Halo: Heroes All

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"A hero is a man who does what he can."

- Romain Rolland.

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Prologue
"I'm no hero. Heroes don't come back. Survivors return home. Heroes never come home. If anyone thinks I'm a hero, I'm not."

- Bob Feller.

Log 1
0830 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / STATION ONR South / 350 NAUTICAL MILES ABOVE CANBERRA / CONFERENCE ROOM 1

'''The following transcript is the intellectual property of the Office of Naval Research. Any and all ideas, concepts or other intellectual revelations are also the property of the Office of Naval Research. This transcript is classified as: '''TOP-SECRET - COMPARTMENTALIZED INFORMATION '''[G. Freeman]:''' I am Lieutenant Commander Gordon Freeman, and for the record, this is a transcript of the quarterly meeting of the Armaments Department, which I oversee, with Lieutenant Sulu in actual command of the department. The Armaments Department is a subsection of the Special Project division of the Office of Naval Research; regarding the state of projects in development. Mr. Hoffman, could you please start us off by stating your name and rank, along with the status of your project.

'''[J. Hoffman]:''' Yessir. For the record, my name is Lieutenant (junior grade) James Hoffman. I am in charge of the modification program of the W/AV M6 G/GNR "Spartan Laser" weapon system. So far, we've been able to cut an additional 2.45 kilograms of weight off the weapon with a simple redesign of the internal components, and the adoption of Mr. Freeman's newer and lighter 5-shot capable battery. Also to note is the -

[PA System]: Now hear this! Action Stations! All hands to action stations! This is not a drill!

'''[J. Hoffman]:''' ...as I was saying, the new variant of the M6 G "Spartan laser" is equipped with a 3x zoom-magnification scope. The modifications are being introduced as a kit, to be installed on a weapon system by a trained armaments technician. Misriah Armaments, the usual producer of UNSC arms, has oped out of producing them, due to other, more pressing orders. However, Aperture Science stepped up to produce the weapon, for a few hundred less credits per kit. That concludes my abbreviated report. Sir?

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Very good. Lieutenant Sulu, if you will?

'''[H. Sulu]:''' Aye, Sir. My name Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, and I work under Lieutenant Commander Freeman on Project:RELATIVITY - rather, the development of a Shaw-Fujikawa Slipstream space engine capable of attaining a much higher velocity then current UNSC military models. Commander Freeman and myself (the primary physicists and mathematicians on this project) examined a Covena-

[Sulu pauses midsentence, and looks up at Freeman, questioningly]

'''[H. Sulu]:''' Sir, everyone here is rated TSCI, correct? Am I authorized to continue, on the record?

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Go ahead, Mr. Sulu. Everyone present is going to get an extra security clearance or two due to new Ownie security things anyway, and I'm going to apply more clearances required for this transcript. But, for the record, explain it simply.

'''[H. Sulu]:''' Aye. As I was saying, me and the Lieutenant Commander theorized that we can use a fairly complex plasma particle accelerator, that we viewed and figured out how to make and use, from a captured Covenant Slipspace engine, aboard the UNSC Gettysburg. Err...how that warship came to come possess such a device is classified. But, with this new system, entering slipsteam space will be less power consuming, and require less overall power to remain in 'slipspace', allowing for a higher attainable velocity, by diverting the additional unused power to engines, to tunnel through the seven spatial dimensions (that comprise of slipstream aside from this tangible dimension) at a higher velocity. That is the program in the nutshell, without all the specifics and things that would require a clearance. However, this entire program is still in the conceptual stage, and will require up to a year to cultivate it into an actual blueprint for construction of a prototype.

'''[H. Sulu]:''' Additionally, for the record, I must request more physicists and mathematicians from another department to help with the number crunching. Perhaps the Auditing department...?

[Ensign Jim Rodriguez enters room in a hurry, and salutes CMD Freeman]

[Freeman returns the salute]

'''[J. Rodriguez]''' Sir, FLEETCOM and HIGHCOM just flashed a Priority 1 message to all ships and stations. The Covenant just slipped in system; mostly above the Mediterranean area. Allied forces are engaging, but it looks like one Carrier got planetside over New Mombasa. Needless to say, HIGHCOM is freaking out.

[Room becomes deathly silent.]

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Right, meeting adjourned. Rodriguez, talk to me.

[Everyone leaves room in a hurry, bound for designations unknown]

[Room becomes silent]

0852 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / STATION ONR South / 350 NAUTICAL MILES ABOVE CANBERRA / CONFERENCE ROOM 1

[Multiple handgun shots are heard]

[Four armed UNSC personnel open the door, and rush the room, closing the door behind them, and barricading the door with a chair under the doorhandle.]

[Personnel identified as: G. Freeman, J. Rodriguez, H. Sulu, and R. Waters]

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Shit, they know where we are... give me a hand tipping over this table.

[Personnel knock a conference table over, forming makeshift cover, and get behind it.]

[Plasma fire is heard, and the door starts to buckle from repeated hits from 3,500 C° plasma bolts.]

[The four surviving UNSC scientists check and reload their assorted weaponry (Freeman has a BR55, Sulu armed with a M7C, and Rodriguez and Waters with a M6D and M6C respectfully).]

[The door buckles from sustained superheated plasma fire, and collapses, and Covenant Grunts swarm through the now-clear doorway, pushing the now-half melting chair out of the way.]

'''[R. Waters]:''' Fire!

[All four military men open fire, mowing down first the swarming Grunts, followed by the pair of Elites. The Elites briskly fell, following the failure of their shields from repetitive bullet strikes. Plasma fire impacts on the tough titanium table, melting sections of it, and molten metal spatters all over the floor. A pair of plasma bolts impact on Freeman's Hazardous Environment (HEV) suit, but harmlessly dissipate against the hardened Titanium-A plates, charring off some the orange paint.]

[Waters starts screaming, from a category four plasma wound to his shoulder, that burned right through his Dress Whites, to the bone. Fortunately, any and all blood from the wound was cauterized from the heat of the superheated plasma. All hostiles are now either dead or unconscious.]

'''[G. Freeman]:''' Ensign Rodriguez, grab Chief Waters and drag his ass to the Hanger! We can't stay here to treat his wounds. We'll cover you.

'''[J. Rodriguez]:''' Aye, Sir. Come on, Chief. You can make it.

Log 2
(1542) STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / (SOEIV PODS 1-17 [28TH ODST BATTALION/ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD]) / (EN ROUTE TO SYDNEY THEATRE [ALTITUDE: 92,000M AND FALLING])

(SOEIV PODS 6-10 [ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD])

[Deployed personnel:

(end of personnel report)]
 * Gunnery Sergeant Michael 'Smoke' Robson (aged 32) [POD 6]
 * Private Leonard 'Church' Bishop (aged 19) [POD 7]
 * Lance Corporal Callum 'Spade' Nash (aged 24) [POD 8]
 * Private First Class Ryan 'Warlock' Phillips (aged 22) [POD 9]
 * Corporal Amelia 'Wendy' Dawson (aged 32) [POD 10]

''[M. Robson hunches in his cramped SOIEV pod, calming himself over the unrelenting noise. White hot flames lick the viewports as his pod streaks through the upper atmosphere towards the city of Sydney. The steady whining grows as it gains speed; soon it reaches a deafening roar.]''

''[M. Robson flicks a switch on the illuminated control panel facing him.]''

'''[M. Robson]''': (POD 6) Altitude fifty kilometres and falling. Drag chutes prepped and ready for deployment. You know the situation, guys and girls. The Covvies have air superiority, heavy armour and masses of infantry currently converging on the FLEETCOM HQ.

 [ A. Dawson ] : (POD 10) And we get to drop in on them and shoot their asses up- literally.

'''[M. Robson]''': (POD 6) That's right Wendy. Keep in nice and close, we don't wanna lose one another groundside.

 [ A. Nash ] : (POD 8) [laughs] We'll be lucky if we don't bury ourselves inside a building; seriously, this is why urban drops have significantly- ''[R. Phillips interrupts [C. Nash]''

''[A small flashing symbol lights up on M. Robson console; barely audible over the din is a warning tone.

(WARNING: ENEMY UNITS ON APPROACH VECTOR)

 [ R. Phillips ] : (POD 9) Sir, six Banshees, about to engage us! Approaching from the southeast, half a klick and closing.

'''[M. Robson]''': Squad, scatter, spread out now. Converge on final approach and we’ll regroup on the ground. Hold your chutes as long as possible.

''[Flashes of brilliant blue light light dance beyond M. Robson's viewports as the Banshees attempt to hit the pods. He slowly angles his pod away from the others to present a more difficult target. (Estimated probability of full squad survival after deviation from preplanned coordinates: 3,720 to 1.)]

 [ L. Bishop ] : (POD 7) Sir, I’m hit!. She’s outta control, drag chute’s not responding!”

'''[M. Robson]''': Get a hold of her, auxiliary thrusters!

'''[L. Bishop]''': Negative, thrusters gone, I'm losing power!

