User:Delta Team Curt/Halo Conflict/Operation: JAVELIN/Chapter One

//Chapter One April 7th, 2564 0900 hours

They had less than ten minutes; their already short window was being closed as wind conditions intensified. The 3 AV-14 VTOL air attack craft were already struggling to maintain their forward airspeed against the intense headwind, and it was getting more intense. The four soldiers strapped to the jump seats on the lead Hornet were clutching their equipment as best they could as the forces of nature tried to rip them and their weapons from the aircraft. The men and women risking their lives simply in transit were the United Nations Space Commands best, Orbital Drop Shock Troopers; they lived for missions like this.

Second Lieutenant Curtis Freeman clutched his BR55HB SR as the ice cold wind rushed over him. Even in the controlled atmosphere of his suit he felt cold, no, he knew he didn’t feel cold, it was his mind playing tricks on him. In the distance, Curtis watched as a massive mountain peak was swallowed up by the clouds and fog, an almost beautiful site despite the absolute chaos of what was actually happening. He knew they didn’t have much more time to get to the compound, or else they would be forced to abandon this mission.

This would be one of the most important phases of Operation: JAVELIN, a UNSC led campaign to cleanse the Gamma Octavia system of the United Liberation Front. The ULF was made up of the biggest bunch of corrupt businessmen, left wing radicalists, privateers, and lunatics conducting illegal and even terrorist-like activities around the system under the allusion of seeking independence from the UNSC. The one thing keeping the fragile alliance going was Morgan Industries, the main front and funding for the rebels.

The air at 1000 feet above sea level was easily negative sixty; it was amazing that the aircraft were still flying. Curtis focused his attention from the mountain tops to the rear of the aircraft, making out the unnatural lines of the other Hornet trailing them. The ODSTs onboard were indistinguishable in these conditions; the usual black body suits were replaced with an arctic variant in an effort to give them a stealth advantage. Even their weapons and equipment also received streaks of white in order to blur their outlines and aid them in infiltrating the enemy compound.

“God.” the voice of Luke McKay broke the silence on the COM channel “These must be some hard core sons of bitches to live in this hell hole.” The lieutenant looked over at McKay strapped in next to him and shook his head slightly. McKay released his grip on his Rifle and brought his flattened palm to his head, touching the brow of his helmet and then moved his arm outward to signal “What?”

Curtis was about to reply to the young soldier, but was interrupted as the pilot alerted the team, “Winds picking up, if we don’t abort and land at Taurus, were gonna be blown to God knows where.”

Taurus was the code name for the town of Lanberg a few miles outside of the compound, an would likely be filled with rebels and sympathizers. The whine of the Hornets thrusters suddenly subsided as the craft began to fall to Earth, loosing airspeed and altitude quickly to hit the LZ. Below the team, outlines of buildings came into view, and in a quick smooth motion, all 12 soldiers removed the straps connecting them to the craft.

“All teams hit the deck moving and secure the closest structure. We’re gonna show these bastards they cant get off playing war as cowards, if they want to wage war, there gonna have to play with the big boys!” Curtis ordered as he switched over to the Squad COM. The ODSTs of the strike team responded with an almost synchronized “ooh rah”.

In order to avoid being blown off the small LZ, the Hornets would have to literally hit the ground and unload its team, the normal practice of rappelling down would have surely failed in the wind conditions. However, all of the soldiers knew that their bodies would not react well when the 4250 pounds of aircraft hit the deck, so they would have to jump before that happened. 20 feet, pulling his hand of the handle bar, Curtis unclipped the last connection between him and the Hornet, jumping as the aircraft reached 10 feet.

He and the other 11 soldiers hit the ground hard, but due to the blizzard, they were sparred from serious injury by the fresh snow on the ground. Knowing that their Chalks were on the ground, the pilots hit the thrusters, bouncing the Hornets off the snow plain and back into the air. Twisting the aircraft around, the previous headwind became a quick getaway, propelling the Hornets away from the town at a rapid rate.

Picking himself up off the ground, and gripping his rifle with one hand, Curtis made his way to the nearest building, a 2 story house about 100 feet away. The visibility had already dropped to about 90 feet, only allowing the marines to see the darker colors of the house against the whiteout of the snow. Sprinting to the first obstacle, Curtis released his hand from the grip of the weapon, placing it on top of the wooden fence and vaulting over the top of it.

