ALWAYS OPEN [IC] Halo - Empty Throne: The Human Outer Colonies

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Dorian held Suzuki's gaze, his own expression unreadable behind the faint blue tint of his visor. He listened, taking in the words, the careful gestures, the extinguished flames. The way Suzuki spoke—it wasn't just doctrine or tradition. It was something deeper, something personal. Dorian had never met a Spartan like him.

At the question, he let out a quiet exhale, the closest thing to a dry chuckle he ever gave.

"You're not wrong," he admitted. "Philosophy doesn't stop a bullet. Doesn't clear a room. Doesn't keep your team alive." His voice was measured, even, but there was no mockery in it—just cold pragmatism.

He glanced at Suzuki's armor again, the deliberate, almost reverent way he carried himself. "But I won't pretend war is just tactics and muscle memory either. It's something deeper than that." He looked back at Suzuki. "I just don't have the luxury of making it mean anything more than survival."

Once again, Suzuki smiled. "You and the rest of our ilk have more luxury to focus on these things than any humans besides us, and yet we seem to have done it for thousands of years. If the UNSC wished to wage its wars with machines, it would've. Don't forget that."

At that, another Spartan entered the room - one wearing advanced looking armor, some fashion of prototype MJOLNIR. Despite both Suzuki and Dorian being expensive super soldiers, somehow his gear made them look cheap. The quality of his training and experience, however, remained to be seen.
"Asher-zero-zero-nine-two, reporting," he announced, shifting into a perfect parade-ready stance.

"At ease," the commander said, and Asher stood down. Suzuki stepped back, and addressed them both. "I will await the arrival of your fellows, before I reveal the details of your fireteam's mission."
 
None of the four had been aboard very long. Picked up in any manner of ways, all four Spartans were still finding their way around the ship before they were given the order to meet Spartan Commander Suzuki in his private quarters, near the bridge. The message was hand-delivered by a marine, wearing gear befitting the wide smattering of guns and other equipment that seemed to be stored aboard the ship.
If asked why the command wasn't radioed, nor navigations uploaded to their helmet's HUD, the marine - Private First Class William S. Jenkins - would offer the explanation Suzuki told him, that it'd be best if they mapped the ship manually, for a variety of reasons.
Lazing around the barracks as she'd sift through her own thoughts, it was hard not to be happy at the interruption, her question being answered as the spartan would meander her way to Suzuki's quarters. It didn't seem urgent, and every spartan was indispensable, so she doubted there would be any repercussions for taking her time.

"Thanks, lil' man-" Elizabeth couldn't help but tease, a smile and the ruffling of his helmet being her parting gift as she'd head off into the corridors, her own helmet in her arms one moment and hiding her face the next.

She hadn't been on the ship long, and frankly she was itching to be back in the fight already. Solitude didn't suit her, and she wasn't sure how well she would get along with the other spartans in their freetime. She still had a hard time opening up quite like she had all that time ago, the gloomy expression when nobody was around, her missing eye, and somber dullness in her remaining one, all teasing at what she might've been like as a younger, bright-eyed soldier, not that the marines would be able to tell with her cheerful comments.
Once again, Suzuki smiled. "You and the rest of our ilk have more luxury to focus on these things than any humans besides us, and yet we seem to have done it for thousands of years. If the UNSC wished to wage its wars with machines, it would've. Don't forget that."

At that, another Spartan entered the room - one wearing advanced looking armor, some fashion of prototype MJOLNIR. Despite both Suzuki and Dorian being expensive super soldiers, somehow his gear made them look cheap. The quality of his training and experience, however, remained to be seen.
"Asher-zero-zero-nine-two, reporting," he announced, shifting into a perfect parade-ready stance.

"At ease," the commander said, and Asher stood down. Suzuki stepped back, and addressed them both. "I will await the arrival of your fellows, before I reveal the details of your fireteam's mission."
Heading inside, she'd catch the commander's last sentence, a warm smile on her face that could be heard in her voice as she'd look around her superior's strangely empty room, taking a look at the three of them before casually leaning against a spare piece of wall by the door.

"... And I thought I was taking my time~ You called, commander?"
@Bael
 
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It took a little time for the missive to actually make it to Sam, namely because it was frankly hard to predict what vehicle he'd be elbow-deep in. The cavernous hangar felt home to a makeshift camp, with so many people onboard having to find room where they could eke out the square footage. Today, Sam was helping out with an engine re-fit -- namely by simply holding the engine up by a set of tow chains while a mechanic dug around in the bay reconnecting something or other.

Following the litany of pointed fingers to Sam, the marine verbally relayed the message, getting a wordless stare from a rectangular visor, before he looked down to the mechanic and simply said, "You're gonna need an engine lift."

Unsurprisingly, Sam-B026 would be the last to actually make it to Suzuki's quarters, even with a Spartan-III's long stride. Walking in and seeing three other, random assortment of Spartans, Sam likewise saluted and stated, "Sam-B-zero-two-six."

A man of few words at the best of times, he simply fell into a parade rest, waiting for his orders -- though the minute turns of his head would betray he was looking at each Spartan in turn.
 
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Twin Engine thundered through low orbit, Adamantine Shield and Shining Armor at her side. Swarming like hornets were the Nandao compliments of Twin Engine, Pale Rider, and the lost Double Tap. Having expended much of their onboard munitions at Kherson and the DCZ, the Nandaos were in need of rearmament. With record speed they embarked, rearmed, and relaunched to clear space for the next wave. They were to intercept the Banished army currently bearing down on the DCZ. The pulse lasers of Twin Engine and Onager of Adamantine Shield would target down the enemy's transports and heavy vehicles first, while the Ramparts of Adamantine Shield and Shining Armor would cut down the Banshees' number prior to the Nandao's engagement. The troops not aboard transports would fall prey to a strike of 10 archer missiles, and the cleanup of the task force's point defense weapons.

