Halo: Eclipse (IC/Reboot/OPEN)

[New Grestin]

"That's gunny to your corporal, and don't act like your any different from the rest of us. I've seen dozens like your type thinking you've lost more then the person next to them and are entitled to act the way you please. Get this through your head corporal, I've done things to ensure the survival of humanity that no one would ever be proud of, I've seen my friends stabbed, dismembered, crushed and suffocated while you were still playing house. I don't ask you to like me corporal, but I will ask you to respect me. This is the survival of our race, is that clear?"

Carol stared at him indignantly for a moment, then simply grabbed her things and walked past him to the hangar. She simmered for a moment as she walked down the hall. How fucking dare he try to pull that holier than thou bullshit. He doesn't know a thing about me. She sighed in frustration as she approached the hangar entrance. Slamming her fist into the console, Carol watch the door open. Pelicans and a variety of other aircraft were spread throughout the hangar. Carol looked around for a moment, then simply plopped onto a large cargo container and checked over her equipment.

The Bressler guy could, for all intents and purposes, go fuck himself. She prepped her suit for EVA and laid back, staring at the ceiling and humming quietly to keep herself occupied. Once everyone arrived, she slid off the container and leaned against it, awaiting her orders.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

"Cpl. Ilyas, your assigned to my fire-team. Walk with me to the hangar bay, I think we can fit in a quick chat."

Dragan nodded and secured his weapons to their appropriate holsters, when he was satisfied they were secure he moved out to catch up with the Gunny, who had already left. The corridors were eerily bare, especially just before a combat mission, normally there would be bustling crewmen, marines and ODST's all pushing eachother trying to makeway to their stations and now, there were only a dozen or so musing around the corridors slowly. The ODST caught up to Bressler who was walking down the corridor.

"Sir" Dragan simply stated as they both moved side by side at the same pace.

"I'll make this simple. I want you to know that if you do your job and do it well you won't have anything to fear from me. You can hold your opinions all you want and do say what you want; but if that interferes with the mission your ass will be gone. So can I trust you to do this mission?" Bressler asked as he entered into the hangar bay where the other members of the detachment had begun to gather at.

"As much as it may seem a waste for you to kill humans, think of it like this corporal. In the face of galactic genocide they not only refused to band together with the rest of humanity but have used the chaos to continue their attacks. They could never hope to accomplish anything other then speeding up the Covenant's work for them."

[Beiarusia]

Ethan was trailing behind, held up due to last minute discussions with Dawn and, by proxy, Shepherd, arriving at the armory well after most others had already geared up and departed, a few stragglers remaining. Having already donned his ODST BDU beforehand – the same battered set that had served him for years now – he went about gathering a few essentials, chiefly weapons and tactical gear. The seasoned soldier selected an M7S-SMG with a M6/SOCOM sidearm with several spare clips of ammo for each, a compliment of flash/concussions grenades, a TACPAD that would allow him to oversee the operation as it unfolded, and finally a thruster pack. Satisfied that everything was in order, Ethan grabbed a few basic medical supplies and made to exit the armor, pausing to slide on his helmet, feeling the slight imbalance of pressure as the seal formed.

The ship shuddered, making the transition into real space. It wouldn’t take long to rendezvous with the pursuing naval forces, Shepherd no doubt already having a course plotted out to bring them into the freighter’s blind side. Knowing that deployment was fast approaching, Ethan wasted little time in second guessing himself as he stepped into the corridor.

Reaching the hangar took no time at all thanks to the mostly barren halls of the ship, a still unnerving sight that Ethan had yet to adjust to. Two soldiers had joined their commanding officer as he made for their gathering spot, the others having already arrived ahead of him. Twelve soldiers all geared in varying shades of black, faceless behind their visors. No one saluted as Ethan took his place front and center – except for one young woman whose raised arm was quickly swatted down by her friend.

“I have made contact with local UNSC forces,” informed Dawn over Ethan’s comm channel.

“We will be deploying in seven minutes,” Ethan announced out loud, giving the soldiers under his command the updated intel Dawn was sharing with him. “The ship has been identified as the Outlast, a mid-sized freighter used primarily for ferrying agricultural goods, however we have reason to believe that a weapons shipment was on board. Biometric scans indicate forty-nine still living persons on that ship with most gathered in either the bridge or the cargo hold. Assume that hostages are being held in the latter. They will be our first priority.

“We go in on two sides. Alpha will take starboard and Bravo portside; Dawn will open any airlocks for us to enter through once she’s wormed her way into their systems. Alpha will secure the hostages. Bravo, you take the bridge. We have been cleared to engage on sight. Suppressed weapons take point. Until the hostages have been acquired refrain from going loud unless absolutely necessary.

"If there are no questions then make final checks and prepare for deployment.”

[Vacif]

Ethan was trailing behind, held up due to last minute discussions with Dawn and, by proxy, Shepherd, arriving at the armory well after most others had already geared up and departed, a few stragglers remaining. Having already donned his ODST BDU beforehand – the same battered set that had served him for years now – he went about gathering a few essentials, chiefly weapons and tactical gear. The seasoned soldier selected an M7S-SMG with a M6/SOCOM sidearm with several spare clips of ammo for each, a compliment of flash/concussions grenades, a TACPAD that would allow him to oversee the operation as it unfolded, and finally a thruster pack. Satisfied that everything was in order, Ethan grabbed a few basic medical supplies and made to exit the armor, pausing to slide on his helmet, feeling the slight imbalance of pressure as the seal formed.

The ship shuddered, making the transition into real space. It wouldn’t take long to rendezvous with the pursuing naval forces, Shepherd no doubt already having a course plotted out to bring them into the freighter’s blind side. Knowing that deployment was fast approaching, Ethan wasted little time in second guessing himself as he stepped into the corridor.

Reaching the hangar took no time at all thanks to the mostly barren halls of the ship, a still unnerving sight that Ethan had yet to adjust to. Two soldiers had joined their commanding officer as he made for their gathering spot, the others having already arrived ahead of him. Twelve soldiers all geared in varying shades of black, faceless behind their visors. No one saluted as Ethan took his place front and center – except for one young woman whose raised arm was quickly swatted down by her friend.

“I have made contact with local UNSC forces,” informed Dawn over Ethan’s comm channel.

“We will be deploying in seven minutes,” Ethan announced out loud, giving the soldiers under his command the updated intel Dawn was sharing with him. “The ship has been identified as the Outlast, a mid-sized freighter used primarily for ferrying agricultural goods, however we have reason to believe that a weapons shipment was on board. Biometric scans indicate forty-nine still living persons on that ship with most gathered in either the bridge or the cargo hold. Assume that hostages are being held in the latter. They will be our first priority.

“We go in on two sides. Alpha will take starboard and Bravo portside; Dawn will open any airlocks for us to enter through once she’s wormed her way into their systems. Alpha will secure the hostages. Bravo, you take the bridge. We have been cleared to engage on sight. Suppressed weapons take point. Until the hostages have been acquired refrain from going loud unless absolutely necessary.