(WARNING: ENEMY UNITS ENGAGING GEOSAT-229/A)

'''[R. Phillips]''': Sir, Covenant forces attacking our support satellite! Automated weapons engaging. If we lose that, we lose SATCOM, short range radio only!

[Banshees continue to strafe SOIEV Pods]

''[A. Dawson consults her computer console]''

'''[A. Dawson]''': Church, your computer systems are fried, but your backup chute is undamaged. You're gonna have to do it manually, using the emergency release!

''[L. Bishop attempts to free the emergency chute release. L. Bishop fails.]

'''[L. Bishop]''': I'm trying now, but it won't move, it's jammed!

''[L. Bishop slams his fist into his unlit console.]''

'''[C. Nash]''': Sir, getting live ground feed from our support satellite; the facility's being overrun. Air units are in full retreat, Marines are- ''[M. Robson interrupts C. Nash]''

'''[R. Phillips]''': Altitude one thousand two hundred metres, drag chutes standby! [speaking over C. Nash]

'''[M. Robson]''': Least of our worries right now, Spade!

'''[R. Phillips]''': All pods, set final descent vector to entry coordinates. Drag chutes, on standby.

'''[L. Bishop]''': It won't fucking budge! Fuck!

''[L. Bishop strikes the inside of his pod repeatedly.]''

'''[M. Robson]''': All troopers, prepare for combat insertion, we're hot the moment we touch down. Church, keep trying! It'll come loose, it's got to!

'''[C. Nash]''': Altitude six hundred metres, drag chutes deploying!

error//PODS 6-10/2SD-ACY-4PN//contact lost

......

......







[[ error//501//hardware failure//SATLINK-229/A>

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 6/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 7/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 8/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 9/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

[ERROR: Telemetry lost; signal from POD 10/A COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD terminates abruptly]

<possible hardware failure or datastream interruption; initiating diagnostic/error//501 ]]

Log 3
0857 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / ODST Ready Room 2, aboard the UNSC Cruiser New Jersey / High-Orbit, over Sydney

[The UNSC Crusier New Jersey shudders as a direct hit from a plasma torpedo shakes the Cruiser. However, the Marathon-class Cruiser still manages fires its trio of Magnetic Accelerator Cannons, the almost churchbell-like resounding throughout the ship.]

[1MC]: Plasma Impact, decks five, six and seven, at frames twenty-nine, thirty, and thirty-one! Damage Control parties, evacuate and secure surrounding compartments on the double. ODST and Marine forces, prepare for immediate deployment. All hands, put on pressure suits and begin preparations to abandon ship, but do not abandon your posts.

[The four ODSTs in Ready Room 2 look up in various degrees of interest. ODSTs are as follows: Gunnery Sergeant L. Simmons, First Lieutenant W. Wright, Corporal S. Gilbert, and Private First Class A. Davies.]

[L. Simmons]: Well, shit.

[W. Wright]: Stow it, Gunny. You heard the XO - we're finally getting off ship. Grab your gear, and get to your pods.

[A. Davies]: Aye, Sir.

[S. Gilbert]: Lieutenant, Any intel of where we are being dropped into? Kit?

'''[W. Wright]:''' No, Corporal. Kit'll be rifles and submachine guns; the norm for a unplanned jump.

[The ODSTs quickly retrieve weapons and ammunition from nearby armory, just as the ship takes a major hit to the bridge, amidships, and the reactor compartments.]

[1MC]: This is Commander Tucker, Engineering Department commander. The bridge just took a direct hit, all command crew KIA. We just lost reactors, and power will fail shortly. We're also losing atmosphere at an uncontrollable rate. As the senior remaining officer on the ship, I hereby take command of this vessel, and order all hands to abandon stations and ship, and get planetside. ODSTs and Marine Corps, get off the ship anyway you can. That is all.

'''[W. Wright]:''' You heard the Commander! Into your Pods! Lets go!

[The troopers pile into their respective Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles, and rotate their pods into the launching bay.]

'''[R. Daley] (COM):' Marines and ODSTs of the New Jersey'', this is Major Radcliffe Daley, HIGHCOM. New orders are being dispatched, as you abandon your vessel. The Covenant are in Sydney, and you are to assist the defense of the city. Get a move on. Daley out.

[1MC]: Covenant landing forces inbound! Abandon ship! I repeat; get the hell off the ship; I'm enacting the Cole Protocol, and about to self-destruct the New Jersey.

[More SOEIVs are readied for launch in a hurry, appearing in the drop bay, poised for launch.]

'''[L. Simmons]:''' Fuck! Where the hell is the CO!? I bet the Marines and even the Navy is groundside by now!

'''[W. Wright] :''' Calm the fuck down, Leo. The CO is probably just a few secon-

[A tremendous explosion rocks the ship, drowning out the Lieutenant, with plasma engulfing part of the Drop bay. The pods in the way of the plasma were vaporized, before the plasma dispersed.]

'''[W. Wright]:''' You're right Gunny; screw this. [LT Wright switches to DROPCOM] All troopers; as XO of the Charlie Company, 11th Shock Troops Battalion; and as a commissioned officer in the UNSC Marine Corps, I'm authorizing the drop the entire regiment immediately.

[Wright punches his authorization code, and a hurried three-second countdown commences]

'''[W. Wright] (DROPCOM):''' Grab a hold of something, boys and gals - we're going down.

[One-hundred and eleven SOEIVs are released, rocket engines blowing the pods out of the hanger bay, officers and squad leaders first.]

'''[A. Davies] (DROPCOM):''' Inbound Intel, direct from HIGHCOM, concerning Sydney... Shit! The entire orbital defenses around it have been obliterated... All UNSC fighters in the region are grounded or destroyed... Covenant only just touched down, and the city is mostly unoccupied, but what UNSC forces are being pulled back to the square around the HIGHCOM Facility. Naturally, FLEETCOM is ordering us to defend it at all costs.

'''[L. Simmons]:''' Goddamn. Another fucking suicide mission, to save those Rear Echelon Motherfuckers.

'''[W. Wright]:''' Goddamnit, Leo. Get a hold of your self. You're a fracking Gunnery Sergeant - act like it. I need everyone cool and frosty when we impact in...one minutes twelve seconds, according to telemetry.

'''[A. Davies]:''' Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but...

'''[A. Davies] (DROPCOM):'The UNSC New Jersey'' just self-destructed in orbit - taking out a Corvette apparently. Furthermore, the Covenant pushed through the the Fleet over the Australian continent, decimating it, before being nailed by our few remaining Super MAC guns. Reinforcements are inbound, but their arrival, with regards to the heavier attacks elsewhere, is doubtful...shit! The Covenant are planetside in Africa as well, in New Mombasa, and the Kenyan area!

'''[S. Gilbert]:''' Forty-five seconds until impact. Standby to scatter for inser-

'''[H. Walker] (DROPCOM):''' Banshees! Scatter!

'''[W. Wright] (DROPCOM): ''' Troopers! Spread out! Altitude is 45,000 meters... impact in 34 seconds. Tee-minus 30 seconds and counting until primary drag chute deployment.

[22 seconds of silence]

'''[E. Rodgers] (DROPCOM): ''' Banshee's engaging! Agh! Banshee just shot 'way my main drag chute! I'm headed in!

'''[L. Simmons] (DROPCOM):''' Quiet on the command channel. You've trained for that contingency - we don't want to hear about it; just fix it. Oh, and 'chutes in tee minus three... two... one... mark!

[Drag chutes in most SOEIVs blossom, and decelerate the pods to a more sane velocity. Several more deploy late, while a few unfortunate souls fired main thrusters early to lower landing velocity without drag chute]

'''[W. Wright] (DROPCOM):''' Boys and girls, thank for flying Helljumper Air. Please have a pleasant evening and -

[Thrusters fire, decelerating pods yet more, as the drag chute is released.]

'''[W. Wright] (DROPCOM):''' Happy landings.

[FEED LOST]

[ATTEMPTING TO REESTABLISH FEED...]

[...]

[FAILURE. FEED LOST]

[ End of Log ]

Log 4
2113 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 11, 2552 / PERSONAL LOG ENTRY [26/26]/ 6TH ODST BATTALION/ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD])/GySgt Michael Robson

Still haven’t quite got over Reach. That dumbstruck horror feeling is gone now, but it’s been replaced by something else; I can’t quite put my finger on it. Whatever it is, it’s worse, I think. It’s a sort of hollow ache, loss or guilt or something. Never been one for emotions. I think its fear, though. And guilt. Seeing all those brave men and women die to keep the Covenant off the planet, to protect their homes; while I escaped it. Still haven't heard anything from Slip or Grit- they didn't have a chance, but while there's doubt I can always hope. As for the rest, well...

There’s nothing I’d rather be doing, though, if the end does come. In Humanity’s final stand, I want to be doing the standing. We don’t have much left, these days. Just hope. I’m glad I enlisted. Glad to be doing my bit, to be fighting for my species.

Next time I get some leave I'll go and see my sister. She’s not been doing great lately, but it's unlikely I'll get to see her any time soon. I'll talk to her tomorrow, if I can. She's missing mum and dad something terrible. Arcadia was years ago. I am too, but I have fighting a war to worry about.