In orbit, the Kig Yar of Legitimate Salvage worked tirelessly to restore the slipspace drive of their newly acquired bladdership. Christening her the Honeypot, they brought the vessel down to the planet's surface. First to the newly liberated zone of Kherson. Here, a number of Unngoy converts were recruited to aid in the repairs. The stony-skinned methane breathers were awarded extra food, and rest in the vessel's methane suite in exchange for their service. With their new crew acquired, the vessel would make pace for the DCZ, wherein they would siphon as much deuterium as they could without the expansive systems of the Processing Facility. Once the slipspace drive was back online, the vessel would make haste for Arcadia, following the Cole Protocol. All Kig Yar, and their newly hired unngoy crew, would leave aboard the vessel.

Even as a Banished army marched from Cassanova to the DCZ, the forces at Kherson prepared for a march on Solano. With Commander Hills sharing command of the army with Elliot Kovalenko and his council; the force would quickly spread their looted munitions and equipment around. Not wanting to entrust 20 tanks to the hands of dubiously loyal unngoy or sangheili, they would instead be piloted by 20 of Uratom's Elite strike team. The ghosts, in a gesture of trust and friendship, would be given to the best jockeys amidst the converted unngoy force. A gamble, but both Fieldings and Salvage's captain, Barx, were confident that a show of trust and kind treatment would ensure the loyalty of the unngoy. The Murats and Pipistrelles would be distributed amongst the insurrectionist army at Kovalenko's discretion, as he was liable to know who amongst his forces were best fit to operate the vehicles. The small arms would be distributed using the banta transports and the marines aboard them as efficiently as was possible, given the circumstances.

Knowing it would be hours before the army at Kherson was ready to march, Fieldings held court with his captains, Hills, and the Insurrectionist Council. Fieldings spoke first, "Governor Kovalenko, gentlemen and women of the Levosian government. I will not lie, I am here by the UNSC's order to steal the deuterium harvested here by the Banished. I was not made aware of your population. As such, I see no reason why you should be held to UNSC rule. I will aid you in the liberation of your world, and my warships will leave. I would be eager to discuss the trade of deuterium produced by Levosia, but rest assured there will be no UNSC taskforce coming to conquer you. I am all they could send."
Hills chimed in, "Aye, he even sent a runner off world, just to find my lads and recruit us to the operation. UNSC couldn't even muster a thousand marines."
Adamantine Shield's commander, November, huffed with indignation. Fieldings continued, "Be that as it may, I have dire news. A Banished Dreadnought is en route to Levosia at this moment. We have less than 24 hours before it arrives. I have already developed a plan to bring it down, but I need to know what, if anything, you have that could be used against it."


Tower Shield and Palenium Shield arrived at Levosia amidst the chaos, deploying their marine compliment, along with the vehicles they held, to Kherson. Their ODSTs were withheld, for the time being. They would instead be deployed to the eliminated Karve, ensuring its crew was dead and preparing it for tow; either back to New Arcadia for Gath's salvage crews, or to Levosia's surface.
 
Twin Engine thundered through low orbit, Adamantine Shield and Shining Armor at her side. Swarming like hornets were the Nandao compliments of Twin Engine, Pale Rider, and the lost Double Tap. Having expended much of their onboard munitions at Kherson and the DCZ, the Nandaos were in need of rearmament. With record speed they embarked, rearmed, and relaunched to clear space for the next wave. They were to intercept the Banished army currently bearing down on the DCZ. The pulse lasers of Twin Engine and Onager of Adamantine Shield would target down the enemy's transports and heavy vehicles first, while the Ramparts of Adamantine Shield and Shining Armor would cut down the Banshees' number prior to the Nandao's engagement. The troops not aboard transports would fall prey to a strike of 10 archer missiles, and the cleanup of the task force's point defense weapons.

In orbit, the Kig Yar of Legitimate Salvage worked tirelessly to restore the slipspace drive of their newly acquired bladdership. Christening her the Honeypot, they brought the vessel down to the planet's surface. First to the newly liberated zone of Kherson. Here, a number of Unngoy converts were recruited to aid in the repairs. The stony-skinned methane breathers were awarded extra food, and rest in the vessel's methane suite in exchange for their service. With their new crew acquired, the vessel would make pace for the DCZ, wherein they would siphon as much deuterium as they could without the expansive systems of the Processing Facility. Once the slipspace drive was back online, the vessel would make haste for Arcadia, following the Cole Protocol. All Kig Yar, and their newly hired unngoy crew, would leave aboard the vessel.

Even as a Banished army marched from Cassanova to the DCZ, the forces at Kherson prepared for a march on Solano. With Commander Hills sharing command of the army with Elliot Kovalenko and his council; the force would quickly spread their looted munitions and equipment around. Not wanting to entrust 20 tanks to the hands of dubiously loyal unngoy or sangheili, they would instead be piloted by 20 of Uratom's Elite strike team. The ghosts, in a gesture of trust and friendship, would be given to the best jockeys amidst the converted unngoy force. A gamble, but both Fieldings and Salvage's captain, Barx, were confident that a show of trust and kind treatment would ensure the loyalty of the unngoy. The Murats and Pipistrelles would be distributed amongst the insurrectionist army at Kovalenko's discretion, as he was liable to know who amongst his forces were best fit to operate the vehicles. The small arms would be distributed using the banta transports and the marines aboard them as efficiently as was possible, given the circumstances.

Knowing it would be hours before the army at Kherson was ready to march, Fieldings held court with his captains, Hills, and the Insurrectionist Council. Fieldings spoke first, "Governor Kovalenko, gentlemen and women of the Levosian government. I will not lie, I am here by the UNSC's order to steal the deuterium harvested here by the Banished. I was not made aware of your population. As such, I see no reason why you should be held to UNSC rule. I will aid you in the liberation of your world, and my warships will leave. I would be eager to discuss the trade of deuterium produced by Levosia, but rest assured there will be no UNSC taskforce coming to conquer you. I am all they could send."
Hills chimed in, "Aye, he even sent a runner off world, just to find my lads and recruit us to the operation. UNSC couldn't even muster a thousand marines."
Adamantine Shield's commander, November, huffed with indignation. Fieldings continued, "Be that as it may, I have dire news. A Banished Dreadnought is en route to Levosia at this moment. We have less than 24 hours before it arrives. I have already developed a plan to bring it down, but I need to know what, if anything, you have that could be used against it."


