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Marcus had been worried that he might eventually regret the decision he'd made - it had been a nagging thought at the back of his mind when he'd agreed to take on the job, and a persistent concern as he'd left home to do it, boarding a ship he never thought he'd step foot on.
What the man hadn't expected was for that regret to kick in the instant he stepped out of the transport and onto their intended destination.
Covered head to toe in thick, insulated clothing intended to protect from the worst the environment could throw at a man, dark eyes stared out from behind the suit's visor at the barren rock he'd called home for the last four days, weight supported by a sturdy guardrail of industrial make. Even with the suit, though, there was something about this place that unsettled him. The world was habitable, but only barely - unlike the Border Worlds he'd seen in his lifetime this place hadn't even a hint of attempted terraforming in place, nor was it ever likely to see it. The rock - which Marcus had come to not so affectionately refer to as Purgatory - was far beyond the place he'd come from, and it was a surreal experience to see the Sol-Daiban galaxy filling a significant portion of the night sky here. That alone had been very nearly worth the trip. Almost.... but not quite. While Purgatory had a breathable nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere it was too far from its parent star to support life, with temperatures at night dipping low enough to flash freeze most anything still walking out in the open. The daylight hours, however, were tolerable, just enough to allow most species to walk upon its surface with an environment suit or severe discomfort if they were brave enough and of the right species.
Which only brought the man to his next point of contention.
The Border Worlds saw a fair degree of non-native life aside from their human populace, but there were certain species that no sane human would ever want to see. Until thirty years ago they'd been the boogeymen haunting the wayward dreams of colonies, and while Marcus had only been a boy at the time he remembered enough of the newsfeeds to feel distinctly uncomfortable when he'd discovered who many of his new workmates were going to be. It wasn't exactly an irrational prejudice, but what made it worse was that so far they'd been... well, not cordial or even liable to communicate directly with him or his fellow workers unless they absolutely had to, but they weren't exactly the homicidal, bloodthirsty monsters the Confederation would have everyone believe. Whether or not that was because of who both of their bosses were was completely up for debate, though.
"Hey, Mark! Break's over, get your ass in gear!" A voice called out from somewhere behind Marcus, voice muffled by a very similar suit as several men and women climbed up the metal stairway behind the man, metal ringing and clanging as the gantry subtly shifted to support their weight, held in place by heavy duty brackets.
Holding in a sigh Marcus rolled his head, taking a moment to free his neck of built up stiffness from stress as he pushed back off of the railing. No rest for the weary, it seemed, and the man would move to follow his compatriots upwards to their destination - a massive, kilometer and a half long human vessel from centuries past, lowered to Purgatory's surface as salvage. In its shadow lie a number of seemingly prefabricated structures of industrial make, the only sign of life from the dark gray metallic walls being the occasional spotlight or glimpse of lit building interiors through thick, armored windows.
Two months since her appointment to the Star Hunter corps. The Federation info-net was still making her it’s darling star of attention, even after eight months since the mission to Zebes, infiltrating the Kromus Pirate stronghold there, and shattering their attempts to revive the nearly twenty years ended war that they had incited. Most of the Galactic Federation tended to skim over the fact that she almost hadn't survived, and they liked to leave out the part the Confederation’s own armed forces had play in that week long infiltration.
But here she was, attired in the lightly plated blue armor suit that she always wore on assignment or private jobs, waiting outside the office of High Chairman Kea'ton on his communication summons for a task she wasn’t even given any information on. All she knew was that there was some talk of troubles with the Border Worlds, again, and some of those who worked at the capital questioning why Confed didn’t, as was so respectfully worded, “deal with their own rabid animals.”
And for someone who was assumed mostly human and had just taken the step into being a specialized agent of the Federation, Samus Aran was not finding her confidence nor trust in the Federation Congress very substantiated.
It was almost another half an hour, having already waited an hour previously, before the chamber office of the Chairman of the Galactic Federation slip open to reveal a rather irate Arb’ados Kea'ton. “Where the nine hells of Gr'ox is-"
“Your aide refused to notify you that I was here as ordered, and has made me wait over an hour and a half.”
The four foot tall green skinned Mantu glared at said aide, perhaps more intimidating than even the teenage human Star Hunter could be at her worst, and signaled for Samus to enter his office. “Take the day off, and think about treating other species as the sentients they are,” he growled angrily before turning back into his office and closing the doors behind him. “Apologies, Miss Aran. Some sentiments of superiority of species still have withstood the efforts and valor of the Confederation in guarding us from the horrors of the universe. I do appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
She could only shrug. “Star Hunters are expected to answer an official summons as soon as matters allow, and I’m between private jobs right now.” After a moment, Samus tilted her head in the fashion familiar to Kea'ton since eight months ago, when an eighteen year old girl had stormed into his office, followed by a very harried Commander Adam Malkovich, and demanded they let her infiltrate Zebes, to succeed where the Confederation Army had been failing over four months. He had yet to regret it. “And it was Admiral Dane who nominated me as a Star Hunter, so, may as well justify that.”
The Chairman nodded as he walked over to take a seat behind his desk. “I was encouraged to send for a more experienced operative in this assignment, but considering your own famous dealings with the Kromus, and the rumors entailed, you seemed a better choice.” Kea'ton took a moment to key in a series of commands on his desk console, calling up the holographic display of a star system that had only a alphanumeric designation instead of a proper name. “GX-711. An otherwise uninhabited system, no major resource and mineral poor, at the very edge of the Large Magellanic Cloud, which is why any kind travel or activity into the system seems very unusual.”
A brow raised in question. “So I assume the Kromus have been sighted in the area, and that’s why you're assigning me to this?”
“No, actually. The recon and warning station probes left in the Cloud following the War are picking up Border Worlds Union encoded transmissions.” The look Kea'ton gave was enough to voice the rest of his concerns. “A system so far outside in their recognized region of jurisdiction, let alone outside the primary galaxy, seems a very odd place for the Border Worlds to be, and I felt that, against the advise of Secretary Holdon, a human agent would create less tension in any confrontation, especially one so popularized by the info-net and the Confederation Media.”
All things considered, that would likely be true. She wasn’t too familiar with the Border Worlds and their current state of affairs, only that they had just as little love for the Kromus as anyone else following the War. And K-2L had been pretty close to the Confederation side of the border as well.
And there were another reason she knew that she was called in, instead of a meeting with Confederation military command. “Why are you keeping Tokyo-II in the dark? Most of those listening posts are Confed, and I seriously doubt President Iwata or Prime Mister Watanabe would appreciate any kind of subterfuge.”
“I wish to make sure of what we're looking at before I wake the giant and force another clash between the Federation Congress and the Confederation’s Fleet CIC like my predecessor caused over thirty years ago.” There was a smile on the diminutive chairman's face, despite the situation. “As well, I am aware of some of your own travel capabilities, as you and Admiral Dane disclosed to me the origin of your ‘unknown’ genome and who your adopted parent is. That makes you one of few of our agents, if not the only one, who can cross the dark space void to the Cloud. It’s why your findings will come directly to me, and not Chief Hardy.”
He'd be coordinating with ConFleet once he knew. That felt a little better, as Samus was not ignorant of the animosity between the Federation and the Terran Confederation, especially these days. “I can be there in just over a week once I supply my ship, she’s able to make almost eight kiloparsecs a day. I just to need to make a stop off before I break trans-galactic.”
Silence in reply, but Kea'ton nodded his approval and permission to depart. It was as the young Star Hunter agent moved to leave that he spoke. “I’ve authorized a special discretionary fund for this mission, Miss Aran, which will not affect your regular assignment pay or your monthly stipend. Information has been sent to your personal encryption, only you and I know about this. Make sure you have everything you need. You know your designated powers and authorized supersede of normal legal parameters.”
