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 Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2008 6:54 pm
 The silence of space gripped the black void like a hand grasping
a hilt of a sword. Nothing disturbed it, nothing ever heard in the black
medium. Suddenly, the calm vastness was disrupted by a brilliant light,
followed by 5 metal objects appearing out of thin air.
The tangled metallic monsters crawled through space, like animals
they moved. Their metallic halls creaked and moaned with stress.
Black scorch marks and exposed wiring riddled their outer shells.
The ghosts of fallen followed them like a veil of worry and doubt.
On board the ships the men, women, and commanders stood on
the decks of their esteemed, battle worn vessels, scanning the
sight that beheld them.
Through the dark, a faint figure was appearing. Its axis tilted
and its structure oblong, was nothing like a human installation.
Around it debris floated like a warning to all who came.
This was a place of death.
The five behemoths moved forward, their thrusters burst to life
and propelled them forward towards the foreign structure.
Not knowing their fate, they continued curious of what
secrets the structure might hold.
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Posted: Thu Jan 17, 2008 8:22 pm
Captain Flagg sighed heavily as he hunkered down into the leather chair in his quarters. The light on his desk illuminated the commander insignia which he was supposed to give to a certain Lieutenant Commander on board his ship. Regardless he was tired from selecting a new crew, promoting each and every one of them to ensign and giving strict lessons about their new jobs on board. It had taken most of five hours to train them and another hour to write a report about the space battle. It was a painful process having to name the soldiers and navy men lost as well as the ships destroyed during the conflict. Flagg blinked his eyes trying to stay awake as he pulled open the drawer stowing away the report for later review by high command. "Resnick", he said opening up a red manila folder. It wasn't so much a statement as it was a thought. The detailed service record showed many engagements won and several operations with the red stamp 'classified' by them, all of which he was dumbfounded by with the exception of TREBUCHET: the fight against the Insurrectionists or "Innies" that started 25 years ago or so prior to the Battle of VerCrouse. Flagg made sure he filed for a promotion for bravery in the field and going above and beyond the call of duty. A soldier should not be rewarded for doing what's expected. The Master Chief had said that quite some time ago and he was right. What Flagg wondered was why some soldiers who made sacrifices were forgotten so quickly? But before he could answer himself the COM link to his quarters burst with static. It took a moment but the voice of Ensign Alten filled the room, "sir, exiting slip space in 20 minutes." He reached his hand forward and pressed down a cylindrical button. "Wake our cargo and send in Liutenant Commander Hammer ASAP; I need to speak with him." "Yes, sir." The Ensign was still on the COM, linking to another one; Flagg could hear him breathing. "He says he has something for you, sir." "Oh, is it my birthday already? Send him in." ***** Lieutenant Commander Michael R. Hammer stepped lively off Hangar Bay C-3 and gingerly proceeded into the lift that would take him to the Captains quarters. He had taken his time moving the wounded marines from the hangar to the medical bay, and in doing so he knew that he had waisted twenty minutes of his precious time. The young soldier exhaled and leaned against the inner grating of the lift, feeling the cold metal press up against his back. A yellow light began flickering around the room when the Lt. Commander opened his eyes and the voice of one of the crew came over the speakers, "all personnel are to prepare for norm. space entry in ten seconds. It wasn't very long breaths but it only took two or three in order for the counter to hit zero. Although exiting slip space was supposed to be smooth, they had come out with an abrupt changing in speed from entry to exit almost flinging him into the wall. He cussed at whatever crew member had caused this and gripped a pair of dog tags and a data chip in his hand. ***** Ensign Alten typed a few commands in order for the Monterey to regain control instead of tumble in space. The port side thrusters flared for a moment balancing the behemoth. Among the other crew members Alten believed that he was somehow superior to them in intelligence and gusto. Because of this he placed himself in a position of higher command while the Captain was around, making sure that everything was running smoothly. "Klavc, status report please?" he asked the woman manning the station nearest the front of the bridge. She didn't even look up, "all systems are green. Bringing visual up now." Alten watched as the holoscreen in front of him and the screen at his station flittered on with a live broadcast of the outside void. A station? inquired the Ensign placing a hand beneath his well shaved chin. An orbital installation floated among debris from a seemingly ancient time. "Alten, I'm picking up a distress signal from the station; it's one of ours" said Wellington who sat at the secondary COM controls and primary NAV controls. "Maintain speed. "Alten nodded his head to an invisible audience and moved to his own little part of the bridge and opened a COM link to the Captain. "Captain, we've found something and there seems to be a U.N.S.C. distress beacon transmitting from inside." ***** SPARTAN-019 cleaned and restocked his rifle in the Barracks, and although he didn't move when they abruptly slowed down he could not say the same thing for his gear. It was annoying having to grab his duffel bag and bullets off the floor when some Ensign that thought they could do it all screwed up. Of course Leito never said anything to anyone about this, and while other Marines and O.D.S.T.'s had stripped themselves of their gear and were relaxing he preferred to stay in his armor. It had almost become a part of the super soldier, and for that he was grateful. If it hadn't been for the incredible armor he probably wouldn't have made it through so many missions. Speaking of missions, Leito was reminded of his objective; Belfast was only secondary to bringing the Data Chip to Captain Flagg. Now however the chip was on it's way up to the Captain with the Lieutenant Commander and he was sure he would be hearing from the Captain soon enough.
