This update took significantly longer production wise because I combed through the other chapters to make sure everything was consistent (casualties, ship classes, etc.). This also marks a semi-significant departure from the general plot of the original, but still pretty similar.
I will probably update SoaGE: Bounty Hunter after this one.
Black Cat Class Subprowler, UNSC Sturmgewehr
Coasting silently through the blackness of space, a sleek, pitch black silhouette reflected the images of the stars. A keen eye might’ve noticed a shimmering cloak floating through the abyss up close, but this sneaky craft was nigh invisible to the most advanced of sensor suites.
Every surface on the UNSC Sturmgewehr’s hull was covered in photoreactive paneling, making it effectively invisible to the naked eye. This paneling was integrated with a stealth ablative coating, making it effectively invisible to any sort of scanning instrument or sensor array.
As impressive as all that technology was, it only served to enhance the already near invisible profile of the ~150 meter long stealth ship. In the vast expanses of space, a small profile was a stealth feature in and of itself.
The Sturmgewehr had arrived in system before the battle had even erupted, as ONI was looking to gather all the information that they could, particularly about the Republic’s fleet capabilities and battle doctrine.
Not even the UNSC fleet nor Admiral White himself had any idea the ship was even present. The small ship silently shadowed both fleets and watched as they tore each other apart, the stealth systems completely hiding them from even the UNSC warships.
Being forced to watch as the UNSC forces fought without them was not something the crew of 40 was fond of, but the fact of the matter was that due to the Sturmgewehr’s rushed deployment from the Procyon system, the Prowler only had time to load a relatively small armament, four Hornet nuclear mines.
The crew knew, however, that a prowler was not meant to be used as a brawler, only having a dozen pulse lasers and its load of mines to fight off any attackers, but its meager armament didn't mean it was totally useless in combat.
On the three dimensional holoscreen of the cramped Combat Information Center, dimly lit by the eerie glow of tactical displays, Captain Valen Rico watched from his seat as the icons representing the remaining ships of the UNSC fleet and the Republic armada attempted to finally finish one another off.
Crippled or wrecked UNSC ships littered the system and the orbit of Cienna was now a graveyard. Any surviving crews were either trying, sometimes in vain, to get their vast warships back into a workable condition or were abandoning ship in life pods which seemed to enter the atmosphere of Cienna in waves like shooting stars.
As bad as it was for the UNSC, it was many times worse for the Republic.
Whole warships miles long, once proud vessels feared by their enemies, were now shattered husks of themselves. Barely recognizable charred and pitted shells drifting under their own momentum were a common sight.
Due to the nature of MAC rounds, the Republic vessels unlucky enough to be struck without their shields had whole sections of hull obliterated. The sheer kinetic force behind a MAC round destroyed anything that tried to oppose it.
Rico mentally shuddered at the thought of being on such an unfortunate vessel, but he felt no remorse for the humans of the Republic and their alien allies.
Pulling up another screen with a wave of his hand, Rico’s eyes were met with the image of the remaining ships of Admiral White's fleet led by the Warhound attempting to catch the last of the Republic vessels in the gravity well of Cienna with a high speed orbital burn of his main ‘fleet’ of 17 ships. The two remaining fully operational carriers were just now coming around from behind the safety of Cienna's largest moon.
The Republic battlegroup which had separated from the main group was a mere 5 minutes away from linking up with the fleet in orbit. Out of the last 70 or so functional Republic ships, two Imperators, two Venators and three Victory IIs had begun to move away from the main force, but not out of harm's way. What was worrying for Captain Rico, and no doubt Admiral White, was that that particular detachment was approaching an orbital position over the largest colonial settlement on the planet, the city protected by Fort Longston.
Ft. Longston had apparently already taken a hell of a beating, the main MAC battery had been disabled by an earlier bombardment. If that detachment were to achieve an orbital firing position, all forces groundside would be at the mercy of the Republic fleet. More importantly, the civilian populace would be in jeopardy.
However it seemed that Admiral White would still be able to regroup in time to trap the rest of the Republic fleet between the carriers and the rest of his force.
As critical as the battles were, both in space and on the ground, there was a more boring, but important, task at hand for Captain Valen Rico and his crew.
The Republic flagship, which had come to a complete stop at one of the Lagrange points of Cienna's smaller moon, was now completely under the control of Cortana and Sierra-117 was nearing his objective.
ONI would be very pleased with their performance, but most especially her’s.
Rico had seen Spartans in action before, even in the optimal squad operations in which they were truly terrifying to behold. But to see the Master Chief himself board a full on enemy capital ship and single handedly eliminate, no, crush, all opposition that faced him was awe inspiring.
Valan was a long time commander in the hypersensitive Prowler Corps and had entered service at the age of 18 in 2523, just two years before humanity's fateful encounter.
He had witnessed UNSC fleets with the power to crack Luna in half be nearly obliterated even when defeating outnumbered Covenant fleets in the disastrous early years of the conflict.
He had served alongside Admiral Cole himself during his fateful battles at Harvest and Psi Serpentis, the glassing of half the Outer Colonies, the implementation of the Cole Protocol, Admiral White's fateful decision to implement the White Doctrine and its effects, the fall of Arcadia, Admiral Whitcomb's mass evacuation of civilians from the last outer colonies, the interstellar guerilla war against the Covenant under the command of Admiral White, the Battles of Midguard, half a dozen battles in the Inner Colonies, the Battles of Reach alongside Admiral Stanforth, the 2nd and 3rd Battle of the Sol System and Earth, and the Battle of the Ark.
The amount of deaths and whole worlds destroyed that he had seen was staggering. But the reason he refused to retire at his age of 56 (not even close to middle age for Humans of the 26th century) was the motivation from seeing Humanity's sheer stubbornness to quit fighting, and eventually turn the tide of the war against a technologically more advanced foe. It inspired him to keep on fighting as well, alongside his whole race.
Even more inspiring was the UEG and UNSC's rapid rebuilding. Humanity was even growing more powerful than they had been before the War, to the point the Terrans were at today.
He could only imagine what this now almost official victory would do to shatter the other galaxy's perception and view of power.
In his mind he could only grin at the image of Coruscanti civilians when they heard of the ‘mighty’ Republic Navy's lopsided defeat at the hands of a ‘primitive’ and ‘small’ opponent outnumbered four to one.
He turned to his sensor officer seated at her console, whose unmoving brown eyes were affixed to the readouts before her. "What is the status of Sierra-117?" He asked.
"He’s moving up the turbo lift to the bridge towards his objective sir." She answered with little emotion.