He was reminding her what it meant to be a Star Hunter. It was her first actual assignment since she had been deputized as part of the special corps of the Federation. The same legal powers that had been why Adam had advised she pursue this position and status; she answered only to the Chairman in a task like this.
“I won’t disappoint, Chairman.”
The door slid shut behind her as she tapped on the wrist mounted computer unit and sent a command signal to her gunship. It would be warmed and ready once she got to the congressional complex’s hanger, and she had a few things to do before she went dark and headed out of the galaxy. And yet, she was trying to hide the anxious excitement; this was her first mission assignment. No doubt Zebes was a huge factor in expectations, and she was not about to disappoint anyone.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Even as the group of suited workers made their way up and into the Autumn class heavy cruiser held aloft by an improvised docking cradle, another far less human gaze would watch their movement from one of the buildings below. They were not the only ones who weren't entirely pleased to be there, and every ounce of that displeasure would be on full display as another creature behind Caius gave their report.
"... to schedule so far. The ship board AI wasn't recoverable with the violent methods used to deactivate it after boarding, but the rest of the ship is remarkably intact. The human workers have assured us they can repair and restore the ship to a usable state."
A low grunt of affirmation was the Brute's only immediate response to the report, an awkward silence soon falling over the room as he mulled over what was said. The hastily constructed command center was too small to be overly comfortable for any species aside from humans due to the prefabricated nature of the modules and the worlds that supplied them, and to a point it couldn't be helped. That smaller size, however, translated into much more cramped accommodations for everyone else - enough so that when the being that had been speaking shifted in uncertainty following his report and the lack of response Caius was able to easily pick up on the movement despite facing the other direction.
"Understood. Continue with your assigned duties, but prioritize base defenses. Turrets in particular, there aren't enough suits to go around should we be forced to fight at night." Caius finally said, turning around to look at a very different creature as the Kromus hesitated for only the briefest of moments before nodding, the barest hint of the Brute's fangs enough to stifle whatever questions or hints of defiance the pirate may've had. Not long after the creature would leave the room, sealing the door behind him.
Vile, disgusting beasts. Most other races thought much the same of his own kind, but as far as Caius was concerned these things were barely more than animals despite their technological acumen. It was a strange feeling to think such of another species, and if he were to be completely honest with himself Caius was finally able to understand - at least to an extent - why many of the species within the ancient Covenant had viewed the Jiralhanae as such back then. Doisac was still a barren waste, clouded over by a nuclear winter of their own making. But the Kromus... no, there was no comparison. Beast was the only word to describe such creatures, so weak willed, so quick to obey any semblance of authority without question - if anything the moment of hesitation just now was the exception rather than the norm, the kind of defiance shown only to outsiders or those too weak to command their fear or respect. Neither of which would be tolerated, but it only went that much further to plant the seeds of doubt in Caius's own mind.
Did they really need such animals, creatures to whom loyalty was a fluid and mercurial concept dictated entirely by perceived strength? There was a similar mindset among the Jiralhanae, one fostered since ancient times to be truthful, but at least Caius wasn't overly worried about one of his packbrothers shooting him in the back for no other reason beyond the opportunity presenting itself. Even the other species present on this base - human, Unggoy, Sangheili, Lekgolo, the relatively new Kilrathi.... they all understood what it meant to contribute to something greater than oneself. The only other ones among the lot that Caius didn't trust implicitly as troops beneath his command were the Kig-yar, and even they were as good as the money they were paid - so long as that condition was met they could be trusted, at least to an extent.
But it wasn't his place to question the Chieftain, the pack leader. He knew what he was doing and so far had led the Banished to nothing but success. For the time being all Caius could do was his job, and trust that he was in capable hands as those under his command did. So long as he did that he'd be off of this blighted rock the moment the cruiser they'd located was repaired and able to leave under her own power, and if nothing else he wouldn't be suffering alone for long. Their reinforcements, additional technicians and orbital support if it was needed would be arriving at any time now, and if that ship didn't offer a brief escape to a more comfortable climate then the shipmaster aboard it would at least be stuck here as well.
Swallowing all of his complaints with another disgusted grunt, the Brute would step forward and flick on the holoprojector that had doubled as an improvised desk, bringing up a display of the base and its defenses.
Meanwhile, in the space above the planet in question little appeared to be happening. An uninhabited world, GX-711 was a brown, unremarkable rock for the most part and sensor scans would more or less confirm that thought where the planet itself was concerned. More detailed scans, however, would tell a very different story. Faint but definitely there, particle residue would confirm the presence of multiple larger vessels within the planet's local space over the previous two weeks, all of varying size and make - the most notable of which would be Kromus. Aside from power readings emanating from the planet below would be several other signals, all moving in the space above the settlement and within its atmosphere.
Small and numerous, the vessels would clearly be classified as heavy fighters by most governments, smooth, teardrop shaped and their tapered ends expelling plasma exhaust as they patrolled their assigned routes. An ancient design, the only difference would be impossible to spot without getting close enough to visually inspect them - a vicious red and white paintjob replacing the sleek spotless purple commonly associated with the craft in centuries past.
The outskirts of the Large Magellanic Cloud were silent and generally undisturbed where the regions of Dark Space and the Cloud itself blended. Nothing was out in the region, making the boarders harder to define. Even the Kromus had never set so much as a monitor station in the area because no one at all used it.
Which was what made it the perfect place to make entry as the small nine meter long burnished red gunship exploded out of the strange quantum folded hyperlight realm that few in the Sol-Daiban Galaxy knew of or how to even access. The occupant of the small craft was quick to make sure that the main FTL system was cooling down, as she had near-foolishly gone more than half the journey between the Galaxy and its dwarf class satellite without allowing for breaks. Normally, she'd not have risked a possible burnout of the engine drives, but when Samus Aran had the urgency pressed on her that had occurred in her meeting with Chairman Kea'ton, she was willing to cut a few corners. But pushing her luck wasn’t such an inviting prospect .
Plus, having a Flux Drive burn out in the middle of a trip inside of the quantum slipstream was an experience she had no intention of learning about.
"We should be just outside the area of NGC-1911," she muttered to herself as she began entering the navigation vectors for a stealth entry in the GX-711 system. At full FTL speeds, she could be there in a matter of hours from her current position. The trouble was, her ship's stealth systems tended to not like working while going full speed through the slipstream, and she ran a higher risk of some gravity shadow catching her if she wasn't careful. Entry would have to be done as a series of micro-hops in and out of the slipstream. While it was less visually obvious than Slipspace or using a jump drive, the energy resonance left from entering and exiting the quantum slipstream was unmistakable.
It would be a couple hours before the Flux Drive was ready again, after pushing it as hard as she had. That gave her time to see if there were any charted corridors to avoid the major gravity shadows on her way in to GX-711. The navigation computer was crunching the numbers as best it could, but so far, the Large Magellanic Cloud was vastly lacking in mapping. No doubt the fact no one involved in the Federation or Confed ever came out here was a factor, not to mention she was the only person in Federation territory that had a Chozo FTL system. It had some advantages over the Slipspace drives the fleet was trying to refit its ships with, and was vastly superior to the much more commonly used Jump Drive, but it still had some drawbacks. The quantum presence left inside the slipstream by any gravitational body wasn’t too much a problem until you started into the masses of gas giants and dwarf stars, but it still meant mapping out safe corridors and watching out for any sign of a lethal sized gravity shadow.
