Chapter Text
The Prosecutor’s aft exploded in a thunderous display of fiery violence. First, the reverberations rang across the insides of the vessel, shaking awake whatever surviving Trandoshans and Clone Troops there were aboard, before silence fell upon the engine room, a cratering hole dug by the mass of explosive charges thrown by the mixed Commando-Spartan team down below. A multitude of the Flood Forms present were sucked out as the atmosphere of the ship began to drain into the hole.
The Spartans and Commandos had rushed to the door before the bomb, set on a timer to detonate, had exploded amidst the Flood armada present on the deck. Those that didn’t get sucked out were the ones attached to the ship’s hull and, obviously, the Proto-Gravemind that lay in the middle, covering the now destroyed Hyperspace drive and heavily-damaged engines.
Sat atop the Gravemind was the form of the Captain, a skeletal humanoid frame, all nutrients, fat and muscle tissue added upon the Parasite’s sickening form. Martz’s corpse was the sickening jewel of the grotesque crown of the Infection aboard the former home of Delta Squad. His frame, mixed with a thousand others from Clones to human officers, screamed, voice muffled by the void.
He sickeningly ripped himself off of the Flood’s massive Pre-Gravemind form, tearing pus-filled, necrotic flesh at the seams as he crawled out from amongst the consumed corpses of his crew, sharpened claws made of altered, putrid bone sprouting from each of his fingers, while what remained of his legs propelled him forward, dripping dried, infected blood onto the grating.
He charged the Spartans and Commandos with a deafening scream, his claws digging into the armored plate as he surged forward, then jumped onto the catwalk they’d thrown their improvised explosive from, his hand shooting out as something inside him screamed in both anger and agony. Shards of bone shot forth…
Delta squad slammed a button and the door shut, the atmosphere stabilizing within the hallway of the ship even as the razor-sharp bone fragments pierced the bulkhead durasteel. Scorch’s voice cracked as he asked, “Look, I’m not sure I actually wanna know, but is that similar to what you’ve seen…?” as he pointed at Chief. The Spartan nodded, unease in every mechanical move, from reloading his rifle to checking his data.
Cortana spoke, “Worse… That Proto-gravemind’s mobile and-” only for a muffled crack of steel to echo behind the door, in the ceiling. She blinked, told them over radio, “And it just found the air vents, John, we should get moving to the Bridge ASAP, get me into the computer systems so we can trigger the self destruct…”
“Lead the way,” Chief told Boss. He nodded, showed Cortana to display whatever may of the transport ship she could on the Spartans’ HUDs, then started moving forward, blaster rifle at the ready. It seemed, however, that whatever they’d done had royally pissed off the Flood in the area. Angered screams, changed into terrifying wails by their surroundings, soon flooded the entire vessel from bow to the aft.
“Internal ship sensors just picked up mass amounts of movement,” Fixer spoke, then clarified, “They really don’t like us…”
“It. It doesn’t like us,” Chief clarified, then took a left with Boss. The rest of the team followed to a series of maintenance hallways that, though they were still lined with biomass, were far less hard to traverse than elevator shafts, which Chief had soon assumed were overwhelmed by Flood. The team ran up the ship’s rear now, pretty much.
Doors sealed behind them, Cortana stating, “I and Fixer are working on keeping the Flood away from this specific stairwell. You guys, just keep moving ,” with the team wordlessly agreeing as they surged up the stairwell. Flood forms appeared from at the doors just as they were closing and trying to breach through them, but a blaster bolt or a shotgun blast kept them at bay.
“First time I’ve run this much since Basic,” Sev spoke, terrifyingly calm, though clearly eager for action. Linda hummed in agreement, keeping her dual at hand as they moved. The Clone commando snapped a shot off at an Infector form trying to sneak through a half-opened door, then watched Linda fill its bigger combat-oriented brother full of bullets just as the door shut.
Scorch, though clearly afraid, quipped, “First time I’ve run this much ever, here!”
“You’re the demo expert,” Sev joked, grinning obviously behind his helmet.
The explosives expert snorted and said, “Doesn’t involve that much running! Just walking away before Boss hits the det-” only to get cut off as the scream of the mobile Gravemind filled their ears, followed by the Commando disappearing down the flight of stairs as the monster emerged out of an air duct. Scorch’s blaster sang.