Tower Shield and Palenium Shield arrived at Levosia amidst the chaos, deploying their marine compliment, along with the vehicles they held, to Kherson. Their ODSTs were withheld, for the time being. They would instead be deployed to the eliminated Karve, ensuring its crew was dead and preparing it for tow; either back to New Arcadia for Gath's salvage crews, or to Levosia's surface.

The Banshees and Nandaos clashed, with the support of the larger NAI vessels. While the archer missiles pounded the ground to great success, the pulse lasers were not able to stop their targets, as the captains of each vessel decided damaging the human space fleet was a better trade then trying to attack a facility undermanned. Brutes quickly equipped their jump packs and leapt from the side of their transports, after being ferried near the human warships. Other species prepared what EVA equipment they could - while the rest were forced to roar in terror as their deaths awaited them. The resulting short mutinies weren't enough to delay the zealous jiralhanae bridge crews and commanders.

Thousands of alien warriors leapt from the side of their vessels, many hoping their alien biology alone would save them from the void's cold embrace, and while the Ramparts shredded these beings in a dreadful mist of blood and scrap, enough landed on the sides of the vessel to be a problem. Brutes in space suits readied and swung their gravity hammers, pounding away at hangar doors and other weak points along the Shining Armor. They began hailing the frigate's Rampart guns with plasma small arms, managing to disable one.

Those foolish enough to try for the Twin Engine found themselves obliterated by the warship-grade shielding, however.

That was not to say the Halberd was safe from ad hoc attack, however. The Twin Engine was forced to divert its weaponry to the handful of civilian transports which had survived, and now were attempting a ramming tactic with the emptied hulls. While none actually struck the destroyer, they did pull enough attention away for the ground army to disperse, realizing their offensive had largely failed - the remnants would undoubtably cause problems in the future, sporadically attacking locations.

However, the Nandaos and frigates had defeated both the dozen transports and Banshees. The Banished garrison was clearly led by a fool, a good fortune that might not come again - a weakness to capitalize on in the meantime, though.



It would take twenty hours, but the Honeypot would complete its mission and escape. It would be enough fuel to hit Harper's quota - bladder ships were good at moving very deuterium, it seemed. Now, all the NAI fleet had to do, was survive to redeem their prize...



"We will work something out, I am sure," Governor Kovalenko said, seemingly more focused on accomplishing current matters than dealing with what the future held. In truth, that was because current matters were the only thing keeping his people and the NAI's amicable.

"Work something out?" Colonel Danlyo Andrich growled out. His BDU was some mixture of CMA army infantry, and Gao battle-jumper. The patch of the United Rebel Front, despite this not being a URF army, stood proud and unblemished on his right shoulder. "Yes, there is a deal I am fond of - we live, you fuck off."
"Andrich," Kovalenko said, in a soft, warning tone. "We can't afford to picky about our friends. Besides, imperialists don't usually give us that nice an offer right off the bat. The UNSC barely has the core together. They can't take and hold outer colonies. Admiral Fieldings just admitted as much. Humans have to help humans if we're going to survive the Banished."

Despite how much she seemed to want to speak, Liliya Antonyuk seemed to stay silent, nodding to the governor. Andrich shook his head, conversely. "We're going to sell our souls to these bastards...but I am running out of fight, and I'd rather deal with a devil I know. Very well, Fieldings - we can work together. But never ask me to be your friend. No one that wears that damn bird on their chest can be my friend. As for our dreadnought problem, Levosia did not have that kind of armament on her own. If the Banished brought any anti-orbital weaponry, they would have used it by now. If there is anything, it would've been in the capital. Then again, maybe they are saving it as trump card. Who knows."



The NAI's ODST company were ferried to the orbiting Karve wreck. Missile impacts stained the ship, its prow blown apart, one of the aft engines gone, most weapon systems removed or compromised. Yet enough power remained in the surviving compartments to keep life support online, in a rare moment of survival-conscious design from the Brutes.
Luckily, the human elite marines were well-equipped for the task at hand - their shotguns, SAWs, and other boarding-appropriate weaponry cut down even the armored jiralhanae in their own cooridors. It appeared the Karve, with a little work, could be made to function again - a benefit of the ship's rugged and reusable design. But, if one was set on disassembly, it would yield a fair bit of Covenant and Banished building materials, a rare haul for a human government.

Taking the ship took forty minutes, and the right repairs would take three hours. However, it could be conducted by the crew of the Legitimate Salvage - meaning they'd begin to risk being caught 'with their pants down' by the incoming Banished Dreadnought.


Within seven hours, the New Kherson City Guard - reorganized from their sudden success as a revolting rebellion - was re-equipped and re-ordered. Colonel Andrich might be hostile to the UNSC as a whole, but he clearly had studied under their sister organization, the CMA - falling back to their style of military structure.

They were ready to move out when the NAI troops were.

Additionally, NAI leadership was quickly becoming very popular with the converted Grunts. Even the sangheili, who were Banished only a few hours prior, were happy to be freed from the oaths that had dragged them into the Banished, by being given an 'out' in the NAI. If this trend continued, taking the rest of the world might not be too difficult...
 
None of the four had been aboard very long. Picked up in any manner of ways, all four Spartans were still finding their way around the ship before they were given the order to meet Spartan Commander Suzuki in his private quarters, near the bridge. The message was hand-delivered by a marine, wearing gear befitting the wide smattering of guns and other equipment that seemed to be stored aboard the ship.
If asked why the command wasn't radioed, nor navigations uploaded to their helmet's HUD, the marine - Private First Class William S. Jenkins - would offer the explanation Suzuki told him, that it'd be best if they mapped the ship manually, for a variety of reasons.
Lazing around the barracks as she'd sift through her own thoughts, it was hard not to be happy at the interruption, her question being answered as the spartan would meander her way to Suzuki's quarters. It didn't seem urgent, and every spartan was indispensable, so she doubted there would be any repercussions for taking her time.