0711 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / PERSONAL LOG ENTRY [27/27]/ 6TH ODST BATTALION/ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD])/GySgt Michael Robson

So, the Covvies are on our doorstep. From what I've heard, Command's running round like headless chickens planning contingency plans for when we get hit. We’re currently stationed above Sydney; we'll deploy via HEVs to the city centre to protect HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6. They’ve chosen Sydney for a last stand, if that’s the way things'll go. Just now we had a hurried joint meeting with the entire 6th Battalion; the squad commanders all argued at the futility of it all. I said we had no chance of successfully deploying to the surface and retaliating without air support. Repelling them from the city under the sort of fire we’re likely to encounter is impossible. The whole operation’s insane. The chances of success are zero.

Nobody argued with me, I mean nobody discussed it. We were just told flatly, a simple, unsupported assertion, that the weight of our numbers on the ground would overcome all opposition. I think those words sent a chill down the spine of every man who remembered Reach. Those few of us there were. I threw my datapad down and sat with my arms folded, silent, for the rest of the briefing.

So here we sit writing log entries. Data transfer to the surface is restricted to allow priority communication. No one's received data storage allowance for weeks now, so I keep giving people my own free log spaces.

Not many left now. But enough.

UNSC FORCE COMPOSITION IN SYDNEY- AUSTRALIA, EARTH - OCTOBER 19, 2552

 * 4 Melbourne-class Destroyers
 * UNSC Rotoiti (79% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 352 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 27 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Tutiri (94% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 359 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 31 Marines
 * 21 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 10 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Taupo (86% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 360 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 29 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Hawea (98% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 363 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 27 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew


 * 4 Kiwi-class Patrol Boat
 * UNSC Kiwi (88% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Ford (92% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Tasmania (95% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Prefect (96% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew


 * HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6
 * 1897 Support Personnel
 * 59 Military Police
 * 67 auxiliary personnel


 * 1 UNSC Army Infantry Regiment (62% readiness)
 * 17th Combat Brigade
 * Command Section
 * 650 support troops
 * 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment
 * 950 Infantry
 * 250 support staff
 * 1st Battalion, 35th Armor Regiment
 * 26 Main Battle Tanks
 * 38 Light Reconnaissance Vehicles
 * 180 vehicle operators
 * 360 vehicle technicians
 * 1st Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment
 * 14 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 56 flight personnel
 * 160 personnel
 * 4th Battalion, 27th Field Artillery Regiment
 * 18 155mm Howitzers
 * 250 personnel
 * 47th Brigade Support Battalion
 * 1250 support personnel


 * 1 Marine Armored Company (78% readiness)
 * 118th Marine Armored Company
 * 14 Warthog LRV
 * 6 Tanks
 * 250 personnel

UNSC FORCE COMPOSITION IN SYDNEY- AUSTRALIA, EARTH - 0910 OCTOBER 20, 2552

 * 4 Melbourne-class Destroyers
 * UNSC Rotoiti (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 27 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Tutiri (97% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 360 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 29 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Taupo (98% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 360 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 29 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew
 * UNSC Hawea (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 363 crew
 * Marine Detachment
 * 2 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 27 Marines
 * 19 Marine Flight Technicians
 * 9 Marine Flight Crew


 * 4 Kiwi-class Patrol Boat
 * UNSC Kiwi (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Ford (99% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Tasmania (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew
 * UNSC Prefect (100% readiness; 100% ammunition, 100% hull integrity)
 * 32 Crew


 * HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6
 * 1897 Support Personnel
 * 59 Military Police
 * 67 auxiliary personnel


 * 1 UNSC Army Infantry Regiment (92% readiness)
 * 17th Combat Brigade
 * Command Section
 * 650 support troops
 * 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment
 * 950 Infantry
 * 250 support staff
 * 1st Battalion, 35th Armor Regiment
 * 26 Main Battle Tanks
 * 38 Light Reconnaissance Vehicles
 * 180 vehicle operators
 * 360 vehicle technicians
 * 1st Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment
 * 14 D77-TCI Pelicans
 * 56 flight personnel
 * 160 personnel
 * 4th Battalion, 27th Field Artillery Regiment
 * 18 155mm Howitzers
 * 250 personnel
 * 47th Brigade Support Battalion
 * 1250 support personnel


 * 1 Marine Armored Company (97% readiness)
 * 118th Marine Armored Company
 * 14 Warthog LRV
 * 6 Tanks
 * 250 personnel


 * 2 ODST Companies
 * Alpha Company, 28th Shock Troops Battalion
 * 80 Orbital Drop Shock Troopers
 * Charlie Company, 11th Shock Troops Battalion
 * 107 Orbital Drop Shock Troopers

Chapter I: Impact
"It doesn't take a hero to order men into battle. It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle."

- Norman Schwarzkopf.

United Nations Space Command ALPHA PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 01728-01
Encryption Code: file/ silent reproach/ 

Public Key: Encrypted; Priority One Message 

From: Acting Fleet Admiral H.T. Ward, Commanding Officer of UNSC HIGHCOM / (UNSC Service Number: XXXXX-XXX972-HW)

To: All UNSC units in the Sol System

Subject: Amended orders for all uncommitted UNSC vessels in the proximity of Sydney HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6

Classification: Classified, Need to Know Only

/ start file/

Attention, all UNSC Personnel heed and stand to. Covenant forces have found and attacked Earth. Covenant Forces are also on Earth in three locations - the area in and surrounding New Mombasa, in Boston, and Sydney.

Due to the strategic importance of Sydney, all available uncommitted UNSC units are to deploy immediately to Sydney to aid in the defense of HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6, and the city.

Orbital assets are to deploy troops, and then return to designated orbital defense quadrants.

If the recipient is already committed, please disregard this order.

/ end file/

Hit it, Marines!
0903 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / SOEIV pod 13-LS / 384,000 feet above Sydney, Australia 

"Banshee's engaging! Agh! Banshee just shot 'way my main drag chute! I'm headed in!", a voice called over the Charlie Company DROPCOM channel.

Gunnery Sergeant "Leo" Simmons processed this information for a moment, keeping his eyes plastered on the one of the six LCD monitors mounted to the hatch; the one he was focusing on was currently displaying telemetry and radio communications. The poor sap who had his drag chute shot away was Private Edgar Rodgers - not a member of his platoon, but one of the new replacements after Reach.

He toggled TEAMCOM, and began to chide the young trooper.

"Quiet on the command channel. You've trained for that contingency - we don't want to hear about it; just fix it.", the Senior Non-commissioned Officer blasted across the TEAMCOM channel. As platoon leader, he had to ensure everyone who could make it down alive did so - his platoon or not. And in Drop School, every trooper was extensively trained in every possible scenario that could occur in a drop - and fixes to each possible scenario.

Leo noticed his helmets internal speakers begin to emit loud beeping noises, and directed his attention to the monitor displaying telemetry. He hastily toggled TEAMCOM.

"Oh, and 'chutes in tee minus three... two... one... mark!", he hastily called out, counting down the time until the drag chutes were to open. He silently prayed for a moment, hoping to God that the chute would open. If it didn't, he would have to fire main thrusters at 1,000 meters, and then hope that he landed on something soft. This scenario was called "digging your own grave", and the few other workarounds almost never worked.

Leo gulped and dug his fingers into the padded armrests of his Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle shuddered violently, and the large streamlined drag chute top on the top of the SOEIV released. This created a larger surface area, noticeably decelerating the insertion pod due to increased air friction.

Leo had become much more conscious towards the danger his life was in, in such activities as dropping into the atmosphere of a planet in a small metal egg. He had become much more cynical of late, after witnessing the the death of thousands of his comrades in arms, and his timely escape from the destruction of Reach onboard the New Jersey.

He heard the Company Executive Officer, First Lieutenant William Wright, make a final wisecrack before impact over DROPCOM, but instead forced the Lieutenant's comment out of his head, and concentrated his last few seconds in the air, on Sydney Harbor below.

Multiple UNSC "wet" warships were rushing about in the Harbor, tracer projectiles and missiles slashing through the morning sky at Covenant Dropships. Leo watched while a few D77 Pelicans darted about in the air, engaging in the delicate dance of aerial combat with Covneant Phantoms, at about his Pods altitude, before his SOEIV slipped below the fighting. He then shifted his gaze to the HIGHCOM facility - or where it should have been, relative to his pod.

He looked around, searching below his pod, and then infront and to the the side - before noticing the HIGHCOM facility on the otherside of the Harbor, and swore. That was where they were meant to be impacting. He opened his mouth to talk over DROPCOM.

At that precise moment, the Satellite-hosted DROPCOM channel cut out, and was replaced with static. The Gunnery Sergeant hurriedly switched to TEAMCOM, as the powerful thrusters on the underside of the SOEIV fired, shaking the pod violently as the pod decelerated from its incredible downward velocity to a much more reasonable rate. This also told him he had only a few more seconds in the air.

"We just lost DROPCOM, and we are dropping on the wrong side of the harbor.", he stated hurriedly, his voice wavering from the intense shuddering of the SOEIV's thrusters.