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Posted: Fri Jan 18, 2008 10:46 pm
The room was dark as the sound of metal slightly bending creaked through the relative silence. The metal creaked twice more before a single gasp sounded, the lungs of a man thirsting for air finally liberating a cloud of carbon oxides in order to receive fresh oxygen. The man in question was upside down.
His chest heaving, Xiang Hao Lee hung there another five seconds, a worn steel bar under his knees keeping him from crushing his head on the floor. A few beads of sweat collected along his forehead before they fell onto the space-grade bulkhead, the water mixed with salt and oils lying there like droplets of morning mist waiting to evaporate. The metal creaked one more time before Lee dropped from the bar, landing in a balanced squat on the same spot that the beads of sweat had been. They instantly disappeared, absorbed by the thick skin of his bare feet, the large padded calluses making no sound as the man crossed the room to another, smaller one.
"Shower: On."
A few minutes later, the rather short asian-looking captain was walking down the halls of the UNSC Monterey to the debriefing rooms. A good number of the Armengald's survivors had made it to the Monterey, and not only had Lee been denied the chance to prove his worth, he was now tasked with the painful duty of hearing tales of their defeat from those who had tried but failed. He would have to console those that he viewed as partially responsible for their loss, but still be unable to do anything about it. Desk work sucked.
On the way to the debriefing area, however, Lee passed by the medical bay to check on some of the casualties. If they were going to survive, everyone who could wield a firearm would have to, no matter the severity of their wounds. The sight that awaited him, however, sickened him more than anything.
At least thirty marines were lying about, in various beds, seats and cots, doctors, nurses and medics rushing about in a mad frenzy of continually increasing panic. Some men had lost limbs, others had deep cuts. One man had a large crater in his back, no doubt the result of a needler round exploding right next to him. If the needle had been but a few inches closer... Lee shuddered at the thought of his entire torso disappearing under plasma fire.
s**t. And we're supposed to be winning this war?
Lee Kept on walking. Those who were wounded would probably prefer their relative calm, anyways...
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 7:56 am
Warren lied on his bunk, throws a ball at the ceiling and catches it again. He had been playing this game for the last hour now, with only a small interruption when they came out of slip space. Warren could not take this silence for much longer. The quiet was slithering all over him and going into his flesh. He shook off the feeling and caught the ball again. He put the ball in his pocket and pulled himself out of his bunk. He pulled his Battle Rifle off the table and threw it over his shoulder.
Warren walked out of the barracks to see a spartan solider there working on his rifle. He gave the spartan a kind of fowl like look.The ODST and Spartan two program have always been sort of like rival's.This rivalry was more fueled by the higher ranking ODST officer's, but Warren actually had a great deal of respect for the Spartan two's, even thou he would never tell any fellow soldier's.
He walked out into the hallway and walked off in a random direction. He didn't really know where he was going and his feet just kind guided him around twists and corners. Warren found himself at the bridge of the Monterey and The 2 officers who were guarding the door let him pass. When he walked into the bridge and saw that space station or what ever it was sitting in space. Suddenly the quiet that was bugging him earlier came crawling up his skin once again.
