Halo: Eclipse (IC/Reboot/OPEN)

[New Grestin]

"Years ago, when I was still young we had a platoon sergeant who was taken from us. So we started a tradition, of a post mission toast; we drank to the memory of our fallen comrades but also to the success of the mission. That is what we are doing here, here we drink to the success of our mission and to the return of our comrades. Drink up!"

Carol raised an eyebrow at Bressler's speech. He was an odd man, that much she understood. Her distaste for him still burned with a passion beyond reproach, but she could appreciate his reverence for his fallen friends. She'd lost plenty of people she cared for, plenty of people she'd liked, maybe a few she could say she loved. Their deaths tore into her, etched into her soul. Black marks on her very mind. She sighed and plopped down in one of the chairs, but her hand never went for a glass.

"I don't drink" she said, toying with her necklace of dogtags. Most were readable, still. A few here and there were damaged. She even noticed one had been partially melted by plasma. Part of her wondered how she'd even acquired it. The memory escaped her grasp. Thorne's voice broke the camaraderie.

"Let's hope we have many more down the road."

A smile creased across her lips. The spartan was awkward, even a little strange, but in a rather endearing kind of way. He reminded her of her old spotter, back during training. He'd been a shitheel, but the two were the best of friends. That was, of course, until an Elite decapitated him with his sword. No, no, no need to remember that. That was when they'd been captured. The Covenenant didn't take well to snipers, especially ones that hid in the brush. One of the leaders, a rather garishly armored one, decapitated Alan and had her-

Stop. Stop thinking about it. Just enjoy the moment for once, you mopey fuck.

She merely shrugged, propping her feet up on the table and relaxing. Hopefully, the next mission would giver her some time to really get into her element. CQB always made her nervous. Too many variables, too much to account for. It was nothing like long distance. Just her and a rifle; that was her happy place. An odd notion, she mused, but there was something cathartic about having all the time in the world to plan a perfect shot. Something viscerally thrilling about seeing someone miles away dead by your hand.

Her gaze fell on Bressler, and she mockingly raised her hand in a pretend toast.

"To your fallen comrades" she said. "And to your incredibly pleasant company". The second part dripped with disdain.

[Beiarusia]

Mission 02: Hushed Casket
1113 hours, 27 February 2550 // UNSC Memento Mori, Unknown Star System

Ethan stood in the bridge, arms crossed, the room dim as usual with only the consoles and the umber backdrop of some unknown planet to light the way. Shepherd was seated at the captain’s chair, fingers steepled and with his chin resting atop the hook of his thumbs, staring ahead with a growing sense of discernible impatience. Welles, worry hidden poorly behind the passive look of someone hard at work, was at her own console, glancing from the readouts to peer at the captain every so often before averting her gaze back down. The remainder of the bridge crew was either working on some task or waiting for something to happen, mute and allowing the silence to permeate the air with little complaint.

Several months had passed since Ethan’s sudden reassignment to the Memento Mori. Final shakedowns had been performed over Tribute and, having received a green light, the ship had been assigned to patrol the inner colonies until ONI had some suitable task for them to accomplish. While Shepherd had been vocal in his displeasure over such a simple assignment there had been little reason for the Lieutenant to complain. In that time the crew had had the opportunity to familiarize themselves with one another, something which Ethan hoped would lead to better team dynamics whilst on mission. Of course there were a few rough patches here and there that had yet to be ironed out but everyone, for the most part, seemed tolerable if not outright affable. They all were, for better or for worse, on the same boat, both metaphorically and quite literally, and bad blood was something which paled in comparison to the greater purpose at hand.

“I don’t like this.”

These were the first words to break the silence that had since permeated throughout the bridge of the ship: an oppressing quiet that grew even more so with each passing second without change. The time allotted had long since run its course.

“They should have been here by now,” continued Shepherd with a scowl crossing his rugged face.

“Give them a bit a longer,” deadpanned Ethan from where he stood, his eyes not leaving the planet.

Shepherd sent a stark glare towards the commanding officer of Eclipse. “And how long should we wait? ONI is nothing if not punctual. Fuck, they should have jumped in system way before we even did. They aren’t here; they aren’t coming, so I say we get back to friendly space before some patrol finds us and smokes our sorry asses.”

“Slipspace rupture detected,” announced Dawn suddenly, materializing above the rightmost of the two holo-projectors, her azure light doing little to affect the gloom of the bridge. With a small wave of the hand she adjusted the ship’s map to pinpoint the source. “Signature is faint. Extreme range. I do not think they want to be found.”

Ethan stepped closer, arms still crossed. “Sounds like a Prowler to me. Try hailing them.”

“Already done,” informed the ethereal woman.

The second holo-projector hummed to life, Dusk taking form with a displeased look to his face as he looked to his sister. “We haven’t confirmed their ID tags yet! Regardless the Prowler is running behind schedule. What if the mission was compromised? You just gave away our position.”

“You worry too much,” Dawn bantered, seeming to adjust her glasses without making much of a difference.

Dusk was about to respond when Shepherd intervened, silencing both of the constructs with an icy glare before the argument could even begin. Since being reassigned the captain had proven to be the only one capable of reigning in the quarrelsome A.I., perhaps one of the many reasons for why he was granted the Memento Mori in the first place.

Welles spoke up suddenly from her console. “We got a response. Confirming the ship’s ID tag as the UNSC Daedalus.”

Dawn gave a knowing look; Dusk only fumed in silent indignation.

The frigate, having lain in wait on the darkside of some unknown planet far from the fringes of human space, came to from its slumber, its engines finding life as the ship moved to break geosynchronous orbit. Soon visual confirmation was made as the two UNSC vessels made to rendezvous.

The UNSC Daedalus, an ONI Prowler, had spent the last seven months operating well outside of known space on an assignment that was classified even to them. Not willing to take any chances whatsoever, the Office of Naval Intelligence had dispatched Eclipse to act as escort as the Prowler made its return journey back to Reach, a simple enough task that broke the monotony of patrolling the inner colonies even if the risk of engagement was extremely low if not nonexistent.

“Prepare for a random jump and then make course for Reach,” commanded Shepherd from his seat, straightening so as to adopt a more authoritarian posture, hiding away his eagerness. Patrolling the outer colonies was risky in of itself. Being so far from any known Human planet was even more of a risk, so it was understandable that Shepherd was ready to be back in the familiar.

Dawn nodded. “Sending appropriate course corrections and… wait.”

Shepherd tensed at the sudden hiccup.

“What-,” began Ethan before being cut off by the A.I.

“Slipspace rupture! Close!”

Space seemed to tera as the void of Slipspace came ever briefly into existence. Emerging from this nothingness came a vaguely organic vessel, hull elongated and glistening violet in the light of the system’s only star.

“Identifying a Covenant CCS-class battlecruiser!” barked Dusk while simultaneously adjusting the map to account for the new arrival relative to their own position. It was unneeded. The crew could see the alien ship well enough, directly before them and tailing after the Prowler.

They were on a collision course.

“Emergency maneuvers!” Shepherd shouted, gripping at his seat.

The Memento Mori quickly altered course, narrowly avoiding a direct hit, passing uncomfortably close with the chitinous hull of the battlecruiser. The Covenant either didn’t notice the frigate or didn’t feel bothered enough to engage, pushing ahead as the Daedalus dove into a low orbit in a gamble to break free of the pursuer. It never did. A bright light flashed as a beam of superheated light flared from the battlecruiser’s dorsal energy projector, glancing the Prowler and tearing into its engines, the vastly smaller ship caught in the gravity well and plummeting towards the planet.

“Distress signal coming through!” announced Welles moments later. “The Prowler crew is making an emergency landing on planet.”

“Then get after them!” ordered Shepherd.

“And the Covenant?” queried Dawn.

Dusk answered. “We blast through them.” To the captain: “MAC is charged and ready.”

“Keep it ready if we need a plan B.” Shepherd added, “A ship that size will blast us out of the water, so maybe prepare a nuke while you’re at it. Take us in low. If we’re lucky we’ll be there and back before they can deploy anything sizeable.” He looked over Ethan, who had only just avoided falling over during the maneuvers. “Looks like you have a job to do.”