"What? That can't be...shit.", Lieutenant Wright breathed over the COM, voice coming over the COM sounding equally pitiful.

"Its true, El-Tee. Telemetry proves it," Corporal Spencer Gilbert reported bitterly over the TEAMCOM channel, just as Leo's pod impacted with a concrete street in Sydney. The force of impact instantly arrested further downward motion of the pod. Leo gasped as the air was forced out of his lungs by both the impact and the straps holding in his seat, and struggled for a brief moment to refill his lungs.

He punched the quick-release button on the straps holding him in his seat, which immediately released him, and slapped the hatch release button. This blew small shaped charges between the hatch and pod, blowing the hatch off and down the street. Leo proceeded to leap out of the pod, his M6L Machine Pistol drawn and at the ready. He hastily established a perimeter, as other SOEIV pods impacted around him, and listened intently on his SQUADCOM channel.

"Last available telemetry also reports we are 7.25 kilometers off course...and ended up on the opposite side of the harbor. At least we didn't end up in it," Private First Class Amber Davies reported smoothly.

"Nice to know, Private. Most of the Company is down now...uh, where are we all regrouping, El-tee? And, also, who's in charge?", Leo asked, surveying his surroundings. He had landed on a deserted city street, miraculously clean, and devoid of vehicles. The power was out, it seemed, although, this would not be an issue until night - a good 15 hours away in any case. And even then, all ODSTs were equipped with the new VISR optical system, to enable easier nighttime fighting.

"Looking at how the Captain didn't make it, I take over as acting CO. Lets all regroup where I am. On...what street is this, anyway? Standby a second," First Lieutenant Wright stated, trailing off at the end of his sentence as he presumably searched for a street sign.

The Gunnery Sergeant sighed, and wandered back to his pod to retrieve his M7/S Caseless Submachine gun, and his W/AV M6 G/GNR "Spartan Laser" from the pod. He hefted the heavy laser weapon, and attached it to the magnetic plate on his armor. This was a rather dated innovation to armor; the idea of adding magnetic plates to the back of armor to allow additional weapons to be carried, without cluttering the back and shoulders of a trooper with slings.

The acting commanding officer came back on the radio, and ordered any troopers receiving the transmission to regroup at the intersection between Thompson street and Brandley's Head Road. Leo pulled up an older TACMAP on his VISR, and figured out where he was headed, before he began on his way to the rendezvous point. He encountered a few stray troopers on the way, and ordered them with him to the rally poing. He also took the time to relieve ammunition and dogtags from the two dead troopers he came across.

Leo didn't really care for Lieutenant Wright much. He had been assigned to Charlie Company of the 11th Shock Troops Battalion following the disaster on New Jerusalem - which had annihilated the company. The company had numbered 157 before the battle - and retained barely 34 WIA or active post-battle. He had lost his entire squad down there, and narrowly escaped alive himself. It was so bad that it had jumped the then-Lance Corporal Simmons to the grade of Staff Sergeant, and to the position of Company S-3 (Operations), until replacements arrived.

In his eyes, the young Lieutenant had plenty to prove - and Leo fully expected him to either fail or get himself killed. This was his first combat drop after all.

Statistics showed that more then quarter of ODSTs deployed to a hostile environment were killed the first day of deployment. The second day, it was a mere 16 percent, and declined sharply from there as experience is gained.

Leo glanced at the two and three story buildings on either side of him as he walked towards the rally point, and was vaguely wondering where all the civilians had gone, when a call came across the Radio.

"Contact, at the rally point! All inbound troopers, double time it!", the speaker proclaimed, nervousness obvious in his voice.

That Old, Familiar Feeling
(1614) STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / (SOEIV POD 6 [28TH ODST BATTALION/ALPHA COMPANY/4 PLATOON/2 SQUAD]) / (SYDNEY THEATRE, LAVENDER BAY [GRD 7823-1352]) Smoke groaned and clutched his throbbing head; for an instant dazed and disoriented, wondering where he was and how he came to be there. In seconds he was alert, pressing his aches to the back of his mind as his soldier's instincts shook him vigorously and took control of his thoughts. Through his pod's viewport, crisscrossed and spiderwebbed with cracks, he saw shadowy figures flitting from side to side and the unmistakable flash of plasma fire. The frantic shouts of fighting and sounds of weapons fire barely penetrated the pod, manifesting themselves like some distant skirmish that did not immediately endanger his life. Michael pulled the lever to the left of his head that activated the hatch release- nothing. Cocking his battle rifle, he raised his knees to his chest and kicked the door with both feet, pulling the lever hard. Explosive bolts blew the hatch off violently, and immediately and relentlessly he was propelled into the fray, torrents of searing plasma fire streaming perilously around and wild-eyed Marines being overwhelmed. The Covenant were coming down a wide street framed with tall buildings on either side; Jackals and Elites cresting a small raised section of the road and snipers raining torrents from above. A bright blue orb sailed through the air and landed at Smoke's feet; he dived away roughly, his armour scraping across the coarse concrete ground.

Grabbing a grenade of his own and keeping his head low, he lobbed it at an Elite, assailing two marines in cover behind a burned-out car. The device engulfed the beast in fire and shrapnel, clearing to reveal it still standing, shields crackling. Michael heard the sound of the air igniting as a Beam rifle shot streaked past his helmet; moving, he levelled his rifle and put two 9.5mm rounds between its mandibles, for a millisecond savouring the wrenching sound it made as it choked on its own throat. A towering orange elite roared and aimed its needle rifle- Smoke lunged behind cover, still catching a shard in his thigh, scything through his armour and tearing at his flesh. Reeling and blinded with pain, he wrenched it out, the seared flesh staunching the bleeding. His leg ignited with pain, he flicked his BR55 into full-auto and showered the Major with rounds that ricocheted angrily off its shields; next to Smoke a marine shouldered an M41 Rocket Launcher and gunned for it; the rocket hit its mark, disintegrating the Elite and showering gore and shrapnel indiscriminately, sending a pair of Grunts and a Jackal to the ground in undignified bloody tangles.

The Marine beside Michael raised his launcher again as an Ultra sent two other troopers down with torrents of plasma fire- the marine fell to the ground in a second- Smoke looked down and saw a making a perfectly round hole smoking where his right eye should have been. He traced the faint blue streak back to the bridge that spanned the road, and saw an enemy attempt to conceal itself.

"You four!" he shouted to the nearest few Marines. "Hold position here, I'm moving into the buildings!"

"Yes sir!" returned the nearest one as he rammed another magazine into his rifle.

Smoke grabbed and pocketed a pair of pistol mags that lay abandoned on the ground and, pulling back his M6's slide, entered one of the empty structures. The automatic door slid smoothly shut behind him, cutting off the sounds of the ongoing firefight. Silence played in Michael's battlehoned ears uneasily, and he moved through the dimly lit first room carefully, his rifle poised. Smoke moved carefully and silently through the eerie room, stepping over loose fragments of metal and wrecked office equipment. He lined himself up by the door to the next room and, bracing himself, tapped the control panel with his fist. Michael fluidly slid into the room, aiming his weapon and greeted by nothing but overturned office furniture, plasma scorch marks coating the walls and, in the corner, a dead man. The man lay ungracefully with his limbs at odd angles, drenched in blood and with deep cuts covering him. Smoke grimaced as he imagined the Energy Sword-wielding monster responsible, then steeled himself and moved towards the stairwell opposite.

Smoke noticed the faint green glow from across the room, as its sombre gloom had no other light sources. It emanated from the stairwell, to the right and slightly raised, as if from something waiting on the steps. Smoke noted it wasn't blue- it wasn't an energy sword. His mind assessed the risk and determined the appropriate course of action. He replaced his rifle on his back and drew his M6 pistol, glad now that he earlier cocked it, for the room was deathly silent and any small sound may alert the foe behind the corner.

He moved very slowly forward, pistol raised to his eyeline, eyes scanning fervently for any sign of movement, ears pricking at the slightest of imperceptible sounds. He told himself to keep his hands loose on the gun, for he would need them to do what he was planning, but his experienced hands kept an unbreakable grip in the pistol's cold bulk. Smoke neared the open door, beyond which was the stairwell, bracing himself.

Smoke flew threw the door and the Jackal loosed a shot in surprise, but he grabbed its shield and threw the monster down the stairs; it landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom and Smoke jumped on it- it struggled and tried to push him off it, its shield pressed close to its chest; Smoke pressed it down on its neck with all the force he could muster, and listened as the Jackal kept struggling but slowly lost its fight for life. The shield slowly pushed harder and harder into it's neck, but Smoke didn't relent; harder still and it dug into the Jackal's neck, a spurt of arterial blood blossoming from its jugular, and cascading down Smoke's armoured chest like a purple waterfall. Michael looked into its eyes and smiled, as he saw its last thoughts and emotions run through it before they flickered and died; the Jackal convulsed and finally was still.