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Posted: Sat Jan 19, 2008 8:20 am
"GET THOSE DAMNED PELICANS IN THE AIR!" yelled a disembodied voice from the left. Chaos filled his heart, his mind racing faster than a jump into Slipspace, and he could feel his fear taking over. EVery breath he took as he ran peirced his lungs, cauing his breath to be wheezy and strained. Explosions riddled the ground everywhere and blue streaks of plasma flew past him like angry hawks diving for their pray.
He clutched his rifle tighter with his already white knuckled fingers. Dirt flew into his face from every direction, clouding his vision and making it hard to see.
Ahead, he could see the subtle outline of a D77-TC Pelican, prepairing for take-off. He could barely see people prepairing to board through the dirt chunks that continued to flurry around him.
Through the wizzing of plasma flying by him, he could hear the voice again. It echoed around him, confusing him on where its origin came.
"There's the Pelican! Let-" It was cut off by a sharp scream of pain.
Infront of him, the ground exploded into particals, everything became cloudy, the dust ball of brown took over his sight when suddenly-"
Anthony awoke in a sweating panic. His pulse was racing and he couldn't think straight on what had just happened. Whether the internecene he had just witnessed was a fabrication, or an actuall event. He knew in the pit of his mind it was real; it had happened to him.
Adjusting himself and sitting up straight, he collapsed his head in his hands and began to rub his eyes. Small bits and scenes were replaying like a movie in his head. These things needed to stop.
His feet hit the cold metal decking. A cold shiver ran throught his body, but he quicly overcame it. Anthony got out of bed, and walked over to his marine armor and fatigues. He wiped the remaining sweat off his brow and began to dress himself, only wondering what this day would have in store for him...
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 9:17 am
Sluggishly, Anthony slipped into his Fatigues; Grey Camo uniform and trousers and headed out the door from his bunk into the main corridors of the ship.
He walked down Corridor B-6i, one of the more populated hallways on the ship. People bustled past him as he began todrift off...
Anthony was looking face to face with a Brute Cheiftan. Its Gold armor shimmered in the intence firefight, giving it a magestic look. His nerves began to freeze, his mind locked down from all thoughts and nothing would process.
The Brute looked at him for a minute, a quick pause before is crushed its prey into a million particles. Its large eyes scanned over his black ODST armor, and saw right through his faceshield, grinning at the face of fear.
It let out a cry of battle, and brought its hammer to drop, but suddenly, was overpowered by barrage of M41 fire. The monster dropped to its knees, its eyes still looking at Anthony, as it fell to the ground. It didn't move again.
Anthony felt arms grab him and start to lift him onto his weakened feet.
His boots thumped across the metal plating of the corridor-
-dirt kicked up from the force of his boots, the fresh soil began to fly-
The voices of everyone around him swarmed and grouped-
The machine gun fire stabbed its way into his head, destroying thoughts and-
Making everything-
-blurry as the 2 marines dragged him to the-
-door. He could see there was already a line to-
-board the Pelican. Wounded crouded around it as finally-
The doors opened to the Elevator. Everyone-
-piled in, Anthony quickly-
-followed as the doors began-
-to close behind him.
The noises filled his head-
as the lurching of the ship taking off-
filled his stomach-
-as they rose up-
Safe from harm...
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 11:14 am
He awoke from his deep sleep, and rubbed the crust from his eyes. Damn, I need to take a hint from those officers. Start training myself for the "time zone" shift. After having been transfered to the Monterey, Lance Corperal Ashton Dansmith had to "fit in" with the new crowd. A Spartan on board, hundreds of battle-wearey soldiers, a stoic captain, and all he could add to the chaos were his stories of Crap assignments out in some colonies.
He had seen some action, for sure, but not as much as these guys. He heard that most of them had survived some sort of "milk-run" gone wrong, and these present were just a fraction of the original force. Maybe someone will deem it necessary to fill me in. Doubt it.