Ethan nodded, turning to depart when Dawn stopped him. “Orders, sir?”

After a second’s thought the Lieutenant spoke, calm despite the circumstances but with a forceful undertone, his words broadcasted throughout the ship. “This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

And with that he departed, to join his soldiers in battle.

[Taigawa]

Mission 02: Hushed Casket
1113 hours, 27 February 2550 // UNSC Memento Mori, Unknown Star System

Ethan stood in the bridge, arms crossed, the room dim as usual with only the consoles and the umber backdrop of some unknown planet to light the way. Shepherd was seated at the captain’s chair, fingers steepled and with his chin resting atop the hook of his thumbs, staring ahead with a growing sense of discernible impatience. Welles, worry hidden poorly behind the passive look of someone hard at work, was at her own console, glancing from the readouts to peer at the captain every so often before averting her gaze back down. The remainder of the bridge crew was either working on some task or waiting for something to happen, mute and allowing the silence to permeate the air with little complaint.

Several months had passed since Ethan’s sudden reassignment to the Memento Mori. Final shakedowns had been performed over Tribute and, having received a green light, the ship had been assigned to patrol the inner colonies until ONI had some suitable task for them to accomplish. While Shepherd had been vocal in his displeasure over such a simple assignment there had been little reason for the Lieutenant to complain. In that time the crew had had the opportunity to familiarize themselves with one another, something which Ethan hoped would lead to better team dynamics whilst on mission. Of course there were a few rough patches here and there that had yet to be ironed out but everyone, for the most part, seemed tolerable if not outright affable. They all were, for better or for worse, on the same boat, both metaphorically and quite literally, and bad blood was something which paled in comparison to the greater purpose at hand.

“I don’t like this.”

These were the first words to break the silence that had since permeated throughout the bridge of the ship: an oppressing quiet that grew even more so with each passing second without change. The time allotted had long since run its course.

“They should have been here by now,” continued Shepherd with a scowl crossing his rugged face.

“Give them a bit a longer,” deadpanned Ethan from where he stood, his eyes not leaving the planet.

Shepherd sent a stark glare towards the commanding officer of Eclipse. “And how long should we wait? ONI is nothing if not punctual. Fuck, they should have jumped in system way before we even did. They aren’t here; they aren’t coming, so I say we get back to friendly space before some patrol finds us and smokes our sorry asses.”

“Slipspace rupture detected,” announced Dawn suddenly, materializing above the rightmost of the two holo-projectors, her azure light doing little to affect the gloom of the bridge. With a small wave of the hand she adjusted the ship’s map to pinpoint the source. “Signature is faint. Extreme range. I do not think they want to be found.”

Ethan stepped closer, arms still crossed. “Sounds like a Prowler to me. Try hailing them.”

“Already done,” informed the ethereal woman.

The second holo-projector hummed to life, Dusk taking form with a displeased look to his face as he looked to his sister. “We haven’t confirmed their ID tags yet! Regardless the Prowler is running behind schedule. What if the mission was compromised? You just gave away our position.”

“You worry too much,” Dawn bantered, seeming to adjust her glasses without making much of a difference.

Dusk was about to respond when Shepherd intervened, silencing both of the constructs with an icy glare before the argument could even begin. Since being reassigned the captain had proven to be the only one capable of reigning in the quarrelsome A.I., perhaps one of the many reasons for why he was granted the Memento Mori in the first place.

Welles spoke up suddenly from her console. “We got a response. Confirming the ship’s ID tag as the UNSC Daedalus.”

Dawn gave a knowing look; Dusk only fumed in silent indignation.

The frigate, having lain in wait on the darkside of some unknown planet far from the fringes of human space, came to from its slumber, its engines finding life as the ship moved to break geosynchronous orbit. Soon visual confirmation was made as the two UNSC vessels made to rendezvous.

The UNSC Daedalus, an ONI Prowler, had spent the last seven months operating well outside of known space on an assignment that was classified even to them. Not willing to take any chances whatsoever, the Office of Naval Intelligence had dispatched Eclipse to act as escort as the Prowler made its return journey back to Reach, a simple enough task that broke the monotony of patrolling the inner colonies even if the risk of engagement was extremely low if not nonexistent.

“Prepare for a random jump and then make course for Reach,” commanded Shepherd from his seat, straightening so as to adopt a more authoritarian posture, hiding away his eagerness. Patrolling the outer colonies was risky in of itself. Being so far from any known Human planet was even more of a risk, so it was understandable that Shepherd was ready to be back in the familiar.

Dawn nodded. “Sending appropriate course corrections and… wait.”

Shepherd tensed at the sudden hiccup.

“What-,” began Ethan before being cut off by the A.I.

“Slipspace rupture! Close!”

Space seemed to tera as the void of Slipspace came ever briefly into existence. Emerging from this nothingness came a vaguely organic vessel, hull elongated and glistening violet in the light of the system’s only star.

“Identifying a Covenant CCS-class battlecruiser!” barked Dusk while simultaneously adjusting the map to account for the new arrival relative to their own position. It was unneeded. The crew could see the alien ship well enough, directly before them and tailing after the Prowler.

They were on a collision course.

“Emergency maneuvers!” Shepherd shouted, gripping at his seat.

The Memento Mori quickly altered course, narrowly avoiding a direct hit, passing uncomfortably close with the chitinous hull of the battlecruiser. The Covenant either didn’t notice the frigate or didn’t feel bothered enough to engage, pushing ahead as the Daedalus dove into a low orbit in a gamble to break free of the pursuer. It never did. A bright light flashed as a beam of superheated light flared from the battlecruiser’s dorsal energy projector, glancing the Prowler and tearing into its engines, the vastly smaller ship caught in the gravity well and plummeting towards the planet.

“Distress signal coming through!” announced Welles moments later. “The Prowler crew is making an emergency landing on planet.”

“Then get after them!” ordered Shepherd.

“And the Covenant?” queried Dawn.

Dusk answered. “We blast through them.” To the captain: “MAC is charged and ready.”

“Keep it ready if we need a plan B.” Shepherd added, “A ship that size will blast us out of the water, so maybe prepare a nuke while you’re at it. Take us in low. If we’re lucky we’ll be there and back before they can deploy anything sizeable.” He looked over Ethan, who had only just avoided falling over during the maneuvers. “Looks like you have a job to do.”

Ethan nodded, turning to depart when Dawn stopped him. “Orders, sir?”

After a second’s thought the Lieutenant spoke, calm despite the circumstances but with a forceful undertone, his words broadcasted throughout the ship. “This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

And with that he departed, to join his soldiers in battle.

Finally, some action. Once the call went out, news of the engagement reached her quickly. Felicia went to the armory to get her battle riffle and the other weaponery she'd be using to fight. As word spread through the ship, it became undeniable: Their ship and another, smaller UNSC vessal, were under attack. Looking out a window, Felicia saw the boubous shape of the CCS-Battlecrusier. "Great, we're outclassed and outgunned. I do hope this won't be like Skopje." she thought, before turning away and joining the other soildiers.

[Ubaria]

27th February 2550 - UNSC Memento Mori - Edge of Known Space

It was a relatively quiet 'morning' aboard the Memento Mori, of course it was hard to define morning when the ship was lit up all the time, the bunk rooms had artificial lighting to represent the rising and falling of the sun to help with easing out of sleep. Then again there was the second option for those who had a hard time sleeping, and that was the Cryo-Bays, however many people opted out of that because of the illness some experienced after coming out of cryo-sleep, some people could be violently ill for weeks after exiting the pod. Dragan was one of those people, he had experienced bad freezer burn after thawing out aboard the UNSC Pit Viper, which had almost cost him a couple of limbs, however he was adamant in his recovery.