Nodding in approval Valen turned to the helmsman at his station. "Set a course to the Republic flagship. It is likely that the admiral will attempt to escape via a FTL capable lifepod and we may need to intercept, plus the Chief might need extraction. Inform Admiral White of our presence and our rendering aid to Sierra-117."
UNSC Warhound
"MAC number four is damaged and will need to be replaced. Emitters for Energy Projector One are overheated and require limited maintenance, but further operation is ill advised. We lost particle cannon turrets numbers 5, 6 and 17 and mount 23 is burnt out and needs to be replaced. Missile supplies are at 53 percent and CIWS capacity is at 70 percent with 400 turrets destroyed." MacArthur listed off as Admiral White nodded.
The Warhound and the other 16 battle worthy ships were chasing down the detachment of the Republic fleet which had managed to withdraw to the other side of the planet after Admiral White had engaged them.
Accompanying the Warhound were three Warlock and five Marathon Heavy Cruisers, four Destroyers, and the last functional frigate, the Maelstrom. There were also the two Concordia Heavy Carriers coming from the opposite side of the planet’s largest moon.
He hoped he could catch them in a three sided trap with his fleet and the Punic Supercarrier Battlegroup which was still a few hours away.
Firing another long burn from their engines, the ships oriented themselves into a higher orbit as the remaining combat air patrol of Fascines and Longswords took point in front of the fleet to clear out the remaining Republic starfighters which were trying to make a last ditch attempt to attack the UNSC ships.
"Slayer 1 and the lead Fascines are engaging lead elements of Republic attack craft.” MacArthur reported with little emotion. "Range 20,000 kilometers and closing. Fascines and Longswords are fully engaged."
Captain Haithum and Admiral White looked at the holographic displays which showed the icons of agile UNSC FS-837 Fascine Fighters and Longswords of various models engaging the Republic fighters with salvos of long range missile fire until they got closer..
Angry red icons of enemy ARC-170 and V-Wing fighters winked off the screen in quick succession in a very uneven match up until the range dropped and the two forces began the intricate dance of fighting close range in zero gravity.
Fascines flipped on their axis to swat enemy starfighters out of the sky with streams of twin 50mm coilgun fire and short range missiles while dodging enemy plasma with rapid burns and sudden course corrections as the Republic finally managed to kill several Terran pilots unlucky enough to get hit. Either combined fire from the lighter V-Wings blasters or the more potent weapons of the ARC-170s were the main culprit, with the occasional concussion missile getting a kill despite the Terran’s countermeasures.
The slower but not ungainly Longswords swooped on the battlefield at full burn with their devastating 110mm rotary cannons and 50mm coilguns flashing as their missile racks let loose dozens of micro missiles from missile pods that replaced their ship killing armament, outright obliterating dozens of Republic fighters caught in their sight.
"Sir, forty contacts have broken through the fighter screen and are on course to attack the fleet. 14,000 kilometers away." MacArthur announced.
"Make sure our point defense is still good to go." Admiral White commanded as he paced the bridge among the crew fast working at their stations carrying out his orders.
Close-in weapon system mounts of various calibers and types seemingly came to life all over the ships and swung to face their targets, ready to destroy the contacts registered on their targeting computers which were supported by the AI's on each ship with back up targeting solutions. The smaller and less noticeable mounts of the dozens of pulse lasers on each ship tracked their targets as well.
The 40 Republic Fighters, all of them 170's, rapidly closed on the UNSC ships and launched all of their proton torpedoes.
Blazing red munitions covered in energy serving as their propulsion chewed up the distance between the fleet and homed in on their targets.
"Vampire! Vampire! 240 missiles incoming! Defenses are active fleet wide." An ensign called out.
"Pulse lasers engaging." MacArthur reported while the rate at which his code flowed down his body accelerated. It only took him a moment for the AI to perform the calculations necessary to intercept in case the point defense computers failed.
Invisible to the naked human eye, hundreds of megawatt level pulses of energy began to destroy the missiles as their frames melted from the pulses of energy. The proton torpedoes failed to close to even the 1,000 kilometer mark as they all exploded harmlessly in quick succession.
Admiral White nodded in satisfaction as the last of the missiles faded from the display. The enemy fighters kept on coming and began to bear down on the outermost ships in the UNSC fleet, the destroyer Archangel and the Marathon DeAngelo.
Both ships swiftly engaged the 170s with their pulse lasers, though as the fighters were shielded it took concentrated pulses from multiple turrets to destroy them.
Nine of the attackers exploded from the invisible fire as the other attackers closed to 10,000 kilometers and let loose another volley of missiles, which were quickly taken out by pulse lasers as 50mm CIWS opened up with a hail of accurate fire.
The Republic pilots threw their ships into wild maneuvers in an attempt to evade, but only three fighters managed to make it past the 5,000 kilometer mark before they too were sliced open by coilgun fire.
The Admiral smirked quietly before he addressed the sensor operator. "Time to target?"
"Two minutes sir, we have a lock and the Air Force is firing some of their 11-B1 ICBMs." He replied.
The holo screen dominating the middle of the bridge morphed to show the icon of a Victory II cruiser which had strayed too close to the Air Force missile base on the planet.
Half a dozen nuclear missiles punched through its weakened shields, setting it alight with electrical fire as a fourth of the enemy ship’s mass was obliterated, mission killing the enemy ship.
A small grin escaped White’s lips as MacArthur's avatar turned to him.
"Sir, even in our weakened state we can still achieve victory against the enemy force. Though current UNSC war policy is still reflective of the Covenant War, do you wish to give the Republic Fleet an official request for their surrender? By my judgment we could avoid further war by this victory as the Republic Senate will, even in its clearly corrupt state, call for a cease fire and open negotiations with the UEG after this lopsided victory according to my calculations."
Gregory turned to the AI with his eyebrow raised.
“MacArthur, by your calculations, you should surely know my opinion on the subject."
Before the AI could respond, Captain Haithum, Admiral Gregory White's long time friend, walked to the Admiral's side.
"Admiral, I almost know you better than your own family. After all we have seen, all we have been through together, and all we have accomplished, I know that you will listen to my advice. Correct?"
"Time to target 35 seconds!" The weapons officer called out as the surface of the planet passed by far below.
The Admiral turned to face the Captain.
"Well, you are the one who managed to keep me from getting my ass into even more trouble with the rest of the Admiralty." He said. "What do you think?"
"20 seconds!"
"I think we should let them surrender sir. We are not fighting the Covenant anymore." His longtime friend replied curtly.
"15 seconds!"
Admiral White turned to MacArthur's avatar.