The backyard was clear of any hostile presence, and the marines were expecting this. An oval depression in the snowfall revealed the outline of a pool, most likely used when the temperature was much warmer in the summer months, and if it wasn’t already frozen, it would be soon. The twelve men and women moved quickly across the open yard, taking up positions to clear and secure the house of enemies if present. Curtis and the other three of Alpha would do the initial assault on the house, stacking up on the back door to allow the other two teams to create a temporary perimeter outside.

“Remind me why the dogs aren’t doing this?” Moskvina muttered over the squad channel in her light Russian accent. By dogs, she meant the local UNSC Army units that were stationed around Atlas. “Because they aren’t real men yet” responded Alenko, using the old backronym to pick fun at the Army.

“Cut it you two, when Bravo gives the all clear we’re going in hard and fast, remember, no civilian casualties” Curtis ordered, wanting his soldiers to get focused.

Curtis took his position behind Moskvina kneeling beside the sliding glass door, McKay and Alenko stood behind him, ready to go in. Moskvina repeatedly pumping the shotgun, sending the 8 gauge shells onto the snow beside her. After 6 shells were discharged from the weapon, she quickly picked them up, stuffing half of them into her ammunition holder and retrieving 3 M547 TASER rounds. Loading the non-lethal rounds into the gun first, she finished reloading the gun in 10 seconds flat, enough time for a Bravo team member to give them the go ahead.

Alenko moved to the door, standing opposite the team and putting right hand on the door handle, the other hand still on his MA5C assault rifle. The initial tug on the door proved futile, forcing the soldier to yank the door open and actually breaking the anchoring brackets for the lock.

John Walker was eating dinner with his family, his wife Elaine and his 5 year old son Charlie. It was a simple dish of spaghetti, his sons favorite dish and fairly tasty. However, pasta in Lancaster, was rare due to a recent food shortage when the small mountain town became inaccessible to the Maglev Trains, meaning that it was impossible to get processed foods into town. Coupled with the fact that the damage done too the towns main food production facility, a vertical farm about 6 stores high, had not been repaired when an electrical surge shorted out most of the hydroponic and water systems.

The food rationing was not on his mind when John plunged the fork once again into the pasta and red sauce, twisting the fork with a smooth motion to coil the pasta around the utensil. “Very good dish Elaine, did you do something new with the recipe?” he said, making small talk. His wife finished her bite of food, then set the fork on the edge of the plate before she replied “I added a bit of sugar to the sauce, i think it adds some flavor.” He raised the bite of food to his mouth, about to eat it, but was interrupted as his Chatter when it let out two clicks. As if a disaster had happened, he quickly put the fork down on the plate, pushing the chair away from the table to access the pocket the device was in. The PDA like device’s display showed the new message alert, an envelope with a small star on it, the text below the image revealed the sender, “Morgan”

“Shipments in, we need it now. – Morgan” was revealed with a simple touch, prompting him to change his focus from dinner to his ‘work’.

Despite his family sitting feet from him, his face turned from a smile, to an odd expression of awe and gratitude. Charlie paid no attention to this, his focus being occupied by trying to spin as much pasta as he could onto his fork. Elaine looked over at him, frowning as she knew what that meant. John often got these messages, and half the time it meant that he had a new ‘business trip’ to go on. She knew he was involved in something however, he would come and go at odd hours, reek of chemicals, and the door to his office was almost always locked, hidden from prying eyes.

“Please don’t go, its to dangerous on the roads, just say you cant” she reasoned, breaking the silence.

The expression on his face turned to one of mild anger, like he was annoyed with that comment. Quickly standing up, he walked out of the dining room, moving through the living room to his office door, he had left it unlocked to eat dinner. He was now in a hurry, and left the office door open as he opened the door to the small closet in the room. Sitting on the floor was a square metal box, gunmetal green like almost all UNSC equipment. He allowed himself to smile as he pulled it out of the closet, punching a code into the small keypad on the front face of the container.

Opening the case revealed 4 smaller silver boxes; John picked up the left most case, running his hand over it. The smooth aluminum surface gave no resistance to his touch, allowing his fingers to glide over the metal with ease. Gripping the top, he flipped the upper portion up, the contents of the case exposed. 10 two by two inch processors were revealed, each seated in a depression in protective foam padding. To his eyes they were beautiful, the keys to unlocking a better future for his child, and all the people in this system.

The distinct sound of wood cracking filled his ears, snapping John back to the reality he lived in. “Oh god no, they found me” ran through his mind as he closed the case, shoving it back into the box and locking it shut. Grabbing the nine millimeter snub nose pistol in his disk, he took hold of the handle on the box and moved out of the office. With complete disregard for his family’s lives, he sprinted out of the office and made a break for the garage.