Instead Dragan had spent most of his time in the Gym training, or Rec room watching Waypoint Videos about various parts of the war, and how the UNSC was getting increasing numbers of refugees landing on Earth and Reach. To keep morale up most of the videos didn't show planets getting glassed and civilian populations massacred, and instead opted to show Covenant ships being destroyed or UNSC personnel blowing up Banshees, things of that sort anyway. Only if people in the Inner Colonies knew the half of it.

Only a few people milled around the Rec room at this hour, most were in the Gym or practicing at the armory. However the dulled atmosphere was broken when the ship groaned profusely, however this wasn't a slipspace jump as it would have been announced beforehand, instead this was an emergency maneuver, backed up by the fact that space was spinning around outside the window. Stars, Planet, Stars and then something nobody wanted to see outside their window. The large purple hull of a Covenant Battle Cruiser, its form blotted out the light coming through the window and took up all the space. Dragan scrambled upwards and out of the door, instinctively heading for the armory to prepare for boarding action.

“This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

A combat drop. It had been too long. Finally some actual fighting, whether or not it actually involved any hostile contact or not. The objective really was to be in and out before the enemy showed up, but of course it never actually panned out like that. The Corporal made his way through the streams of personnel who were heading to their various stations, all the while people shouting to one another over the emergency klaxon. Once in the armory, he suited up in his wortorn BDU which Dragan had made some adjustments to in the downtime. Across the chestpeice 'дракон' was printed in slim white text as well as a small carving of a serpent like head breathing fire, in addition to this he had opted to remove the shoulder pauldrons and replace them with an additional layer of kevlar padding, they would only get in the way whilst handling heavy weaponry anyway. Again Dragan opted for the smaller Carbine variant of the staple MA5 Rifle, he found that its small form allowed for extra maneuverability whilst not sacrificing too much stopping power, although the barrel had been shortened to compensate for the frame, it still could rip Grunts and Jackals to bits, and seriously put down the hurt on an Elite. Whilst they wouldn't be planetside for too long, it couldn't hurt to take an M41 Rocket Launcher, this particular variant ONI had acquired contained an integrated dual purpose targeting suite, meaning it could track Air targets as well as ground based vehicles, useful for small squads as it eliminated the need for a dedicated AA Specialist. Ilyas continued to stock up on ammunition and grenades as more people entered.

[The Greater Gambia]

“This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

Fatou stood up and left for the armory along with the rest of the soldiers. When he got there, he was surprised by the amount of firepower that the ship contained. Some of the weapons he didn't even recognize. He walked over to the M7S SMG, his preferred weapon of choice. While it wasn't the greatest at long distances, it was quiet. Next up, he went over to the pistols, sizing up the different variants. First he tried M6D variant. He had seen it used in the field, and damn was it useful. It was big, however, being an upscaled version designed for Spartans. It would be less effective in his hands.

Next up was the M6G variant. It was smaller then the M6D, but Fatou knew it wasn't the gun for him. He had heard horror stories of marines using it only to find that it wasn't any good against a Elite's shields. Fatou decided against it. Instead, he went for the M6C/SOCOM variant. Like the M7S SMG, it was quiet, but effective. As Fatou added the pistol to his inventory of weapons, he noticed a glare in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to find a single kukri hanging from the wall. He had heard about kukris, how they were used by the gurkhas hundreds of years ago, some of the greatest warriors in history. Fatou picked it up, hoping that he may get the chance to use it.

Fatou then proceeded to put his armor on. He was surprised that ONI went through the trouble to get his old armor. He assumed it was scrapped somewhere and turned into ammunition by now. But no, it was here, right in front of him. Still dawning every scratch and scrape Fatou received on it over the years. The only difference was the right arm. It was now modified to better suit Fatou's new prosthetic arm. Besides that, it was the same armor. It even still had his old squads emblem on it. A cartoon grunt with an X through it.

Fatou looked over the man to his right. He was already in his ODST armor with a M5 Assault Rifle along with a M41 Rocket launcher. Fatou just chuckled.

"I see you want to go loud. I prefer a more...stealthy approach myself." Fatou said to the trooper.

[Dernland]

Ghost
Covenant Carrier, Undisclosed Location

Covenant ships were always large, sometimes they were too large. Ghost had been wandering the winding passageways of this ship for what seemed like days, though it may have only been minutes. Surprisingly, Ghost had not encountered any Covenant on board. It was strange, he expected a ship of this size to be bustling with activity and they surely knew that he was already there. His motion sensors showed nothing but his own movements, and his thermals brought up nothing as well. He gripped the M6D tighter in his hands. Strange, it hadn't been there a moment before. He kept moving down the hall, becoming more worried and cautious with every footfall. He was forced to an abrupt halt by a dead end. He had to get past this somehow, he had to complete his mission. He remembered the demolition charges on his belt and reached for them. He took five of the small rectangles and used an adhesive polymer to attach them to the chitinous wall of the Covenant ship. He retreated to a safe distance and thumbed the detonator. Ghost felt a wave of heat and pressure wash over him as the charges exploded. Then he felt something tug at him, pulling him towards the blasted wall. The air seemed to rush around him, flying out of the hole he just blasted in the side of the ship. NOOOOO! He tried to yell, but no sound emerged from him except for his frantic and rapid breaths as he was sucked out into the void.

Ghost
UNSC Memento Mori, Undisclosed location
0112 hours, 27 February 2550

Ghost slowly regained consciousness. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was, and to regain full control of his faculties. He promptly began to choke on a slime that had settled in his throat and lungs. This did not concern Ghost, much. It was actually quite normal and would have worried him if it had not been that way. He sat up, still gagging and choking, walking over to a nearby disposal tube. He calmed himself and tried to take a deep breath, he failed. Ghost doubled over the disposal tube, clutching the rim and coughing over and over until a thin stream of slime slid out of his mouth. He pushed himself up, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. Blech! This time it tastes like peppermint, but still terrible. Can't you just leave? You're supposed to be dead. I'm not dead, I'm you Joel. No, I am Ghost. You are Joel The voice was silent. Ghost pulled on the black mesh udersuit that went under his armor. He had kept it with him in a footlocker next to his cryotube so that he didn't have to wander the decks of the ship in naught but his skin. It wasn't a good idea to wear anything inside a cryotube, unless you liked Freezer burn. The Cytoprethaline was designed to prevent the so called 'Freezer Burn' and it did it's job, so long as you had no clothes on. Maybe they designed it that way on purpose.

Ghost made his way though the ship to the armory, which was rather unwisely placed on the other side of the ship from the cryo-bay. He approached the door and typed in his access code. The door slid open and he found his locker, one near the door, and again keyed his access code into the locker. The lock clicked and he opened it, revealing matte black plates of armor and a variety of weapons. He removed the pieces of armor and began methodically attaching them to his suit. Within a few minutes he was fully armored and ready to start his day. He was about to reach for his helmet when he felt the ship rumble. What's goin... He didn't even have a chance to finish his thought before he was thrown into his locker with some substantial force. He groaned and pulled himself out of his locker. "This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.” Ghost stood up straight. Battle? Now? It didn't matter. He turned and grabbed his helmet, sliding it over his head and thumbing the seals. He reached back into his locker, retrieving his M6D, a handful of grenades, and his SRS99C. He slipped the pistol into it's holster in his belt and slung the rifle over his shoulder. Ge went back into his locker for ammunition for his weapons.

Ghost jogged the short distance to the drop room. It was full of soldiers and the familiar drop pods. Ghost found his and stood at attention beside it.

[Vacif]

0112 hours, 27 February 2550
UNSC Memento Mori, Galley

Hadrian was sat in the galley eating at the table he usually sat at. With him were some of the crewman assigned to the ship. They sat together at the table beside the window chatting idly, Hadrian listened silently as he ate a bowl of cereal. It was all calm until they heard the ship rumbling. This shut everyone up as they could feel the ship lean slightly, before anyone could say anything, the window beside them was engulfed in purple. This caused crewmen to recoil from the window, surprised at the proximity of the covenant ship. Hadrian quickly downed the rest of his cereal, and wiped his mouth with a conveniently placed napkin. "That's probably a sign we should prepare for battle."