"Thanks, lil' man-" Elizabeth couldn't help but tease, a smile and the ruffling of his helmet being her parting gift as she'd head off into the corridors, her own helmet in her arms one moment and hiding her face the next.

She hadn't been on the ship long, and frankly she was itching to be back in the fight already. Solitude didn't suit her, and she wasn't sure how well she would get along with the other spartans in their freetime. She still had a hard time opening up quite like she had all that time ago, the gloomy expression when nobody was around, her missing eye, and somber dullness in her remaining one, all teasing at what she might've been like as a younger, bright-eyed soldier, not that the marines would be able to tell with her cheerful comments.
Once again, Suzuki smiled. "You and the rest of our ilk have more luxury to focus on these things than any humans besides us, and yet we seem to have done it for thousands of years. If the UNSC wished to wage its wars with machines, it would've. Don't forget that."

At that, another Spartan entered the room - one wearing advanced looking armor, some fashion of prototype MJOLNIR. Despite both Suzuki and Dorian being expensive super soldiers, somehow his gear made them look cheap. The quality of his training and experience, however, remained to be seen.
"Asher-zero-zero-nine-two, reporting," he announced, shifting into a perfect parade-ready stance.

"At ease," the commander said, and Asher stood down. Suzuki stepped back, and addressed them both. "I will await the arrival of your fellows, before I reveal the details of your fireteam's mission."
Heading inside, she'd catch the commander's last sentence, a warm smile on her face that could be heard in her voice as she'd look around her superior's strangely empty room, taking a look at the three of them before casually leaning against a spare piece of wall by the door.

"... And I thought I was taking my time~ You called, commander?"
@Bael

Commander Suzuki returned the smile, in some sort of fatherly way. Despite being a Spartan-IV, he could've very well been her father - the man was curiously old. "I did," he said, simply. "I would hope them to be here shortly."

It took a little time for the missive to actually make it to Sam, namely because it was frankly hard to predict what vehicle he'd be elbow-deep in. The cavernous hangar felt home to a makeshift camp, with so many people onboard having to find room where they could eke out the square footage. Today, Sam was helping out with an engine re-fit -- namely by simply holding the engine up by a set of tow chains while a mechanic dug around in the bay reconnecting something or other.

Following the litany of pointed fingers to Sam, the marine verbally relayed the message, getting a wordless stare from a rectangular visor, before he looked down to the mechanic and simply said, "You're gonna need an engine lift."

Unsurprisingly, Sam-B026 would be the last to actually make it to Suzuki's quarters, even with a Spartan-III's long stride. Walking in and seeing three other, random assortment of Spartans, Sam likewise saluted and stated, "Sam-B-zero-two-six."

A man of few words at the best of times, he simply fell into a parade rest, waiting for his orders -- though the minute turns of his head would betray he was looking at each Spartan in turn.

Suzuki gave Sam a firm nod. The engineer would note how custom Suzuki's armor truly was - an impressive set of GEN 3 MJOLNIR, pulled from a dozen sources and given an entirely new shell. Woefully archaic, though in this strange world, who else could be a samurai but a Spartan?

"At ease," the commander said, an order he didn't really need to give to Sam, and it seemed he was merely sticking to standard protocol. "Now that we are all gathered, I shall begin explaining. You are now a fireteam. Dorian, Asher, Elizabeth, Sam - you now comprise Fireteam Phoenix. I understand how sudden this is, but you all know what sort of war this is. You won't be forged in training or in the mess hall, I'm afraid. You will sink, or you will swim - and the UNSC, and Humanity, cannot afford you sinking.
"Now that this is clear, I shall be giving you your first assignment. Commander Elias Manticore, the one in charge of this vessel, has reported that our contact on Harvest has stopped sending us messages. During Cortana's reign, they were allowed to continue their planetary rehabilitation efforts. After her fall, they kept their existence and work a secret, acting as a small hub of UNSC and UEG survivors to rally around. Thousands of marines, an ODST platoon, a handful of small warships. Our last received transmission, was our contact telling us the Banished had attacked, and in force. It shall be our mission to investigate, analyze, and either defeat the Banished or rescue survivors and stage a quick evacuation. You, Fireteam Phoenix, will be our speartip. Are there any questions?"

@Bael @Noble Scion @Doctor Jax
 
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As the Shining Armor struggled with the Brutes attached to it, multiple forces responded to their distress. The Nandaos, having cleaned up the remaining Banished air power, came back around to target the Brutes clawing at the frigate's hull. Missiles were too great a risk, and so it was with autocannons that the Nandaos strafed their own ally. In addition, one of the Legitimate Salvage's Phantoms rerouted from its pickup of unngoy engineers to lay down fire on the Brutes. more agile than the larger vessels, it would ensure that it didn't stray into the effective range of their jump packs. Lastly, a pair of Pelicans laden with Last Light marines would make best speed to the frigate, using their chain guns to clear the savages, and deploying their marine compliment to the hangar if it became compromised.

--++--++--

Elsewhere, Kovalenko addressed the people of Fortin Solano; hoping to resolve the conflict in that city without bloodshed. Communicated via radio, and Pipistrelle loudspeakers, he spoke with level confidence, "I speak now to the citizens of Fortín Solano and those enthralled by venal oaths: You are not alone. We are here. Fortín Solano, this is Governor Kovalenko— Levosia's revolution has begun.

New Kherson stands liberated, the DCZ too. Take heart, Levosia is not alone either. With the aid and cooperation of fellow outer colonists, the New Kherson City Guard stands ready to liberate Fortín Solano. Brothers, sisters, friends-who-could-be, I ask that you fight alongside us; shoulder to shoulder, a united front against tyranny. Let us raise arms against the scourge that razes and plagues our planet. Let us root them out completely and salt their wounds so profusely they'll be no retribution to fear but God's own.

Fortín Solano, it's time we let the tyrants taste fear!" (Speech courtesy of @rissa, the Rissan Al'Gaib)

--++--++--

While an attempt to complete repairs on the Karve was tempting, it was ultimately too great a risk. The crew of the Legitimate Salvage would evacuate the hulk, transferring instead to the Uratom. Her Kig Yar Rangers would leave the system aboard the Honeypot, ensuring that it was kept well protected during Slipspace transit. The Karve itself was placed into a high orbit of Levosia's moon by Tower Shield. With that, the fleet had completed all but its final task.