“Scorch!” Sev barked as he turned around, “Son of a Bantha-herdin’-”
Down below, a hard thump echoed, followed by the muffled screech of the monster. Scorch radioed, “ I’m alright ! Just at the base of the stairwell again… And going by the dents in the door, with a bunch of pissed-off Flood trying to get me ! Go ! I’ll catch up !” but his blaster chimed in down below, blue flashes filling the darkness.
“Like hell!” Sev spoke, drawing his sniper.
Kelly jumped down and called, “Scorch, check your twelve high! I’m coming down!” only to land with a hard clang as she locked her armor, her boots denting the floor. She drew her shotgun down below and the gun audibly roared. Sev watched the two fight down below, with Kelly calling, “ Like Scorch said, we’ll catch up !”
“We can wait,” Sev spoke as he sniped one of the monsters charging Kelly. He paused as the door on their level thumped, bone, sinew and flesh crashing hard against steel. He saw the Door on their level denting and murmured, “Kriff…” as he aimed and fired again, nailing another of the Undead clean through the infection form that kept him alive.
Boss and Chief had to make a hard decision now. Leave two of their own to fight their way out, or… They exchanged looks and both nodded at one-another. Chief pulled up his com and said, “Kelly, you and Scorch find us an Evac site. When we disable the coms blackout and activate the Self-Destruct, you call the Adviser and tell him we’ll need a ride.”
“ Roger ! See you guys at the nearest hole in the bulkheads !” Kelly replied as she fought down below. Scorch beside her gave a thumbs up at the team, before aiming his blaster and firing up and around them, keeping the Infectors that were crawling out of the vents away. He also started helping Kelly clear a path via judicious use of thermal dets.
“We’re leaving them behind!?” Sev demanded, angered.
“We’re not. Kelly and Scorch can handle themselves while they clear us a path,” Boss said as he walked over to Sev, hitting him on the shoulder gently, “We’ve still got a mission,” and he saw the door crack here and break on two floors above Scorch and Kelly as the two fought down below. Swarms of the creatures jumped down, while others advanced up the stairs.
Sev grit his teeth, then growled and switched his blaster to standard rifle config and fired away as they restarted their run up the stairwell. When they reached their intended floor, Boss hit the button to open it and blasted the first Infection form that appeared. Beside him, Sev knelt and squeezed the trigger at full auto, sweeping the entire white hallway.
The bolts boiled away the bodies of the parasitic lifeforms that were once their brothers in arms and the Trandos that must’ve attempted to raid them. The white, tech-covered walls behind them exploded with pus and fast-drying blood and black plasma scoring. Behind them, the three other Spartans and Fixer opened up.
The entire wall behind the formation of virulent creatures soon turned into scorch marks and bullet holes, purging whatever infection was bubbling up from amongst the Panels. Boss led the way with Chief again, firing their weapons from the lead, bolts and bullets cutting through mutated flesh and shearing off bone claws.
Behind them, Fred, Fixer, Linda and Sev pushed on, Sev still mildly angry that they’d split from Scorch. He trusted Kelly could do the job and keep him safe, however, and going by the whooping and cheering from Scorch as shotgun blasts filled their ears, they were doing it. Boss took a left turn and staggered as he saw a platoon of Droids… Engaging the enemy.
One of the Droids noticed them and spoke, “Clones!” only to turn its blaster and fire… Past Boss’s head and into a monster that was about to pounce him. The Droid spoke again, “Programming priorities have changed! Command vessel has ordered the destruction of this ship! If you wanna help, we’ll clear a path!”
Two Super-Battle Droids armed with arm-mounted cannons pushed forward next, their thundering feet slamming into the floor as they fired the heavy weapons. Even so, the monsters advanced toward them, slashing and clawing at the bots. Though surprised, the team of special forces chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth, pushing past them to the bridge.
When they entered the cavernous windowed bridge, they were met by Flood-infected Crew. They quickly dispatched them with shot and shell before quickly advancing up to the second level. Cortana stated, “There should be a nearby access console I can hack! Watch out for the Captain, though… I’m seeing a lot of movement in the vents.”
The teams set up in defensive positions, weapons at the ready as Chief slotted Cortana into a connection port. He moved up beside Boss, took a knee and aimed his rifle at the door as the blasters in the distance grew quieter and quieter. Chief pulled his com up and said, “Kelly, we’re on the bridge and are about to trigger the Self Destruct. Status report?”