“This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

The men scrambled out of the way to get to their assigned areas, Hadrian made a a beeline for the armory, where several other of soldiers were getting armed. Most of them appeared to be from Bravo, or Charlie. Hadrian went to his locker, and started to strap on his armor. The base was essentially the same as normal marine armor, but features slightly more armor on the legs, and arms without sacrificing too much maneuverability. His helmet was slightly smaller, having a lower profile, without sacrificing protection. He slid his M6D into his leg holster, as he didn't have the fancy magnetized armor plating that the ODST, or Spartans had.

In his time on the Memento, he'd learned some things. One such thing was he had the option to modify his weapons. His 6D had been downsized slightly, fitting into his hands properly, a longer barrel featuring a recoil compensator was attached onto the preexisting barrel so he could fire more rounds in quick succession without breaking his wrist, and giving it more range. The magazine still held the same amount of rounds, and the clip stuck out slightly, but that was the same deal with the M6C/SOCOM.

Hadrian grabbed his Mk.I from the rack, and the BR55HB SR. Loading up on extra ammo, he grabbed some duct tape, and taped some extra magazines to his armor. He made sure to bring an extra EMP (Emergency Medical Packet), and some grenades. Slinging his rucksack onto his back, he jogged to the hangar, and waited for the others. Bravo, and Charlie were going in feet first, which meant Alpha, and Delta were probably going in on Pelicans.

[Merodin]

Recreation Hall, UNSC Memento Mori
SFC. Elizabeth and Lt. Artanis Sylvari

As they hadn't seen each other in six months, the twins were trying to catch up on everything they possibly they could. Ever since they had been deployed to separate locations, they cherished these moments dearly when they could be together like they had been when they were children. Arty was still worried about his sister after what she'd been through on Operation GrabBag. Of course, it was still classified so he couldn't talk to her about it out loud here, but he hoped that he wouldn't have to. So far she seemed to be holding up fine, not showing any of the usual symptoms of depression he'd seen in others.

As Arty poured both of them a glass of mineral water, Elizabeth took the time to look around at the others again. There was another woman with a necklace of dog tags, rather strange but she figured they must've been lost squad mates. That was something she could relate to. After Elizabeth had lost her team in the failed op, she'd been putting on a brave face for her brother so he wouldn't worry about her or feel guilty. She brushed off his concerns with jokes and smiles, but she was still hurting inside. The nonchalant attitude was a little unnerving considering their line of work and Elizabeth didn't particularly care for the disdain the woman had shown towards the drinker.

"Here you go." Arty said, putting the water jug back on the counter and reaching for the ice. The glass clinked as the ice splashed into the poured water.

Elizabeth took the offered glass and drank from it. It was over the lid of her drink that she saw the man in the shadows, watching her. Arty saw his twin pause and then followed her gaze to see the same man. When he started banging his head against the wall, the two looked at each other and exchanged glances.

"Interesting people on this ship..." Elizabeth muttered into her glass, turning back to the counter to see a new arrival sit down and pull out a datapad with the news.

"Makes life all the more fun, doesn't it?" chuckled her brother, taking a long swig of water.

"Mmmm, I think you and I have different opinions on 'what's 'fun' then." smirked Elizabeth, swirling the liquid around in her glass.

It was then that Woods came over the P.A and broke them from their pleasant reverie with the sudden announcement of imminent combat.

Arty stood up and downed the rest of his glass before leaving it on the counter. "Damn it. I leave them alone for two seconds..."

"Leave it to today of all days that we get our lovely reunion interrupted." sighed Elizabeth, leaving the glass behind. "I need to go get ready."

"Hey," Arty said, catching her by the wrist. "Stay safe, alright? Try not to be too much of a hero." he winked at her, smiling.

"Arty, I'm eight minutes older. C'mon, I should be telling you to be safe." Elizabeth laughed, hugging her brother for a brief few seconds before stepping away again.

"Now, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone alright?" she called over her shoulder as she started walking towards the exit.

"Ha! No promises!" he replied, waving her off. Soon as she was gone, he sighed and headed towards the bridge.


Bridge, UNSC Memento Mori
Lt. Artanis Sylvari

After seeing off his sister, Arty made a beeline for the bridge. What exactly was going on up there, he wondered. Though he did worry about his sister, he knew she'd be alright. Elizabeth had been through the worst the war had thrown at her so far. But that was just it, so far. Now they were on an ONI Special Operations ship whose existence was no doubt buried deep under red tape and classified seals. Arty would bet his chips that the Mori was in for some crazy shit soon.

Once on the bridge, Arty sat down at his station and began following normal combat procedure for an Intel officer. First priority was making sure all data onboard was protected and secure. His second priority was data collection, gathering mission details and everything he could while fighting the enemy to pick through later. Third was operations support, providing intel for operatives to use in the field when necessary.

His fingers were a blur as they flew across the holographic interface with all manner of programs running on the projection simultaneously. He was nothing if not highly efficient at his job.

Armoury, UNSC Memento Mori
SFC. Elizabeth Sylvari

Soon as she had left her brother behind, Elizabeth ran straight towards the armoury, her feet pounding against the ship's metallic floor. When she arrived she saw that she was not the first one, seeing several others already grabbing their gear. Elizabeth saw the strikingly tall woman first, whose name was "Felicia" she saw by looking at her name plate, with a battle rifle. She certainly looked ready for a fight. Elizabeth made sure to skirt around her to get to her own locker.

She then ran into a corporal with what looked like Russian characters on his chest piece and a breathing fire serpent design. The thing that surprised her though was the rocket he'd picked up. Did he seriously mean to lug that thing around planetside? She couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to overcompensate for something, which made her smirk a little. Arty would've laughed if he were there. She wished that their brief reunion hadn't been interrupted again, she'd missed spending time with him.

Elizabeth overheard what the other trooper, who wore a peculiar emblem of an x-ed out grunt on his battered armour, said to the rocket guy. Personally, she agreed. If an op could be pulled off with as little chance for casualties as possible, she'd take it. At the same time, she saw the use that a rocket launcher like the one the guy was carrying could prove useful. She made a mental note to stand near him when the banshees appeared.

Finally arriving at her locker, she stripped and then donned her own armour. Standard black though a red maroon band crossed around her right upper arm, denoting her as a combat medic. Since this was a rescue operation, she brought out her rucksack and carefully packed away the ample amount of medpacks she'd signed out from the ship's infirmary. Elizabeth had all the tools she'd possibly need everything except for an on-sight surgery. That done, she took out her dual M6C/SOCOM sidearms and checked them once over before holstering them to each thigh. Taking extra mags for each, she then closed her locker. If she hadn't needed all the medical supplies she would've preferred to take her M7S SMG, but she was burdened enough with the weight she was already carrying. Her marksmanship with small arms was renown in her old unit, confident in her abilities she knew that Jackals and Grunts would pose her no major threats. Brutes on the other hand, she'd have to use both pistols for, or hope a squadmate could take down their shields for her.

Strapping her combat knives to her leg and tucking the other horizontally along the small of her back, Elizabeth was ready to go. Hefting the sack of medical gear over her shoulder. Red-striped helmet in one hand, she walked out of the armoury and towards the Drop Room, where she found her pod and began to pack her gear away.

[Ubaria]

"I see you want to go loud. I prefer a more...stealthy approach myself."

Dragan paused whilst picking up a spare rocket pack and turned to face the man, who hadn't been part of the initial compliment on-board the ship, the soldier, quickly identified as Sergeant Fatou Sabaleh through the VISR system that had began to boot up.

"Covenant probably know what they're after and they know we'll be coming for it too. No need for tip-toeing around this one" Dragan replied bluntly, referring to the vessel that had just been downed. If the Covenant had any idea what they just shot down, they would already be scrambling planetside to gain access to its data stores. Any UNSC Vessel, especially an ONI one, contained data for hundreds of colonies and even more compromising military records that would seriously hinder the war effort, and even potentially lose it. If any of the ships crew had survived the crash, they would already be scrambling to overload the core, or even detonate a Shiva to deny the enemy their knowledge they so desperately sought.