Two hours before she could jump again. Enough time for a snack and a nap. And if things were as concerning as Kea'ton had implied, she would need the rest behind her. Her suit was changing inside its containment chamber, and had just finished a set of minor self-repairs to ready it in top condition. Maybe after this, she’d make a long trip back home, see her adopted father, and do some more work to refit her armor.
A snack first, then that nap. After that, she would be ready for whatever was at GX-711.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Thova considered himself quite lucky as far as Sangheili went. At nearly a hundred and seventy years old he'd seen a great deal in his lifetime, more than most sentient species ever got the opportunity to. He'd been present to see history shaped and formed, the course of the galaxy changed. While he had no memories of the last great war to shake Sol-Daiban as a galaxy Thova had first hand accounts of it that few others had the privilege to enjoy, with many of his uncles having participated as veterans of the conflict. In many ways those stories had been what convinced him to not just join the militia of the world he'd been born on but to seek greater heights, to aspire to the kind of glory they had found. He'd had a natural talent for the work of a Shipmaster, and within time he'd even attained the coveted title of Fleetmaster after decades of work.
But that was long behind him now. Thova had been old already when he'd attained the rank, and too old to continue holding it for long. But that was fine. He'd had his moment, enjoyed victories that humbled some of the most feared fleets and ships of their time. Now? He was content with his role. Clad in the crimson armor of the Banished and sporting the white trim indicative of his station, the only thing able to physically give away his age would be the pale color in his left eye - still functional, but no longer able to see as well as his crystal clear right eye, the reptilian pupil unfocused and staring into space as Thova considered their destination. There wasn't much to do beyond that, really. The design of ships crafted by Sangheili hands were far more logical and functional than what aliens often produced, with the ship's bridge buried under several layers of deck and armor. There were no stars to gaze out on, only the sensor readouts supplied by the Path of Valor's own systems. There would be no errant starfighter or missile, no pinpoint shot capable of taking out the carrier before a fight could begin. It was a fact that Thova took great pride in as the vessel was even older than he was, and under his watchful gaze it had been not only restored to but kept in the same shape it had left the shipyards in.
Despite his disdain for the less logical design philosophies that seemed to dominate alien militaries, though, it left the wizened Sangheili no less interested in the find they were leaving Sol-Daiban to salvage. A vessel more than twice his own age, one that no living being had set eyes upon since she had apparently vanished during the same era the Covenant itself had fallen apart in. Supposedly in relatively pristine condition, at that. Thova wasn't entirely convinced that would remain the case as he couldn't be entirely certain how competent the forward base's commander was or how closely they would observe the protocols of such a salvage operation, but-
"Shipmaster." The voice was a newer one but still familiar, and enough to cut Thova's line of thought short as he was pulled back to the present. Blinking, the Sangheili would shift in his command seat, head turning to allow his good eye a better look at who had called for his attention.
"You've something attention worthy?" Thova queried, his voice deep and steady as he regarded the younger officer. And he was younger, by more than a century. Even by Sangheili standards he would have only recently graduated from their war academies back on Sanghelios were any of them still welcome or raised there, but that was the nature of such positions. Talented officers more often than not pursued careers of their own, and pushed hard either for their own ships or to serve aboard high profile vessels with that goal in mind. That wasn't to say that this officer - Uza - was incompetent. Far from it, in fact, as Thova was senior enough to have his pick of officers. By extension it also meant that when one of them asked for his attention it was almost always with good reason.
"I believe so. You had all officers review the ship's history when assigned to it, and something familiar appeared on our subspace sensors." Uza began, his posture allowing the officer to keep one eye on his station's holographic display while the other was fixed on his superior. Thova's immediate response was merely to nod in reply, acknowledging the fact as truth. While many might have seen such a move as their height of egotism - a decorated military officer requiring all new members of the crew to research and learn of their ship's service history - there was a method to the madness. Not every ship was the same, and to take a vessel you didn't know into combat was the height of folly. In going back and learning about the vessel they learned what it could do and what it couldn't do, and such information only served to further inform when something felt right and when something wasn't. And, in the case of the latter category, it often allowed them to immediately identify what was wrong without having to consciously think about it, saving precious seconds that could be the difference between life and death, success and failure. Thova didn't like losing crew, and while he had been good enough and lucky enough to keep those losses to a startling few that was due in part to his unwillingness to tolerate arrogance or ignorance aboard his ship. As Uza paused, however, Thova remained silent and calmly gestured for the officer to continue.
"Our sensors picked up a small, fast moving object that abruptly passed us. Not long after it disappeared around the same moment we detected a signal not entirely unlike that of Kromus vessels reverting to sublight speeds, with certain differences."
Interesting. Unsettling for reasons that Thova couldn't entirely pin down, however. From his understanding the Kromus vessels weren't to have any ships near the salvage site, partly due to how close to the Sol-Daiban borders this side of the Cloud was. Interlopers would've complicated things immensely. Eye turning back to his station's personal display and one hand sliding across the holographic surface, Thova forwarded the records from Uza's terminal to his own. Even more odd was the object's vector very closely matched their own, originating from within Sol-Daiban and exiting only a few light years ahead in an empty system at the very edge of the Cloud. There was nothing there of value, but it was enough to pique Thova's interest.
"Well done, continue to search for further anomalies. 'Lurom, I'm forwarding a set of coordinates to you. We don't have long to spend there as the salvage team is expecting us but you're to bring us in as close as possible."
It would be nearly two hours after Samus's gunship had returned to realspace that something would change, and change suddenly. What had been silent, empty space would blossom open in a blinding display of blue-white light less than half a kilometer above and behind the gunship, and a moment later something would emerge from it to blot out the stars. Hull illuminated by the blue light of both the portal it came from and the static discharges crawling over the nanolaminate surface, the CAS carrier Path of Valor would just as suddenly be plunged back into darkness as the slipspace portal collapsed back into nothingness. Crimson lights dotting the hull and serving to provide at least some sense to the shape and scale of the vessel, several long seconds would pass before the ship did anything, sublight drives firing back up as it began to slowly move forward and past the unseen gunship.
The sudden alarm woke her from the short nap she'd managed to catch. As she shot up out of her bed, Samus raced to the cockpit of her gunship just in time for the main display to show her the source of the alert; someone else was in the area with her.
“Who the hell else would be out here?” she muttered as she slid into her seat and ran the passive scans needed to figure out what she was “seeing". Whatever the black form that was blocking out star points and glowing gases was, it was big, and that made her pale a bit as her ship started calculating a size based off of the passive readings. Over five kilometers long, several hundred defense guns, likely a few hundred fighters if it was a carrier type...
And then the database returned with the CAS label. Those were assault carriers, and notably, they were typically Sangheili carriers. What the hell were the Sangheili doing out in the Large Cloud? Specifically on the same general course as her, making a stop in the same system no less.
And then realization set in time for the young blonde to switch her ship IDs to that of a Kromus raider craft she had pulled some months ago following the Liberation of Zebes. She was small enough to likely not have been seen right away, but she knew the minute she powered the flux drive and jumped back into the slipspace field, her sensor shroud was useless. It took her a few moments to reboot the navcom and start calculating the jump into GX-711, because if her gut instinct was right, there was more going on than some Border Worlders being a hundred and sixty thousand light years from home. Sangheili were Confed allies, and her intuition said this ship was not a friend.
“Good thing I was able to get that nap,” she muttered as the navcom pulled the calculations for the jump and plugged them in to the flux drive system. Seconds later, her gunship’s main engine roared to life and allowed her to tear away at a speed that put many Confederation interceptors to shame. The downside was that kind of drive power was impossible to hide without a full spectrum cloak, which as of yet she hadn’t gotten her hands on. If she didn’t make jump before they locked her signature, Samus had to hope the Kromus ID code would confuse them long enough that they wouldn’t fire.