Crawling out of the bed, he had a flash of the obvious: these guys were injured and dying, and here he was, a trianed medical professional, and he was just sitting on his a** and taking up space? The hell with that! He grabbed his fatigues and a small datapad, got dressed, then double-timed it out the door. He would never again let lax overcome him like that, he swore it to himself.
As he climbed the stairs up to the medical bay, he pushed through crowded hallways and rowdy mess halls. Finally, he came to the Med Bay, and saw more than a hundred Marines, just on this level, that made his stomach flip. missing legs, half of their craniums blown out, no jaws, plasma burns, bite wounds: Jesus, half thesze guys made him want to die, right then and there!
"Hey, boy! Yeah, you. Come here." A marine, sans his left leg and half of his chest cavity, was managing to call him over to his bunk. ODST, huh? Damn, it must've taken a s**t load of fire to mess this guy up, ODST's are tough. "Yes, sir? I'm Corperal Dansmith, trained in basic medical care. Uhm, if you want me to help you out, Sir, I think the doc's here have done far more than I could..." He started to say, hoping the ODST didn't want a bypass or anything complicated like that.
"Ah, hell no, man. Just wanted to talk. I'm Sergeant O'Niel, or what's left of me. What the hell they got you up here for, eh? No place for kids to go meanderin'." The marine eased back into his bed and put his arms back under his neck, reclining. "Well, sir, I was transfered here at the first opportunity. Just trying to get you guys home, I guess?" He wondered, hoping the Sergeant knew more than he did. Oh, boy, did he ever.
"Home?! s**t, I wish! No, word is we've found a distress beacon. And you know us military types, can't go around ignoring distress beacons 'n such, now, could we?" The marine seemed almost smug with the information he had. Not hard to see why, it was almost all he had left. "A beacon, sir?" "s**t, yeah. That Spartan we got onboard, bless their metal asses, ain't just here on Funeral Detail. We're gonna need his help if we're gonna live through this. That beacon's in a Station, floatin' in space. You ready for this, son?"
Walking from the Marine, Ashton had only one thought: Damn, I sure hope so...
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 11:35 am
From anyone's stand point, it looked like the First Sergeant was sleepwalking. His eyes were focused ahead and nowhere else. His mind playing back events uncontrolably like a movie. Everything he didn't want to remember was coming back... One bit at a time...
His head sank low and his elbows rested on his knees. Anthony, still struck by what had happened, sat there cold and silent like a statue.
Suddenly, a voice broke his silence. "Son, what was your outfit?" Asked what looked to be a Lieutenant.
Anthony brought only his head up to look at the officer. His body stayed the same.
"Sir, I was with 105th Battallion S1. Baker Company Sir." His voice hollow.
"Baker Company? Hell, your the only one I've seen from Baker. What happened to the rest of your outfit?"
Anthony stopped for a second to regather what was left of his thoughts.
"We... uh... we were ordered to take a flanking mission around the base. We were hit by everything. We lost 3rd and 4th Platoon Right then and there. 1st and 2nd fell back into a fixed position. We were pinned down; lost about 20 guys, fell back again and moved up towards the Rally point established around 0600." Anthony sat straight in his seat, now looking at the Lieutenant. "Anyway sir, we attempted to rally Able Company, but we found they got hammered by something. That something was a Scarab. Damn thing came out of nowhere." He started using his hands to illustrate while he talked, "Able Company fell right there. And 2nd platoon did too. Me and 5 other guys ran as fast as we could untill a few Brutes picked us off... I was the only one left. Thats when I saw the LZ, and this Pelican, and thats where I got to where I am now sir..."
Anthony's grammer was a little off. Probably because he was shaking so much from the pressure.
"Your the only one left?" The Lieutenant asked, not sure weither to belive him.
Anthony nodded. "Yes sir." A grim responce at that.
The Lieutenant nodded. "Alright son, when we get back we're gon-"
The Elevator stopped, and the masses of uniforms rushed out. Anthony followed the crowd, hoping to find a Lieutenant Commander Hammer on this floor...
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 12:47 pm
The halls of the UNSC Monterey were far from what they had been before Belfast. Back then, the halls were pristine, clean to a shine, and there wasn't so much as a speck of dust to impede your progress throughout the ship.