"And. If they know what they're after. They are going to send as much as it takes to get it." Dragan finished as he gripped the massive launcher by the carry handle and made way for the door.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

Bressler had spent most of his days doing what most platoon sergeants did; the endless amounts of paperless paperwork that were deemed too trivial for an officer and that seemed to appear in his inbox no matter how long he worked on it. Bressler was currently trudging through a supply form over the unit's large amount of assorted and "specialized" ammunition and ordinance when he felt the ship lurch in the all to familiar fashion that signaled evasive maneuvers. The sergeant had clutched his desk until the movement resided, shaking his head Bressler sprinted the whole ten feet to his cabin's closet where he withdrew his armor from it's resting place and began to put the matte black armor on as an announcement came in over the shipboard announcement system.

“This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

well, it's better then this" Bressler mused as he adjusted his right gauntlet and made sure his M6D was strapped securely to his thigh before he exited the cabin and ran past the now bustling hallways to get to the armory adjusting his fatigue cap as he ran. I liked it better, deserted The gunny thought as he side stepped to avoid a missile laden dolly, and moved to his left to not run face first into a pair of running marines. Reaching the armory, Bressler pushed past the organized chaos of ONI operatives to reach his hard cases. Bressler hurriedly undid the top of the first case and withdrew the XBR-55 from it's resting place. Unlike the standard issue rifles, The XBR-55 had a magazine of 60 rounds and featured a selector switch for burst and semi automatic fire; and over the years Bressler had modified the rifle with a heavier barrel, a scope that could switch between 4x and 6x zoom and a laser/light combo mounted on the front left of the upper receiver. The rifle had seen the marine through many engagements and Bressler knew it would prove itself again today as he moved through the armory gathering up other odds and ends. Bressler loaded an entire field pack with C-12 charges, and in the place of a first aid kit brought thermite paste in it's belt pouch. Finally after hooking a trio of grenades to his left belt, Bressler grabbed half a dozen Lotus anti tank mines and stored them in a side carrier that flapped against his armored leg before he tightened the carrier down with a role of tape.

Now loaded up Bressler left the armory with his rifle slung across his back as he lifted his fatigue cap and donned headset before replacing the cover. Lastly, came a pair of sunglasses that while not having the bells and whistles of a helmet still had a basic HUD. The glasses displayed waypoints, Friend and Foe tags, as well as the unit's bio metrics. right now, they were all in the green as he thundered into "Hells Waiting room" and saw a mix of team members, some stood while others were in their pods.

"Let's go!!! Mount Up, Button Up, Shut Up!!!!! We got split-lips to kill!!!" Bressler yelled that last part with glee as he let a smile crack his face as he moved down the aisle's of pods towards his. "Don't bother with your toothbrushes, this one's right down the road!!!"

[The Greater Gambia]

"I see you want to go loud. I prefer a more...stealthy approach myself."

Dragan paused whilst picking up a spare rocket pack and turned to face the man, who hadn't been part of the initial compliment on-board the ship, the soldier, quickly identified as Sergeant Fatou Sabaleh through the VISR system that had began to boot up.

"Covenant probably know what they're after and they know we'll be coming for it too. No need for tip-toeing around this one" Dragan replied bluntly, referring to the vessel that had just been downed. If the Covenant had any idea what they just shot down, they would already be scrambling planetside to gain access to its data stores. Any UNSC Vessel, especially an ONI one, contained data for hundreds of colonies and even more compromising military records that would seriously hinder the war effort, and even potentially lose it. If any of the ships crew had survived the crash, they would already be scrambling to overload the core, or even detonate a Shiva to deny the enemy their knowledge they so desperately sought.

"And. If they know what they're after. They are going to send as much as it takes to get it." Dragan finished as he gripped the massive launcher by the carry handle and made way for the door.

"Well, can't argue with that." Fatou said as the man left for the Drop room. Fatou grabbed one last clip of ammo for his SMG and followed suit. He entered the drop room to find most of the other members of Bravo and Charlie already in there. Fatou took the pod next to one of the other members of Fireteam Charlie. He was glad they would have a medic on this mission. As he put his equipment in his pod, one of the Fireteam leaders was going down the aisle.

"Let's go!!! Mount Up, Button Up, Shut Up!!!!! We got split-lips to kill! Don't bother with your toothbrushes, this one's right down the road!" The man shouted.

Fatou put the last of his equipment into the pod before getting in himself. He had missed the claustrophobic space of a drop pod, the rush of descending onto a planet in what many in the corps called a "flying coffin". There was a sort of sick thrill that Fatou got from it. Besides, Fatou couldn't wait to be planetside again, even if he was dropping right into a warzone.

[Feroxi]

The days following Thorne's arrival came and went, each quicker than the last. They were mostly filled with making acquaintances, which obviously wasn't his strong suit, and sorting through the copious amounts of paper work that accompanied his transfer to the Memento Mori's crew. The shuttle's pilots words were now starting to prove somewhat correct, despite the Spartan disregarding them originally. The Office of Naval Intelligence did have some bureaucracy in its veins after all. In spite of the tedious procedures, Thorne did enjoy meeting his teammates; meanwhile, introducing himself... not so much. He had met most of the ship's occupants, including every single member of his Fireteam, but the person he bonded with most was probably the Corporal. Deckard was the least inclined to lick the boots of both Naval Intelligence and the United Nations Space Command, and that meant she and Thorne were something akin to kindred spirits.

To top it all off, Carol didn't gawk at him constantly like the others did. She didn't constantly remind him that he was a biologically altered killing machine. She treated him like he was human, and Thorne appreciated that. Maybe one day he'd know her well enough to call her friend.

Suddenly the loudspeakers in the halls boomed with the Lieutenant's voice, “This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

The social nightmares of friendship would have to wait. Thorne immediately shut the novel he was reading and tossed it onto his mattress. The door to his quarters whirred open and out he stepped, starting off toward the ship's armory. His pace quickly evolved from a walk to a jog. The Spartan's boots audibly smacked against the cold steel of the deck. As he passed, prying eyes glanced at him from the faces of the Memento Mori's various crewmen. He was sure they'd be excited to see a Spartan in action. Finally, he arrived at the arsenal and his stride slowed drastically. Thorne walked into the corridor and approached his locker, marked with his service tag and name. He unlocked it with a distinct clink and reached into its depths. The super soldier removed a MA5K carbine, a specialized weapon used almost exclusively by Spartan-III and spec ops operatives. It was perfect for close to medium range engagements; Thorne's speciality. He had outfitted it with a red dot sight and a detachable silencer some time ago. Secondly, he took out two M6C/SOCOM pistols, holstering them on his thigh plates. Afterward he gathered the smaller pieces of equipment that made up his kit, like his serrated combat knife and two fragmentation grenades. However, his most important asset was built into his armor. While not as advanced as the Covenant's cloaking technology, his Semi-Powered Infiltration armor's light bending camouflage system gave one quite the advantage when used correctly.

Toting his gear, Thorne made his way to the drop bay. He saw Bressler first, shouting enthusiastically, "Let's go! Mount up, button up, and shut up! We got split-lips to kill! Don't bother with your toothbrushes, this one's right down the road!"

By the way he talked, Thorne assumed that Nathaniel Bressler didn't know that humanity wasn't the only sentient species in the Milky Way. The Spartan did not take joy in slaying Covenant. He assumed that they were just like any other human soldier; that they had family back home and they believed they were fighting for what was right. Humanity wasn't exempt from being misguided into holy wars of genocide.

Thorne popped the hatch on his pod and climbed into it, "Try not to be too bloodthirsty, Gunnery Sergeant. I'd rather not see you munching on an Unggoy's corpse."

With that said, he closed the SOEIV's hatch. The seals hissed shut, making the pod air tight and pressure resistant.

He connected to Fireteam Charlie's radio frequency and said, "Haungji, Sabaleh, Sylvari? Prepped and ready to launch?'