And then the thought struck her just before reaching for the flux drive activation toggle that they might be out here for the same reason she was, and might not see a Kromus IFF as something to ignore. Fortunately, the shifting ribbons of cascading color and light that Samus knew as the entry shift into the slipstream opened up to engulf her view, sending the lithe gunship surging out of normal space and into the quantum realm.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
It wasn't quite silence, but it felt an awful lot like it as the bridge crew focused on their assigned tasks of bringing the mammoth carrier about to the provided coordinates - and searching for the source of the anomaly. It wasn't entirely unheard of for natural objects to find their way into the odd realm of slipspace through freak accidents, but it was the first time that the Ship Master had ever heard of the reverse happening. If one were to go by the most obvious answer that implied it wasn't a natural occurrence at all but rather the deliberate act of another sentient being..... and therein lay the problem. No one else was supposed to be out here aside from Banished ships, especially the Kromus as the last thing they needed was the attention of the Confederation or Galactic Federation if it appeared old enemies were making aggressive moves. Then there was the supposed size of the object, almost too small for their instruments to detect.
Pulling up the sensor data on his display Thova was unable to reconcile the ship's size - barely that of a heavy fighter - with the speed at which it'd been traveling. Few ships possessed the ability to achieve military FTL speeds without being the size of a human corvette or larger, and the few that could were often tied to spies and their ilk. Even then, though, something about that didn't sit quite right with the Ship Master nor did it feel like it fit the few facts they had so far. Head clouded by innumerable thoughts and possibilities that he wasn't entirely comfortable with, Thova was suddenly brought to attention by the voice of the same officer from before.
"Hold your fire." Thova said, eye tracking the small sensor blip denoting the unknown vessel as it suddenly disappeared.
"Contact lost, transitioned into slipspace. I have its outbound vector and likely destinations from our star charts."
It had been a short exchange, but one that had been an enlightening one. The identification that the other ship had used came as a familiar one to Thova, but not recognized until after it had fled. A destroyed vessel, one from the Liberation of Zebes if Kromus casualty reports were to be believed when they'd been brought into the fold. A dead ship and in a place it should not have been... no, this was not the Confederation nor the act one would expect of their masters. They had won the previous war, and as its victors they had every right to be out in this region of space. There was no reason for them to skulk in the shadows - if they believed a present and immediate threat to exist they would have sent a fleet, not one lone vessel. Whoever this was, they were a private entity not directly tied or beholden to any one organization. Nor were they scrappers or some other civilian enterprise as such people did not have access to the kind of technology they'd just witnessed. Military grade sublight, and FTL that put even the Banished improved drives to shame. Head tilting slightly in thought as he gazed at the data the sensor chief had sent to him, the elderly Sangheili wasn't surprised by their own destination being on the list of potential end points.
"A bounty hunter or mercenary it would seem. Someone has caught wind of our operation but still doesn't know what they're dealing with. Put us back on course. I doubt we'll return in time to warn the Chieftan of it but our prize will be secure upon arrival regardless, I trust Caius is competent enough to deal with unexpected developments until then." Thova said after another moment's thought, eye never leaving the star chart. The mercenary would likely have a handful of hours to do whatever it was they intended at Purgatory, but it was a complication that wasn't needed. Caius, being who and what he was, likely wouldn't hesitate to respond with force if presented with unwelcome intruders, and the presence of civilians from their client worlds would only serve to make matters even worse if they were dragged into a potential conflict. Thova had no doubt that the Path's complement of troops, fighters and its own considerable firepower could drive off anything short of a full fleet... but combat would be a worst case scenario. They weren't out here for a fight, merely salvage - and with that thought the Path of Valor would jolt slightly as it vanished back into the slipstream.
A sigh of relief was finally released as Samus sat back in her seat and let the tension bleed away. A ship that size shouldn't have been out here, which begged a number of questions as to why it was. But time to ponder that would have to come later. Even her moment of safety was limited as she was coming up on GX-711 within minutes, and her ship wasn’t even reaching its maximum speed through the slipstream.
“Hope they don’t look up,” she muttered as she reached for the shimmering crystalline sphere that controlled the flux drive array. A touch and a shift of her palm, and the cascading realm outside suddenly bled back into the stars and nebula of normal space as the tiny gunship left the quantum realm once more. Systems indicated that the sensor shroud was operating normally, and as she looked at the viewport, Samus could see the tiny rock that was barely big enough to warrant the label of ‘planet’. The atmosphere was barely there, and the small planetoid was far enough outside the golden zone without orbiting a gas giant to compensate that life could not develop, yet could survive if it was visiting. And that was being generous.
So what were the Border Worlds doing out here?
Her gunship had exited the slipstream about five million kilometers out from the planet. Nominally enough distance to avoid notice with the shroud active, and so longer she didn’t engage the overdrive, it should hold well enough for her to make landing. At this range, it would be just under two hours until planetside, which gave her time to get herself ready and make sure her suit was fully charged.
“Mission report to Chairman Kea'ton, alpha level encryption hyperburst. Agent Aran has arrived in system, making approach to GX-711 under stealth conditions. Minimal difficulties in transit to Large Magellanic Cloud, will update report status once planetside has been reached.” At over thirty kiloparsecs away from the galaxy, let alone the distance to Daiban itself, it was going to be at least two or three days before the report reached Kea'ton, and her suit only have a number of hours power at full combat capacity before it would go into gradual shut down to extend operation life. Ideally, she would get in, find out what was going on, then get out without too much trouble. By the time the first hyperburst arrived at Daiban, Samus would hopefully be on her way out of the Cloud and heading back to Sol-Daiban to give her after action in person.
The distance gave her a moment to get some food in her system as well. She didn’t expect to get another change to eat for least several hours, and thus pulled out a protein-calorie rich MRE and threw it in the rehydrator unit. A thermo-static bottle of water was half gone in the time her food took to prepare, and it didn’t take the young blonde Star Hunter long to pack away the make-shift ‘lunch'. Once done, she pulled her Paralyzer free from the holding clip by the cockpit, checked the power clip charge, then slipped the large hand blaster into the holster harnessed to her right thigh. One last adjustment of the top of her base armor, and Samus slipped into the pilot’s seat while switching to manual control as she began entry procedures.
By the time she had gotten through the thin atmosphere and into the nightside of GX-711, she had already seen a number of vessels she was very sure had no business out in the Greater Cloud. A number of what looked like Sereph fighters, Banshees, and some Phantoms, or at least they were resembling enough in design to what she had on Sangheili ship types. For some reason, that was setting off alarms in Samus' mind. What purpose did the Border Worlds and Sangheili have to be out in the middle of nowhere in the Greater Cloud?
And then she saw the Kromus Raider frigate. The warnings made sense, but the situation did not. Sangheili had as much reason to hate the Kromus as anyone else in the galaxy, to say nothing of the Border Worlds. What the hell were they all doing in the same place together?
She needed to get inside and find out. With her brow creasing, Samus brought the lithe little gunship about to a secluded spot just outside what looked to be an operations center. The major detail she caught as she came in was the wreckage of what looked like an old Terran vessel, with estimated size ranging about a kilometer or more. Was this some kind of salvage operation? But why would the Kromus be interested in an old Terran ship that had probably been here for decades, if not centuries?