Smoke picked up its shield and moved up the stairs slowly, anticipating the presence of the snipers above. He inched higher slowly, his eyeline slowly seeing evermore of what was above; he quickly backed down again when two bolts of deadly blue streaked towards him, one a burning deep crater in the metal behind him and the other striking his shield, his body juddering from the force of the impact. Michael raised his borrowed shield and ran towards them as fast as he could; when he was near enough he dived into the first one, knocking it to the ground and sending its rifle tumbling off the bridge. The thing clawed viciously at Smoke's neck and he recoiled, recovering just in time for the second Jackal to raise its Beam Rifle; he levelled his pistol and fired into its face before it had the chance, and put two rounds into the back of the first Jackal, which was retreating after the loss of its weapon. It collapsed, gurgling sounds emanating from deep inside its chest. Smoke resisted the urge to make its last moments more painful as he saw down below the Ultra raise a stricken Marine by the neck and slowly draw a long dagger. Michael dived, grabbed the second Jackal's rifle and drove a shot through the beast's head, leaving a hole clean through it. The Marine collapsed to the floor, in shock, as Smoke looked down at the remaining Marines. He flicked his rifle quickly around him, his sharp mind assessing the situation; from the bridge Michael had a good vantage point of the battlefield.

"All clear!" he shouted, and several marines ran to check the dead and dying. Smoke saw a Marine pick up a biofoam canister from a dead soldier, only to replace it again after he saw it would clearly be empty; its contents poured hurriedly over a massive plasma hole in the marine’s chest. Fuel rod, most likely, Smoke thought, watching the Marine throwing it back down in remorse and sharing his sentiment.

"ODST Second Squad, report in," Michael ordered over the COM, taking the opportunity to regain contact with his squad.

A pause, then a static-laden response. "Sir, where are you?! Are you alright? I've been trying to raise you for the last six hours!" Her voice was almost drowned out by gunfire in the background. Amelia.

Smoke checked his visor, and she was right; it had gone four. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm good, where are you? What's happening?" He said worriedly, shouting to make himself heard.

"we're under heavy fire, Covies are pushing hard down the main road towards the bridge, can't hold out much longer!" Dawson replied, shouting to make herself audible over the gunfire. "We're heavily outnumbered, got wounded, need immediate assistance!"

"Copy that!" he replied, and his thoughts turned to the rest of his squad. "Wendy, is anyone else with you? What about Warlock and Church?"

"Got Warlock and Spade here with me! Been trying to raise Church but he’s not responding. Sir, we're in need of immediate backup!"

"Understood, hold out as long as you can!" he said, and her voice vanished from radio. He brought up the drop position of Church and the current one of Wendy on his VISR, trying to work out how to reach them both. But they were in opposite directions- Church deep in Covenant-occupied territory and the other three under fierce assault. Smoke took a moment's pause while he debated what to do. He could go for Nash, Philips and Dawson, but he couldn't just leave Bishop in deep with no one coming for him. Or he could go for Church, but that was the wrong way, back in to Covenant territory...

Movement caught Smoke's eye; he turned and saw its source, observing from the bridge two Wraiths and at least a dozen infantry advancing down the road. He looked at the Beam Rifle's ammunition dial- enough for seven shots, or thereabouts. Suddenly he knew what to do.

"Marine!" Michael shouted, calling to the senior-most infantryman below him- the one he had just freed from an Elite's grip. "What's your name?"

"Corporal Thomas Carter, sir," the corporal replied, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"What's your current objective?"

"Orders are to hold this position as long as is humanly possible, sir," he said, blood glistening on the side of his face and the front of his armour- not all of it his.

Michael glanced back up the road, the Covenant still out of range, and not likely to spot them until after they crested the raised area of the road. "Your position's just been compromised, soldier," he said, looking down on the Marine check over his remaining men. "You're to fall back to the bridge, rallying troops on the way, and support a squad of ODSTs there. Tell them Smoke sent you. Oh," he said, belatedly retrieving something from a magazine holder on his chest, "Ask for Wendy and give her this." Smoke dropped the object into the Marine's hands, an empty bullet casing with a metal chain through it. The trooper held it up and saw as it caught the light, the word 'WENDY' engraved into it. "She'll understand," Smoke finished assuredly.

"Sir, why can't you give it to her yourself?" asked Carter, confused. "What about you? What are your orders?"

"My orders," he said slowly, almost thoughtfully, "are to fight the Covenant." As the marines moved out, Michael turned around and aimed his Beam Rifle, its alien crosshair resting lightly on the head of a golden armour-clad Brute Chieftain.

Chapter 2: Oh, by the way...
"The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else."

- Umberto Eco

We apologize for the inconvenience...
0953 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / Sydney, Australia / NAVCOM error: no connection Lieutenant Commander Gordon Freeman dreamily opened his eyes, to see blue sky and puffy white clouds in the sky.

Clouds, he thought drowsily. A visible mass of droplets of water or frozen crystals suspended in the atmosphere, his intellect recognized as he started to drift back to sleep. No sooner had he closed his eyes did he awake with a start, flailing for a second before realizing he was strapped into the pilot's seat of a Bumblebee-class escape pod.

''I was stationed in orbit! I shouldn't be seeing clouds against a blue sky! Where am I and what am I doing here?'', he thought, adrenaline spiking and his mind suddenly racing.

And for that matter, why am I in a Bumblebee?, he queried, his mind racing frantically to recollect what he had done to end up in this situation.

"Oh...thats right," he muttered, suddenly recalling the events. The Covenant had attacked Earth, boarded the Office of Naval Research facility ONR South, and forced him to overload the station's reactor in order to deny the Covenant the secrets of the station. He had been lucky to reach the escape pods, and get clear of the explosion. Did he even get clear? Freeman didn't know - that was where his recollection ended. But he landed alright - or so it seemed.

He yanked the quick-release strap holding him fast to his seat, and stumbled his way to the rear of the Bumblebee. He punched the door release button, and the doors hissed open. He stumbled out of the Bumblebee, before turning and looking back at his escape craft. It looked like it had had been though a hell of a lot. The vessel had its entire coat of paint charred off during reentry, and appeared dented and misshapen from impacting with the ground.

Apparently, he didn't land it. Odd.

Freeman looked at his surroundings. He had landed in the middle of a 2 acre square park, overlooking the harbor, and surrounded by 30 to 40 story skyscrapers, which cast great long shadows across the small preserve. He readjusted his glasses, and looked at the few UNSC warships in the harbor sailing about, gracefully maneuvering, while shooting cannons and missiles up at marauding Covenant Dropships.

The Navy Lieutenant Commander looked down at his dented and burnt Hazardous Environment Suit, and marveled at it. It was a heavy fullbody suit, at about 25 kilograms, yet it could withstand much more in the way of plasma fire then normal body armor, and, better yet, it slipped over his Dress Whites. And this armor was not even built for combat - but for hazardous lab experiments. This armor was what he had been urging his superiors at ONR to demonstrate to the Admiralty and heads of the other branches of the military - they would undoubtedly adopt this much better armor which would increase survivability and heighten the infantry kill to death ratio.

Not that it really matters now, with the Covenant on Earth, he thought darkly.

He heard a cry in the distance - human, Covenant - he didn't recognize it. He checked his radio - it was active, but the amount of radiologicals, in addition to what appeared to be most likely Covenant jamming, made it completely useless. He reached down to his holstered M6D, withdrew it, ejected the magazine, pulled back the slide, and inspected it. The magazine was still full, much to his surprise. He reinserted the magazine, and released the slide with a satisfying clack. Physiologically, he felt reassured, thus quite a bit better about his situation with a weapon on his person.

He holstered his sidearm and wandered back to the crashed Bumblebee, to search for salvageable items. The Officer was surprised to recover his BR55 battle rifle, and his black leather bag, containing ONR documents, ammunition, and his AS2549 Portable Computer. He picked up and slung the bag, before setting off, towards the towering skyscrapers, in search of someone else.

Light The Way
(1649) STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / SYDNEY THEATRE Smoke nudged the War Chieftain's head with his boot, shifting its dead bulk slightly, and allowing him to stare right down the dark hole tunnelling clean through it. He kicked it with disdain, then moved to inspect the dozen or so other alien corpses that littered the area. Michael saw with mild disgust the three Grunts who'd taken shelter behind a Brute after he blew the Chieftain's brains out- before he had picked them off with his BR55, and left them in their current state. Discarding his spent beam rifle by a Jiralhanae, he returned to the site of the marine's stand, under the bridge where Michael had fired from, now rent apart by a plasma mortar. Smoke gathered up what was left of the ammunition and picked up an MA5C, stowing it on his back with his battle rifle. Michael checked his VISR for his objective, then moved in its direction, listening for movement over the fires of the two Wraiths' burning hulks. The smell of the residue of the plasma grenades that ruined them hung thickly in the air. Bishop's pod was broadcasting emergency signals from the middle of an area called Brennan Park. The park was an open area surrounded by buildings- and Smoke already knew it would be crawling with Covenant. Whether Church was there was another thing entirely- he could have been killed on impact, or worse. His pod went down in Covenant territory; if he had any sense he would have got as far away from his drop zone as possible. Either way, that was his first stop.

Michael's helmet buzzed, taking him by surprise somewhat. "Smoke, its Wendy, respond over."