[The Greater Gambia]

The days following Thorne's arrival came and went, each quicker than the last. They were mostly filled with making acquaintances, which obviously wasn't his strong suit, and sorting through the copious amounts of paper work that accompanied his transfer to the Memento Mori's crew. The shuttle's pilots words were now starting to prove somewhat correct, despite the Spartan disregarding them originally. The Office of Naval Intelligence did have some bureaucracy in its veins after all. In spite of the tedious procedures, Thorne did enjoy meeting his teammates; meanwhile, introducing himself... not so much. He had met most of the ship's occupants, including every single member of his Fireteam, but the person he bonded with most was probably the Corporal. Deckard was the least inclined to lick the boots of both Naval Intelligence and the United Nations Space Command, and that meant she and Thorne were something akin to kindred spirits.

To top it all off, Carol didn't gawk at him constantly like the others did. She didn't constantly remind him that he was a biologically altered killing machine. She treated him like he was human, and Thorne appreciated that. Maybe one day he'd know her well enough to call her friend.

Suddenly the loudspeakers in the halls boomed with the Lieutenant's voice, “This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

The social nightmares of friendship would have to wait. Thorne immediately shut the novel he was reading and tossed it onto his mattress. The door to his quarters whirred open and out he stepped, starting off toward the ship's armory. His pace quickly evolved from a walk to a jog. The Spartan's boots audibly smacked against the cold steel of the deck. As he passed, prying eyes glanced at him from the faces of the Memento Mori's various crewmen. He was sure they'd be excited to see a Spartan in action. Finally, he arrived at the arsenal and his stride slowed drastically. Thorne walked into the corridor and approached his locker, marked with his service tag and name. He unlocked it with a distinct clink and reached into its depths. The super soldier removed a MA5K carbine, a specialized weapon used almost exclusively by Spartan-III and spec ops operatives. It was perfect for close to medium range engagements; Thorne's speciality. He had outfitted it with a red dot sight and a detachable silencer some time ago. Secondly, he took out two M6C/SOCOM pistols, holstering them on his thigh plates. Afterward he gathered the smaller pieces of equipment that made up his kit, like his serrated combat knife and two fragmentation grenades. However, his most important asset was built into his armor. While not as advanced as the Covenant's cloaking technology, his Semi-Powered Infiltration armor's light bending camouflage system gave one quite the advantage when used correctly.

Toting his gear, Thorne made his way to the drop bay. He saw Bressler first, shouting enthusiastically, "Let's go! Mount up, button up, and shut up! We got split-lips to kill! Don't bother with your toothbrushes, this one's right down the road!"

By the way he talked, Thorne assumed that Nathaniel Bressler didn't know that humanity wasn't the only sentient species in the Milky Way. The Spartan did not take joy in slaying Covenant. He assumed that they were just like any other human soldier; that they had family back home and they believed they were fighting for what was right. Humanity wasn't exempt from being misguided into holy wars of genocide.

Thorne popped the hatch on his pod and climbed into it, "Try not to be too bloodthirsty, Gunnery Sergeant. I'd rather not see you munching on an Unggoy's corpse."

With that said, he closed the SOEIV's hatch. The seals hissed shut, making the pod air tight and pressure resistant.

He connected to Fireteam Charlie's radio frequency and said, "Haungji, Sabaleh, Sylvari? Prepped and ready to launch?'

Fatou closed the hatch of his drop pod. Once the pod was sealed, the team leader came onto to the radio frequency.

"Haungji, Sabaleh, Sylvari? Prepped and ready to launch?'

Fatou turned on his radio. "Sabaleh here, everything's green on my side. I'm green to go."

[Vacif]

Hangar Bay, UNSC Memento Mori
Hadrian was sitting on a crate of...something. Around him, crew ran about, checking pelicans, going through final checks. Behind him, he could hear the clanking foot steps of his teammates. Or at least two of them. Turning around, he was met with two of the members of Alpha. Whitfield, and Kruger. Whitfield was a slightly older man, nearing 40 from what he remembered. Served faithfully in the corp, until becoming a shock trooper. Kruger on the other hand was a different story. She was Airborne infantry. Bearing the Army rank of Specialist. Which was the same as Corporal in the marines. She seamed perfectly fine on the ground, happy to see the Pelican, but not so much to see space. Hadrian slid off the container, and approached the duo. "You two ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be." Whitfield replied, slightly bummed he wasn't dropping in like normal.
"Yeah." Kruger replied in her own slightly shy way, despite knowing him for months now. The group moved along silently towards the bird, waiting on team Delta, and the rest of Alpha. Hadrian looked around. This was about the most activity he'd seen on the Memento, with crewman, and maintenance personnel running about. Hadrian took the first seat on the right, Whitfield left, and Kruger beside Racker.

[Beiarusia]

Ethan was in his quarters, donning his battle worn armor with practiced efficiency. Standard issue ODST, nothing special, but it served well, having saved his life on several occasions. Looking over his reflection through the helmet’s visor, Ethan slid on the headgear with a seal forming. Everything checking green the Lieutenant made to leave, the voice of Dawn pausing him as he left the room.

“While we were waiting for the Daedalus I took it upon myself to scan the planet,” she informed, a hint of self satisfaction evident in her voice. “Calling this rock barren would be an understatement, but it does host some interesting rock formations, as well as a breathable atmosphere. The mixture of nitrogen and oxygen is a bit skewed, so try not to exert yourself too hard.”

“You should inform the others,” Ethan muttered, moving quickly down the now busy corridors and to the armory.

He could almost hear her smile. “Already done.”

Ethan stepped into the armory, a few others still acquiring their gear, some nodding to acknowledge his presence. The Lieutenant returned the gesture as he grabbed his own weapon, a basic model MA37 and his typical M6C/SOCOM sidearm, some spare magazines, fragmentation grenades, and C7 demolition charges. As he was leaving for the hangars Ethan paused, grabbing a C-12 blast pack before continuing on, feeling that some extra explosive power could prove handy.

Dawn spoke to him once more. “The Daedalus has touched down on the planet’s northern hemisphere. Count four escape pods making landfall roughly seventeen kilometers east of the Prowler with one landing four kilometers north of the others. I’ve made contact with the Prowler’s auxiliary systems. An attempt was made to destabilize the core. Fast thinking, but for naught.”

“The ship still intact?” he questioned the A.I.

“It would seem so.” She paused for a moment. “Covenant forces are deploying to the surface.”

“All the more reason to get going.” Ethan stepped into the hangar, tossing the blast pack to Whitfield and barking his orders to those present. “We’ll blowing the Prowler before the Covenant can do the job for us. Going in hot, and I expect to be done and gone before it gets hotter.” Over the comms he contacted Bravo and Charlie. “Bressler, we’re dropping you where the escape pods came down. Secure an LZ and save who you can. Dawn will keep you in the loop.”

[The United Federation of Terrans]

“Bressler, we’re dropping you where the escape pods came down. Secure an LZ and save who you can. Dawn will keep you in the loop.”

Copy that LT. Bressler clicked into his radio as he felt his pod shudder as it was moved into place. Bressler waited for the familiar rise in his chest as he fell with gravity after being launched from the ship; and was delighted when it came. The gunny was no stranger to these drops and in fact he liked the heat that came from entering atmosphere as it told him he would soon be killing Covies. The ODST knew not to fight the motions of the drop pod and rolled with the forces as he looked out the window of his pod and was rewarded with the looming presence of the massive whale like cruiser. Never though I would be glad we're based off a frigate, that thing would gut us otherwise. Bressler mused as he felt the familiar thump of his drag chute deploying and the mixed forces he experienced as his pod sought to defy gravity. However, the situation did not go off without a hitch as Lance corporal Folk instead felt himself slow slightly before his chute snapped and the pod began to accelerate down towards the planet at a much faster rate as the marine inside was bombarded with red WARNINGS on his HUD while he screamed into the platoon net.

Chute Failure!!! Oh god!! I don't want to-.... Bressler had by that point cut the marine's comms using his override while he watched the pod increase in speed until it became a rapidly expanding cloud of debris on the barren planet. Bressler sighed as a countdown began in his HUD as well as the rest of Bravo and Charlie teams.