“ Bit busy, Chief, but we’re nearing the Hangar !” Kelly replied, angrily.
… With Kelly and Scorch, however, the show on display was amazing for the demolition specialist.
Kelly kicked high, spattering blood and pus all over the wall to the left, knelt and blasted the creature with the shotgun to shatter its upper body and pumped the pump, dumping the freshly-spent, still hot brass shell out before firing again. The buckshot rounds tore through the next creature and the one behind it, staggering the latter and eviscerating the former.
In the hallways filled with biomass, Scorch was now watching with muted awe as Kelly basically single-handedly cleared them a path. Standing to his feet, he joined her next, firing his blaster on full auto into the crowd of aliens while considering switching to the AT attachment. He paused when he saw Kelly kick down one of the Flood combat forms, stomp its chest in to collapse the Infector, then kicking it again to sever the spine.
“Kriff me,” The Demo expert mumbled as he fired, blue bolts being exchanged with infected Clones still wielding their firearms. He had shields, like Kelly, and they didn’t, though. Poor blasted bastards only had their broken plastoid armor and Kelly’s shotgun seemed to be doing a number on them as well.
“How much longer to the first Hangar!?” She demanded as she slung her now-empty shotgun onto her back and punched the first Flood she caught ahead. And punched through it, a sickening crunch denoting the cracking spine of the Clone trooper infected with the Parasite. She gasped as a much larger Trando charged her, ducking under the mutant infected lizard’s swings, pinning it to the wall and letting Scorch put three bolts into its chest cavity.
When it was dead, she let it fall, drew and reloaded her shotgun and heard Scorch reply, “Keep them off me! It’s just to our left!” before he pushed up to a door and started slicing through the wiring to a heavy bulkhead. When he managed to cut the right wire for the door to open… An infernal roar echoed through the place.
Kelly saw something flicker on her Heads-Up Display. A distorted display of a friendly IFF. When she peeked inside, she gasped, seeing a corrupted Pelican sat in the middle of the bay, a bunch of dead Clones being eaten by the Biomass, the walls being lined with said Biomass to the point even the gunships probably couldn’t take off…
… And a sole Spartan-IV, infected. It screamed aloud when it noticed them, causing the hull to shudder…
“... Chief. We’ve got a problem…”
Nathema
Meetra watched quietly as the occupation of the city began in earnest. Though temporary, making sure that the sole Space Port of the agrarian planet was under their control was important enough. Clones, Marines and a garrison of Army troops secured the places around, making sure no enemy force would either be able to land or flee.
With this intent in mind, Meetra checked her own equipment, making sure her armor was up to snuff for dealing with whatever lay in the thick forests around. There were Sith temples built in this place aeons ago, meaning possible traps, defenses from the Old Republic Era and maybe even one or two more ‘recent’ issues.
If they were unlucky.
Last she’d heard, the Sith, though they still might’ve existed, were in hiding. No news, no hints at new arrivals. The only one she could so far sense was off and maybe close to a more master planner was the Chancellor, though, without straight-up evidence, she would just be pointing fingers. It was why she thanked the Force the UNSC was around.
Sure, she’d worked with Sith during the Eternal Alliance days and had pretty much also fought that psychotic cult dedicated to Nihilus to their very timely and very earned deaths during the High Republic Era. Hell of a damnable Crisis that had been. She felt like an old lady even during that time, but…
She jolted, feeling a tap on her shoulder, then looked back. She smiled when she saw Noble Six approaching, the Spartan-III having even removed his helmet to greet her. He snapped a salute and said, “Away team’s ready the moment you want to move out, ma’am,” and he looked back at the rest of the platoon of Clones and Marines. And Richard, obviously.
She looked ahead as Ordo marched up to her, clicked his heels and saluted, then stated, “We’ve secured the city, ma’am. There’s no visible hostile resistance in the area of operations, but I’ll be sending the platoon that supported us to verify that destroyed enemy position uphill with your approval.”
“Go ahead, Commander,” She saluted back, then said, “At ease.”
The Commander stepped off without another word, Six remarking, “He and his brothers are good soldiers…” before turning toward the General. She smiled at that, then showed him and the rest of the team to follow her into the woods. Approximately forty people moved into the trees, several humping com equipment.