“Guess I better earn that paycheck,” she mused as she carefully landed the gunship and powered down everything but the main navcom AI and ship command relay. With a grunt, Samus stood up started toward the central entry lift of her ship, and tapped the glowing emblem etched into the light armored breast plate of her base armor suit. The powered suit held in the containment chamber came to life as energy crackled over its surface, vanishing from the chamber and reforming around her to lift the young woman several inches off the ground. The visor operating systems game online and displayed the indicator that she was fully charged, with an expected full combat capability of roughly five hours. The new vibranite power cells were working much better than the original power units, but it still left her with a matter of hours she could operate at full capacity. Getting her suit to its intended ability was going to take more work still.
But, she could hopefully worry about that later. Stepping onto the central lift panel, Samus keyed the system and looked up to see the top hatch unseal and iris open as she rose up and was lifted out of the ship. From here on, it was time to prove she had earned her status as a Star Hunter, and get her job done.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
The dim blue lighting of the hallway was briefly shattered by a contrasting flash of green and the chirp of carbine fire, only to fall into relative stillness once more as the body slumped out of the cryo pod and thunked onto the deck, a single entry hole in the human's skull. Facing the pod stood three avian creatures, all armed with purple hued rifles and plasma pistols holstered at their hips - the lead one in the center lowering his rifle as the body fell to join roughly forty others that stretched down the hallway behind them, marking the group's passage.
In all honesty, Tith was amazed that the things were still working. This vessel was older than many within the merchant fleets back home, and those required almost constant upkeep and maintenance just to remain functional. When Caius had ordered the Kig-yar under his command to sweep the vessels for survivors he'd assumed it to be something of a joke - something to keep them separated from the Unggoy and newer human workers who found his kind distasteful. But the pods were still indeed working, and that suddenly gave new purpose to their orders to locate the ship's command crew and any other individuals potentially of value. When they'd first started they'd only been lightly armed, but that had changed a couple of hours into the operation when a human woken from their sleep had decided to start an altercation, likely because of their status as Kig-yar. In hindsight it was to be expected, especially considering the era this ship had come from... but several broken bones and a dead attacker later they'd been given permission to deal with the situation as they saw fit, so long as their objective was completed.
With so many soldiers sealed in the pods Tith wasn't taking any chances - until they found who they were looking for, summary executions were the order of the day. No fights, no mess, no more debilitating injuries. Head tilting to the side in a very bird-like fashion to cast one final, lasting glance at the dead human to be sure that it wasn't moving anymore, the Ruuhtian reloaded the near empty carbine and snapped his gaze back upwards as the started moving to the next pod down the line. A single glance told him all he needed to know - inside of the frosted confines was another human, yet again dressed in what were now very familiar green combat fatigues... although, for some reason, these ones were black and gray. Different. Valuable?
Maybe. But too much of a risk.
Squawking out an order to the other two Kig-yar present, each of the remaining avians took to positions at either side of the pod with their carbines ready, one reaching out to rest a claw on the pod's release - and with a glance back to confirm they were ready, pressed it. Several seconds would pass as the cryo pod warmed, frost retreating into nothingness before a pneumatic hiss provided warning that the pod was about to open. As with the others there was movement inside as the human began to wake... but, like the man's clothing, this was different from before. The previous humans had appeared groggy, unaware of their situations and not fully awake when they'd been dispatched - but as this one woke he seemed to catch sight of Tith, their eyes connecting for the briefest of seconds before seeing the same spark of realization and panic pass through the other.
As the pod opened the man was already moving, using the back of the oversized canister to press himself off of as he charged towards Tith - the avian, to his credit, remained on target as he pulled the carbine's trigger. Luck, however, was not on his side as the sudden movement and change in position caused the green bolt to only graze the human's head, opening a red gash on the side of their temple as a second shot similarly grazed the man's torso, the shooter unable to compensate for the odd angle. The third shot, thankfully, was on target, tagging the man in his left leg and continuing through it to exit into the deck. It wasn't enough, however, as the human bowled Tith over, shoving his carbine entirely off target as both individuals fell to the ground and they rolled to the side, the human using his heavier weight to place Tith between himself and the other two attackers even as he bled. Frantically trying to find his footing with the intent of standing up and shooting his attacker, the Ruuhtian suddenly felt something brush at his hip even as he extricated himself from the soldier... only for his gut to turn cold as a pair of green flashes were accompanied by searing hot air on both his left and right, the plasma pistol now held by the human as each bolt hit his subordinates in the upper chest and lower neck. Carbine snapping up, the last thing Tith ever saw was a flash of green as the human's aim slid over to his head.
Lance Corporal Sven Grahn remained stock still in the second after firing, the only movement a slight shudder in his arms as the three Jackals fell dead on the deck. It was only afterwards that the pain started to blossom outward from his leg, a combination of the hole the projectile left and the cauterized flesh surrounding the wound as his armed dropped. Plasma pistol clattering to the metal floor, it took an act of will to avoid making sound as the ODST wrestled with his confusion. There should not have been anything beyond human life on this ship, and a brief glance down both ends of the cryo bay - initially to confirm there were no more attackers - told him that his wasn't the first pod to be opened. They'd been at this a while, and with three other such bays on the ship there was no telling how many other servicemen were gone already. Not all of them were soldiers like he was, and even then the sheer number of bodies on the floor confirmed he'd been lucky - not everyone woke from cryo as easy as he did, and even then he could feel the burning itch of freezerburn across his entire body where his clothing had covered.
Not a fun way to wake up. There was work to be done, though - the adrenaline coursing through his body was already starting to ebb and fade, and he wasn't going to last long on his own with a leg wound. A pained grimace passing over his face, Sven leaned forward and yanked the carbine out from under the lead Jackal's corpse before using it to pull himself up onto his good leg and limping over to a control panel on the far wall of the bay, outlined in red and yellow with half a dozen warnings surrounding it. Leaning against the wall, the soldier would lift the carbine and violently smash the thick glass casing, shattering it, and give the lever beneath a powerful yank. The moment he did that Sven could feel the faint rumble of power coursing through the bay's metal deck, and shifting yellow light would replace the cool blue that had illuminated the bay prior. Sinking to sit with his back against the wall, Sven briefly checked the weapon he had used as an improvised crutch - while he understood none of the writing on it he knew green from red, and the presence of only green ticks on the weapon's ammo clip told the soldier all he needed to know.
Silence permeated the corridor. Quiet and dark, as it had been for over four centuries since the vessel had set down on the small planetoid. It was a back area, meant for maintenance access and little else, which meant it was not likely to be used at all given the current state and status of the old ship.
Which was the perfect place to take count of things as the burnished yellow ball rolled out of the maintenance shaft and fell to the deck with a dull thud. It rolled forward a few feet, settled into a stop after making sure it had sufficient clearance, then crackled with a bright green flash of light and unfolded into the standing form of the yellow and red powered suit standing full just over six feet tall. Within an instant, the large viridian cannon mounted to the suit via the right arm was snapped up and readied for combat. The glowing green visor flared for a moment as its scanning systems took in everything and processed the data for the suit’s user.
“Definitely UNSC era, but not in the Federation database archives I have access to.” Which meant she'd have to find a way to access the ship's mainframe for a layout map. That would be reliant on the power even still working with how old the derelict was. Depending on the state of the relays, the fusion drives might still be capable of repowering with a sufficient enough ‘jump’. “What I wouldn’t give for one of those Macro AIs they gave the ÆSIRs,” the young woman muttered as she mentally switched her visor to auto scan, allowing her to keep an in progress map data of the ship. Once she could access the mainframe and pull engineering schematics, the rest would fill in, but for now, it was all she had.