Estimated Time to Touchdown in 30...29...28...27...26...25

[Ubaria]

The Drop Bay was already filled with soldiers making their final checks to weapons and equipment, Dragan strode over to one empty SOEIV and secured both his M41 and MA5K into their appropriate holdings before stepping into the commonly dubbed 'casket' himself. A fitting name since the pod itself resembled a large flying metal coffin, also coupled with the fact that if you happened to die on the way down or upon impact, they didn't have to look far for something to bury you in. Dragan pushed the thought of death from his mind as he made the necessary pre-drop checks, making sure the weapons wouldn't come free and if he himself wouldn't be flung around like a ragdoll, the last thing you wanted was to unbuckle at 15km up.

As the pod was hauled up into its ready position, the only thing left to do was wait in apprehension, the whole atmosphere was deathly still despite all the action going on. A single digital timer beeped down, counting down the seconds until they would be shot feet first into hell and it moved painfully slow. It read one minute as all the troops were finally locked in and ready to drop.

3...2...1...

It felt like an hour but eventually, the timer clicked to T-minus zero.

And off they went.

All the pods fired out from the protection of the Memento Mori at breakneck speeds, each one forming a small fiery streak as they fell. Dragan could only watch as the large curved hull of the Covenant Battlecruiser slowly drifted up and out of sight, hopefully the pods would be to small of a target for the ship to even see. Flames licked up at the transparent canopy of the pod, indicating their descent through the upper layer of atmosphere, it wasn't such a smooth ride however as the air buffeted the small metal object as if it was a left in a hurricane, below them was only the misty white and grey smudges of cloud though it crept up on them alarmingly fast.

Everything dimmed as the few ODST's entered the clouds, they were only inside them for a moment however as they appeared through the otherside revealing a bleak, barren wasteland of brown and grey rock for as far as the eye could see, it was a contrast from other drops where they would be positioned directly over the towering silver skyscrapers and azure blue oceans of a populated colony, all the while being buffeted by the purples and greens of covenant AA fire, however here, there wasn't anything firing back at them.

[Merodin]

ODST Pod, Planet Atmosphere
SFC. Elizabeth Sylvari

Letting off an impressive stream of curses at the stubborn pack of medical supplies, Elizabeth tried once again to shove the gear into her pod's storage compartment. She could, of course, remove some of the medpacks from inside but she wasn't about to admit defeat to some rucksack of hers. Oh no, she was going to teach that bag a lesson in who was boss and who was going to get shoved into the trunk of the pod whether they liked it or not.

After several minutes of her spitting fire and educating the sack on the philosophy of a bag's purpose in life, Elizabeth finally convinced the bag to agree to be packed away. Closing the hatch on the stuffed compartment, she and her rucksack exchanged one last glance full of understanding. That taken care of, Elizabeth dusted off her hands and climbed into her pod, waiting for the drop.

"This is Sylvari, sir. Got nothing, but green on my end." she replied to Thorne's check. "Actually, I could go for some crisps right about now if you got any." she joked off-handedly. Elizabeth always was the most giddy when they were about to jump. She really was an adrenaline junkie at heart.

When they finally launched, she couldn't help keep down her excitement.

"WHhhhhhhoooooooooooooooooo!" she screamed as she felt the g-force rock the pod. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she had a giant grin on her face as her pod rocketed towards the planet.


Bridge, UNSC Memento Mori
Lt. Artanis Sylvari

As Arty was working rapidly at his station, he saw one of the pods that had deployed suddenly blink red with a warning message.

Critical Failure: Chute Deployment Malfunction

Arty saw the pod's blinking dot fall a little farther and then disappear. Pulling up the pod's information, Arty took note of the occupant's name and rank, a Lance Corporal Aaron Folk.

"We have a KIA, LtCpl. Aaron Folk. Pod suffered chute failure, broke up in atmosphere." Arty said, dead-pan into his headset. He went on to record the time and date of death to be entered into the ship's log. He also made sure to let the A.I know of Folk's passing.

"Miss Dawn, Bravo is down one man. Folk is KIA, chute failure." Arty said into his headset straight to the A.I. No doubt she already knew, but it was his job to relay the information anyway.

[Dernland]

Ghost
UNSC Memento Mori, Undisclosed location
0120 hours, 27 February 2550

"Let's go!!! Mount Up, Button Up, Shut Up!!!!! We got split-lips to kill!!! Don't bother with your toothbrushes, this one's right down the road!!!" Ghost simply nodded and climbed into his SOEIV. His rifle was clipped securely into the pod and several other important items were stashed in the compartments. It was only a few seconds before he felt his pod shift to it's launch position. He looked through the lower view-port and watched as the tube opened, revealing the expanse of red, sand-blasted rock that covered the surface of the planet. Ghost felt his stomach fly into his throat as the ship threw him downwards towards the planet. He looked up and watched as the Memento Mori and the much larger Covenant ship shrank from his sight, replaced by fire and flakes of the ceramic skin being burned off of the pod. As the ceramic ablative burned away, the pod began to get a lot warmer.

Ghost flinched when his chute deployed, feeling the gee-forces trying to tear him apart. "Chute Failure!!! Oh god!! I don't want to-" Ghost looked down and saw another pod tumbling faster and faster towards the earth. Ghost felt a pang of sadness over the fact that he could only watch as his comrade plummeted to a deep grave. A sudden jolt threw Ghost against his restraints. Warnings flashed across his visor and in the monitors inside his pod. The doomed pod's chute had collided with his own pod, sending Ghost spinning off course. Damn, I don't want to die before I get to the covenant.. He blinked through the damage display in his helmet. The fuel line for one of the four braking rockets had been damaged, and his pod was leaking fuel. Ghost grabbed his controls and stabilized his course, adjusting to be back on track with the rest of his squad. He sent the damage report to Bressler, hoping that the man was okay with possibly losing another squad-member. The remaining rockets should prevent me from any serious injury, but it's be a hard landing. Ghost braced himself for the braking rockets to fire. The ground raced towards him; 80 meters, 70 meters, 60, 50. The rockets ignited, slowing the pod and sending it into a tumble. Ghost clung to the handles in his pod, silently hoping that the impact wouldn't kill him.

[Feroxi]

Three, two, one...

Thorne was no stranger to high speed combat drops. He'd done them many a time, especially alongside Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. He chuckled to himself as he thought, and people think Spartans are crazy? Pod jockeys, as many of his brethren called them while amongst themselves, were blatant adrenaline addicts. They loved these sort of maneuvers; no, they lived for them. Thorne had no beef against them for enjoying their highly dangerous profession... he just wouldn't leave them alone with his kids. Luckily, he didn't have any children. Some of his close friends, or at least acquaintances, were ODST's. He wondered where they were now. Could they be alive, still screaming, "Feet first into hell," and relishing the thought of their kill totals? Or, were they faced down in the dirt, slain with plasma holes in their backs? He'd probably never know.

With all of Charlie green lit, they launched. Thorne clutched the rails in his pod's interior, feeling the g-force accelerate against his augmented frame. The clips of spare ammunition in his pod jingled noisily and soon the blackness of space became filled with wispy, white clouds. His radio filled with the gleeful scream of what sounded like Sylvari. Damn, she was just as bad as those pod jockeys.

His cool yet happy voice clawed through the radio channel's static, "You dying in there, Sylvari, or are you just happy to be flying into a planet at hundreds of miles per hour?" He continued, "Alright, everyone, make sure to deploy your breaking measures! We don't want anyone burning up on entry. When you get planet-side, keep your ears open for orders, and your eyes open for Covenant."

[The Greater Gambia]

The drop pods were preparing to launch. As the pods were prepping for the drop. Fatou gave some words of encouragement for the rest of Fire Team Charlie.

"À pieds joints dans l'enfer! Good Luck!"

And with that, the pods were launched, one by one. As Fatou's pod descended down to the planet, Fatou looked up to see the CCS-Battlecruiser. Reminding of a past mission with his old squad.