Go. Go. Go.

The three simple words ran through her mind as Alenko broke the door open, with a swift movement, she was inside the house, her shotgun raised as Moskvina swept the room. It was a small den, a couch and some other small furnishings were the only objects in the room, two doors led out of the room to the rest of the house. With a fluid motion, Curtis followed in, giving a hand signal to Moskvina and Alenko to move through the door on the right of the room, while him and McKay continued through the door in front of them.

The sounds and sight of a man sprinting through the next room were the first things on Moskvina’s mind. Situational Awareness, it was what every soldier was trained to do. If you didn’t know what was going on, you could wind up dead in a few seconds flat. With the initial image of the room in her mind, she picked out the fact that the man had a gun, and that half second glance was all that she needed to fire her weapon.

The black and silver round exploded from the barrel at 350 meters per second, but this was not the normal quad-ought buckshot fired by the M90, within in moments of leaving the barrel three stabilizing fins sprung out from the projectile, spinning the round in mid air for accuracy. Less than a hundredth of a second later, the casing on the top of the slug broke away to reveal two half inch long silver spikes.

On impact the round broke in half, the spikes lodging themselves into the mans shoulder, and the bulk of the round pulled away from the spikes and hung on the wire connecting the two sections. John fell to the ground, dropping the box to the ground, convulsing from the electrical impulses the round was delivering to his body. The round worked by ‘overriding’ the nervous system and causing his muscles to rapidly expand and contract. This 10 second incapacitation was ample time for the two armor-clad ODSTs to grab him and pin him to the ground, prying the machine pistol from his right hand.

Curtis and McKay quietly moved through the hallway, stopping at the first open door. McKay took a knee beside the door, allowing his superior to clear the room. Swinging his mass around the door, the scene inside the room was not of rebels ready to kill them, but a woman and child eating dinner together. A shotgun blast from across the home told him that Moskvina had run into trouble already. He was surprised when the mother simply looked at them, and then simply turned her head to the young kid. Unlike his mom, the child started crying as the armor clad soldiers appeared, not helped by them wielding rifles.

“You’re here for him aren’t you?” she asked quietly, staring down at the table. Curtis didn’t know who she was referring to, they weren’t here for anyone in the town, to his knowledge there was only resistance and supporters helping the real targets at the Morgan Compound. Without a word, he stepped back out of the room, McKay shocked as he just left the two unguarded.

“Chalk one up for us, he had a gun and everything” was the greeting Curtis received from Alenko, standing up next to the man on the ground.

The snub nose pistol was lying on the ground, no magazine in it, and a few feet from that Moskvina was crouched over an open box on the ground, holding a small silver case full of what appeared to be computer chips. “Rebel?” was the only word out of his mouth.

“He’s not exactly talking right now, but since he was running from us, we took him down” Alenko replied. Moskvina looked up from the box “I fired; you weren’t even in the room.”

“What are those?”

“Ask him, looks like computer chips” she replied, picking one of the square thin objects out of the protective padding. “I’ll never tell you fascist bastards anything” was the first thing the man said as he struggled against his restraints. Curtis walked over to him, kneeling down beside him, propping his rifle up against the couch behind him, then with one hand grabbed the rebels hair. With a quick motion, he pulled up and then slammed the mans head against the floor. “You bumped your head, are you sure you don’t want to tell us anything?” Curtis demanded, not in the mood to play games with the man.

A small splatter of blood appeared, the red substance dripping down from John’s nose. It hurt like hell, almost more than anything else before, and he knew his captor was only just starting. He felt a hand reach into his pocket, pulling out his trucks key fob and his ID card. The card was issued to those allowed access to the ULF compound, disguised as the corporate headquarters of Morgan Industries, no one had really asked any questions. “So John, looks like your hurting. Maybe if you tell us what we want, you could keep your basic motor skills” the soldier told him, his voice cold as ice. Instead of meeting the demand, he turned his head and spat on the UNSC soldier, cursing at him.

Curtis stood up, closing his eyes and sighing. They had to make it hard, could never just talk from the beginning. He placed his boot on Johns shoulder, stepping down on it with a good deal of force, the man grunting as the pressure increased. He was distracted as a man from Bravo appeared in the doorway with his gun down, the 18 year old just stared through his visor at his commander torturing the man; he barely choked out the words “All clear, Sir.”