Nowadays, it was nearly impossible to get through certain areas. The Med-Bay, which should have been the pinnacle of sanitization due to it's health-related activities, was now littered with wounded and supplies. What should have been a rapid exit from the nursery's corridor had turned into a lengthy detour through one of the intensive care wards, a number of stretcher-bound marines having come in from one of the pelican bays, along with worried squadmates and attending medical staff. Lee nearly tripped over a low-hanging IV drip tube before catching himself, hanging precariously between a stack of small freezer-boxes containing what was probably blood and a bed carrying what looked like a full-body burn victim.
s**t, he thought, I don't know whether he was lucky or cursed enough to survive.
Grabbing a nearby handlebar and it's opposing cousin, Xiang Hao hefted himself over a small trolley and into a small open area near the exit to the ship's engineering section. It was going to be a while before he finally got to the debriefing room, but he was sure whoever was waiting wouldn't mind another three minutes or so. The uptone ding of a nearby lift sounded out, and he slipped through the crowd into the now unnocupied elevator. This was going to be a long day.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 12:59 pm
Seth lay on his bunk staring blankly at the cot above him. He always chose the lower bunk; some people considered Seth a bit paranoid, but in case of emergency he wanted his feet to be the first to hit the ground and get to his station.
Seth's hand idly fingered the shrapnel scaring he had on the right side of his face, tracing the contours of the scaring, there were two big cuts, that arced from just above and below his ear in a horizontal cut to the edge of his eye and his mouth. There were scattered smaller ones in crisscross patterns, but the two parallel cutes were the most prominent distinguishing features.
Seth sighed to himself, touching these scars had become a habit of his, he did it whenever he was lost in thought. Much the same way a man would rub his chin or stroke his beard. Just idle activity.
Seth's leg twitched, getting bored of not moving, begging to become active once again. Sighing he rolled out of his bunk and onto his feet. There was a kind of relieving pressure that came with the weight on his legs.
Seth began to walk, heading in no direction in particular.
Survivors of the Armenglad could be seen throughout the hallways. Seth had gotten lucky, just a few bruises and burns-- nothing a day in the medical bay and a bit of R&R didn't cure.
Twisting through corridors--now entering the medical bay-- Seth's mind was a buzz of activity; seeing the fallen Marines and hearing the moaning of the wounded he had to wonder: what had gone right so far?
As he walked he began to hear conversation; there was a familiar voice there.
"....You ready for this boy?" a grizzled voice asked.
Out in front of Seth a Marine exited a room. He was rather tall, well built kind of fellow possibly on the thin side. His skin was tanned and his face looked considering, as though he was deep in thought. He bore the insignia of Lance Corporal.
Approaching him Seth cleared his throat, "You alright Marine?" If this soldier had been on the Armenglad, he would have been injured, but sometimes psychological damage was worse than any plasma burn.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 1:08 pm
Lance Corperal Dansmith walked between the much-in-need patients, seeing where he could help the doctors, medics, and nurses. As crowded as it was here, he somehow felt like he was in his element, and efficiently and gingerly leapt and tip-toed his way through the bodies, stretchers, and storage containers. Grabbing a nearly-tipped IV as a hurried Marine ran by, he righted it and checked on its wayward owner. Poor Greggson, he was bathed in Plasma fire, or so said his report. He looked a helluva lot better than most of the guys Ashton had seen who had been covered with plasma: there usually wasn't much left of them.
By now, the Med Bay was beginning to thin out, as more and more patients managed to hobble away with a gun in hand, headed towards the Armory (he assumed). Good Idea He thought, Don't want to get caught with my pants down and my chamber empty!. In the background, he heard the lofty music from a Marine's personal music listener, and it was playing some old crap, ancient stuff from back in the 20th. "...rover, wanderer, nomad, vagabond, call me what you will! ...wherever i may roam... carved upon my stone, my body lies, but still i roam!...". Ashton smiled wryly, and took a small reprieve from his duties to listen in... until one grumpy marine passing trough told him to "Turn that s**t off, It's giving me another reason to die!".
He had to agree: he would have much rather been listening to some contemporary Orchestra, something to soothe the nerves, not rile them up.