---

Miridem
Miridem City
2544 Human Calendar


The Capital City of the Human colony was a shadow of it's former self. The white, pristine skyscrapers toppled or heavily damaged. Both sides were fighting viscously over the doomed planet.

---

Fatou's reminiscing was brought to a halt by what sounded like a screeching banshee coming through the radio.

"WHhhhhhhoooooooooooooooooo!"

It was Sylvari, the medic he had seen earlier. Fatou didn't have the same sort of enthusiasm for orbital jumps like other ODST's, it was more of a therapeutic ride for him, though he understood her reaction. On the next screen was the Fire team leader, Thorne.

"You dying in there, Sylvari, or are you just happy to be flying into a planet at hundreds of miles per hour?"

Fatou was surprised by the man. He was a Spartan. Fatou had meet a Spartan or two during his military career, and if they hadn't been there, Fatou probably would have been six feet under long ago. He had moved on from the common disdain ODST's had against the Super Soldiers. Fatou made a mental note to thank the man later if they survived this mission, but he knew right now was not the right time.

"You think this is bad, you should have been apart of the drop onto Actium. We had to drop right above the capital city as an air battle was going on. I saw one poor guy hit a Seraph on his way down, and I almost hit a Banshee or two myself."

Thorne spoke again. "Alright, everyone, make sure to deploy your breaking measures! We don't want anyone burning up on entry. When you get planet-side, keep your ears open for orders, and your eyes open for Covenant."

"Roger that, sir." Fatou said. As he activated his shoot, he noticed one of the other pods from Fire team Bravo. His chute had snapped causing the whole pod to explode.

"Welp, that's one down." Fatou said to himself, making sure that it didn't transmit over the comms. The doomed pod did not want to go alone, as the failed chute went on to hit another pod, causing it to spin out of control. The trooper in the pod was quick to readjust his course, though it would be a rough landing for the trooper.

"Might be two down." And with that, Fatou activated his chute, thankful that he wouldn't be the third screw up.

[New Grestin]

Carol barely had a moment to relax before all hell broke loose. Alarms blared, people ran to and fro. It was utter madness. She jumped from her seat just in time to hear a voice over the intercom.

“This is Woods. All hands prepare for combat. We have a scorch and rescue to run. Bravo; Charlie, you’re going feet first.”

Fuck. I was just starting to enjoy that.

She turned and headed for the armory, gathering her weapons and armor. The same suit would work. Musing over it for a moment, she noticed it still had the bloodstains from where she was shot. Shrugging, she slid it on and grabbed her helmet, picking up an MA5B and an M6D before heading down to the hangar. Most of the people had already gathered, though from the sound of it, a decent number of the drop pods had already left. Running up to Ethan, she quickly nodded and spoke.

"So, what's the plan, chief?"

[Beiarusia]

The Memento Mori was only just skimming the upper reaches of the atmosphere when the drop-pods fell from the craft, small meteors that burned through the firmament, landing within a kilometer of the nearest escape pod. Four Pelicans followed soon after, diving towards the planet in as steep a trajectory as they dared. Two would deploy the fireteams at the remains of the Daedalus, the other pair lingering for extraction when needed. The Memento Mori would continue operations from high orbit for the time being, making way to hide itself from the Covenant battlecruiser before any one-sided engagement could take place.

Covenant forces were already in the process of being deployed to the surface. Spirit dropships and Banshee escorts were speeding for the planet, an expeditionary force that while quick to react would arrive well enough behind the UNSC soldiers.

Fireteam Bravo and Delta would make landfall first.

Ethan sat in the lead Pelican, near the closed hatch with his weapon held at his side. Near his feet was the C-12 blast pack. Deckard sat opposite him, across the blood tray and with Whitfield to her left, Racker to his. Kruger and Bradford were in the rear, the younger man seemingly impatient for the call to action while his friend made some final preparations mentally.

After a moment the rear hatch opened, granting those inside the Pelican, Tango-013, the sight of the barren planet speeding pass below, a pitiful landscape of motley reds and greys. Tango-012 was keeping pace, flying just out of line and to the left. November-404 and 505 were further out, mere specks against an unassuming horizon.

After briefly taking in the sights, Ethan gave a quick overview as to what he hoped to accomplish, using the comm so as to include Charlie. “We’re running the scorch op. Nothing is to be left behind for the Covenant to sift through, not even scrap. Between me and Bradford, we have enough c-12 to level a city block and then some.”

“We could overload the core?” meekly suggested Kruger from the back, halfway raising her hand as if she were addressing a classroom instructor.

Whitfield added his own colourful commentary. “Yeah, if ain’t broke to shit.”

Ethan continued. “Doesn’t matter how as long as it gets done. Delta, you guys are keeping watch. We should be done and gone before any visitors show up.” Checking his TACPAD Ethan added, “Two and a half minutes until touchdown. Hit the ground running, this Pelican isn’t gonna wait around.”

Dawn looked over to the Intel Officer, nodding as if to thank him for providing the information. She, of course, already knew of the poor Lance Corporal’s demise, but hearing it spoken aloud served to add some finality to it.

Shepherd cursed but Dusk was the one to speak his mind. “Gravity’s doing the Covenant’s job for them.”

“That’s not funny,” muttered Welles from her console.

Shepherd took charge before Dawn could scold her brother, his voice low but full of authority. “Enough. Status on the ship.”

Dusk answered. “We are currently maintaining a high orbit trajectory. All weapons are running green and are ready to engage.”

“Against a ship that size we might as well have peashooters,” deadpanned Dawn.

“And the Covenant?” asked the captain, pressing ahead and ignoring the A.I.’s truthful remark.

Dawn answered. “The battlecruiser is currently en route to the Daedalus. We might as well be invisible given how much concern the Covenant affords us.” She paused as if thinking. “Scans indicate six dropships making way for the Prowler crew. I’ve taken the liberty of alerting Woods and Bressler.”

Shepherd nodded. Not much he could do about the battlecruiser. “Bring us back around. Low orbit. We’re offering fire support for the rescue crew.”

“We will be in range of the-”

Dusk interrupted his sister. “Then we go lower.”

She bespectacled women looked incredulously to him. “We can’t go lower. And before you say it, stealth doesn’t work in broad daylight when the enemy can clearly see you.”

“Keep us out of that thing’s firing range then, but be ready to move in on my call,” ordered Shepherd. The A.I. nodded after a moment’s thought, not saying more. The captain, watching as he crew went to work, stroked his stubbled chin.

The ground teams would have to work fast lest they fall under heavy fire, and Shepherd knew damn well that he would risk it all to get them out alive. Guess today was as good as any other.

[Ubaria]

The rapid decent of Bravo's pods were slowed by the sudden deployment of the drag chutes, the small umbrella like arrangement of the panels would continue to prevent further acceleration, however their job wasn't to stop the thing completely, that's where the rocket brakes came in. At moments before impact they would fire, slowing the craft down enough so it wouldn't kill the occupant on impact, however it didn't make it anymore comfortable, the impact itself felt like your spine was being compacted like a spring. Once on the ground and stationary there was little time for recovery, the pod door blasted off as the explosive bolts blew, throwing the panel forward in a burst of smoke and out the black clad figures came, one by one they emerged and withdrew their weapons, Dragan did the same.

"Successful drop, Preparing to rendezvous with the remainder of Bravo" Ilyas informed, staring out a few hundred meters where Folk's pod, or what remained of it, had impacted. Poor bastard. Hopefully his end was sudden, being cooked inside your pod wasn't the best of ways to go. With that the Corporal clipped the M41 onto the strengthened magnetic weapon lock on his backpack and trudged over to where Bresslers pod had impacted, awaiting orders to move out.

[Taigawa]

Felicia waited as the countdown terminated and her pod dropped from the ship into the atnosphere. Fortunetely, her pod did not suffer any malfunctions, which was more then she could say for a few others. Her pod streaked through the atnosphere and her chute deployed on schedule, followed shortly thereafter by breaking rockets. Eventually, her pod reached the surface, and the woman kicked the door open and ran out to rondevous with Brovo and the rest of her squad.