The stark silence was odd for a bit as she carefully made her way down the corridor. She could see evidence that someone had been here recently; footprints from humanoid, and then what looked like claw scratches. Considering the ships she had seen outside on her way in from orbit, Kig-yar scavengers were the first thing that came to mind. This entire situation was raising more and more questions. While Kig-yar engaging in piracy wasn’t unheard of, combined with humans, Sangheili, and Kromus, and things were not looking very good. All she needed to top off her paranoia was a certain regenerating dragonoid who was supposed to have been killed on Krom nearly twenty years ago, and was the center of all her major anxiety issues since she was three.
But so far, she had encountered no one in the decks of the derelict vessel. They shouldn't know she was coming, and to be fair, there had been no sign that she nor her gunship have been discovered. But the lack of a mapped out data set was going to slow her down.
And then she heard the discharge of what sounded like a plasma burst. She knew that sound well enough from her academy days, and the likelihood of it being a misfire or a dropped shot, here, were close to non-existent. Samus narrowed her eyes as she switched her visor array to combat active and raced down the corridor. A scanner pulse went off to make way at scanning ahead as much as the suit could, while a second and third set of plasma reports echoed. That was not a misfire for sure. Now her feet were thumping against the metal floor panels as she barreled her way into a sharp turn. Another shot echoed, louder though now as she was getting closer.
And then, bringing the full force of her armor's weight against the observation window ahead of her at the end of the hall, Samus found herself dropping down a full deck’s distance and landing with the sense of metal buckling under her. She snapped up in a split second, cannon casing snapping open to load a freshly generated micro-missile ballistic while her visor was scanning for any threats. Rows of what looked like old cyropods, many already open and bodies dumped out on the floor. Human bodies.
And the three Kig-yar bodies on the ground in front of a man dressed in black and grey battle fatigues, clutching wounds and holding a plasma pistol. So that confirmed two things; Kig-yar pirates were working with the Kromus, and whatever happened to this ship four hundred years ago, some of the crew had survived into cryostasis. Best thing to do before they had a misunderstanding was identify herself and let him know she was a friendly. “Apologies for the obviously rude wake up, sir. My name is Samus Aran, I’m a Star Hunter Agent of the Galactic Federation on an investigation order here in GX-711. Do you or anyone else need help?”
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Yellow lights flashing over the interior of the cryo bay, Sven found at least some comfort as the remaining pods began to hiss open, brothers and sisters in arms stumbling out in varying states of consciousness as they coughed and sputtered to life. Waking up from cryosleep was no joke, and few people acclimated to it as well as he had. There were one or two among the dozen or so still alive who picked up on the bodies quicker than the others did, though, and there was nothing quite like adrenaline to get you going in the morning. Yells of confusion would sound as a number of them spotted the other corpses on the flood, however, and another spotted Sven slumped against the wall with weapon in hand.
"Hey, guys! Sve-"
"Corpsman, get the bay's medkit, Lance Corporal needs it. Everyone else, check the bodies, grab their tags."
Whatever chaos might have been brewing was quickly put to rest as the platoon's Master Sergeant made a quick assessment and began giving out orders between his fits of coughing. Leaning against his pod, Stacker didn't need to be told what had happened between his Corporal's wounds and the three dead Jackals on the deck - they shouldn't have been there but the rest of them were lucky that Grahn had survived the encounter, nevermind made it to the bay's controls. Regaining enough bodily control to stand, the Master Sergeant took a few steps towards the alien bodies - now surrounded by a handful of other ODSTs collecting their weapons and ammo - only to be halted as a Private holding a carbine made a familiar gesture with it before tossing the weapon for the Sergeant to catch, a handful of ammo clips following shortly after. Nodding to the soldier, Stacker would then turn his attention to the end of the bay.
"How many KIA?"
"Forty plus at a quick count, Sarge. Can't say what the other bays will look like 'til we get to them."
Not ideal, to say the least. None of the ship's command crew were present in their bay but that was the least of their problems with Jackals present, the ship's AI should've been able to handle a small pirate detachment on his own. And on the note of the ship... something else was off. The gravity felt a bit too weak, and there wasn't that familiar hum and vibration of the ship's engines. Were they drifting? Something else they'd need to figure with time, but other priorities came first. None of them were going to be alive for it to matter if they didn't clear the ship of hostiles first, and that meant getting to the armory and getting their gear. After that happened they could figure ou-
"Contact!"
"Hold fire! Hold fire!"
Shouted out at the exact same moment as the observation bay's window broke, the reaction it got from the soldiers in the room was immediate as everyone in the room immediately moved to take cover, the corpsman tending to the Lance Corporal forcibly sliding the medkit off with a kick as he began to drag the soldier off behind another inert pod - Sven himself taking a wild shot with his carbine but the round going wide over the yellow and red suit of armor that came falling towards the deck. The five other armed individuals, however, showed slightly more trigger discipline as they simply tracked the individual's fall and kept their barrels on target - no fire at will order had been given, and it wouldn't be until they knew what they were dealing with. Worst case scenario, this new individual was with the pirates... but surrounded by three now charged plasma pistols and with two carbines on target. Even a Brute or Elite wouldn't like those odds.
Then it spoke... english?
Plenty of Covenant races were capable, yes, but few of them spoke it well or fluently. The voice sounded very human at that, as was the general form of the armor. Had she not been so comparatively short Stacker might've mistaken her for a Spartan, but he'd seen enough of them in his time to know when he was looking at one.
"None of that means anything to us, ma'am. All I can tell you is that neither you or the birds on the deck are supposed to be here." Stacker said, calling out from behind the pod he was using for cover - although his carbine's barrel never wavered off of Samus's center mass as the gears in his head started to turn. If one were to go with assumptions? The offer for help made a pretty clear distinction between the Jackals opening the pods for executions and the woman standing in the center of the bay. And, at a glance, her gear was fairly military grade, although that didn't tell him a lot. And beyond that there was the matter of the group she said she was working for. All Stacker knew was it wasn't the people who signed his paychecks and he could only imagine how many regulations would be broken by her being allowed to roam freely within the Euclid's Anvil - and if they made it out of this ONI would likely have more than just words for both Miss Aran and whichever ranking officer had allowed it, noncom or not. Right now, that was currently him.
On the other hand, though... the competing argument was if they made it back home or not, and right now Stacker's immediate loyalty lay with the men under his command. What happened to him latter wasn't going to matter if he wasn't alive at the time anyways.
"... soldiers, stand down." Stacker finally said after a few moments' thought, lowering his own rifle as he spoke and hesitantly stood - the other carbines peeking out from cover doing the same and the plasma pistol charges winding down.
"You want to lend a hand? Get them to the armory. Fill them in best you can on what we're dealing with. We still need to check the other bays for survivors but right now getting my peoples' hands on weapons and ammo is going to be far more helpful in the long run." Stacker continued, a slightly dubious look in his eyes as he glanced over Aran again. And more than that there was something else - even though he'd just woken up from cryo the man already looked tired. Losing men under your command was never easy, and the sight of the bodies behind Aran only further reinforced what the odds were of the rest of them getting home had to be. There would be time for grieving later, though, as Stacker took another moment to look around and identify which of the shock troopers had armed themselves.
"Johanson, Higgins, Perez, Cox. You're heading down a deck, bay Charlie. We need the command crew out of cryo, Spartans if the Covvies haven't gotten to them yet. Law, you're going with 'em." Stacker started, finishing with the last name as he handed off his carbine and ammo to the ODST. Making his way over to the corpsman, Stacker reached down for Sven's hand to pull him up with the medic's help, taking the soldier's weapon as he did so.