"If there are no questions then make final checks and prepare for deployment.”

After taking in the new information, Hadrian crouched down to make sure his thruster pack was in order, after looking it over, satisfied it was in good working condition, power cell full, he reattached it to his back. Seeing as he'd be securing the hostages, he would need to use the 2B, and his 6D. Procuring a pair of suppressors from his utility belt, he screwed them both onto the according weapon. He'd likely be keeping the Mk.I away from the action...for now. While waiting on the others, he briefly thought to himself about his choice in armaments. His weapons were made to get the job done quickly, but in a rather messy manner, one that would probably scar a person for life. Shredder rounds did not make "clean" kills, and the 6D made fist sized holes in people, double that for the M90. Glad that he had a few magazines of standard ammunition, he ejected the shredder rounds, and replaced them with standard .390s for the sake of the civilians he'd be rescuing. No sense in saving a person if you hurt them in the process.

[Ubaria]

"I'll make this simple. I want you to know that if you do your job and do it well you won't have anything to fear from me. You can hold your opinions all you want and do say what you want; but if that interferes with the mission your ass will be gone. So can I trust you to do this mission?"

Dragan nodded and let the gunny continue.

"As much as it may seem a waste for you to kill humans, think of it like this corporal. In the face of galactic genocide they not only refused to band together with the rest of humanity but have used the chaos to continue their attacks. They could never hope to accomplish anything other then speeding up the Covenant's work for them."

"Oh i can do this mission Gunny. I started off this war killing insurrectionists, but i don't plan to end it that way. Its just ONI, there's something more to this than they're letting on." The Corporal finished as the duo entered the hangar space where the rest of the soldiers had gathered. Ethan entered behind them and gave a mission update.

“We will be deploying in seven minutes,” Ethan announced out loud, giving the soldiers under his command the updated intel Dawn was sharing with him. “The ship has been identified as the Outlast, a mid-sized freighter used primarily for ferrying agricultural goods, however we have reason to believe that a weapons shipment was on board. Biometric scans indicate forty-nine still living persons on that ship with most gathered in either the bridge or the cargo hold. Assume that hostages are being held in the latter. They will be our first priority.

“We go in on two sides. Alpha will take starboard and Bravo portside; Dawn will open any airlocks for us to enter through once she’s wormed her way into their systems. Alpha will secure the hostages. Bravo, you take the bridge. We have been cleared to engage on sight. Suppressed weapons take point. Until the hostages have been acquired refrain from going loud unless absolutely necessary.

"If there are no questions then make final checks and prepare for deployment.”

Dragan took a moment to make sure the seal on his helmet was properly secured before they headed out into the vacuum of space, he had seen firsthand the effect that a non-pressurized suit had on the human body, and it wasn't pretty. Due to the loss of oxygen in the bloodstream, unconsciousness would be induced after around 12 seconds along with the loss of all motor functions, after that the reduced pressure of outer space would cause swelling to happen as the water in the human body expanded, the expansion in your cardiovascular system would reduce your blood pressure to zero and finally, all your bodily fluids would freeze, especially in the trachea and lungs. Even if you were to survive this by re-compression, some of the effects would be irreversible. A horrible way to die.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

"Bravo team; form up on me" Bressler said as he began to make his way to one of the Pelican's that was in the hangar. "We'll take this bird as far as we can before we ditch it and go E.V.A.."

Bressler walked up the ramp and settled in the rear most seat on the right side and waited as his team secured themselves. The Pelican shook slightly as the ramp retracted and sealed with a soft hiss as the aircraft lifted off the deck-plates and out into space. Bressler waited a minute before he activated the holo projector in the dropship and displayed a diagram of the vessel.

"We'll be making our entry point here, a few compartments away from the bridge" Bressler said as he highlighted as small airlock that was near the fore end of the vessel. "When we reach the airlock I'll establish the link for Dawn to open the airlock. Once we get inside the ship, we'll move towards the bridge and secure it; our objective is securing the navigation drive and making sure the nav station is wiped off all useful materials. Once that has been taken care of we'll kill the engines and steer the ship back to the pursuit forces. Any questions?"

When none came Bressler polarized his helmet and made sure the seals were secure before he signaled for Bravo team to do the same. As each marine signaled back they were OK; Bressler signaled the pilot and moved to the edge of the deck near where the ramp would open.

Depressurizing cabin.....depressurized. Releasing ramp A tinny voice said through the comms as the ramp swung down and the humans were greeted with a dull grey freighter against a large backdrop of stars. Bressler released the magnetic soles of his boots and allowed himself to float before he used the roof of the troop bay to propel himself out of the floating Pelican towards the freighter.

Follow me, use your thrusters only for course correction. Bressler said as the freighter grew ever large before his HUD.

[New Grestin]

Carol watched as Bressler and Fireteam Bravo entered the Pelican and headed off. Once Alpha was assembled, she quickly threw her helmet on and hopped aboard another pelican alongside the rest of the unit. The ship shuddered and headed out of the hangar, Carol's stomach turning as she briefly floated. She sighed and floated over to the pilot.

"Get us as close as you can."

He nodded and the Pelican slowly drew towards the freighter, then turn it swung around and opened it's cargo bay. Carol took a deep breath, checking her suit's EVA functions. Everything seemed fine. Then, she jumped. Well, more accurately, she lept into the void. For the briefest moment, Carol was horrified. There was nothing more than the ceaseless emptiness of space around her. Panic eventually gave way to calm as she noticed the rest of the fireteam following close behind. She smiled, then looked back to the freighter, searching for an entrance. A small airlock drew her attention.

Carol motioned for the rest of the fireteam to follow and adjusted her trajectory, landing with a hollow thump against the airlock door. She grasped on to the door and threw herself over to the panel, SMG in hand. A brief bit of fiddling and the doors slid open. Carol ducked inside, the artificial gravity kicking in just as the rest of the fireteam arrived. The airlock slid closed and a set of jets re-pressurized the room. Carol nodded to the rest of the team and raised her weapon to the door. Thankfully, as the door slid open, she found no one. Evidently, their entrance had been just stealthy enough.

She slinked out into the hallway, weapon at the ready.

[Vacif]

When the pelican came to a stop, and the bay doors opened, Hadrian closed his eyes, and took in a breath, using the pelican bay door as a base, he pushed himself off into the dark void of space. Slowly opening his eyes, letting out his breath slowly, he swam over to where corporal Deckard was, taking in nice steady breaths as he did. 'Just like swimming Racker, just like swimming.' he thought to himself. Being lost in space was one of his larger fears.

Hadrian collided with the grey hull of the ship beside the airlock with an inaudible light thump. She fiddled with the controls for a few moments before the door slid open, she was the first in, Hadrian was close behind her, swinging himself in from the side. The artificial gravity kicking in shortly after he landed. Reaching behind him, he unslung his MA2B, and disabled the safety. The reassuring sensation of pressure on the human body coming soon after. The female corporal again took the initiative, and went first, seeing as she didn't shoot anyone right off the bat, he assumed it was clear. He followed her into the hangar, 2B at the ready.