One of the Misfits who did join the General was Paul, the guy who had helped the newly-minted 501st squad, ‘Domino’, defend Rishi Outpost and, more importantly, managed to warn the Republic that the enemy was targeting their supply routes. He was a tough old bastard from what Meetra had gathered, his service record stretching back to even before Reach by a little, though Reach was where he’d made his name.
Beside him was Katja, his old childhood friend from the former largest bastion of humanity in the Milky Way Galaxy. And, obviously, a few Clones and other Marines, as well as Richard, their forward scout. The young man was fairly keen on advanced scout duty, obviously. He was young, brash and rough around the edges, but he was a good guy.
Speaking of good guys…
She cast a glance over at Noble Six and said, “You mind if we talk for a bit?” while the team formed into a staggered column, at least two meters apart from one-another in some cases. The Spartan hummed, carrying his signature DMR with its safety off as they stepped deep into the jungle. He nodded to his General to go on and she smiled, “Nice. I was gonna ask about… Well, your team…” and the smile faded a bit as she heard the clinking Dog Tags.
“... What do you want to know, ma’am?” The Spartan asked after a moment’s hesitation. He was already prepared for this kind of conversation, but it was still gonna be a pain to answer. Mainly because he did care about his team in the end, obviously enough. He cared about Noble, he thought, and wanted to keep their memory alive.
“I felt that hesitation, Lieutenant,” She smiled sadly, then sighed and continued, “Not much, just how you viewed them,” as she tied her messy ponytail better, then running her hand through her hair as she scanned the treeline around them. She noted their team’s positions, too, to make sure they wouldn’t get surprised.
“They were good people. All of them. Noble Team was the finest mixed Spartan unit I’ve ever met…” Six spoke rather melancholically, though it was almost perfectly concealed behind his usual stoicism. Said stoicism didn’t rival that of the Chief, however, with clear cracks showing the true self of the young male Spartan…
“Sounds like you really cared for them,” The woman spoke like it was fact. And it was, obviously. She could feel as much even from someone not touched by the Force. His body language, the way he revered his friends enough to carry their tags. There was something that must’ve flipped in that mind of his when he became part of NOBLE.
“I did,” The Spartan sighed deeply, then continued, “Even six weeks’ service with them was enough to form a bond. I’d also been part of the same company as the Second-In-Command, so that helped get me some leeway, even if she wasn’t the most welcoming at first,” before he felt for Kat’s tag exactly in the pouch, finding it even through the gauntlet glove and the fabric of the pouch.
“Heh. What, were you not as charming as you are now?” Meetra teased jokingly, garnering the laughter of a few of the Marines and even a couple of Clones. The rest of them managed to stow their laughter. Barely, Meetra and Six both noted. With Richard in the distance ably dodging this kind of awkward conversations.
“I was more of a loner,” Six had chosen to ignore the joke for now, simply keeping his eyes peeled and senses sharp as they stepped through the shrubs, leaves brushing against their armor, crunching underfoot and dry, fallen branches snapping as they walked over them. Ahead of them, the mountain drew closer with each step.
“Like I couldn’t tell that just by how much you hang out alone on board the Infinity ,” The General offered as she crossed her arms to her chest, hiding them beneath the sleeves of her robe, much like she hid her armor and lightsaber hilt currently. Seriously, he was very hard to find among the crowds, even when he was alone.
“You’ve adapted to our language surprisingly quickly,” Six ignored that joke as well as they walked, shifting his gaze left and watching a Marine launch a small flying drone that linked to the squad’s BattleNet, allowing them to view everything ahead, including their intended target of the cratered enemy AAA site. Well, that would be their campsite for the evening as they dived deeper into the lush areas covered by plant life.
“What’s English but less fancy Basic?” The General joked, smirking proudly.
“I think you just collectively called the entire human race from the Milky Way dumb, ma’am,” The Spartan spoke with a slightly teasing voice. ‘Slightly’ here meant a barely audible amount of teasing. She really had to work on his ability to speak with emotion in his voice. It was still just enough to make her pout, though.
“Not fair,” She scoffed, then looked away and mumbled, “I was mostly joking anyway,”
“Were you this way before you became immortal, General?” The Spartan asked, surprised at just how easygoing a woman of her pedigree was right now. Especially considering the age. She was nice, though, so, the Spartan thought it couldn’t be that bad for her to be this relaxed. He knew she was hiding something deep down, however, like he was.