"Have all ships stop once in weapons range but do not fire. Open a line to send a request for their surrender."
The AI nodded.
Ten seconds went by until the UNSC Fleet received a visual on both elements of the Republic fleet and reversed their burns to come to a nearly full stop.
"Opening a feed to the enemy flagship." The AI announced before turning to the Admiral. "Sir, I just received word from the UNSC Prowler Sturmgewehr in system approaching the Republic flagship."
Admiral White very visibly raised his eyebrows. "Damn spooks. What do they want?" He asked. Admiral White and the Prowler Corps of ONI had a colorful history to say the least.
"They say they are moving to retrieve Sierra-117 should he need help and assist in capturing any VIPs that attempt to escape via FTL capable lifeboats."
Gregory shook his head. "Let them do as they wish, and inform them of what’s happening."
RNS Accuser
"What is the status of the hyperdrive?" Captain Piett called out in frustration as the bridge crew frantically tried to get a handle on the situation.
The constant threat of unexpected Terran reinforcements put heavy pressure on him.
Piett, the de facto commander of the fleet, now ran through his head as many times as he could the simulations in which he could beat the UNSC without the threat of orbital bombardment, one which might cost the lives of thousands of troopers due to the proximity between the two combatants necessitating such a risky operation.
Even the best ones ended up with the fleet destroyed or damaged to the point of no return.
“Time to target?! And what’s the status of the hyperdrive!”
"Hyperdrive is stabilized and will need a few more minor repairs to reach a charge in order to activate, about 15 minutes." The helmsmen said.
“We are locked on to our target, sir. Ready to fire on your command.”
The utter chaos of the bridge earlier in the battle had begun to settle, it seemed too quiet by comparison. Everyone knew what they were about to do.
The Accuser herself had barely survived the battle, whole sections of ship were now open to space and only four of the heavy turbolasers were online. The shields were nearly gone and the hyperdrive had nearly been knocked out.
It was the same story for the rest of Piett’s detachment. The rest of the ships just now linking up with him were only a little bit better from the earlier fighting.
"The enemy fleet is coming around the curvature of the planet sir! We are being targeted!" One officer called.
"We lost power to decks two and thirteen, four hundred crewmen lightly wounded and another thousand presumed dead or with life threatening injuries, sir." Said another.
Tarkin’s orders were what probably kept his fleet from being utterly finished, otherwise he’d be caught in the open with nowhere to run.
He could try to charge his ships straight at the UNSC fleet. He outnumbered them still, but he questioned the capability of his own ships. The Terran vessels seemed to be in pristine condition by comparison. He might be able to win that way, but not in the long run with the threat posed by UNSC reinforcements pouring in.
"Sir, we are being hailed by the UNSC flagship." The comms officer announced.
Piett’s stomach churned as he turned to the officer. "Put it on."
The viewscreen shifted to show the bridge of the mighty UNSC battleship.
The scene on the bridge of the ship was the exact opposite of his, instead of disarray there was nothing but calm professionalism and clear satisfaction.
The middle of the screen was dominated by the UNSC admiral.
His face held a look that claimed victory.
The Terran's lips let loose a grin before replying. "This is UNSC Admiral Gregory White to the Republic commander. I am offering you and your fleet the opportunity to accept terms for your complete surrender."
Piett felt the eyes of all those on the bridge turn to him as he swallowed.
“Your fleet has nowhere to go, you have no choice but to give up or die.” The enemy admiral announced.
The words hit Piett like a duracrete brick, he really would have to carry out his orders.
Could he surrender? No, it would humiliate the Republic and drag only drag this war out longer. Fight it out? No, he already knew that would mean near certain death.
He frantically searched for options, each one coming up short in one way or another.
The Terran spoke again. "Should you decide to accept, you are to deactivate all weapons and move into a low orbit above the planet. Once that is done, you will allow your ships to be boarded by Marine forces to accept your surrender. We will continue on from there. I guarantee you and your forces adequate and humane treatment. You have thirty seconds to respond."
The terms were tempting. He would certainly get out with his own life as well as the lives of all the men under his command. They would apparently be taken care of and he would probably be back to facing off against CIS warships in a few months.
No. He couldn’t surrender.
He had to win this battle and warn the Republic what was coming.
Piett gritted his teeth and sighed, turning towards the communications officer. “Begin a private broadcast.”
RNS Intrepid
"Admiral, you have to get to the escape pods now. The fleet is in total disarray and appears to be surrendering." Aayla all but pleaded with Tarkin as he sternly stared her down.
"Master Jedi, I will not abandon my fleet and my men. Even if we are forced to withdraw-" He replied before Aayla cut him off.
She could feel anxiety rise up in her as the supersoldier, the Terran ‘Spartan-117’ as he was known, was undoubtedly coming.
If Shaak Ti, Jax, and nearly all of the Venator’s Clone Troopers did not stand a chance against the supersoldier, the best she could do would be to hold him off long enough for the Admiral to escape.
And at worst...
"Sir, I am telling you to leave now! We stand no chance against this Spartan. You need to warn the Republic so we can prepare for war!"
Tarkin raised his eyebrow as he listened to her. "You might be right about leaving the ship, but we haven’t lost yet."
Ayala's lekku uncurled in relief as she began to escort the Admiral to one of the hyperspace capable escape pods, but not before she retrieved a datachip recording the events of the battle.
Tarkin stopped as he turned to the crew, still at their stations and looking at him with a mix of anxiety and fearful respect.
"All remaining crew abandon ship..."
At that, Aayla felt an imminent threat in the force.
And it was coming from the elevator.
Aayla grabbed the Admiral and shoved him in the direction of the escape pods. With a flash she ignited her lightsaber as the ten Clone Troopers on the bridge leveled their blasters at the door and the crew dove for cover.
The door was silent and unmoving for seconds before it opened.
Aayla tensed up as she prepared herself for what was coming. ‘Force give me strength.’
The doors opened to reveal absolutely nothing but an empty elevator.
The Clones looked at each other while Aayla, confused, searched for the danger through the Force.
‘He should have been right there…’
Three thermal detonators and an odd green grenade with bumps all over its surface flew out of the top of the turbo lift through the doors as the Clones and the crew threw themselves into whatever cover they could find.
Aayla managed to duck behind the weapons station after taking Tarkin with her just before the grenades exploded with a tremendous roar of flame, heat and shrapnel.
One Clone was blown apart as five crewmen were either burned to cinders by the thermal detonators and another two were shredded by flying metal fragments.