--++--++--

A Dreadnought. A vessel comparable in scale to the dreaded CAS Assault Carrier. Such a warship was far beyond the capabilities of the Arcadian fleet. Fieldings had studied his history, however. The actions of Noble Team in Operation: UPPERCUT would directly inspire his plan here. NAI had neither the time to remove and convert a slipspace drive, nor the conveniently boardable corvette to set on a refueling run. What they did have, however, was 15 nuclear weapons, a Covenant-era missionary vessel, and the world's most budget-friendly Prowler. There was no hope of penetrating the Dreadnought's shields in a straightforward fleet engagement. Twin Engine and her escorts would be dead long before they could accomplish that.

But there were two vessels in their ad-hoc flotilla that might just pull it off. Legitimate Salvage was a Kig Yar vessel fit with Covenant-era drives and electronics. With a measure of pre-planning, she would be capable of a precision Slipspace jump. In the bare hours remaining before the Dreadnought's arrival, 6 of the Pale Rider's 12 Harpoons would be transferred, and reconfigured, to be launched from the Salvage. Restructured into a form reminiscent of pre-information age 'bundle grenades,' the 6 Harpoons would be fired at point blank range, close enough that even if shot down their detonation would surely be devastating to the Dreadnought's shields, and thoroughly blinding to the beast's sensors. Even if the blast didn't take Legitimate Salvage, the Banished retaliation surely would. Her helm knew it would be a suicide mission. In an uncharacteristic display of bravery, the Kig Yar volunteered without hesitation. A chance to knock the Banished down, a chance to prove his race's virtue, and a chance to secure his family's safety in the outer colonies.

But Legitimate Salvage was not to be the only one sacrificed in this battle. Noble as her helmsman was, he would not be enough to win the day. Arcadia's Nandao squadrons, too, would cast themselves into the flame. Equipped with the 6 remaining Harpoons, the Nandaos would come in hot on Salvage's trail. Numbering 26 fighters in total, the 20 not carrying a nuclear payload would cover for their laden wingmen on the approach, cutting down any Banished fightercraft in their way, and throwing themselves into the guns of any point defense able to target them. A noble sacrifice, equal to that of the Salvage, but still not enough.

Ultimately, this battle would hinge on the success of Commander Hills' transport; the Last Light of Arcadia. Ironically, this had always been the marine's plan for their vessel, they had simply yet to find the nukes, and an opportune target. The banta-class transport had been retrofitted with a prowler's stealth drive, supposedly from one of the many left behind in drydock over Reach. With this, it could approach far closer than any other vessel, and with the beast's shields pierced and sensors blinded, she would be able to crash into one of the Dreadnought's many hangars, and detonate the bundled payload of 3 Shiva nuclear bombs. Helmed by one Corporal Matthias Harley, it was to be her kamikaze that would secure the day.

To ensure total success, however, the fleet would still be taking action. Performing a slingshot maneuver around the planet, the Arcadian navy would position itself to come over the horizon and strike the beast moments after Last Light's detonation. Whatever remained of the Dreadnought would find itself drown in a hail of railfire and plasma. If, Forerunners forbid, the shields are not disabled by the prior nuclear attacks, Last Light of Arcadia will slow its approach to arrive after the fleet has struck the Dreadnought, in the hopes that the combined might of MAC cannons and plasma lances would be enough to punch the necessary hole.

This is a desperate hour. A time for heroes. And the Banished will find that the Outer Colonies have no shortage of them.
 
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None of the four had been aboard very long. Picked up in any manner of ways, all four Spartans were still finding their way around the ship before they were given the order to meet Spartan Commander Suzuki in his private quarters, near the bridge. The message was hand-delivered by a marine, wearing gear befitting the wide smattering of guns and other equipment that seemed to be stored aboard the ship.
If asked why the command wasn't radioed, nor navigations uploaded to their helmet's HUD, the marine - Private First Class William S. Jenkins - would offer the explanation Suzuki told him, that it'd be best if they mapped the ship manually, for a variety of reasons.
Lazing around the barracks as she'd sift through her own thoughts, it was hard not to be happy at the interruption, her question being answered as the spartan would meander her way to Suzuki's quarters. It didn't seem urgent, and every spartan was indispensable, so she doubted there would be any repercussions for taking her time.

"Thanks, lil' man-" Elizabeth couldn't help but tease, a smile and the ruffling of his helmet being her parting gift as she'd head off into the corridors, her own helmet in her arms one moment and hiding her face the next.

She hadn't been on the ship long, and frankly she was itching to be back in the fight already. Solitude didn't suit her, and she wasn't sure how well she would get along with the other spartans in their freetime. She still had a hard time opening up quite like she had all that time ago, the gloomy expression when nobody was around, her missing eye, and somber dullness in her remaining one, all teasing at what she might've been like as a younger, bright-eyed soldier, not that the marines would be able to tell with her cheerful comments.
Once again, Suzuki smiled. "You and the rest of our ilk have more luxury to focus on these things than any humans besides us, and yet we seem to have done it for thousands of years. If the UNSC wished to wage its wars with machines, it would've. Don't forget that."

At that, another Spartan entered the room - one wearing advanced looking armor, some fashion of prototype MJOLNIR. Despite both Suzuki and Dorian being expensive super soldiers, somehow his gear made them look cheap. The quality of his training and experience, however, remained to be seen.
"Asher-zero-zero-nine-two, reporting," he announced, shifting into a perfect parade-ready stance.

"At ease," the commander said, and Asher stood down. Suzuki stepped back, and addressed them both. "I will await the arrival of your fellows, before I reveal the details of your fireteam's mission."
Heading inside, she'd catch the commander's last sentence, a warm smile on her face that could be heard in her voice as she'd look around her superior's strangely empty room, taking a look at the three of them before casually leaning against a spare piece of wall by the door.