Hehe, oh well. thought Ashton, You can't keep everyone happy. But then, if we could, I think I'd be out of a job!. He continued his work, hoping someone would soon relieve him so that he could work his way up to the command centers and find out what the hell was going on.
Just then, someone called out to him, and not in a manner that suggested unbearable agony. "You alright, Marine?" The voice called again, and it took Ashton several seconds to pinpoint the source in the crowded Bay.
"Me? Yes, sir, but I've been better, as I think we all have. Lance Corperal Ashton Dansmith, Qualified MD and Marine Serviceman. I'm rather busy, but who might you be, sir?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 1:26 pm
"Dansmith?" Seth's mind reached back to the company roster he had been given. "I'm First Lieutenant Adams, CO of Able Company-- BATTALLION S3. You must be Able's doc." Seth looked the man up and down again, Dansmith seemed like a very capable soldier, "Can you give me a status report Dansmith?"
These Marines looked to be in pretty bad shape, half of them looked like they were on the verge, it'd be nice to know just how many survived from the Armenglad.
As far as Dansmith's mental state went he at least knew who he was and his rank, so that was a good sign, the soldier must have been from a different ship.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 1:48 pm
Ashton stopped immediately and snapped off a crisp salute. "Sir! Sorry, its just been a little hectic these days. Wouldn't want any of these guys to go the way of Harvest or Reach, if you get my meaning, sir. It's been a lot to process." Dansmith quickly finished what he had been working on, then turned his full attention to the Lt.
"Able, sir? I know what those guys went through, and as far as I'm concerned, I may as well be their medic now, but I wasn't with them in the thick of it. I just got transfered over here from a crap posting out ona survey and relay station, and let me tell you, it was a lot easier catching a nap back on that piece of tin. Don't regret coming here, though, sir."
"As for a status report, well, no one's bled out since I arrived, sir. Been able to help the good docs here stabalize a lot of em, and a few slipped away just after I arrived: there was nothing I could have done for them..." Ashton lost focus for a second or two, and a few horrid images flashed thought his mind--Screams, howls, and blood-lust roars-- No, not me! I--
He snapped back to the present, and couldn't possible explain it away to the Lt, he had witnessed too much.
"Sorry, sir. The past likes to catch up with me sometimes, even if I know it's bad company to entertain. Nothing I can't handle sir, and it hasn't interfered with my work yet. Besides, every soldier has their scars, right, sir?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 2:07 pm
"Just transfered? Yeah that sounds right." Seth's comment had a hint of dubiousness to it. He wondered what the Marine could have seen to mess with his head like that.
Seth had seen some pretty bad stuff, got plenty of flak dream-wise about it too. But it never got this bad.
Seth nodded, his eyes pensive and curious and his tone did little to hide his inner wondering about Dansmith's demons. "Aye, we all have our scars." Seth agreed.
Looking around he saw faces of men he recognized from the Armenglad, men and women he had served with, most he didn't know, but a few he gave a quick nod to. Marcos, a Private sat in a bed two limbs in castes and bandages around his head. The Private nodded, Seth nodded back. There were a few mumbled greetings from the injured men who knew Seth; the man who Dansmith had been working on grinned feebly. "You got a good man there LT, fixed me right up."
Seth gave the man--Jones he thought-- a nod and turned his attention back to Dansmith.
"I'm heading up to the Bridge in order to get a handle on our situation; you're welcome to join me, more medics should be coming on duty in about an hour." Seth looked around, they certainly weren't badly short-staffed but they could use all the help they could get.
"Your call Dansmith." Seth always liked to test the waters of his men, see what they do, see what they can handle before he began to give them orders, or trust them in the field.
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Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 2:31 pm
"Sir, I'll accompany you as soon as I finish up with this fresh batch of arrivals: they're slowing down, but I'll be damned if they stop coming in. Shouldn't take too long sir, and if you give me directions, I won't have to have you hold my hand. Sir." Ashton knew a sly joke here and there was good, but he didn't know how much the Lt would consider "tolerable".
"I'd love to be 'in the know', sir. Been out of 'it' for too long, and in these situations, 'too long' could be just 5 minutes. I'll hurry with my duties, sir, don't worry too much about me."
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