"Stay with me!" She ordered Tarkin as she got up to her feet. Her gaze was met with the hulking sight of the formerly empty turbo lift now occupied by the towering figure of an armored soldier with a slugthrower in hand.
By the time she got Tarkin up, the Spartan let out two odd bursts of fire and two of the Clones were brutally cut down before they even knew what was happening.
The remaining Clones sent a stream of plasma at the supersoldier, but to Aayla's amazement the Spartan sidestepped about half of the bolts in a blur of superhuman speed as the rest impacted a glowing energy shield that surrounded his armor.
The Spartan immediately returned fire, killing two more clones as the others dove into cover.
Some crewmen began to fire from one of the console pits with their holdout blasters, for all the good that would do.
The Spartan simply pivoted and fired a larger underslung weapon on his rifle.
The explosion that followed again threw Aayla to the deck.
*z*z*z*
Consoles from the oddly designed pit cracked and sparked with electricity as the smoke from John’s 40mm underbarrel launcher cleared, revealing the mangled corpses of dead enemy bridge officers and Clone Troopers. He had loaded a 40mm buckshot shell, but must’ve hit something explosive.
A remaining Clone stood out from cover firing his blaster carbine on full auto, chipping away at John's shields. John turned and fired from the hip with the aid of his HUD, sending three tungsten rounds through the Clone's head, painting the wall behind him with blood and brain matter.
"The ONI Prowler Sturmgewehr is hailing me." Cortana chimed in as John dispatched another armed Republic officer with his SMG in his left hand before casually reholstering the weapon.
John scanned the wrecked bridge for his target, the Republic Admiral who had led the attack. His HUD displayed bits of information on the Admiral, one Wilhuff Tarkin, and what he looked like. John hoped he didn’t accidentally kill his objective.
"How long have they been sneaking around the system?" He asked sarcastically as yet another Clone fell to the withering fire of his LAR.
"My guess is the entire time. They say they are moving to assist our extraction as well as assist in retrieving any escape pods, particularly FTL equipped ones." Cortana answered. “I wasn’t able to clamp them down, they run on their own system.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“I’ll be quick, then.”
The enemy fire stopped as the Master Chief dispatched the last of the bridge's Clones. John walked to the center of the bridge.
The view outside was spectacular with the colony hanging high in the window. John didn’t like how large and exposed the bridge was, and the other bridge tower being a charred mess gave merit to his thoughts.
The dead littered the deck. John paused trying to identify the corpses and checked his motion trackers to find two contacts in an alcove to the side, which presumably lead to the lifepods.
Reloading and shouldering his LAR, which he was growing very fond of, John advanced on the contacts.
*z*z*z*
"By the Force..." Tarkin whispered as Aayla, with her lightsaber deactivated, moved him to the awaiting lifepods.
Aayla began to put him into the life pod and began to seal it.
"You aren’t coming, Master Jedi?" Tarkin asked.
"I'll hold that thing off as long as I can so you can escape and then I'll take the other pod."
"Hold it!" A thunderous and deep voice boomed, making Aayla nearly jump as she spun around and activated her lightsaber.
There he was, the supersoldier, with his weapon aimed squarely at her head.
"You are to lay down your weapon and surrender." He ordered while slowly walking towards them.
Aayla could feel the Force all but screaming at her that she was in danger. She first looked down the barrel of his projectile weapon which could turn her body into any number of bloody messes, and then looked up at the golden reflective visor.
Aayla thought calmly as she deactivated her lightsaber and shot the Admiral a glance.
"You can't win." She spoke, stalling for time as she reached out in the Force.
"Drop your weapon, get on your knees and place your hands behind your head." The Spartan barked, unamused by her antics.
‘Let the Force flow through you.’ The words of Master Yoda echoed in her mind before she grinned.
"I think you are the one who needs to surrender."
In a split second using nothing but the Force, she slammed shut the capsule to the life pod. She felt for the controls using the Force and shot the escape pod away with Admiral Tarkin grabbing frantically to secure himself to a harness as the pod flew away from the disabled ship alongside a dozen other ones.
At the same time she grabbed a damaged section of plating from the ceiling and sent it crashing down onto the Spartan, who dove out of the way.
Aayla activated her lightsaber with a snap-hiss.
The supersoldier used some sort of thruster pack to dodge the metal plate and retrained his weapon on her head.
“One last chance, surrender.”
She could tell that he didn't let his enemies surrender very often.
Her mind went from zero to sixty in a split second as she weighed her options.
With Admiral Tarkin planning to regroup with the fleet, if the fleet was defeated, there wouldn’t be anyone to warn the Republic about the power of the UNSC. They wouldn’t know they would be in a likely devastating war until the UNSC warships came to some Republic world like Taris, Anaxes, or Kuat with weapons blazing.
They had to be warned of the danger the Terrans posed so as to prepare for the worst. Maybe the Senate could broker a ceasefire, though she highly doubted the UEG would stand for it, not with their ties to the CIS.
She had to make it to the other life pod.
"I won't surrender." She declared defiantly
Just as the Spartan fired a burst from his rifle, she grabbed the collapsed ceiling and placed it in between her and the Spartan just in time to deflect his fire.
She flung it at him as she dove to the pod with one last leap.
Just as she was about to clear the hatch, all she heard was a single shot from the Terran’s rifle.
Her left leg, which had been exposed for only a half second, exploded below the knee in blood and bone as a hypersonic round tore through it. Still attached, her leg was bleeding profusely.
The pain was unimaginable.
Losing all self control, she let out a shriek of pain as she hit the floor of the tiny lifepod. The hatch closed behind her with the Master Chief running to the other side of the hatch just in time to see her rocket away.
No matter how hard she tried to stem the pain with the Force, she couldn't.
Lightsaber blades that hacked off limbs would cauterize their wounds and mostly destroy the nerve endings completely with their heat. Though still incredibly painful, the wound wasn't as traumatic.
Projectiles were not so clean or humane. They merely ripped things apart and punched clear through skin, flesh, and bone to let blood pour out from their wounds.
With a whimper that left her feeling defeated, Aayla grabbed the med kit below one of the ominously empty seats. After ripping it open, she slapped a full bacta pad on the mangled remains of her left leg to stop the blood flow and close the wound.
With the help of the Force, she dragged herself up to the viewport to see the Intrepid quickly growing smaller by the second. She went to the navigation console and input coordinates for the small single-use hyperdrive, it would be a trip that might take weeks thanks to the small size of the drive.
Three seconds later, the crew on the Prowler which was looking for Tarkin's life pod angrily watched as her pod disappeared into hyperspace.
*z*z*z*
John stared into the abyss through the now empty escape pod tube.