"... And I thought I was taking my time~ You called, commander?"
@Bael

Commander Suzuki returned the smile, in some sort of fatherly way. Despite being a Spartan-IV, he could've very well been her father - the man was curiously old. "I did," he said, simply. "I would hope them to be here shortly."

It took a little time for the missive to actually make it to Sam, namely because it was frankly hard to predict what vehicle he'd be elbow-deep in. The cavernous hangar felt home to a makeshift camp, with so many people onboard having to find room where they could eke out the square footage. Today, Sam was helping out with an engine re-fit -- namely by simply holding the engine up by a set of tow chains while a mechanic dug around in the bay reconnecting something or other.

Following the litany of pointed fingers to Sam, the marine verbally relayed the message, getting a wordless stare from a rectangular visor, before he looked down to the mechanic and simply said, "You're gonna need an engine lift."

Unsurprisingly, Sam-B026 would be the last to actually make it to Suzuki's quarters, even with a Spartan-III's long stride. Walking in and seeing three other, random assortment of Spartans, Sam likewise saluted and stated, "Sam-B-zero-two-six."

A man of few words at the best of times, he simply fell into a parade rest, waiting for his orders -- though the minute turns of his head would betray he was looking at each Spartan in turn.

Suzuki gave Sam a firm nod. The engineer would note how custom Suzuki's armor truly was - an impressive set of GEN 3 MJOLNIR, pulled from a dozen sources and given an entirely new shell. Woefully archaic, though in this strange world, who else could be a samurai but a Spartan?

"At ease," the commander said, an order he didn't really need to give to Sam, and it seemed he was merely sticking to standard protocol. "Now that we are all gathered, I shall begin explaining. You are now a fireteam. Dorian, Asher, Elizabeth, Sam - you now comprise Fireteam Phoenix. I understand how sudden this is, but you all know what sort of war this is. You won't be forged in training or in the mess hall, I'm afraid. You will sink, or you will swim - and the UNSC, and Humanity, cannot afford you sinking.
"Now that this is clear, I shall be giving you your first assignment. Commander Elias Manticore, the one in charge of this vessel, has reported that our contact on Harvest has stopped sending us messages. During Cortana's reign, they were allowed to continue their planetary rehabilitation efforts. After her fall, they kept their existence and work a secret, acting as a small hub of UNSC and UEG survivors to rally around. Thousands of marines, an ODST platoon, a handful of small warships. Our last received transmission, was our contact telling us the Banished had attacked, and in force. It shall be our mission to investigate, analyze, and either defeat the Banished or rescue survivors and stage a quick evacuation. You, Fireteam Phoenix, will be our speartip. Are there any questions?"

@Bael @Noble Scion @Doctor Jax
Dorian kept his stance rigid, his fingers idly running over the worn handle of J.D.'s knife as he listened. Fireteam Phoenix. Another team. Another group of Spartans he didn't know, didn't trust—not yet. The last one he trusted was long gone, his closest teammate's name carved into a blade Dorian would never part with.

But none of that showed on his face. His visor concealed any flicker of emotion, and his body language remained unreadable, disciplined. What mattered now was the mission, and more than that, making damn sure this team didn't end up like the last.

His voice was level, steady. "Who exactly is leading this team and mission, sir?"
 
As the Shining Armor struggled with the Brutes attached to it, multiple forces responded to their distress. The Nandaos, having cleaned up the remaining Banished air power, came back around to target the Brutes clawing at the frigate's hull. Missiles were too great a risk, and so it was with autocannons that the Nandaos strafed their own ally. In addition, one of the Legitimate Salvage's Phantoms rerouted from its pickup of unngoy engineers to lay down fire on the Brutes. more agile than the larger vessels, it would ensure that it didn't stray into the effective range of their jump packs. Lastly, a pair of Pelicans laden with Last Light marines would make best speed to the frigate, using their chain guns to clear the savages, and deploying their marine compliment to the hangar if it became compromised.

The strafing runs were a dangerous operation, but the NAI pilots were up to the task. While the Shining Armor's hangar was indeed pierced, the quick deployment of Last Light marines quickly got the situation under control. In the end, most damage was thankfully cosmetic. A few crewmen unfortunately lost their lives, but it did net the NAI their weapons and gear for study and reassignment. A good couple dozen pulse carbines, shock rifles, mangler revolvers and plasma pistols, the last of which being the cheaper-than-cheap variant with no secondary EMP effect.

Elsewhere, Kovalenko addressed the people of Fortin Solano; hoping to resolve the conflict in that city without bloodshed. Communicated via radio, and Pipistrelle loudspeakers, he spoke with level confidence, "I speak now to the citizens of Fortín Solano and those enthralled by venal oaths: You are not alone. We are here. Fortín Solano, this is Governor Kovalenko— Levosia's revolution has begun.

New Kherson stands liberated, the DCZ too. Take heart, Levosia is not alone either. With the aid and cooperation of fellow outer colonists, the New Kherson City Guard stands ready to liberate Fortín Solano. Brothers, sisters, friends-who-could-be, I ask that you fight alongside us; shoulder to shoulder, a united front against tyranny. Let us raise arms against the scourge that razes and plagues our planet. Let us root them out completely and salt their wounds so profusely they'll be no retribution to fear but God's own.

Fortín Solano, it's time we let the tyrants taste fear!" (Speech courtesy of @rissa, the Rissan Al'Gaib)

There was a tense few minutes after the governor gave his speech, where the troops of both sides were unsure of what to do, or what was going to happen. Fortín Solano's defenders had prepared along their ramparts and watchtowers, blocking the roads and getting ready for a large defensive campaign - but their hearts were very much not into fighting their kin from New Kherson. Both human and unngoy guard alike seemed more concerned with the horrible Brutes at their backs from Casanova than they were the NAI's armies.

Swiftly, however, there was word of surrender. Barring a few pockets of true believers of Atriox, the entire city not only surrendered, but much of its militia turned to the Arcadian cause. Upon his first inspection, Fieldings would realize these people did not have the means to defend themselves from Banished recapturing efforts, should he fail against the dreadnought in less than a day. Like New Kherson, they would be slaughtered - but with time to grow, they would be the first steps to a fearsome, independent military.