"Aran, you've got point, we'll direct you where we need to go."
Did she hear right? Did he say there were Spartans on board? The ship was admittedly at least four hundred years since it set down, but to think there were actual Spartans, alive?
Samus had to mentally snap herself out of her amazement. These people were unaware of how much time they had lost. Over four centuries gone, and they probably still thought the Covenant War was still on. A quick scan on his rank patches and service markers identified him as a Master Sergeant of the UNSC Marines. While he technically held no authority over her, and by all laws and accords of the Federation, the reverse was in fact true, he was a man out of time and trying to make sure people under his command saw home again. Discretion was the better action, and they didn’t need an argument between them already. Besides, she was still the green Star Hunter. Authority or not, the Sergeant had experience. She could brief them along the way and do her best to bring these people up to speed.
“I haven’t seen anyone active besides your people in this deck, Master Sergeant. And truthfully, there’s a lot I need to bring you up to speed on considering how long you've all been in stasis. If we find your ship's captain is still alive, then I will need to brief them on the state of the galaxy.” A pause as she looked over the bustle of the ship's compliment of troops working through the remainder of the cryopods in the bay. “I think it’s safe to say a lot has changed since you all went into cryo, Master Sergeant. And that’s putting it lightly.” Four wars, the repeated devastations upon Terra, and the government they knew had collapsed not after they had all been lost into the void. “But, the sooner we get your people armed and ready, the better. We have at least Border Worlders working with Kig-yar, likely rogue Sangheili, and...the Kromus.”
The last was disheartening at best. All those factions and races had every reason to hate the Kromus for the hell they put the galaxy through, especially the Border Worlds. The very idea that they were somehow working together was incomprehensible. Though there had once been a time when the same was said of many former Covenant affiliated race, and one of her few friends in the Confederation Army officer academy had been a Jiranhalae. But the Kromus...they were different. They were chaos, a plague. And their forces were getting stronger.
She pushed the last thought aside. Samus had a job here, and despite that her assignment hadn’t included a rescue, she still had quite a wide latitude in how she chose to conduct her mission. And with the renewed Kromus War escalating as it was, even the elitists of Congress who looked down on the Terrans had to accept every ally made a difference. Helping these people finally go home to Terra, as much as they were going home to a world that was no longer theirs, would go a long way.
“Just tell me where the armory is, and I can have you covered. Once we rendezvous, I’ll fill you in on a breakdown of what you all have missed...over the last four hundred years.”
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
There wasn't much that pleased Stacker, but pragmatism was up there on the list - Aran was quick to pick up on the situation and didn't bristle on being drafted into service. A good thing, too, as the suit... it wasn't the armor he'd become quite familiar with over the years but it bore enough similarities that he wouldn't have wanted to be between it and whatever the wearer wanted gone, especially given the size of the cannon integrated into the right arm. Marcus didn't doubt that she was speaking the truth in regards to the passage of time while they were in cryo, but thankfully he didn't have the time to think on it, either. All that mattered right now was getting his men into a position where they could fight back and retake the ship - the term "Border Worlder" meant nothing to him, but the others were information he could readily use. The Jackals they already knew about but the mention of rogue Sangheili could've meant any number of things, none of them good. They weren't the type to readily hire themselves out as mercenaries to third parties or pursue more individualistic careers outside of service to the state, and the third term was one that he didn't recognize at all - enough to put a grim expression on his face even in spite of Aran's immediate and willing cooperation.
"Appreciated, and best saved for the captain once we've armed up. Armory's on this deck. Head left down the hall then turn right at the sign, a few dozen meters and past a security door I can get open for you." Stacker continued, glancing back at the men and women in the bay - beyond them the second team taking up positions by the door at the opposite hallway and opening it only to signal all clear before filing out of the room, weapons at the ready. All of this hinged on the bridge crew still being alive, and under different circumstances he probably would've asked their new ally to see to them. Complication being that if these pirates were organized at all it would be a slaughter if they had friends outside and none of them were armed, and having the bridge crew alive and well wouldn't mean squat if they died fifteen minutes after waking.
"Corpsmen and the wounded hang back but stay in sight. Rest of you follow us." Stacker called out, moving to the door's keypad and entering a sequence. Door hissing open as its seals released, Stacker glanced down both ends of the darkened hallway beyond before easing out and placing both hands back on his appropriated weapon.
Her visor was lighting up with data and information as she took the forward position down the hall and readied her cannon, very much what she learned in her Academy days only three years prior. Her advantage was that her suit’s sensor arrays were able to filter the dark and give her near-perfect nightsight. Even as they all now followed her down the corridor, Samus kept her head sweeping back and forth as her visor picked out the previously mentioned sign and let her know to make the turn. A clattering sound down the hallway garnered a snapped movement as her arm cannon opened along the casing and shifted into ballistics configuration. The flare at the barrel opening as a missile loaded in was no doubt going to earn questions. EMC tech was something she knew wasn’t very known, if even existent, during the 2500s, and if they started seeing that minor function of her suit in action, then seeing a number of its other capabilities was sure to do more than surprise them.
“Motion down toward the armory,” she reported to her charges. It was out of courtesy she was following orders given for the time being, but if anyone other than the master sergeant tried to tell her what to do, they'd get a rundown of how much the start of the galaxy had changed. “Master Sergeant, I suggest you and your troops hold back, I’m picking up three to four signatures down there by the turn. Stay under cover and I’ll check it out. Once the area is clear, I'll be back for you.”
The heavy click as she let the cannon default back into beam projection configuration was almost enough to add the emphasis on her own orders as she headed down the corridor, now picking up her pace before leaping forward and letting her astral self take the lead while her physical body was suspended in energy and her armor transformed into its sphere form and hit the deck with a thud. The green glow of the shell casing left a faint trail of light as the ball, eighty centimeters in diameter, rolled forward and turned hard to vanished into an open maintenance duct.
It took mere seconds to do roll her way though the small corridor and to the adjacent duct by the armory. The clicking of talons on the deck and the growled chirp sounds that told her there were Kig-yar waiting there, likely trying to break into the armory no less, was enough to get Samus into full combat mode. The round sphere of her trans-morphed armor rammed its way out of the duct opening, through their legs and weaving around as glowing blue points of light were left behind at the feet of the now shocked and surprised avians. Seconds after the ball had rolled back into the open duct, before the Kig-yar could properly process what was going on, the blue orbs of light imploded in a brilliant flare of explosive force, sending the cluster flying into the walls. Within an instant, the yellow sphere rolled back out, flaring with green light as soul and body reformed together and the yellow and red armor stood back at full height.
One of the Kig-yar was trying to recover when the viridian cannon slammed hard against its head, eliciting a crack from the avian’s skull just before it found the muzzle of that cannon jammed against its chest and let out a distinct heavy pulse that sent the now lifeless form slamming back against the wall with a smoldering hole in it. A second Kir-yar moved with better speed, drawing up its plasma pistol and getting a pair of shots off at the armored form just before it found itself staring down a high speed projectile that spread what was left of it in chunks on the floor.
The third and fourth of the group had recovered enough to see their assailant turning her head slowly toward them even as the shimmering hexagonal grid of light was still crackling from where she had been hit. Despite the wide form glowing green visor, they could both feel the seething and danger behind that visor, and both brought their own weapons up. One got a round off from the plasma rifle it held, managing to catch Aran as she surged forward and throw her off balance from the impact enough that she dove down and suddenly transmorphed back into sphere form. In an instant, amid the stares of shock from the remaining Kig-yar, she reverted back to full form and slammed into the one holding a plasma pistol at almost breakneck speed. Considering the shock and surprise was wearing off, her opponents were less off their game and more aware to attempt fighting back.