Looking behind him to make sure they hadn't lost the lieutenant, or the other 3 members. Hadrian crept down the hallways silently, his metal combats barely making a sound. An art he'd perfected over the years. He lagged slightly behind his female counterpart, giving the others time to either catch up, or if the lieutenant had any orders.

[Beiarusia]

Two Pelicans departed from the Memento Mori, closing the distance to the freighter along differing angles of attack before killing the thrusters, maneuvering so that the troop bay was facing the target and offering the soldiers a clear line. Corporal Deckard was the first out of the blood tray once the clamshell hatch had fully opened, propelling herself forward and into the void of space with little hesitation. Racker was next to make the jump, followed shortly by Whitfield and the two younger soldiers. Ethan was the last out, trailing behind.

Before them all was the freighter, a massive chunk of grey steel amongst a backdrop of stars, the ship’s name painted on the side in bold, dark lettering. The vessel was smaller than the Memento Mori, having a flat upper deck (crew areas) and a distended lower deck that housed the main cargo holds.

“I have worked my way into their systems. Undetected, I might add,” alerted Dawn through Ethan’s comm channel. “One moment and you’ll have your way inside.”

Ethan landed with a small thud, the magnetic locks of his boots clamping him down to the ship’s surface and preventing him from bouncing off and into space. Deckard had already reached the airlock and, true to the A.I.’s words, it opened with little effort. The team slid inside, the artificial gravity kicking in once the small room beyond had been repressurized. Deckard, taking point, was first out and into the corridor, Racker sticking closer to her tail. Ethan switched the safety off on his SMG and followed after, moving silently with the team, securing their point of entrance.

Dawn spoke over the team comm channel, addressing both Alpha and Bravo. “We are conducting biometric scans of the ship and have linked the results to your VISR units. Anything with a heartbeat should be marked on your motion tracker.”

True enough several dots appeared on the helmet’s HUD, marked yellow. The range was limited to roughly twenty-five meters, but upon pulling up the ship’s layout on the TACPAD Ethan found that everything was being updated in near real time. Most of the contacts were centered near the bridge or within the cargo area with several wandering about the ship. A large portion of those in cargo were confined to a single room, no doubt the crew of the ship.

“Bradford; Whitefield, watch our six,” Ethan ordered from across the fireteam channel, voice low but with enough force behind it to be easily heard. The two men, both armed with shotguns, nodded and took up position to cover Alpha’s rear as they moved. “Deckard, you take point. Drop on sight.”

With that the team began its infiltration, pushing deeper into the ship and towards the lower cargo holds, moving swiftly on muted steps. A patrol was marked on the HUD ahead of their position.

[Ubaria]

The airlock hissed as the vacuum of space filled the hold of the Pelican and the glow of unfiltered white light flooded in as the ramp slowly opened. With no windows or atmosphere to tint the raw sunlight, it was almost blinding and Dragan had to shield his eyes for a moment or two before the adaptive polarization on the visor kicked in, dampening the light significantly. Each troop slowly drifted away from safety into the void, their small forms easily dwarfed by the massive size of the freighter, and it grew bigger as they each floated across the expanse. Noticing he was drifting slightly away on the Y axis, Dragan gave a short burst of the thruster pack to bring him back down, again bursting up to nullify his vertical speed.

Bressler was the first to land against the hull of the ship followed by Dragan himself only a few seconds after, a light thump rattled through his feet as he felt the suction that the magnetic boots pulling him in towards the ship, securing him fast to its surface.

"On you" Dragan simply stated as he awaited the rest of the team to make landing.

[New Grestin]

“Deckard, you take point. Drop on sight.”

"Roger. Moving up."

Carol crept down the hall, taking care to make as little noise as possible. The halls of the ship were quiet. Nothing moved aside from the fireteam as they worked their way to the insurrectionists. Carol hoped, secretly, they never would. She'd made her peace with killing the Covenant, but killing other people, especially insurrectionists, really rubbed her the wrong way. Voices attracted her attention as she rounded a corner. Two men, armed with oddly new looking rifles, stood around near what appeared to be a medical bay. Carol took a deep breath, easing in on a nearby wall.

Once she knew she was in range, she squeezed the trigger. The SMG let the round off with a loud pop, striking the first man in the head. Before the second could react, a bullet struck him in the throat. Carol waited, briefly, to make sure no one else would investigate. No one did. She crept up and peeked into the medical bay. A small number of people were tied and blindfolded, probably some of the hostages. A hand grabbed her leg and Carol jumped a bit. Looking down, she found one of the men gasping and clutching at her. Horrified, she quickly raised her SMG and shot him in the head.

Blood smeared across the floor, the man's gray matter splashed against the cold gray metal. Carol shook her head.

"God, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head, staring at the man's corpse for what felt like hours. She'd killed another person. Even in her time in the Marines, she'd never been forced to put down another human being. It was always some ridiculous looking, purple skinned freak with glowing blood. Her stomach churned. Think about it later. We've got a job to do. She nodded and slid into the medical bay, checking around for any other hostiles. Once she was sure everything was clear, she stepped back out and motioned for the rest of the fireteam. Quietly, over the radio, she spoke.

"Multiple civies. Probably hostages. Two dead Tangos."

[The United Federation of Terrans]

The airlock hissed as the vacuum of space filled the hold of the Pelican and the glow of unfiltered white light flooded in as the ramp slowly opened. With no windows or atmosphere to tint the raw sunlight, it was almost blinding and Dragan had to shield his eyes for a moment or two before the adaptive polarization on the visor kicked in, dampening the light significantly. Each troop slowly drifted away from safety into the void, their small forms easily dwarfed by the massive size of the freighter, and it grew bigger as they each floated across the expanse. Noticing he was drifting slightly away on the Y axis, Dragan gave a short burst of the thruster pack to bring him back down, again bursting up to nullify his vertical speed.

Bressler was the first to land against the hull of the ship followed by Dragan himself only a few seconds after, a light thump rattled through his feet as he felt the suction that the magnetic boots pulling him in towards the ship, securing him fast to its surface.

"On you" Dragan simply stated as he awaited the rest of the team to make landing.

Bressler nodded and pulled a plug from his tacpad and inserted it into a slot in the airlock's control console. With that act, the fragment of Dawn that had been stored inside the pathways of the tacpad accessed the system and went through the vessel's computer systems with lightning speed before it followed it's programming and opened the airlock.... both airlock doors. Bressler felt himself pushed back slightly but was stopped by his magnetic soles as the air expelled from the compartment before it equalized; however not everyone was alright, as two Innies tumbled with the escaping air twisting violently as they found themselves without oxygen as their surplus rifles floated away into space with them.

Bressler to Woods, two targets neutralized. Bressler motioned Ilayas along with Hawkins and Jenkins into the now empty compartment. With no contacts Bressler followed his unit in before he pressed a command on his pad and closed the door, from there the ship's system began to pump air back into the compartment. Even though the air quality displayed A-OK; the marine did not remove his helmets as he stepped up to the blast door that led to a hallway that would eventually lead them to the bridge. Accessing the door's keypads the engineer typed in the standard UNSC override code but was met with a flashing red display, grunting Bressler ripped the panel from the wall and attached a few key wires to his tacpad where he fiddled with the code before the doors gave a soft beep and slid open on well oiled machinery.