"She got away."
"Oh relax big guy. It’s only one Jedi. We’ll soon have the admiral in custody and the enemy fleet has all but surrendered. We won." Cortana retorted.
“Not yet.” With a sigh, he placed his LAR on his back and moved towards the bridge of the ship, ignoring the bodies of the crew.
"What about the rest of the ship?" He asked as he transferred Cortana back into the mainframe.
"I have every part of the ship locked down. Those that I didn't simply shoot out into space or asphyxiate are trapped in whatever section they are in. You’re welcome for cutting off that battalion gearing up, by the way. It wasn’t very smart of them to not wear their armor. I’ll move us towards the planet." Cortana replied.
John felt the deck vibrate, the warship’s engines coming back online as they pushed the ship towards the fleet.
Cortana frowned. “ONI says they failed to acquire the enemy’s admiral. He jumped away before they could get here.”
John grimaced at that. “We still have his ship at least.”
“Maybe this battle will convince the Republic to end their war.”
Despite the setback, the battle was still shaping up to be a huge victory for the UNSC.
Though by the final years of the Covenant War, the UNSC was for the most part evenly matched with the Covenant, they had not won a battle this lopsided before without using ‘creative’ tactics and traps like causing a gas giant to turn into a brown dwarf or leading the enemy into a massive minefield. Plus, aside from certain battles, the Covenant war was largely a guerrilla war or a defensive war. When the UNSC went on the offensive it was usually a counter offensive to reclaim a lost colony or strategic world.
This war would be different.
"It's only the beginning."
M1000 Recluse MBT, Army 63rd Armored Division
To say Lieutenant James Taylor was having a rollercoaster of a day would be an understatement. They had stopped the Republic dead cold. Then the Republic had them on the retreat with their heavy armor, then they started to withdraw. It didn’t make sense to him, why would the Republic retreat when they were winning?
He’d only ever seen the Covenant do that. Taylor gulped at that thought. “I got a bad feeling about this.” He said.
His gunner, Grant Fitzsimmons, seemed he couldn’t be any happier. “Why? We’re kicking their asses!” He said, letting loose a round.
Lieutenant Taylor could tell his driver Peter Summers was getting a little anxious too. “I got a bad feeling too.” Summer glanced up towards the other two. “You’ve never fought a real war, not yet at least. Last time we had a real war, a ground retreat was a signal that you were about to get glassed.”
Fitzsimmons frowned. “Oh.”
A deafening silence filled the tank as the battle raged on outside. They were all practically running on autopilot, shooting and maneuvering around the battlefield.
“Driver! Halt! You guys seeing that? Towards their shield generators!” Taylor called out.
“Oh shit!” Fitzsimmons exclaimed. In the distance, one of the Republic ships started to lift into the air.
Taylor and Summers had seen similar sights in the last war. Like the last war, plasma began raining down onto the UNSC line.
The Recluse tank flipped over and Taylor’s world went black.
CT-2310 ‘Jic’
Jic and the remainder of his platoon were scrambling to get to the evacuation rendezvous point for a chance at making it out of this battle alive. Even if the orders were straight from the top, withdrawal made no sense whatsoever. He and his brothers had the Terrans on the run, but ever since the retreat had been sounded, it seemed they couldn’t make it five meters without getting shelled by artillery, bombed, or strafed.
Only Bly’s quick thinking had given them any hope of making it back to the initial landing zone. They had gone from nearly being encircled, to having a slim line connecting the front to the landing zone.
“Come on boys, only a hundred more meters!” He shouted to the 10 others left, the platoon picking up into a sprint.
The Juggernaut tank seemed so close, yet so far at the same time. The tank was spewing fire in all directions while it loaded Clones by the dozens.
While he was running, Jic picked out swift black outlines out of the corner of his eye. A large wing of bombers streaked overhead, receiving a token amount of AA fire before releasing large canisters.
"By the Force!" Was all that Jic had to say before the first canister exploded in a massive firestorm which twisted the Juggernaut in front of him, enveloping whole platoons of Troopers.
As the bombs kept dropping, Jic dropped into a prone position and searched for cover.
As the wall of fire filled his vision, he exhaled and dove into a foxhole, making the grizzly decision to hide under the body of a dead Terran.
As the bombs fell, Jic felt that he would not make it out alive.
HAVw A6 Juggernaut, 327th Star Corps
Bly shook his head as another Juggernaut was erased from his tactical holoscreen.
Bly had used the last of his heavy armor and the Acclamator Indignant to create a narrow five kilometer wide corridor to ferry troops back to the landing zones. It seemed like it was getting smaller by the second, getting squeezed in every possible way by Terran artillery, bombers, and infantry seemingly everywhere ato once within his lines.
His Juggernaut tanks were continually running back and forth down the battlefield ferrying troops back to the ships 500 at a time, hundreds over its intended capacity. He himself hitched a ride on one, turning it into his new command center.
Outside of the safety of the shield generator, the Indignant was under constant harassment from Terran bombers. Three quarters of his AT-ATs were gone, mostly from the aforementioned bombers. Half of his AT-TEs were out of action as well.
Bly cursed as the Juggernaut rattled from the impacts of a Terran aircraft’s slugthrowers.
He felt the armored beast come to a halt, signifying they were picking up more brothers. Bly tensed up, he knew what was coming next. Enemy fire seemed to rattle off the armor plating with no end in sight. Missiles, slugs, and even the occasional laser blast seemed to do nothing to stop it.
Bly sighed in relief as the tank began rolling again.
“Bly, we’re the last transport coming back. We can finally get off this Force forsaken planet.” Galle said, sporting a sling around his now unarmoured arm.
“Don’t speak too soon brother, we still have a couple kilometers to go before some fierfek in a bomber ruins our day.” Inc said.
“We’ll make it.” Bly said hopefully. He turned to one of his staff. “Status report on the Terran orbital defense batteries?”
“Our heavy artillery reports they’ve just completely knocked it out, Commander.”
“Good, get the Indignant into a higher position to vape any kriff dumb enough to follow us.” Bly was very relieved. Maybe he and the boys would get home at this rate.
UNSC Warhound
“Sir! We have an incoming response from the Republic fleet!” The communications officer said with urgency.
Admiral White smirked. “Let’s see what they have to say.”
"Enemy transmission coming on screen." The AI announced before turning to the Admiral.
A man of medium stature in a Republic officer’s uniform appeared on the screen. His rank insignia outed him as a captain.