Which was just fine by her. A shot fired almost point blank at her helmet, causing a heavy crackle into her shielding, but it didn’t collapse the grid as she grabbed the avian and fired a full charged power beam pulse right into its face. There was a splatter on her armor as she dropped the corpse, turning toward the last remaining Kig-yar with blood and brain matter staining over the glowing green visor. “Now, about that shot you hit me with...”
The Kig-yar screeched and charged at the yellow and red armored form, only to stumble through the green flash of light, then found itself jerked back as a high energy tingle wrapped around its neck and pulled it to the floor. It had enough time to look and see a brilliant stream of charge particles emitting out of the emerald cannon’s barrel and down to wrap around its neck just before the lasso of energy suddenly dissipated and was replaced with a purple flare of light that crackled just before it slammed full force into its head and through its nervous system.
A few moments passed as Samus felt the surge of battle rage leave her. It wasn’t severe as when she had fought the Kromus on Zebes, but that rush of adrenalin and fury was addictive, and she knew she had to be wary of it, or it could compromise her ability to keep a level head in a fight. Once she was breathing normally again, Samus looked back down toward where she had left her charges and hurried to rejoin them. “Small sweep team, I don’t think any of them had a chance to get warning out.”
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
If it hadn't been obvious before it was now as the armored woman started to move down the hallway - she was trained, and despite her voice carrying the same pitch and tone of someone young enough to be fresh out of boot Aran had clearly been in the field before. With armor reminiscent of MJOLNIR it was to be expected as no one was given that kind of kit without having earned it, but the confidence that she showed in taking point was mirrored in the ODSTs as they quietly filed out of the room behind her, taking cover in the bulkheads that marked the hallway sections along the walls. Armored Aran might be, but they weren't - and even with their BDUs a solid hit from a Brute or plasma weapon could easily prove fatal, to say nothing of just the standard fatigues they were wearing now.
The disadvantage hardly seemed to be acknowledged, though, as while Stacker was the only one armed among them there was no sense of hesitation. They were moving with a purpose, and once they made it to the armory they'd at least stand a fighting chance.
As Aran suddenly stopped, however, almost every one of the dozen people behind her would freeze as well, all save one. His own weapon snapping up as Aran's weapon did, Stacker would move off to the side and closer to the wall to clear his lane of fire should anything appear between him and their escort - when nothing did, however, the old veteran almost immediately understood that it had to be in response to some extra sense granted by her armor, likely a motion tracker of some sort. Whatever she'd picked up on was out of sight, which meant... likely down the corridor and right outside the armor doors around the corner.
Damn.
"Understood, we'll hunker down here." Stacker responded, voice kept uncharacteristically low and quiet given their proximity to enemies that likely hadn't picked up on their presence yet. Edging back to lean against the wall and steady his carbine on the bulkhead, it took an act of will to prevent an exclamation of surprise as the woman leading them suddenly performed an action that he'd never seen before and highly doubted he'd ever see again, much less understand - other soldiers, far less disciplined, would fill the corridor with hushed curses and profanities in their own surprise. And then just like that the armored ball that Aran had become was disappearing into a duct and out of sight. Moments later would be the quite obvious surprise attack, the screeching of Jackals carrying down the hallway alongside concussive thumps and flashes of energy weapon discharge, the marines growing increasingly tense as the seconds ticked by before Aran finally reappeared around the corner.
... sweep team? Stacker frowned, troubled. From the sound of it they'd just been standing there, no footsteps of any sort. Something about the encounter didn't sit right with him, but they didn't have time to think about it. They needed those weapons and armor.
"Police those weapons. Warning or not, someone's going to notice when they don't check in." Stacker said, the initial order given to the rough dozen men and women behind him as the abandoned their cover to begin approaching the alcove that Samus had cleared. The second comment, though, was a simple statement of fact. He didn't doubt that she'd hit them quick enough to prevent a call for help, but fact was they'd already killed one group in the cryo bay. One missing team was delinquent. Two was a potential problem. More than that and you had an incursion, and while the Covenant splinter groups may not have been the brightest they weren't dumb, either. They knew warfare and to expect anything less was asking for trouble.
As the ODSTs rounded the corner, though, one would pause to let out a low whistle. Whoever this woman was, she didn't fuck around. There wasn't much blood as it looked like only one had been a victim of blunt force trauma and there were no stab wounds - aside from the single noticeable exception missing a head - but the air stank of burned and cauterized flesh. And while it wasn't good, old fashioned steel and bullets... considering the alternative of throwing rocks and shoes, two plasma pistols and the much more coveted metallic blue sheen of the plasma rifles were a welcome sight. As four of the ODSTs set to collecting the weapons and searching the corpses for additional gear to distribute - only finding a single plasma pistol that the leader likely had as a sidearm, but it was something - one of the soldiers would start approaching the armory door. As she started to reach for the keypad, though, the woman would pause and hesitate.
The door showed no signs of forced entry or damage. But why would they just be standing in front of the entry way-?
Right in the middle of the thought the metal hatch would hiss open, and on the other side would be standing a massive creature nearly nine feet tall, bearing features reminiscent of both larger apes and ursines and clad in dark gray metal plates assembled over his fur to create makeshift armor. Having heard the screeches of the Jackals outside and approached to investigate, the shock of seeing the creatures dead and the humans looting the corpses would only last for but a moment before being followed by a deafening roar of primal rage as the woman in front of him stumbled back in panic, hitting the deck as the five armed humans behind her opened fire.
On her back as the air above was illuminated with the dizzying strobes of plasma pulses, the soldier would find her eyes darting to the space behind the Brute as additional movement made itself known.
Blood flowing freely from the blackened and peeling flesh of his shoulder and barely conscious, Higgins slumped against the edge of a cryo pod before spitting, aim as perfect as his shots had been as the Brute corpse on the floor was subjected to the disrespectful act. Five minutes out of their tubes and the entire thing had turned into a shit show. They probably should have expected this given that the Jackals in their bay had been systematically executing soldiers in their pods, but the second team they'd encountered on the deck below was much better outfitted. No Jackals, but a pack of three Brutes and a Huragok, all clustered around the pods the ODSTs had needed to get to. Given the jump up from the first team they'd clearly been aware of what they'd found, and had been on guard from the start. The element of surprise was probably the only reason they'd been able to take them at all..... and even then the returning fire was accurate enough that Higgins knew he wasn't going to be able to wield a rifle again anytime soon with his arm cooked.
To say nothing of Perez. Poor bastard had taken enough Spiker rounds to the torso that no amount of biofoam was going to help him, and the only solace to be found in that was at least he'd died quick, Johanson struggling to pull his body aside and out of the way as she'd also taken a round to her leg. Only one of them that hadn't taken fire was Cox, the ODST moving to the end of the hall to flip the emergency switch that'd let everyone in that bay out of cryo. Sixty individuals total, or at least it should have been. A handful of pods were missing, having clearly been ejected as they should have been in an emergency where the ship was likely to be lost - two of which had contained an individual they'd been there for, but that still left four. Four, and another twenty ODSTs and the ship's engineering staff.
Reaching the switch, Cox would casually flip the appropriated Carbine he had around to smash the glass with the butt of the rifle before brusquely yanking the lever beneath it down, the man's irritation clear despite his stoic expression. He was an old bastard, a veteran of the war previous, and many of the older ODSTs from the 105th had long nursed a rivalry if not outright grudge against the Spartans. Yellow warning lights flashing over the bay, one by one the pods would begin to hiss and crack open.