With Folk and Hawkins on his sides and with the rest of the team at his heels, Bressler entered the hallway and was met with a half a-dozen grizzled men and women dressed in well worn Colonial Militia gear and armed with surplus rifles manning a makeshift barricade ten feet from the team. One of the Innies was just looking up when Bressler's shotgun boomed and the man tumbled back amidst a spray of blood as Hawkin's AR chattered and tore divots in the shipping crates and sent a middle aged women to the deck screaming as she clutched her stomach.

"Forward!!!!" Bressler said as his shotgun boomed again and took a chunk of crate off the barricade as the Innies hid behind their cover.

[Vacif]

“Deckard, you take point. Drop on sight.”

"Roger. Moving up."

Carol crept down the hall, taking care to make as little noise as possible. The halls of the ship were quiet. Nothing moved aside from the fireteam as they worked their way to the insurrectionists. Carol hoped, secretly, they never would. She'd made her peace with killing the Covenant, but killing other people, especially insurrectionists, really rubbed her the wrong way. Voices attracted her attention as she rounded a corner. Two men, armed with oddly new looking rifles, stood around near what appeared to be a medical bay. Carol took a deep breath, easing in on a nearby wall.

Once she knew she was in range, she squeezed the trigger. The SMG let the round off with a loud pop, striking the first man in the head. Before the second could react, a bullet struck him in the throat. Carol waited, briefly, to make sure no one else would investigate. No one did. She crept up and peeked into the medical bay. A small number of people were tied and blindfolded, probably some of the hostages. A hand grabbed her leg and Carol jumped a bit. Looking down, she found one of the men gasping and clutching at her. Horrified, she quickly raised her SMG and shot him in the head.

Blood smeared across the floor, the man's gray matter splashed against the cold gray metal. Carol shook her head.

"God, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head, staring at the man's corpse for what felt like hours. She'd killed another person. Even in her time in the Marines, she'd never been forced to put down another human being. It was always some ridiculous looking, purple skinned freak with glowing blood. Her stomach churned. Think about it later. We've got a job to do. She nodded and slid into the medical bay, checking around for any other hostiles. Once she was sure everything was clear, she stepped back out and motioned for the rest of the fireteam. Quietly, over the radio, she spoke.

"Multiple civies. Probably hostages. Two dead Tangos."

"Copy, advancing. Might want to slip on a suppressor if you've got one" reminded Hadrian as he silently strode towards her position. 2 bodies were at the base of the door, one was slumped onto the wall, likely the first one to get shot. The other was facing the way of the door, where Deckard stood. The rebels looked exactly like what he'd expected. Minus the MA37's they carried. He crouched down to inspect the first body. A nice clean 5 mm round to the head. His sidearm was an M6C, nickel-finish, relatively new. His rifle appeared to be slightly older, but still an Army issue MA37. His dead partner appeared to have the same kit. "Lieutenant. These guys are armed with some pretty up-to-date guns. Army issue. MA37s, with M6Cs" he radioed. standing up, he peered into the Outlast's sick bay. 5 civilians were blindfolded, gagged, and tied to chairs. "Should we secure the civilians here?" he asked.

[Beiarusia]

>SNIP<

The remainder of the team stepped forward, Racker examining the bodies while the others kicked away the weapons. Ethan looked to the two dead insurgents, both having dropped before they could even understand what was happening. Clean shots. Quick. Efficient. Looking over to their weapons: “Intel said there was an arms shipment on board. Most likely why they targeted the freighter in the first place.” Glancing over and into the sick bay he saw five civilians, blindfolded and tied down. “Krueger.”

The young woman jumped slightly upon her name suddenly being called out, voice wavering. “Sir?”

“Untie them.”

Krueger nodded before rushing off to do what was asked. Tears were flowing freely as the men and women were unbound, fear upon seeing the black armored soldiers turning to delight once the realization hit them that they were friendlies. Some wanted to shake the team’s hands but were persuaded to calm themselves inside the room by a struggling Krueger who clearly did not feel confident in herself.

Ethan contacted Dawn through his comm. “Dawn. We have secured five of the hostages in the ship’s medical bay.”

“I can see that. Scans indicate that the remainder are being held in the cargo hold.” There was a slight pause. “Also, Bravo has engaged the Insurrectionist holding the bridge. If they don’t know we’re on board they most certainly do now. I’m initiating a lockdown, selected targets. That should buy the hostages some time, but I would get a move on should they work around my override.”

“Understood.” To his team. “Alright. Bravo has been engaged. Dawn is buying us some time but we need to secure those hostages ASAP. Double time, on me.”

Krueger rejoined them, the door sliding closed behind her and locking. Moving quickly, Ethan led Alpha towards the cargo hold, taking a staircase two steps at a time. Motion sensor was clear until reaching the correct level, the Lieutenant slowly and bringing his SMG up to bear as he skirted the hall. Voices could be heard from behind an upcoming door, disgruntled and joined by the sound of a fist banging against metal. Ethan rounded the hallway, catching a man with a bandana covering his face trying, and failing, to open a blast door, caught on the wrong side as it had closed. He only caught the glimpse of the soldier before several rounds tore into him, ending his life in a matter of seconds.

Dawn came in over the team frequency. “Based on movement data I say ten, no, eleven combatants in the cargo hold, including one behind the door you now stand before. Hostages are safe for the time being but I wouldn’t wait up. Let me get the door.”

“Form up,” ordered Ethan. “Go loud the moment this door opens.”

Alpha did as told, taking position with weapons ready. Seconds later the blast door slid open.

[Ubaria]

With the escaping air from the airlock came two innies, desperately clasping for anything to hold as they were forcibly jettisoned from the craft, their tumbling bodies falling out into space to probably, never be seen again.

"Poor bastards" Dragan mumbled as he watched them travel for a moment, before turning to Bressler, who was motioning for them to move into the hopefully empty airlock. Dragan obliged and scooted his way through the open door with pistol raised at chest level, once he saw that nobody else was clinging to the inside for their life, he entered. It took a second for everybody to enter, the door slowly clasping shut behind them, with a few clicks of the TacPad, Bressler re-pressurized the room and forced open the door to the rest of the ship.

Inside they were instantly met with resistance, a few hostiles had constructed a makeshift barricade to obviously, halt any forces attempting to breach. However it wasn't effective and provided little protection against the rip of Bressler's shotgun, followed by the rattle of rifles. Dragan bought his own Carbine to bare and instantly reeled off a burst of three rounds which all impacted one innie square in the spinal column as he attempted to flee. Two more fell and the rest dropped to avoid being ripped to shreds, however it wouldn't work.