"Amelia, what's you status?" he recovered enough to say.

"We're currently falling back to the Harbour Bridge, we've got wounded and are low on ammo, Covenant forces are pursuing. There's fifteen of us, six wounded, two critically. No sign of any friendly forces sir. I think we're our own," Amelia lamented. He heard the hopelessness in her normally unwavering voice.

"I've sent reinforcements to your position, about a dozen marines en route," he replied. "And they're rallying more along the way."

Now Smoke heard the quake in her voice replaced by confusion, and a faint tone of irritation. "So you're not coming?"

"No," he said. "I'm going to get Church."

"Oh..." her voice trailing off. Amelia glanced back round at Spade and Warlock, guessing their expressions through their darkened visors. Smoke hadn't written Church off, even if they had. Wendy sighed. She couldn't shake off the feeling that Robson wouldn't come back with Church. Maybe not even himself. But she knew him, and he'd know this too.

A salvo of plasma fire raked the team from far off, and Wendy turned to face a Ghost streaking towards them, aiming for the bridge immediately beyond them. She raised her MA5C and fired long from her last mag, automatic fire deluging the vehicle in cascading sparks down its flanks. The Ghost drifted round and opened up with its plasma cannons, rounds from Wendy and Warlock's rifles showering its convex front and catching the Grunt driver's back tank- the Ghost roared and boosted in their direction, and the troopers dived out of its path. As it stopped and turned to face the ODSTs, Spade unpinned a frag and dashed it ahead of the vehicle, which tried to accelerate away over the bridge; the grenade ensnared the Ghost and its operator in a hail of splintering metal, shredding the Grunt.

"Good kill Spade," Wendy said, hauling herself to her feet and panting heavily. She approached the inactive vehicle. "That'll be a scout for the main force behind us."

"The one we're supposed to be engaging," said Warlock, disgruntled.

"Yeah, well," Wendy retorted, "we're not in much of a position to defend ourselves right now, let alone achieving our objectives." Warlock dipped his head, seeming to agree. There were many things they had to worry about before they considered their objectives.

Hearing a low humming sound, Spade looked up from the conversation and followed a marine's line of sight, upwards through the towering tangle of buildings. A khaki green Pelican sailed from behind, then between the skyscrapers, its underside scarred with a line of scorch marks from plasma fire.

"Second Squad, this is Lima Four Five, look out below helljumpers. This sector's being evacuated for regrouping across the harbour, climb aboard."

Amelia looked at the pilot as the Pelican spun, and he set it down. "We need resupply and reinforcements, not evac. Our standing orders are to stop the Covenant at this bridge."

"My orders are to get everyone out," the pilot replied, "but if you have standing orders to defend the bridge..." he trailed off. "That's your decision Corporal. Just know that I think you're making a bad move."

"The longer we stop the Covies crossing this bridge, the longer you flyboys have to evac what's left of the population," Dawson replied, remaining stoic. "And the more time we buy for everyone else. If you can assist us in any way, that would be appreciated."

"Copy. I might be able to help you out after all." The pilot twisted around and gestured t his crew chief; seconds later there was a series of crashes as the Pelican dropped six weapons pods where it squatted.

"Marines, Warlock, Spade, load the wounded into the Pelican," Wendy ordered. "We can get them out at least."

The troopers carried the injured soldiers into the dropship's open troop bay, where the crew chief and a medic took over. "You helljumpers did a good thing bringing these men with you," the female crew chief said solemnly. "The best of luck to you."

"We did our best," Warlock said pensively, setting down a heavily wounded and unconscious marine. "And that's what we'll keep doing." As he got up Warlock almost tripped on a large black polymer case on the floor of the Pelican, stacked up with numerous others. He unclipped the lid and confirmed its contents; two dozen high explosive charges, just as the print on the side indicated. "Corporal, I'm commandeering this ordnance to stop the Covenant crossing this bridge."

"You're welcome to it," she replied, distracted by helping the medic. "Surplus ordnance. Purely by chance it's onboard."

"Wendy!" he called to Amelia, dragging the crate to the Pelican's edge. "Come and give me a hand with this!"

Wendy came round the Pelican's back, irritated, ending her conversation with the pilot informing her where and how many Covenant he had seen. "Help with what?!" she snapped, her nostrils flaring through her depolarised visor.

Amelia stared at the black crate, with the words 'HIGH EXPLOSIVE' and the serial number of explosive charges printed on the side. Spade lifted out two full crates of assault rifle magazines, while two more marines brought out a battle rifle and sniper ammunition crate each. A third came out with a single AIE-486 heavy machine gun, its folded tripod slung over his shoulder, dragging a crate of four ammunition drums behind him.

"Jackpot."

The Pelican lifted off, carrying the wounded and leaving behind nine well supplied infantry, three ODSTs and six Marines. Two troopers had grabbed rocket launchers, and Amelia and Spade both shouldered sniper rifles.

"Alright, lets get this position defensible!" Wendy ordered. "Pilot says the Covies have stopped their advance, and are regrouping with fresh troops that have been deployed from a pair of Corvettes holding position above the city's outskirts." A subtle wave of unsettled apprehension rose from her troops, and she could feel their quiet alarm. "This gives us time to dig in and put all this material to good use, so get to work. We don't know how long this will last."

Four marines set up defences in the form of metal weapon barricades and sandbag walls, while two deployed the heavy machine gun. Warlock set up the ammunition crates and readied medical supplies, while directing the twelve marines. Amelia and Spade took position in two buildings overlooking the area on either side of the road, preparing their plentiful magazines. Three marines planted remote detonation charges in the enemy's path, while another three rigged charges to the bridge. The whole defence took almost two hours to complete, and by that time the sun was retreating behind Sydney's towering buildings. Warlock pointed a single finger skywards- it took a moment for Amelia to realise he was referring to the light. It was almost dark. Somewhere in the distance something was burning, casting an orange light into the sky which reflected down on the ground. The underside of the clouds was stained orange by the flames. A strange feeling of connection with the fires touched Amelia, but evaporated just as soon as she felt it. She forgot it quickly, and turned to the other troopers behind her.

"Right, now at least we have a plan. We hold position here, and retreat and blow the bridge when we can't fight no more. Spade, you, Radner and Turek are on first watch," Amelia ordered, referring to two of the marines. "Wake me in one hour."

Spade chuckled. "Fine, but I won't be the one to wake you. God help the soul who disturbs your beauty sleep."

"Funny," Wendy retorted, shooting him a scowl. "Make it two." Spade groaned, and the other marines glared at them both.

Deep
(1917) STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / SYDNEY THEATRE Michael crept down the road, figure crouched, hugging tight the walls of the buildings. He kept low and quiet, using the insides of buildings where possible and pausing frequently in doorways, scanning for hostiles. Smoke stayed solely on one side of the road, and this wasn't just for cover; most of the buildings on the other side were on fire, and he was kept at bay by the fierce heat of the inferno. He gripped his BR55 tightly in his hands, fully alert for a sudden encounter with an enemy, as had occurred twice before along his path. The first time he had easily dealt with the lone squad of Grunts, dispatching all of the panicking creatures with his battle rifle; the second time multiple Kig-Yar sharpshooters had forced him to circumvent the entire block. Smoke's tacmap informed him his objective was down the left turn at the next junction, and he stopped abruptly when he reached the corner. Back to the wall, he stole a brief glance round it and saw the greenery of the park, collared on all sides by tall silver structures and interspersed with trees and low shrubbery. There were Covenant in the park, that much he knew from his motion sensor. He'd already tried to access satellite telemetry, but was unable to- everything was down. He entered the building on the street corner, its automatic door opening smoothly, and entered one of two elevators that greeted him; the left intact and clean, the right riddled with heavy plasma fire and stained with dried human blood. Entering the elevator, the door slid shut behind him without warning, and he instructed the lift to go to the top floor. Smoke raised his rifle at the exit in anticipation. The area around him was completely deserted of friendly forces; there was no help that was going to come for him. Hell, he was the help.

He quickly checked over his rifle yet again, having already done this more times than he could count. The bolt was slid back, it was set to burst fire mode, magazine was full and the safety catch was disengaged. He already knew this would be the case, but it reassured him greatly as he hoped it would. The door snapped open, revealing a ruined corridor stretching both left and right. Michael slid into the hall, marking it clear almost instantly; he noticed the slight curve of the corridor as if it circled right round the top of the building. The vast windows that formed the outermost wall were tinted somewhat, giving the hall an ethereal half-light; not quite gloomy but not bright either, as the last remnants of the setting sun fingered their way through Sydney's skyline. Smoke moved right down the hall through this strange other-world, feeling acutely the silent stillness in the air, and the sense of sheer loneliness this brought. Michael moved slowly, as if in an effort to maintain this ethereal stillness, his boots shifting almost silently on top of the debris of masonry and concrete the ceiling and walls had shed. It was becoming darker by the second; not quite visibly so but creating a sort of constantly dying moment in which Smoke moved.