[All assets listed under Fortín Solano are now aligned with the NKCG and NAI. The Fortín Solano garrison have rebranded themselves to the Free Levosia Planetary Guard. They are led by General Hugo Abarca.]

While an attempt to complete repairs on the Karve was tempting, it was ultimately too great a risk. The crew of the Legitimate Salvage would evacuate the hulk, transferring instead to the Uratom. Her Kig Yar Rangers would leave the system aboard the Honeypot, ensuring that it was kept well protected during Slipspace transit. The Karve itself was placed into a high orbit of Levosia's moon by Tower Shield. With that, the fleet had completed all but its final task.
A Dreadnought. A vessel comparable in scale to the dreaded CAS Assault Carrier. Such a warship was far beyond the capabilities of the Arcadian fleet. Fieldings had studied his history, however. The actions of Noble Team in Operation: UPPERCUT would directly inspire his plan here. NAI had neither the time to remove and convert a slipspace drive, nor the conveniently boardable corvette to set on a refueling run. What they did have, however, was 15 nuclear weapons, a Covenant-era missionary vessel, and the world's most budget-friendly Prowler. There was no hope of penetrating the Dreadnought's shields in a straightforward fleet engagement. Twin Engine and her escorts would be dead long before they could accomplish that.

But there were two vessels in their ad-hoc flotilla that might just pull it off. Legitimate Salvage was a Kig Yar vessel fit with Covenant-era drives and electronics. With a measure of pre-planning, she would be capable of a precision Slipspace jump. In the bare hours remaining before the Dreadnought's arrival, 6 of the Pale Rider's 12 Harpoons would be transferred, and reconfigured, to be launched from the Salvage. Restructured into a form reminiscent of pre-information age 'bundle grenades,' the 6 Harpoons would be fired at point blank range, close enough that even if shot down their detonation would surely be devastating to the Dreadnought's shields, and thoroughly blinding to the beast's sensors. Even if the blast didn't take Legitimate Salvage, the Banished retaliation surely would. Her helm knew it would be a suicide mission. In an uncharacteristic display of bravery, the Kig Yar volunteered without hesitation. A chance to knock the Banished down, a chance to prove his race's virtue, and a chance to secure his family's safety in the outer colonies.

But Legitimate Salvage was not to be the only one sacrificed in this battle. Noble as her helmsman was, he would not be enough to win the day. Arcadia's Nandao squadrons, too, would cast themselves into the flame. Equipped with the 6 remaining Harpoons, the Nandaos would come in hot on Salvage's trail. Numbering 26 fighters in total, the 20 not carrying a nuclear payload would cover for their laden wingmen on the approach, cutting down any Banished fightercraft in their way, and throwing themselves into the guns of any point defense able to target them. A noble sacrifice, equal to that of the Salvage, but still not enough.

Ultimately, this battle would hinge on the success of Commander Hills' transport; the Last Light of Arcadia. Ironically, this had always been the marine's plan for their vessel, they had simply yet to find the nukes, and an opportune target. The banta-class transport had been retrofitted with a prowler's stealth drive, supposedly from one of the many left behind in drydock over Reach. With this, it could approach far closer than any other vessel, and with the beast's shields pierced and sensors blinded, she would be able to crash into one of the Dreadnought's many hangars, and detonate the bundled payload of 3 Shiva nuclear bombs. Helmed by one Corporal Matthias Harley, it was to be her kamikaze that would secure the day.

To ensure total success, however, the fleet would still be taking action. Performing a slingshot maneuver around the planet, the Arcadian navy would position itself to come over the horizon and strike the beast moments after Last Light's detonation. Whatever remained of the Dreadnought would find itself drown in a hail of railfire and plasma. If, Forerunners forbid, the shields are not disabled by the prior nuclear attacks, Last Light of Arcadia will slow its approach to arrive after the fleet has struck the Dreadnought, in the hopes that the combined might of MAC cannons and plasma lances would be enough to punch the necessary hole.

This is a desperate hour. A time for heroes. And the Banished will find that the Outer Colonies have no shortage of them.

JANUARY 24th, 2560
Earth Standard Time
Human Outer Colonies


There was only so much the NAI Fleet could do in preparation for the arrival of such a capital ship. The UNSC had never been really able to bare fangs the same way the Covenant and their successors could, especially not now - and it seemed their one real exception was MIA, too.

Above the planet, far closer than most human slipspace drives, ignited a terrifying sphere of misshapen void. It was large, imposing, and from its moors slipped the Banished Dreadnought. It felt no need to hide itself, broadcasting its IFF tag plain and clearly - Ghost of Hadonmar. Immediately, it launched hundreds of space banshee craft, Seraphs, Banished Phantoms and more upon arrival, clearly preparing for a naval engagement.

Then, another sphere emerged. And then another. Another. More, and more, and more...

It was an escort fleet of twenty-four warships. Twelve Karve frigates, four Ceudar-pattern heavy corvettes, and eight Drekar corvettes, taking formation around the dreadnought. It was, to Fielding's horror, a near-insurmountable force. This was what Markus died for? Crushing defeat?
Too late to change the plan, the six Harpoon nuclear missiles were launched from a kig-yar ship far too close for comfort. The bold bird navigator did as told, a heroic last stand before scathing annihilation came shortly thereafter. A handful of plasma beams tore the ship apart, and the space fighters stirred into an even tighter, more aggressive patrol. When the Nandao squadrons came in for a second strike at the Dreadnought, its aerospace wings tore them apart - with only a single other nuclear weapon hitting home.

The Last Light itself found the capital ship's shields still razed, and could only hope to detonate against its side - yet it would not get so glorious an end, as the Drekar ships seemed to have the necessary equipment to see past the ad hoc Prowler's dated stealth capabilities. Their nuclear fireship was detonated far too prematurely by a hail of pulse laser fire, doing little but casting a great light over the Banished fleet.

The pits of every single human in the system sank lower with the sight, or the news. The dreadnought was undefeated, nay, hardly scratched, with its shields slowly regenerating what damage had been dealt with it. Invasion craft from the capital ship and its heavy corvettes began to launch, intent on butchering the rebellious humans below.