"Stand back! Frag out!" Dragan pulled one M9-HE from the hip and pressed the arming button on its handle that started the fuse, then he threw it in a low arc, a path that took it over the barricade only to land a few feet behind. It was a second or two before the panicked cries of 'Frag get down!' were silenced by a loud boom, followed by metallic pinging as the fragmentation did its job, tearing the barricade down along with anybody unfortunate enough to be stood behind it.

[Vacif]

SNIP

Stacking up on the side of the door opposite to the lieutenant, Hadrian removed a flashbang from his utility belt. He felt the standard .390 would be more than enough to deal with the rebels on the other side, though this may of been more unwillingness to use the shredder round on another human being, he'd seen the damage it did to covenant infantry, namely grunts, and didn't want to know what it would look like on a person.

Taking in a breath, they were outnumbered almost 2-1. When the titanium blast door slip open, he tossed in the flashbang, and waited. The insurrectionists were surprised to see a flashbang flying at them instead of their now dead friend. One of the combatants attempted to warn his colleagues about the oncoming threat but was too slow as it detonated a third-way through his sentence.
"Flashba-Arrgh-shit!" the man yelled in anger, the other 10 reacting in similar fashions, though the effect lessened the farther away the person was. Not wasting a second, Hadrian turned the corner, and snapped off 4 rounds into the closest man. The MA2B let out the same amount of quick, angry, puffs. His target jerked violently as the large rounds tore through him, the others were still blind, their ringing ears not picking up the sound of the body hitting the floor, or the silenced rounds. Hadrian continued to advance, letting his teammates through the door. He continued to fire, moving towards cover as the blast door was completely exposed.

[New Grestin]

-snip-

With at least some of the hostages secured, Carol tagged alongside the rest of Alpha as they made their way to the cargo hold. Dawn's voice chimed in on the frequency as an unfortunate Insurgent was gunned down at the door.

“Based on movement data I say ten, no, eleven combatants in the cargo hold, including one behind the door you now stand before. Hostages are safe for the time being but I wouldn’t wait up. Let me get the door.”

“Form up,”

Ethan spoke.

“Go loud the moment this door opens.”

Carol nodded and slid in next to the cargo door, just off the frame. Hadrian tossed a flashbang into the room. The Insurrectionists were startled, barely having any time to alert their comrades before the shooting started. Carol had just slipped the suppressor off her SMG when the shooting started. She ducked inside, firing a few shots into the cargo hold and sliding in behind a large crate. Gunfire rippled through the hold, bullets shrieking past her head. She poked out of cover, taking aim and firing. A soldier, probably no older than she was, doubled back as the round struck him in the stomach. He yelled some expletive she couldn't hear then doubled back in pain. Another shot and his head exploded. Fresh blood and gray matter staining the floor.

There was little time to ruminate, though, as Carol merely pushed forward. Clearing a path down a long stretch of containers, two insurrectionists popped out and started firing. She slid in between the boxes, waiting as they emptied their magazines at her. The moment the shooting stopped, she drew her pistol and sprinted out. The soldiers had barely begun to slot the magazines into their rifles when she turned the corner. One man had a moment to beg before she shot them both, point blank. A small sprinkle of blood hit her visor. She quickly wiped it off and kept moving through the cargo bay.

Turning the corner, she found one of the soldiers. In his hand, a grenade, in the other arm a young woman. She sobbed frantically, begging him to stop. The man made it obvious he'd pulled the pin. Carol paused, leveling the pistol with his hand. He howled at her in anger.

"You get what the fuck's going on, you fucking-"

The round struck true, blasting the man's wrist apart. It hung by a tendon, blood spurting from the opened wound. Clean white bone protruded from the man's stump as he stumbled away. The grenade hit the ground with a clink. Carol threw the man aside and grabbed the woman, running behind one of the cargo boxes as the grenade detonated. Carol poked her head out. Blood and viscera were splattered about the small area, coating the cargo containers. She gestured for the woman to wait and sprinted out from behind the container, finding the rest of the unit fighting the soldiers. Her detour, however, had given her the perfect flanking angle. She raised her SMG and fired at them, quickly taking cover behind one of the cargo containers. Her voice crackled in over the team's radio.

"I got one civie back that way. Four dead tangos."

The SMG's clatter ceased for a moment. She popped the magazine out, slipping a new one in with a low click. She took aim once more and fired. One of the rounds went wild, striking a hostage. He fell over, clutching his side in pain.

"Shit."

[The United Federation of Terrans]

With the escaping air from the airlock came two innies, desperately clasping for anything to hold as they were forcibly jettisoned from the craft, their tumbling bodies falling out into space to probably, never be seen again.

"Poor bastards" Dragan mumbled as he watched them travel for a moment, before turning to Bressler, who was motioning for them to move into the hopefully empty airlock. Dragan obliged and scooted his way through the open door with pistol raised at chest level, once he saw that nobody else was clinging to the inside for their life, he entered. It took a second for everybody to enter, the door slowly clasping shut behind them, with a few clicks of the TacPad, Bressler re-pressurized the room and forced open the door to the rest of the ship.

Inside they were instantly met with resistance, a few hostiles had constructed a makeshift barricade to obviously, halt any forces attempting to breach. However it wasn't effective and provided little protection against the rip of Bressler's shotgun, followed by the rattle of rifles. Dragan bought his own Carbine to bare and instantly reeled off a burst of three rounds which all impacted one innie square in the spinal column as he attempted to flee. Two more fell and the rest dropped to avoid being ripped to shreds, however it wouldn't work.

"Stand back! Frag out!" Dragan pulled one M9-HE from the hip and pressed the arming button on its handle that started the fuse, then he threw it in a low arc, a path that took it over the barricade only to land a few feet behind. It was a second or two before the panicked cries of 'Frag get down!' were silenced by a loud boom, followed by metallic pinging as the fragmentation did its job, tearing the barricade down along with anybody unfortunate enough to be stood behind it.

Bressler took advantage of the opportunity to hurdle over the barricade and was met with four dead and mutilated corpses, broken equipment and two Innies who were both severely injured. One Innie held her head as blood wept from the ears and kicked her stumps while the other tried to keep his guts from escaping through a gaping gash in his stomach.

"Ilyas, kill these two and take Folk and Raer down the corridor there's going to be more Innies there." Bressler said as he heard the sound of boots on metal approaching from the other end of what his schematics said was a U-shaped corridor. "Everyone else on me"

Bressler continued down the hallway as Ilyas and his detachments sprinted ahead to cut off the Innies while Bressler and the rest of Bravo stacked on the large locked bridge doors. However, the problem the massive doors presented was soon solved through a liberal application of a canister of C-7 explosives, the explosives stuck to the hard surface before they crystallized and hardened in a large X drawn on the doorway.