“For the most part. I got a little less fun as I aged…” She smiled at him, lowering her arms by her side, then added, “Mostly due to events outside of my control,” in a mumble as she looked away again, to hide the frown that formed on her face. The Spartan noticed it, of course, as did the other members of the Fireteam.
“I see. Guess I’m not the only one with baggage,” He joked as he thumbed the weapon’s fire selector to safe and back once, to make sure he had it properly set. Spartan fidget toys, Meetra thought to herself, kind of cute. And dangerous, obviously, considering these were lead-based weapons, meaning that if she ever pissed them off enough to get shot at, she wouldn’t have anywhere to run, really.
“Not by a country mile,” She replied instead, chuckling a little as they delved deeper into the forest and reached the base of the mountain and started climbing it on foot. Night began to set on this side of the planet, the sun slowly hiding in the distance, behind the rising peaks of other hills and mountains where their target might’ve been…
… Back in the capital of Nathema, Ordo was sat on a box, helmet off his head as he watched the UNSC Military Police do their job of policing, making sure the civilians were home for the curfew being put in place as they occupied the location. He sighed, checking his equipment over, then stood up, slid his helmet under his arm and gazed back at the local tavern where a squad of Marines was checking the place… He turned to walk away…
Only to get knocked off his feet as an explosion rocked the entire main road of the place. His ears rang loudly as tinnitus set in and he’d fallen flat onto his stomach, the shockwave having knocked the air out of his lungs. He turned his head back in a daze, watching a cloud of dust and debris rising into the night sky.
He felt a hand clasp at his arm and felt himself hefted to his feet by a Spartan-IV deployed in the latest wave of the occupation force. He looked ahead still, swallowed as the ringing grew to its loudest, then slowly faded out until all they could hear was cries for help. He blinked, shook his head to clear the shock, slid his helmet on and barked, “Get the Pararescue down onto the planet, NOW!” at a com officer.
He ran forward into the cloud of dust and debris, blaster in hand, and kicked the flimsy, broken door of the tavern out of its melting hinges. Inside, screams and cries for help became audible. He took a step forward, igniting the flashlight on his rifle, then gasped as he saw the epicenter of the explosion:the half-circle bar counter and bar themselves were gone, cratered.
Three patrons lay dead to his right. Two more on the left. On the ground, writing in pain, civilians, Marines and even some of his brothers alike begged for help. Two of his brothers now lacked legs and an arm, or were horribly burned. He felt his heart begin to race, but forced his mind to settle as he called, “THERE’S SURVIVORS! GET ME A MEDIC IN HERE!” over com and loudly to anyone outside.
A Corpsman and two Clone medics jumped inside, too. The Commander told them, “Get the wounded out of here before this entire thing collapses! MOVE!” only to stow his rifle onto his back and switch on a helmet-mounted flashlight as he pushed through the smog. Fires still burned above from the spirits even as he helped drag corpses and the wounded out to be evacuated.
He helped with triage, checking the wounded himself and even saying a short word in Mando’a for his dead brothers and their comrades, then he froze as he heard screaming again. He looked to his right and saw a Marine, a wounded man that had survived the blast by sheer fortune of having walked out of the tavern at the right time, pointing a pistol at a family of locals.
He ran forward before any Spartan or MP could, pushed the gun of the Marine down and called out to him, “Marine! Calm down!” before looking at the MPs and stating, “Get the civilians to their homes and start asking questions! I want to know who the hell planted that bomb and set it off! If there’s still a Seppie presence in the city, I want them outed!”
The Marine trembled, lowering his pistol and falling to his knees. The Commander nodded at him, taking a knee in front of him and checking his injuries. A broken right orbital bone, shards of shrapnel in the right arm and one in his side. He sighed deeply, then looked back as the Misfits rushed in to help, too, with their medic, a redhead with blue eyes, gently laying the Marine down.
He held onto the Commander’s hand for a bit, leaving a coagulating red smudge on his glove and the armor pad on top. A smudge that soon congealed to a dark brownish color. The man held onto his fellow soldier’s hand as they transported him to arriving Pelicans, then saw the Marine off on the transport.
He would find out later that night that that Marine hadn’t made it. There’d been another bit of shrapnel in his chest… His blood still stained the Commander’s gauntlet. Blood of the same color as his and his brothers’. There was no doubt that the Marines were comrades in arms, obviously, but… Something set in Ordo’s mind then.
He needed to get that Police action going…