“This is Captain Piett of the Republic Navy to the Terran admiral. I demand that you stand down and surrender your forces, both in space and on the ground. You are to power down all engines and weaponry, and prepare your ships to undergo boarding procedures. Any perceived aggression or failure to meet these demands will be met with an orbital bombardment. You have fifteen minutes to comply.” The transmission cut out.
Everyone on the bridge silently glanced at each other.
Admiral White’s smug composure soon turned to anger. The threat wasn’t merely directed against the units which had nearly swarmed the Republic landing zone, but also possibly the very city they were defending. He wouldn’t imagine they would purposefully open fire on the settlement, but war had taught him to leave nothing to chance.
“Son of a bitch!” Admiral White cursed while slamming his fist onto a metal railing. “What happened to Fort Longston? What’s the status of the Punic Battlegroup?”
“Sir, Fort Longston just got taken out!” An officer reported.
“The Trafalgar and her battlegroup are still one to three hours away.” MacArthur said.
He balled his hand into a fist and lightly bit into his pointer finger. ‘How the hell will I get out of this one?’ He thought.
He had fifteen minutes to decide. He wondered why they gave him so much time to decide, but they certainly tied his hands together.
"How are the rescue operations going?" White asked, partially to put his own mind a little more at ease.
"We have recovered survivors from the Bellophron, the Edge of Darkness, and the Shinanio. However, fleet wide casualties stand at around 25,000 crew with another 5,000 wounded. With the groundside Marine and Army casualties we are looking at 14,500 approximately." MacArthur answered.
Admiral White cringed as he mumbled. "So many families ruined, all in a single day."
The rescue teams cutting their way through the ruins of trashed warships to get to those trapped inside were making progress, but it would take hours to reach all of them at best.
“We’ll make it count.” Captain Haithum said with determination.
“We damn well better.” Admiral White replied.
Admiral White took a moment to think. As bad as the UNSC's losses had been, he couldn't help but cringe at the thought of the losses the Republic had taken.
According to the intel available to him, each Republic ship had as many as 10,000 to 20,000 crew on some ships, which meant that their losses could be up to two hundred thousand in the fleet alone.
White ran his hand through his hair as MacArthur's avatar turned to him.
“We could falsely surrender, sir. It would buy us some time.”
Admiral White gave the AI an incredulous look. “Normally I’d tell you I wouldn’t play dirty, but these bastards already are.”
“Just a suggestion.” MacArthur said. “We can wait until we only have a few minutes left.”
Admiral White nodded.
He promised himself he’d see to it personally that whoever was commanding the enemy fleet would hang at the end of the war.
RNS Accuser
"Status report on the hyperdrive!" Piett all but yelled as the chief engineer replied as fast as he could over the intercom. If he was going to go through with what he was about to do, he didn’t want to stick around.
"Sir, my men and the repair droids are nearly done, we can probably make a safe jump in the condition we are in. If we bypass the navigational safeties we’ll be home at Taris in a week. However I can't guarantee that we’ll hold together sir."
The sounds in the background certainly confirmed the hectic nature of the hyperdrive core, where any engineers that weren’t tied up sealing the hull breaches dotting the star destroyer were.
"It will have to do." He answered before looking back at the tactical display of the fleet.
Some of the ships wouldn’t be able to jump alongside the Accuser. As such, the crews of those vessels were scuttling their ships en masse. Commander Bly had finally lifted off the planet, with the Terrans not lifting a finger to stop him. That made things easier since there was no longer the risk of friendly fire from an orbital turbolaser strike.
Lifepod retrieval was going well as well, 90% had been retrieved by a dispatched Venator with a startlingly empty hangar bay.
One of the last Venators, the Guralia, was being evacuated as its reactor was beginning to melt down. The ship was hardly even space worthy anymore, as it had been hit by a MAC round, ‘luckily’ from a frigate. But still, the entire bow of the ship was a wreck, the hanger was trashed and a full tenth of its mass was obliterated, shattered, or breaking apart as hull sections began to crumple and tear off.
Though it was no longer entirely useful as a warship, it would prove valuable as something else.
"Maneuver us behind the Guralia and put us 5 kilometers away, we can use it as a shield." Piett asked as he watched his executive officer talking with some of the captains of the other vessels via courier shuttles and short wave comlinks.
“Aye aye sir.” The helmsman said.
The fleet was currently in a high orbit just over the main landmass of the world, with their underbelly guns aimed directly at the Terran formations surrounding the city and which had pursued the retreating Clone forces.
If he wanted the whole fleet to move out of the gravity well, it would be pitifully slow considering the state of some of their sunlight engines. The most intact ship in the fleet was probably the Corellian Winter, a Victory II which had gone relatively unscathed. The gravitational pull of the planet spelt doom for Piett’s retreat since they’d be unable to jump to hyperspace.
Piett engrossed himself in deep thought, trying to escape the mess that was this battle, his mind ran through as many possibilities as he could think of. ‘Wait! It is possible to make a jump inside of a gravity well with the safeties of the navigation computer having been deactivated. Risky. It could send us into a star or any number of things.’ Piett's mind raced as he recalled his lessons at the Officers academy years ago.
It was technically possible, but it had the chance to shoot a ship on a completely random vector.
‘It would be suicide to make a full jump back to our desired coordinates. We could make a hypothetical micro jump and escape into deep space where there would be nothing stopping us from making a proper jump. It would all have to be done manually. The fleet would only have a five second window to perform such a maneuver. That was fine, considering the damage some of the fleet had sustained.’
“Have the rest of the fleet’s ships slaved to our controls.” Piett said. The jump wouldn’t work anyway else. They all had to be precisely coordinated. Other than that, it would help in case the Terrans didn’t surrender.
Only the ship commanders closest to Tarkin had been informed of what might need to be done. The rest of the fleet was clueless, and would be unlikely to comply with even the thought of possibly hitting a civilian center as collateral damage. Slaving the controls to the flagship would ensure that necessary firepower would be available to utterly decimate any possible groundside resistance.
The UNSC fleet was ominously formed against them, unnervingly still. Piett knew they were planning to do something, but that didn’t matter as long as it bought time for his own fleet.
The two fleets stood opposed to each other, with less than 10,000 kilometers between them. The UNSC’s main guns, missiles, and secondary batteries seemed to be all ready to send each surviving ship to the grave if necessary.
Piett’s fleet was aimed half at the enemy fleet, and half at the planet.
There were 5 minutes left on the clock. ‘Those Terrans better surrender.’ Captain Piett thought. He honestly hoped they would.
“Incoming transmission from the Terrans, sir!”
“Put them on!” Piett said with enthusiasm.
The Terran admiral came on screen. “We accept your terms.”