Michael reached a door and tapped the panel; it rejected him with a single tone, locked. The tone seemed to shatter abruptly the eerie atmosphere with its harsh impertinence. His ears pricked, hearing something he didn't quite register. Smoke snapped round, rifle at his eyes, but there was nothing there. His motion sensor was similarly bare. A shiver ran down his spine as he realised how very alone he was, and he noticed the light had faded that bit more from his world.

Michael tried to bring up plans of the building; satellite support was still down. He swore under his breath, and took a quick glance at a terminal on the wall. It would have provided the information he needed, were its glass screen not smashed and littering the floor. Shards crunched under his feet as he moved past the elevators in the other direction. Another closed door; Smoke hit the control panel and the door retreated sideways into the wall before him; through it the corridor gave way to an open roof. Michael moved through, rifle ready for enemies, thanking the door for yielding without noise. The roof was large, rounded and exposed; the wind roared and Smoke struggled to stay upright, while taking note of the specks far off in the sky that his experienced eyes recognised as Phantom dropships, silhouetted by the now hidden sun's last reflections off the clouds. A single anti aircraft gun stood silent and deserted in the roof's centre.

Smoke turned round the structure he had just exited, looking down the side of the roof, and almost jumped when he saw the hulking figure standing near the very edge. It took Smoke a painful second or so to realise it was facing away from him- an Elite, tall even by their standards, clad in crimson-red armour. In his arms he held what looked like a beam rifle. Smoke approached it slowly, wanting to near it and kill it before it turned around, but fearing alerting it with his approach. He moved faster, the howl of the masking his footsteps as it had the door opening. It suddenly struck him that he didn't know how he was going to kill it; he could easily push it over the edge, but it would alert the Covies below- besides, he didn't know how strong the Elite's shielding was. Could it survive a six story fall?

Or he could shoot it. He did have the element of surprise, and that worked for him before. But it wouldn't take a second before it turned around and killed him effortlessly. And gunfire drew attention. Using the turret would share similar risks.

No, he decided. Instead he drew his combat knife, the padded sheath muffling the sound as it slid carefully out.

He was right behind it now, all eight feet of it. He gripped his knife for dear life, and resisted the inexplicable urge to close his eyes. He braced himself, bent his knees and jumped on its back. The Elite twisted its neck, trying to whirl around and grab him in its arms- it grabbed his wrist in its alien hands seeing the blade grasped in it and forcing it relentlessly back towards Smoke's own body- he pushed with all the force he could muster, but it was far stronger than him- it whirled its other arm round and grabbed his chest, pinning him hard against its back and slowly moving the combat knive towards its owner. Smoke was trapped and losing fast- he kicked it in the back of its knees, and the thing groaned deeply, weakening for just a split-second- Smoke jabbed his arm forward with all the will he had left, driving the blade straight in, deep into the side of its neck, and slid it viciously sideways, rending its neck open and showering blood everywhere. It staggered backwards, losing control of its own body, its life gushing in torrents from its jugular, and toppled onto the ground, a river of blood forming a lake of it beneath the Elite, the struggling and writing creature smearing dark stains in erratic lines. Smoke was crushed underneath it, and he struggled to free himself from under the its ailing mass, drenched in blood; finally it ceased moving, limbs twitching; slowly he extricated himself from underneath it, its fleshy mass reeking of rapidly cooling blood. Freeing himself, stood upright, soaked in his foe's foul stinking blood.

Panting, Michael staggered to the edge, and saw the park below him. He tried in vain to wipe his armour clean of its taint, but there was too much. Resigned, he instead rubbed his hands together and over each other repeatedly, removing most of the blood but leaving his hands dank and slippery. Smoke sighed, and approached the edge of the roof, imagining the rancid heat of the blood on his armour and the ground being flash-cooled by the howling gale. Turning his attention back to the park, he notched up his visor's zoom and inspected the pod in its centre- buried much further into the ground than it should be, with the hatch wedged against the dirt the pod was buried into, open a mere slit. It was empty. Plasma scorch marks pockmarked the ground and the pod. It didn't look good.

Smoke shifted his view to the Covies near the edge of the park, and engaged night vision. Two hunters, a Wraith, a dozen Brute infantry and at least twice as many Grunts. Smoke picked up the dead Elite's beam rifle, his arms adjusting to its weight, and something occurred to him. He scoped in on the Brute gunner of the Wraith, and centered the crosshairs on its severe face. He would enjoy this, he thought, savouring the moment.

United Nations Space Command ALPHA PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 01739-07
Encryption Code: file/ red rover/ 

Public Key: Encrypted; Priority One Message 

From: Acting Fleet Admiral H.T. Ward, Commanding Officer of UNSC HIGHCOM / (UNSC Service Number: XXXXX-XXX972-HW)

To: Fleet Admiral L.T. Hood, Commanding Officer of the UNSC Home Fleet / (UNSC Service Number: XXXXX-XXX786-TH)

Subject: Estimate of Covenant Invasion of Sydney, Australia, UNSC Force Composition, and S-2 and 5 estimation of possible UNSC holdout times

Classification: EYES-ONLY - HOOD

/ start file/

Admiral Hood,

I'll cut right to the chase - the situation groundside here at Sydney looks grim. The Covenant have a pair of Corvettes over the northern downtown portion of the city, sending troops directly down. Apparently, the idea of just hovering over Facility Bravo-6 and deploying troops has not struck them yet. I would appreciate it if you could redirect a "big stick" or two to handle these menaces.

Now, onto the topic of the invasion. Ownie spooks here and the S-2 agree that at the very least 10,000 Covenant have been landed so far. Apparently, that assault carrier that got the "SMACs" over Sydney before getting destroyed themselves managed to deploy a significant amount of singleships. So, yeah, 10,000 so far to kill. With our numbers, which is the next thing to be discussed, it does not look good.

Now, for our numbers. We have a grand total of about 6,377 personnel here. Less then a third are combat personnel - everyone else is logistics or support. We also have some ODSTs deployed to the city from the 13th Battlegroup - yeah, it looks like Admiral Lewis bought it, along with the cruiser New Jersey and the rest of the Battlegroup. We also have reports of some Navy personnel surviving, but knowing Jerry Lewis, he probably died on his ship. But who would know - the Covenant are jamming our shortwave COMs - but HIGHCOM facility Bravo-6 has huge transmitters and tons of power to send its messages and coordinate with the Fleet. The only problem will be holding the facility until the end - either victory or death.

Which leads me to this bottom-line point - both my S-2 and S-5 don't think we can hold out for longer then a week here. I've called for all UNSC troops in region to fall back to the HIGHCOM facility - the facility underground is large enough to garrison a large potion of the non-combat personnel. There are also a few wet-water warships keeping the skies around here clear - as much as I hate to admit it, its a good thing we kept those warships crewed.

On another note, I must request reinforcements, air power, and additional vehicles. HIGHCOM Bravo-6 is imperative to coordinate UNSC forces in the defense of Earth, and to continue to recall UNSC warships currently deployed elsewhere.

Good luck and good hunting up there, Terrence.

- Henry T. Ward.

 [ 1346 Zulu, October 20, 2552]

/ end file/

United Nations Space Command ALPHA PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 01739-63
Encryption Code: file/ maine incident/ 

Public Key: Encrypted; Priority One Message 

From: Fleet Admiral L.T. Hood, Commanding Officer of the UNSC Home Fleet / (UNSC Service Number: XXXXX-XXX786-TH)

To: Acting Fleet Admiral H.T. Ward, Commanding Officer of UNSC HIGHCOM / (UNSC Service Number: XXXXX-XXX972-HW)

Subject: Response to Estimate of Covenant Invasion of Sydney, Australia, UNSC Force Composition, and S-2 and 5 estimation of possible UNSC holdout times

Classification: EYES-ONLY - WARD

/ start file/

Nice to see you're still down there, Henry. I heard about Jerry - damn fine fighting admiral. Yet another hero lost in this goddamn war.

Sorry I was not able to pull through in time to get you a Fleet before this shitstorm fell upon us, but I guess it was too late anyway. I'm swamped up here - too many hostiles, too few of our warships. Even if we had the Reach fleet here, a fat lot of good it would do, given the numbers we seem to be facing right now. For every ship we destroy, another two take its place.

Since you are HIGHCOM, I suppose I'll give you numbers in person...well, as close to it as I can at this point in time - stuff you'll already know because of the facility you command - but the UNSCDF Home Fleet taken 13.47% losses in these first few hours of direct combat with the enemy We've lost 23 Orbital Defense Stations and all fleet units are committed to battle. We have all otherwise deployed UNSC vessels ordered to regroup around Pluto, to trickle back to Earth in formations to supplement the warships we've lost so far.

As per your requests and reports, my hands are tied. All the forces under my command are already committed to battle, SMACs included. Hell, in some areas, the only think holding back the Covenant are the SMAC guns. The only forces I will be able to support you with are wayward warships - en route to supplement other Fleets - and crippled warships on their way into the atmosphere. I'll have the crew and complement combat dropped to aid your situation. As of this message, you have a Destroyer and a pair of Frigates - all badly damaged - inbound for Sydney. That'll give you some more personnel to work with - plus the crippled warships plummeting from orbit under AI control into those marauding Corvettes. I also got bad news - you got more warships bearing down on Sydney. Heavier tonnage. Again, not enough of a threat to warrant an entire Fleet. You might get a few warships later on to clear the skies, but besides those crippled warships, your on your own for a while.