Bravo team is taking the bridge, fire in the hole Bressler said into the radio as he keyed the explosives and watched s the door caved under the sudden force and in the place of the door came a wall of lead that hit the bulkhead opposite of the now gaping opening. However the fire withered and died as the Innies had the sudden urge to reload at the same team allowing the three ONI operatives to enter in a loose V. Four Innies had made a makeshift firing squad with their obviously stolen and new MA5B's; however they were now reloading with new unfamiliar weapons as Bressler's shotgun boomed and sent took a Innie off he feet as Hawkin's weapon chattered and an Innie's face caved in as Jenkins sent a barely audible burst of SMG fire into the throat of a frantic Innie. The lone survivor had dropped his weapon and had been raising his hands when Bressler re-racked his shotgun and pulled the trigger and took the man's left shoulder and face away. The wall behind the corpses looked like a paint can had exploded in a single direction and had yet to dry as the red liquid dripped down the walls. Moving into the bridge Bressler was confronted with two Innies by their clothing but they held nothing except their hands in the air.

"We surennd-" They were cut off as Bressler let his M-90 fall to it's chest sling as he withdrew his sidearm and killed the pair with a round apiece through the heads of both Innies.

Bressler to Woods; Bridge secured, Initiating Cole Protocol. The gunny reached into his pack and withdrew a fist sized packet of C-12 and tossed it at Jenkins. "Put a fifth of that on the nav console. Hawkins take the engineering console and cut power to the engines."

As Hawkins wiped blood off the console, Bressler went to the rear of the bridge deck near the captain's chair and bent down to access the panel there that for most of his military career had been his sole objective. Keying the panel open Bressler was prepared to remove the thumb sized data chip that held the nav coordinates for all of humanity's worlds but was instead met with the empty slot. Bressler was stunned as he thought over the implications before his eyes widened as he keyed his mic.

All stations, this is Black Initiative; Bravo Team Leader. We have a breach of Cole Protocol. I repeat, breach in Cole Protocol. This vessel's nav drive is missing, I repeat nav drive is MIA. Initiate Cole Protocol, Article 4 on any unauthorized crafts. I repeat initiate Cole Protocol Article 4 on any unauthorized craft.

[Ubaria]

"What is stealth anyway?"


Bressler took point and mounted the rest of the barricade which was barely a barricade by now, behind it was a scene of pure and utter carnage. Corpses, or what was left of them lay strewn across the floor in various levels of dismemberment, the close proximity of the grenade coupled with the enclosed space had proved a fatal combination, the fragments had torn through the flesh like it was nothing leaving unidentifiable parts all the way up the corridor. Two corpses seemed to be still alive, one of which had blown eardrums and no legs, the other was desprately trying to stop their intestines escaping.

"Ilyas, kill these two and take Folk and Raer down the corridor there's going to be more Innies there." Bressler ordered and quickly took off to engage reinforcements that were approaching.

One looked up towards him, his eyes glared at him with a mix of anger which quickly changed to misery, he simply stopped dead and stared him directly in the eyes, even through his polarized visor. Dragan hesitated for a moment before bringing his SOCOM up, taking aim down the sights.

Two whispers, two bullets. Straight into the temple of either soldier, their bodies became limp and dropped. At least this way their pain would have been ended quickly, bleeding out whilst watching your internal organs pile over the floor would have been a horrible way to go anyway. Ilyas remained motionless for a second, staring at the piled corpses either side of him, and with a sigh he turned to the two soldiers under his command.

"Raer cover our six. Folk on me. Watch your corners and sectors. I don't want to get shot in the ass." Dragan pointed at either end of the corridor to emphasize his point and clutched his Carbine with both hands. The sound of approaching hostiles grew louder, clanking of boots on metal mixed with the clacking of equipment and the odd occasional shout. The amount of noise suggested a fireteam sized element, 5 or 6 perhaps, 7 at most, all were bearing down with the intention of re-taking the bridge. Before they could advance any further, Dragan pulled a flashbang from his chest pouch and pulled the pin, still holding the handle firm.

"Flashbang out. Watch yourself" And with that he let go of the handle and rolled it around the corner. It clattered around and came to a stop just a few feet infront of the first innie who stopped, but it was too late. The bang rippled through the corridor sending a wave of concussive sound and light that halted the whole team in its tracks. As they fumbled around to try and get their bearings, one hostile fired wildly into the corridor, clipping one of his buddies in the shoulder which in turn sent the whole team into dissarray, firing wildly at the walls, floor, ceiling and eachother. Dragan took the oppurtune moment and leaned around the corner, just enough so he could see, but little enough so he wouldn't get hit. With his Rifle shouldered he opened up into the crowd, bullets landing everywhere from the chest, legs and head, to the arms and hands. They all fell within a matter of seconds, all in a bloody bullet ridden heap.

"6 Tangos down. Bressler...how are things on your e-" Dragan was cut off as Bressler relayed an emergency broadcast to all operatives onboard the ship.

All stations, this is Black Initiative; Bravo Team Leader. We have a breach of Cole Protocol. I repeat, breach in Cole Protocol. This vessel's nav drive is missing, I repeat nav drive is MIA. Initiate Cole Protocol, Article 4 on any unauthorized crafts. I repeat initiate Cole Protocol Article 4 on any unauthorized craft.

"Shit"

"Sir. Permission to head towards the escape pod bays. Lock down a possible escape?"

[Beiarusia]

Ethan ducked down behind a container as rounds tore into the metal, clanging off and ricocheting wildly. Waiting until there was a lull in the gunfire, the soldier pushed himself forward, moving closer towards the combatants and sliding into additional cover as they turned their fire his way. A shotgun blasted off from behind as Whitfield opened up with his M45, out of range but enough to create and opening as the insurrectionist faltered. Ethan spun around and brought the SMG to bear, emptying its clip and downing two of the combatants. Reloading, Ethan joined Whitfield as they pressed through the cargo hold, the latter pumping another round into a downed enemy that was still alive and moving.

Bradford and Kruger had come in from a different angle, ducking below cover as the insurrectionist pinned them down. Ethan and Whitefield joined the fray, their combined fire pushing back the enemy before they too were forced into cover. The firefight lasted little more than a few seconds with no sign of either side gaining an advantage. That changed as Deckard moved to flank.

"I got one civie back that way. Four dead tangos,” came Deckard’s voice of the team channel.

Ethan reloaded, Whitfield pumping shells into his shotgun. “Understood.”

Popping out from cover, Ethan unloaded his magazine, firing for effect rather than precision. Whitfield moved up, sending a slug through the first combatant he saw, pumping in a new shell and firing once more for good measure. Bradford joined him, slipping to the side and downing another. In seconds it was over, the insurrectionist having been gunned down.

“Clear,” barked Whitfield, kicking aside a discarded assault rifle.

Motion sensor was clear. Moving up he pointed to the corpses, ordering Kruger and Bradford to police the bodies. The hostages were behind a cargo container, having been hidden from sight from the soldiers, except for Deckard who had clear visuals. Moving to secure, Ethan saw that one was hit. Alive but bleeding out. “We got wounded,” he stated over the comm, bending down and attempting to administer first aid.

Bressler came over the unit frequency just then. "All stations, this is Black Initiative; Bravo Team Leader. We have a breach of Cole Protocol. I repeat, breach in Cole Protocol. This vessel's nav drive is missing, I repeat nav drive is MIA. Initiate Cole Protocol, Article 4 on any unauthorized crafts. I repeat initiate Cole Protocol Article 4 on any unauthorized craft.