Captain Piett smirked as the transmission ended.
UNSC Warhound
“Did I look convincing? Admiral White asked Captain Haithum.
“You could’ve fooled me.” He smirked.
“Did the Air Force get our message?”
“They did, sir. The stealth drones should be in place soon enough.” The comms officer replied. “Evacuation efforts for the city are beginning now, sir.”
"The guidance escort Owls are nearing the Republic flagship. ETA three minutes.” MacArthur said.
“Alright, inform the fleet, we’ve got at least 5 minutes until they start sending ships over.”
“Aye aye sir.” MacArthur replied.
RNS Accuser
"Sir, the enemy admiral is saying they are having trouble shutting down certain systems on some of their ships from battle damage. He says that large sections of their power systems were destroyed, if he rerouted power from their weaponry he could lose the ships to the gravity well of the planet. He says it will be up to thirty minutes before he can truly power down." The communication's officer announced.
Captain Piett raised his eyebrow and turned to his sensor operator. “Do you believe him?”
"Scans of his fleet do point to a number of ships being heavily damaged, so it's not a stretch." The man replied. “Their armaments also require a substantial amount of energy as well.”
“Well then, let them fix their problem, the more enemy ships focused on trying to remain intact the better.” Piett said.
“Sir! Incoming contacts! They’re Terrans, energy levels spiking!” The sensor operator urgently stated.
Piett gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “Fire a heavy barrage and then jump immediately!”
UNSC Warhound
“I’ve got new contacts!” The sensor operator called out. “Wait, slipspace ruptures detected! IFF signals coming in, it's the Trafalgar and her battlegroup!"”
150,000 kilometers from the fleet, over a hundred slipspace ruptures emerged.
Over a hundred ships emerged out of the ruptures into the blackness of space.
Four Warlock, seven Autumn, and eight Marathon Heavy Cruisers, 21 Halberd destroyers, and over 50 frigates of various classes emerged, all led by a single ship longer than the Warhound herself.
A Punic-Class Supercarrier, and this particular one, was the Trafalgar.
It was considered by many to be the second most powerful class of ship in the fleet next to the Infinity-Class. The ships were armed with two Super MACs, forty particle cannons and 350 Archer Missile pods. Though not as numerous as the four MACs found on the Medusa battleships, the two MACs were only half as powerful as the Super MACs on the ODPs over Earth, Reach, or any other fortified world. It was still more than capable of killing all but the largest Covenant warships, the titanic supercarriers, in one shot.
On top of that were massive hangers which carried up to 500 Fascines, 230 Longswords, not to mention the frigates or destroyers she could mount within her internal docking bays.
All this extra firepower meant nothing, because they had arrived at the worst possible time.
The ships, having a clear shot at the Republic fleet without the colony within their sights, began to ready their weapons to fire and quickly accelerated.
“This is Rear Admiral Dean, I am engaging the enemy!”
Admiral White began to yell in almost a panic. “Tell them to shut off their weapons and stop immediately! Get me a line to Admiral Dean!”
"We have communications from the Trafalgar, Rear Admiral Dean commanding." MacArthur announced.
The feed came online as the Rear Admiral, his face filled with concern, asked while saluting. "What is the situation sir? What the hell is happening?"
“Negative, do not engage! Disengage! Disengage! They’re going to fire on the colony!”
His warning came too late.
UNSC D102 Owl-Class Insertion Craft, Flanker 56
"This is Executrix command, do you copy?" The controller on the enemy warship said, probably talking to some other Republic ship.
The pilot of the D102 Owl liked to listen in on the enemy communications, no matter how mundane. His dropship was loaded down with 20 heavily armed ODSTs and followed by three other Owls escorting four stealth drones superficially similar to C712 Longswords, themselves escorted by a squadron of C718 Longswords which were drifting alongside them with all systems totally dark.
He carefully maneuvered the dropship through the ruins of Republic warships that made the Owl look like a speck of dust in comparison.
The man couldn't help but whistle at some of the damage the ships had as he was forced to avoid several rather large chunks of them.
He was a secondary measure to make sure the drones got to the docking bay of the de facto enemy flagship to detonate their nuclear payload. He had picked up the ODSTs before he had received his new orders.
Though exhausted from the countless trips in between the ground forces or helping the evacuation of Long Range Base Five, which was now breaking up from the sheer amount of damage it had taken from heavy weapons fire, he and his copilot were ready to do just about anything.
"You know, you still owe me a drink." He said to his copilot as he neared a dozen kilometers from the Star Destroyer, the triangular warship growing ever larger by the second as it began to become the main viewing material for him other than the surface of the planet below.
"Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are that they bought the Admiral’s surrender, but it’s not like his tactics were any less dirty against the Covenant." The copilot chuckled as he checked the status of the engines and weapons, just in case things went sour.
"Yeah I..." Flanker 56 stopped mid sentence as he stared at the sensor readings on his HUD.
"Oh, shit. The energy readings just went off the scale!" He exclaimed before opening a link to the flight controller back on his home ship, the carrier Graf Spee.
"Are you reading this?" He asked. He could hear in the background of the CIC the commotion of the crews racing to their stations in preparation for the worst.
"Yes we are! Mission abort, bug out now!" The woman on the other end sternly ordered.
"Shit, it always goes sour!" His copilot moaned as the Owls and their escorts began to split and race back to their ships.
Just before Flanker 56 could flip his ship over to turn back, the enemy fleet began firing.
"What the hell?" His copilot roared.
Flanker 56 narrowly dodged an errant turbolaser bolt which would’ve vaporized the Owl instantly. "Why are they shooting? Admiral White didn’t tick them off, did he?"
His rambling was cut off as one of the ships left in front of him, a Republic Victory II if he remembered correctly, unleashed a full broadside of every weapon it had, sending a wall of green, red, and blue plasma toward its target.
The surface.
"Please God, no. Please don't tell me that that is what I think it was."
He could already see fireballs erupting on the continent below through the cockpit.
UNSC Warhound
"TAKE THOSE FUCKERS DOWN! CONCENTRATE FIRE ON THEIR FLAGSHIP!" Admiral White all screeched as the Warhound and the other ships of the fleet prepared to fire at the enemy.
Turbolaser bolts flew towards the UNSC ships, the shields taking the beating.
The Warhound opened fire with her quick to charge secondary weapons while her MACs were still warming up with the rest of the fleet following in similar fashion. The ship poured out everything she had available to try and destroy the Republic flagship, but another ship was covering it.