Henry, you recognize that HIGHCOM needs to hold out until the end as much as I do - if not more. Without it, I fear Earth will fall. Not that it was not already going to, but if it falls, Earth will fall yet faster without it. Those under your command who can't fight...they better learn fast, because if what you are saying is correct, you're going to need every last man, woman, or child you can get to fight.

I'll keep in touch, and do what I can to keep you holding.

- Fleet Admiral Lord Terrance Hood, Commanding Officer of UNSCDF Home Fleet

 [ 1419 Zulu, October 20, 2552]

/ end file/

Collateral Damage
2249 STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA / THE NORTHERN REMAINS OF THE SYDNEY HARBOR BRIDGE

'''The following recording is the property of United Earth Government News Agency (UEGNA). Use or mass displaying of this recording must be requested in writing, to the UEGNA headquarters. Failure to do so is prohibited by both ONI and UEG regulations, due to the sensitive nature of this recording, and will result in serious consequences.'''

[Recording starts]

[An excited news themes plays, as a United Earth Government News Agency logo flashes across the screen, before being replaced with lettering that hangs in the center of the screen for a few seconds, reading "Special Report", before flashing offscreen and fading to black]

[Screen cuts from black to the downtown Sydney area - albeit debris torn, with blazing cars and buildings in the background. The camera pans to the harbor and the remains of the Sydney Harbor Bridge - now completely demolished. Flashes light up a corner of the harbor, lighting up the silhouette of a destroyer - accompanied with distant sounds of gunfire, as the destroyer opens fire with its large caliber guns on a marauding Covenant dropship - which promptly bursts into flame, and falls from the sky into the harbor with a splash.]

[The camera pans back to the initial carnage that was captured, now with a female reporter in a business suit, with a helmet and a vest of ballistic armor worn over it, and with a microphone in hand.]

'''[A. Maclean]:''' This is Alannah Maclean, of the United Earth Government News Agency, reporting live from the war-torn streets of Sydney, Australia. The area behind me and the bridge were the scene of a fierce battle between the elite Orbital Drop Shock Troopers and the Covenant. The troops were overrun, and blew the bridge behind their retreat to hold off the Covenant - holding up their advance for a while, in order to regroup.

'''[A. Maclean]:''' Earlier this morning, at about eight forty o'clock local time, Sydney was invaded and attacked by Covenant forces. Mass evacuations for Sydney's fourteen million inhabitants began about this time, concluding sometime about one in the afternoon. Multiple Covenant warships entered the airspace above Sydney, and sources tell us that the Covenant began landing in force about this time, before being driven off or destroyed by UNSC Navy warships and Magnetic Accelerator Cannon strikes from orbit. As of an hour ago, the Covenant pushed UNSC forces over the historic Sydney Harbor Bridge, which was blown to provide time for the UNSC forces to regroup. The primary target of the Covenant in the Sydney region seems to be the HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6 behind me. This HIGHCOM facility is where the UNSC Defense Force leaders coordinate the defense of Earth.

'''[A. Maclean]:''' So, as of right now, me and my news team are deep behind enemy lines, capturing and uploading live feed of this post-skirmish carnage, and to report the true nature of the Battle of Sydney. We're about to mount up and show you more of the carnage that this battle has wrought.

Echoes
(1924) STANDARD TIME (UNSC STANDARD) / OCTOBER 20, 2552 / SYDNEY THEATRE ''The thing pursued her still, invading every aspect of her being; it was a man, that much she knew somehow, but a man shrouded in billowing black fabric so dark it seemed to be made of shadows. She fled from it, through the memory that was the town she grew up in, but it took to the wing and dropped down on her, filling her with dread so solid it filled her lungs and stifled her attempts to scream. It all went black- but she opened her eyes once more against her will, to find she was on a warship in yet another of her memories; she twisted and turned through its labyrinthine depths, the uniform corridors merging into a single blur of terror, and she could not lose her dreaded hunter. It followed her relentlessly as if attached to her by some inexorable force. It chased her through her subconscious, unrelenting, not allowing her mind to stop and rest. Finally it cornered her, in the memory of the school in which she had fought the Covenant, and in which she had failed to save the class of children and their teacher, cut down without remorse. It moved slowly towards her, menacing in silent threat, only for it to dissolve into its own darkness and reappear behind her, looming over and descending and enveloping her in shadow, whispering her name. Her vision began to blur, distorting the nightmarish sights before her but offering her no comfort. Her sight waned as if blocked by some invisible force, flickering, before it faded and disappeared. She screamed, but no sound came from her mouth. Panicking, she tried to move but realised he had no body she could feel- she was alone and surrounded by nothing but drowning darkness. She opened his eyes but saw only black. Ages passed, trapped in this appalling nothingness. She screamed again, mustering strength from nothing, though little more than a whisper escaped her mouth. And still the thing whispered her name from the ether.''

She woke with a start, heart racing, brow damp with cold sweat.

"Wendy!" someone whispered from close by.

Gathering her frayed thoughts, Wendy sat upright. For a moment she was confused and sluggish before it hit her where she was, and experience and instinct took over. She sat upright and threw a hand to her thigh intuitively, feeling the reassurance the cold touch of her M6G brought.

"Wendy, we've got contacts, get out here!" came Spade's voice as a hushed rasp. She looked round her sniper's next, on the first floor of the building, and saw him standing on the staircase, peering out of the dark in full armour. "Got movement, thirty five metres northeast! Twenty plus contacts, unknown type."

"Get the marines to their posts, then get to your position!" she ordered, mind racing.

Wendy shouldered her sniper rifle, pulling back and releasing the bolt. She looked across the road and saw Spade move into position opposite, shouldering his sniper rifle and giving her a sign of readiness. She aimed at the corner, putting first pressure on the trigger and preparing herself. Her mind was working at nominal pace now, which was damned fast, constantly alert and calculating, irreverent of the restless sleep she had woken from. It was still dark, and had the air of gloominess, but the fires from the other side of the harbour painted the clouds orange and cast an odd aura on the ground. The atmosphere was thick, tense, and fear pervaded the air.

Warlock watched the twenty or so grey dots on his motion tracker draw nearer and nearer, approaching the corner at which they aimed. He saw out of the corner of his eye a marine on the machine gun spin up its barrels in preparation, and numerous others level their rifles strikingly. Whatever was coming round the corner, it didn't stand a chance.

The grey dots came into range of Warlock's IFF scanner- the dots turned yellow. They were seconds away from the corner.

"Hold your fire!" he shouted frantically over the radio. "Targets are friendly, repeat targets are friendly, stand down."

Amelia kept her rifle levelled at the corner, though loosened her squeeze on the trigger. The first marine rounded the corner, looking tense and beleaguered. Warlock sighed with relief and looked up at Spade; he gave him a slight shake of the head. They both knew how close that had been.

"Hey, over here!" Warlock shouted from behind the barricades, and the new marines headed in their direction. After the first one, numerous more ones came, appearing tired and battle-worn. "Marines, what's your objective?"

The marines moved up to the makeshift barricade. "Our orders are to rendezvous with the troopers at the bridge," the leading marine called. "That's you lot, I'm assuming."

"Smoke's help," said Amelia quietly, as she looked down on the reinforcements from her sniper's nest through a smashed window. "How was he when you last saw him? What did he say?"

"He had just saved my ass from an Elite," he said, feeling his neck uneasily. "May I assume you're Wendy?"

Wendy frowned under her visor, invisible. "Yeah, that's me. Who's asking?"

"Sergeant Thomas Carter, Bravo Company 25th Marines. Gunnery Sergeant Robson gave me something for you."

He produced some small item from a waist pouch, and slung it up to her. She snapped it from the air and, holding it so that the object dangled from her upraised hand, leveled it with her eyes. The 12.7x99mm casing swung from side to side from its metal chain, the word 'WENDY' engraved into it; carved roughly with a combat knife years ago. Her steely blue eyes followed its sway, reading into what it meant. Memories deep inside her, buried to stop them hurting, burst to the fore. Raw emotion not felt for seven years. A token from the past that she didn't think existed anymore. She remembered the first time she met Smoke, the strings of memories and emotions flooding from the recesses of her mind and scrambling to order themselves correctly. She remembered the sniper practice in which he outdid her. How him and the other men made fun of her for being female. How they called her Wendy. How she threw her spent casings at them in a wild fit of rage, only to get them all back the day later. Every one with 'WENDY' carved carefully into the side, mocking her eternally. She remembered how she scattered them all from the back of a Pelican, never to be seen again. She remembered the engraved bullet casing he gave her back, one he had kept, and the passionate kiss they shared under cover of darkness on a night not too different from that one.

All of these memories and emotions flooded her mind in an instant. Amelia stood stock still, barely registering anything but her own thoughts slowly lowering her outstretched arm. She looked around; everything looked the same; everything was how it was a few moments ago, but everything had changed.

Smoke.