Shepherd came over the comms next. “Damnit. Thought this was supposed to be a cakewalk. Moving to position. Anything comes off that ship we’ll blast it to nothing. Not like they have anywhere to go.”

“If you could locate the nav drive it would be much appreciated,” added Dawn, calm where as the captain was exasperated. “Scans indicate movement nearing the ship’s escape pods. A likely spot to begin your search.”

Ethan waved Krueger over, having her take over on the first aid. The man would likely die if not treated soon, but there was little he could do at the moment. “Bradford; Whitfield, hold the cargo bay. Deckard,” he looked over to the Corporal, “take point.”

With that the three soldiers moved out.

[The United Federation of Terrans]

"Hawkins, Jenkins secure the bridge!!!" Bressler ordered as he shoved shells into his weapons and broke out of the room at a sprint towards the rest of Bravo team. "On me!!!!"

Bressler shouted as he hurdled the undamaged barricade at the end of the corridor with the rest of Bravo at his heels as the engineer opened up the door that would eventually lead them to the escape deck. As the door whispered open he was greeted with three figures that wore brand new, unscuffed ODST armor and carried large drum fed weapons that were hustling to the door. The trio stopped to gawk at the four operatives that stood an arms length away from them, before Bressler went to raise his shotgun and the closest Innie threw himself at the marine with a cry as the two collided with a metallic clang as the Innie's weapon fell to the deck. Folk and Raer went to help before they too found themselves grappling with their own combatants in the close confined corridor and soon the enclosed space was resounding with the thumps of landing blows and grunts of exertion as Ilyas stood apart not being engaged by anyone.

"Regroup with Alpha!!" The gunny said as he used the shotgun he and his opponent were grappling over as a handle to push the Innie forward as Bressler looped his leg around the Innie's. With a cry the pair hit the metal floor as, Folk rabbit punched his opponent and used the respite to free the Innie's weapon from his hands and use it as a club to shatter the Innie's visor; while Raer received a knife in the shoulder while she struggled to bring her pistol up from it's holster against the Innie's viselike grip.

[Feroxi]

Thorne A095
Reach's Orbit
2549

"This is the UNSC shuttle twenty-seven-nine-three and I'm carrying a very important package onboard. Requesting to dock with you, Memento Mori. How copy?"

Reach. A beautiful planet of blue skies, wispy white clouds, and twin moons. It was close to Thorne, but yet so far. He touched the shuttle's window, sealed air tight, with a single gloved hand. The condensation of the ship let his palm make a misty imprint on the glass. He'd never even set foot on its surface but somehow, in someway, he felt connected to it. However, he never exactly knew why he felt this way. Maybe it was because it all started there; the program, the Spartan twos... or, perhaps, it was because it was her home. Sasha was born there, raised there. If it weren't for the program, they'd have been hundreds of light years away from each other. He thanked Naval Intelligence for that one and only kindness they gave him, every morning and every night. Thorne gazed at the planet longingly, watching its still atmosphere and seeing himself in its reflection. His golden visor reflected it back out, blocking the image from touching his bare eyes and the thought of her out of his mind.

That was a year ago, any way. Still, despite her death, the memory of her just wouldn't die. Somehow, neither did Thorne, despite how hard he tried. He took the most suicidal assignments, the most deadly missions; sabotaging a Covenant corvette, poisoning an Insurrectionist cell's commander, even the assassination of a minor prophet. But he couldn't seem to die. That's what they said, didn't they? Spartans never die. That was the age old motto. Never before had he thought it so true. Of course, the Office of Naval Intelligence didn't quite take a liking to that. They had invested too much in him: thousands of credits, years of time, and gallons of blood, sweat, and tears. That's why his higher-ups wanted him away from the rest of his brethren, away from the Headhunters and the other Spartan threes, and sent him here. They knew that it all reminded him of her. Yet they didn't know that he'd never forget her, no matter where they put him in this big, wide galaxy that we all lived in.

Thorne turned around in his seat and looked towards the pilot's chair. The pilot was turned around in his seat facing away from the command console. He had been watching Thorne, still probably astonished at seeing a Spartan. As soon as he saw Thorne's visor come his way, he clumsily swiveled his chair the other way.

Finally, the Spartan spoke, his voice calm and steady, "No response?"

The pilot shook his head, "No. Not yet."

Thorne nodded and looked down at the bolted metal floor underneath his feet.

The shuttle pilot remarked idly, albeit with a small hint of nervousness in his voice, "Maybe they're just getting clearance. I'm sure these ONI spooks have to go through the same bureaucracy that we do, y'know?"

Thorne didn't think so. No, he knew they didn't. With ONI it was their way or no way. Still, he let the man keep on thinking what he wanted to think.

The pilot was about to continue his little ramble of what he thought was conversation, but, he was suddenly cut off by another voice. It came from the comms. It was a female, her speech smooth and flowing like a droplet of water, but obviously forced. "Docking approved. We've been expecting you, twenty-seven-nine-three. Bring this Spartan home."

[New Grestin]

“Bradford; Whitfield, hold the cargo bay. Deckard, take point.”

Carol nodded and checked the ship's map. The escape pods weren't far, thankfully. She motioned for the others to follow and peeked out into the hall. It was strangely quiet outside the cargo hold, given the insanity that had just occured. She shrugged it off and continued down the hall towards the escape pods. Sliding around a corner, she found an insurgent standing in the middle of the hall. He seemed to be unarmed.

Fuck. I almost wish he actually had a gun. It'd make me feel better, at least. She quickly ran up on the man, but as she did, an idea popped into her head. She grabbed him by the shoulder and slipped her pistol out of it's holster. The cold steel pressed against his neck. The man panicked immediately, crying and sobbing for him not to kill her. She sighed, trying to block it out as she spoke.

"The Navigation drive. Where is it?"
"I-I don't know! They said they were gonna try and get it off the ship! Please I don't-"
"Shut up! Where are they?"
"The escape pods! I don't know if they already left! Please, for the love of-"

She smacked the pistol against his head and pointed down the hall, to the escape pods.

"Move"

The two wandered forward, awkwardly to the escape pods. They were all empty, save for one. Carol could see movement inside. Two insurgents, one carrying a small object. It had to be the Nav drive, she thought. Moving the hostage around to put him between the two groups, she yelled out.

"Drop the fucking drive or he dies!"

One of the insurgents looked at her, briefly, then stepped forward. He was tall, with a goatee across most of his face. His hair was hidden beneath a bandanna. He spoke with an air of confidence, despite the dire situation.

"You know I can't do that, doll."
"I'll fucking-"

Within seconds, the man had drawn his pistol and shot the hostage. Blood spattered across Carol's visor as the hostage collapsed, viscera falling from his opened skull with a disgusting plop. She looked at him in shock for a moment before he spoke.

"Ain't got much without a hostage, now do you?"