The ship simply ceased to be as thousands of projectiles and explosives turned it into nothing more than bits and pieces no larger than a small house in under ten seconds, but not before the enemy flagship and the rest of its fleet seemed to stretch in space before shooting off into the expanse.
A Hyperspace jump.
"Where did they hit?!" Admiral White demanded, running over to a tactical display and MacArthur's visibly worried avatar while trying to hear over the panic which had taken hold of the whole fleet.
"We’ve lost all contact with the colony. What’s left of our ground elements are reporting that smoke and dust is already visible from the direction of the city."
MacArthur paused as Gregory felt the air catch in his throat.
"Flyover from a Longsword is confirming sir, there is nothing left of the colony. The surrounding terrain was set on fire and it’s sending up a lot of smoke and dust." The communications officer said.
The crew of the Warhound, many of whom had served alongside Admiral and witnessed untold destruction wrought by the hands of the Covenant, closed their eyes in anger while the younger crew members and officers gasped and covered their faces.
"Sir, what of the other Republic ships?" MacArthur asked.
Admiral White shot Captain Haithum a glance.
The Captain’s normally calm face was as full of as much anger as his own while he went about managing his ship through the chaos.
"Destroy them. Every last one of them. I don’t care if they’re empty. And get me a link to General Hudung if he’s still alive." White hissed as the AI nodded and relayed the commands to the other ships of the fleet.
The crews paused for a split second before complying.
The remaining Republic ships, all but crippled, were helpless as any remaining crews watched the UNSC ships close and fire.
Three new suns briefly dotted the skies as the CIWS on the UNSC ships shot down any escape pod that they could see.
There were no survivors.
CT-2310 ‘Jic’
"What in the nine Corellian hells happened?" One of the Clones next to Jic remarked.
He was just one Clone marching in the long line of a seemingly endless stream of surrendering Clone Troopers. They were all disarmed, unarmoured, and under the guard of UNSC vehicles and infantry who seemed to be itching to shoot on any particularly difficult prisoners.
"I don't know." Jic replied. "But I think that that cloud of smoke from the east certainly has something to do with it. I could’ve sworn I saw turbolaser bolts."
"No way, the fleet would never bombard the city. Maybe they hit that base giving the vacheads in the fleet trouble?" The clone, nicknamed ‘Gunner’ for his love of heavy weapons and his position on an AT-TE as its main gunner, asked.
"No, the base is farther away." Jic replied. “And last I heard the fleet was still fighting them in space.”
“Well of course they were fighting them in space, where else would they be? On the ground with us troopers?” Gunner jested, earning chuckles from some nearby Clones.”
“You know what I mean, stoopa.”
As they trudged along the rocky trail, they began to slowly climb a ridge. A four-wheeled UNSC recon vehicle with a stern looking Terran on the machine slugthrower passed them.
Thirty minutes after they had begun this march, the UNSC soldiers had all become very angry looking, some cursing and others having to be restrained by some officers after assaulting their prisoners.
He didn't know what had happened, but after having been told that the UNSC would take prisoners as opposed to the CIS, all the Clone Troopers and himself were a little at ease when they surrendered.
However, something had happened since he’d surrendered.
As they climbed on, they passed two Terrans visibly arguing.
"Sir, I respectfully refuse to follow these fucking orders! I know what they did was awful and I am pissed as all hell too, but these guys have nothing to do with it!" A Terran with a larger weapon was shouting at another man, who was apparently an officer, his armor having differing rank designations. He was also wearing a hat with the UNSC insignia instead of the helmet their grunts typically wore. If Jic remembered correctly, he was a major.
"Private, you and anyone who doesn’t want to follow these orders are not being forced to. These are from the top. I agree with them, it’s fine if you don’t. You will however report to debriefing when we RTB, is that understood?" The officer replied coolly.
The Terran private saluted. "Yes sir, understood and thank you."
"What the hell was that about?" Gunner asked as they crested the top of the ridge.
"I've seen that a lot in the past few minutes." Another clone stated as they marched.
"About half of the UNSC soldiers I've seen were marching the other way or were doing the same thing. Whatever order they received seems to be unpopular, but they are not forcing them to follow it. Though it seems like enough are."
Reaching the top, Jic found himself along the edge of a large cliff that overlooked the terrain for miles.
And miles away near the horizon, a gigantic pillar of smoke and flame was reaching into the sky. It made the other fires from the battle look miniscule as a pair of Terran dropships flew in low overhead, their engines roaring as they shot towards the fire and the setting sun.
"Oh kriff!" Jic exclaimed.
"All Clones halt!" A loudspeaker shouted as the Republic Troopers, now prisoners of war, obeyed.
UNSC soldiers and several armed UNSC vehicles lined up parallel behind them.
"Turn forward and walk ten paces, place your hands on your head. Thank you for your cooperation." The loudspeaker, apparently mounted on one of the light Terran wheeled vehicles, blared.
Looking at each other they complied. Jic began to question why they were so close to the edge before he gulped. Jic felt that each of them knew what was about to happen, or was realizing it.
"What the hell are they…" Gunner asked as he was cut off by the cocking of weapons behind them.
Time seemed to slow as Jic's heart caught in his throat. "Oh skrag..."
Hundreds of weapons all spat flame and shell casings as the UNSC soldiers fired.
Gunner’s body and those nearest to him began to twitch like puppets as bullets went through them in sprays of blood.
Jic tried in vain to run before he felt two slugs pass through his bodyglove and into his chest.
He cried as he spat up blood, turning around in time to see the barrel of a UNSC spit flame.
Jic did not feel the slug from the gauss rifle pass through his skull.
His limp body soon tumbled down the cliff along with hundreds of others.
RNS Intrepid
Sitting in the bridge of the former enemy flagship, John clenched his fist as Cortana informed him of the situation unfolding groundside, the orders that had been given, and the status of the fleet as the ONI Prowler docked with the ship to pick the Spartan-II. The ship had settled into a low orbit over the planet with the rest of the UNSC fleet and its considerable reinforcements.
"This war will not be so different after all." He stated in a low voice as he remembered one of the lessons the AI Déjà had taught him when the Spartans were training.
‘Mankind's greatest threat, no matter how advanced he becomes or how many worlds fill his grasp, will always be himself.’
Hyperspace
In the swirling depths of hyperspace on board the escape pod, Aayla shot up with a start.
Her body was cold and covered in sweat, and her leg still was in pain despite the bacta.
Having propped herself against the bulkhead of the small cabin, she had immediately fallen asleep after cleaning her wounds.
What woke her up was not the nearly constant and unbearable pain.
It was the Force. Something terrible had happened.
Something that would change the galaxy.