If she drew, she wouldn't have time to shoot before he did. Regardless, she raised her pistol and fired. The round went wild, striking the other insurgent. Her head kicked back, red blood spurting from her opened neck. The man fired. Pain struck Carol in the stomach as she collapsed, firing a shot at the man blindly as she did. The pistol flew from his hands. The round had blasted apart his kneecap, his body collapsing to the ground in a lump. Carol, holding her wound, finished him off. Then, she slid against the side of the door, trying to put pressure on her wound as she did. Dark blood streamed out onto her armor and throughout her clothes.

"Fuck."

She quickly withdrew a knife from her belt and cut away the armor around the wound. It'd dug deep, but it didn't seem to have hit an artery. It would join her many other scars, it seemed. Carol winced in pain, breathing quickly as she spoke over the radio.

"I-ugh-two dead tangos, shit. I think I've got the drive. I'm, uh, I'm hit. Fuck."

The blood streamed through her fingers, dripping onto the cool metal. You're going to be fine, Carol. It's just a flesh wound. It's just-

Gunfire spewed into the hallway outside the escape pod. A pair of insurgents had spotted the team and begun firing. Carol snatched up her SMG and fired, blindly, at them. Bullets struck nearby, one blasting into her thigh. She rolled over into the escape pod, screaming in pain. She hit the floor inside with a loud thump. Her breathing slowed, then picked up again as she dragged herself back towards the door, pistol in hand.

[Ubaria]

"Regroup with Alpha!!"

The corridor was filled with the sound of people trading blows, the gunfight had quickly turned into something not to different from a backalley brawl. It didn't take much for the ODST's to overpower their opponents however Raer, in an attempt to unholster her weapon, took a blade in the shoulder straight through where there was a gap between the shoulder pauldrons and the upper arm plating. Dragan moved over and quickly swung upwards with the butt of his rifle, it connected straight into the jaw of the enemy and probably shattered it outright as he collapsed, trying to scream as his jaw failed to move. The ODST paced one boot on his chest as he fell and planted a single bullet at close range, straight through the protective helmet, through the front of the cranium and into the brain, killing him instantaneously.

Raer managed to roll herself away and give Ilyas the thumbs up as he turned around to check on her. Satisfied that the rest of the team were handling themselves he set off in the general direction of the escape pod bays, hopefully if anybody tried to take the drive off-ship, that would be the place they were headed too. Remembering back to the briefing, Dragan had seen the layout of the ship and knew roughly which way to go, it wasn't that far away from the cargo hold where alpha team were currently engaging. Switching channels to Alpha's coms, he spoke quickly.

"Lieutenant. Ilyas here, i'm approaching the escape pods from the fore decks." He informed Ethan as he moved quickly through the hallways but cautiously, with his rifle raised to eye level. Up ahead the motion tracker showed two contacts moving away from him, towards the escape pods, from around the corner he heard them converse briefly.

'Cap's taken the NAV drive and a hostage to the pod bays. We're getting out of here' One of them spoke in a strange accent, hispanic by the sounds of it. The other voice was distinctly panicked.

'Fucking ODST are here man! We're dead, you know that?!' He whimpered.

'Shut up and pull yourself together, were al-' He stopped talking as he rounded the corner, face to face with Dragan who towered over them, clad in black, pointing a rifle directly at head level.

"Hello boys" Dragan smirked and fired a shot off at the lead soldier who jerked backwards and slumped to the floor. The other one frantically attempted to pull a magnum from his holster, but instead found himself spiraling backwards as Dragan used his SOCOM to finish him off. With the two soldiers taken care of, he continued on his path towards the escape pod bays, which took him just less than two minutes. The escape pod bay itself was sealed from either end by blast doors, luckily they hadn't been locked yet and with a simple tap of a button the door slid open and instantly the sound of bullets emanated from inside.

"I-ugh-two dead tangos, shit. I think I've got the drive. I'm, uh, I'm hit. Fuck."

"Engaging hostiles in the pod room!" Dragan threw a smoke down the hall to where all the rounds were coming from and moved in quickly whilst firing bursts into the smoke, trying to suppress the enemies moving in. The room was almost devoid of cover and the only thing that was stopping him getting shot, was the fact that the insurgents couldn't see what they were shooting at.

[Beiarusia]

"I-ugh-two dead tangos, shit. I think I've got the drive. I'm, uh, I'm hit. Fuck." There was a scream of pain over the comm as Deckard took another hit.

Ethan swore under his breath, ducking instinctively as more rounds peppered the doorway, pushing himself further into what little cover there was to be had. Opposite him was Racker, doing the same. Deckard was beyond the blast doors, injured and pinned down. Two insurrectionist had taken point, clad in stolen armor and unleashing a torrent of gunfire with similarly stolen LMG’s. Unlike the others encountered thus far these two seemed to have a basic understanding of combat strategy, conserving ammo and only firing as needed to keep the Eclipse soldiers unable to retaliate. Any attempt to return fire was met with a devastating burst from the LMG’s as the combatants moved up.

The blast doors further down the corridor opened, the voice of Ilyas coming over the unit comm frequency. "Engaging hostiles in the pod room!”

A smoke grenade exploded seconds after, obscuring the corridor.

To Racker: “Suppressing fire! Use your VISR to pick targets.”

Ethan didn’t wait for a confirmation, spiraling around the blast door and quickly pushing ahead, his VISR highlighting both Deckard and Ilyas (in green) and the two combatants (yellow). The insurrectionist had turned to engage Ilyas, firing blindly at where they believed him to be, not knowing how to utilize the VISR built into their stolen helmets. Ethan fired a burst towards the closest enemy, the SMG rounds pinging off the armor with little effect and betraying his presence. Alerted, the man spun around to fire blindly into the smoke, Ethan ducking into the open pod bay that Deckard had taken refuge inside of.

The woman was on the floor, pistol in hand and bleeding heavily from her leg. Ethan had no time just yet to attend to her, the enemy combatant was quickly moving to where they were, highlighted by the VISR despite being out of direct sight. The Lieutenant acted the moment he saw the LMG’s barrel, grabbing the weapon and pushing it aside as stray rounds fired up and into the ceiling, ricocheting, the SMG brought up to the man’s gut and emptied of its remaining ammo. The man grumbled some curse, his words marred by the blood in his mouth, before falling.

“Tango down,” Ethan alerted over the comm channel, dropping the LMG and returning to Deckard. Her pistol was raised but she lowered it as he knelt down beside her, reaching for his spare medical kit. His voice was stern when he spoke to her. “Try waiting for backup next time.”

He took a small container of biofoam and pressed it into the wound. It would burn like hell until the numbing took effect but it would halt the blood flow. Ethan repeated the process until he was certain he had plugged all the injuries. It was a temporary fix at best but it would hold until the Corporal was back on the Memento Mori, after which the onship medical officer could see to it that she was properly treated.

Tossing aside the spent container, Ethan looked up to the bay’s other inhabitant, a deceased woman with an obvious neck wound. She was unarmed and didn’t seem to be affiliated with the insurrectionist. Glancing back down to Deckard he said, “Think you need to pick your shots better.”