Then, more Covenant slipspace ruptures appeared. Yet, when hope felt as if it couldn't plummet further, a slick purple hull emerged from space, larger than even the Banished's greatest warships. It was a monster of a starship, dwarfing the dreadnought in size and, hopefully, power.
Six other ships appeared beside it, and with great fervor, they engaged the enemy fleet. The Brigantine was a terrifying sight to behold, crippling Karve ships as it went, progressing further towards the dreadnought. Its escort of cruiser-sized warships similarly ripped into the Banished's scrapped together vessels, tearing apart their escorts, which relied more on basic technical superiority than quality and efficiency.

Following what remained of their plan, and riding the lightning of the sudden unexpected reinforcements, the NAI fleet engaged the enemy, tearing into the disorganized and ambushed Banished forces. With the Covenant vessels soaking up fire, the UNSC craft were free to fire MAC salvo after MAC salvo, taking down enemy shields so plasma lances and torpedoes could finish off their unprotected hulls.

The clash between the dreadnought and the brigantine was like a battle of gods. Lances of light and projectile stars rippled against an ocean of protective magnetic fields before finally, the smaller flagship's shielding broke open and its hull was pounded with heavy plasma artillery. The dreadnought groaned and ruptured before a heavy plasma lance tore the ship in two parts, bisecting its mid-section.

The remaining seven Karves, three corvettes and five Drekars fled back into slipspace, disengaging and sustaining near-crippling damage in the process. What was going to be a horrible loss, now seemed like a total naval victory. Yet reports were quickly coming from groundside - both New Kherson and Fortín Solano were under heavy attack, with thousands of Banished troops dropping right in the hearts of their cities. The DCZ too was under attack, with roughly eight hundred warriors attempting to reclaim what was lost, with full armored and aerial support.

The Raid on Levosia was over. The Campaign for Levosia, seemed to be only be starting.
 
January 24th, 2560
Earth Standard Time
Human Outer Colonies


At the edge of the Procyon system, a UNSC D80 Condor dropship exited slipspace. Following protocol, the vessel activated its short-range distress beacon, pinging nearby UNSC sensors - namely, the fleet and ground stations of Arcadia and its residents.

Onboard the Condor was still a host of typical small arms, the contents of the ship not even cleared out before Bael Team stole it in their great escape. There was about a dozen assault rifles, with the standard 7.62 ammunition to accompany them, but they were of a make the Spartans had not seen before. On their sides was labeled 'MA40', apparently produced in the year 2558. That was a clue, a stark one. They had been frozen for at least six years. The rifles were each pressed and stamped on the planet Tribute, though one seemed to hail from Mars.

Additionally, there was about six battle rifles. Hidden on the top of their stocks was small engravings - BR75 DEVLOOP. Yet again, another new weapon, generations ahead what they were familiar with. These weren't even stamped.
Lastly, there was a weapon that they recognized - for how could its destructive power be forgotten. An M41 SPNKr, classic in build, with a tracker module. There was four missiles aboard.

It didn't take long for the locals to respond to the distress signal. What showed up, was...

@Moonlight501
@Doctor Jax
@rissa
@Bael
 
Dorian kept his stance rigid, his fingers idly running over the worn handle of J.D.'s knife as he listened. Fireteam Phoenix. Another team. Another group of Spartans he didn't know, didn't trust—not yet. The last one he trusted was long gone, his closest teammate's name carved into a blade Dorian would never part with.

But none of that showed on his face. His visor concealed any flicker of emotion, and his body language remained unreadable, disciplined. What mattered now was the mission, and more than that, making damn sure this team didn't end up like the last.

His voice was level, steady. "Who exactly is leading this team and mission, sir?"
Once again, Suzuki studied Dorian. It seemed as if he was considering something, and then, saddened, decided against it. "Elizabeth seems best suited for that role," the commander said, looking to her with confidence. "If that is alright?"

@Bael @Noble Scion @Doctor Jax
 
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Once again, Suzuki studied Dorian. It seemed as if he was considering something, and then, saddened, decided against it. "Elizabeth seems best suited for that role," the commander said, looking to her with confidence. "If that is alright?"
"Sounds good to me, sir," Dorian replied, his tone steady and detached. He glanced toward Elizabeth, the only indication of his consideration showing in the slight tilt of his head. "As long as she's okay with it."

@Noble Scion @Doctor Jax
 
Commander Suzuki returned the smile, in some sort of fatherly way. Despite being a Spartan-IV, he could've very well been her father - the man was curiously old. "I did," he said, simply. "I would hope them to be here shortly."
Unsurprisingly, Sam-B026 would be the last to actually make it to Suzuki's quarters, even with a Spartan-III's long stride. Walking in and seeing three other, random assortment of Spartans, Sam likewise saluted and stated, "Sam-B-zero-two-six."

A man of few words at the best of times, he simply fell into a parade rest, waiting for his orders -- though the minute turns of his head would betray he was looking at each Spartan in turn.
Elizabeth would answer him with a nod, not wishing to stall the meeting any longer as Sam would make his appearance, answering his subtle attempt to look at her with a smug thumbs up before returning her attention to Commander Suzuki, the gesture disappearing as she'd pay full attention.

Suzuki gave Sam a firm nod. The engineer would note how custom Suzuki's armor truly was - an impressive set of GEN 3 MJOLNIR, pulled from a dozen sources and given an entirely new shell. Woefully archaic, though in this strange world, who else could be a samurai but a Spartan?

"At ease," the commander said, an order he didn't really need to give to Sam, and it seemed he was merely sticking to standard protocol. "Now that we are all gathered, I shall begin explaining. You are now a fireteam. Dorian, Asher, Elizabeth, Sam - you now comprise Fireteam Phoenix. I understand how sudden this is, but you all know what sort of war this is. You won't be forged in training or in the mess hall, I'm afraid. You will sink, or you will swim - and the UNSC, and Humanity, cannot afford you sinking.
"Now that this is clear, I shall be giving you your first assignment. Commander Elias Manticore, the one in charge of this vessel, has reported that our contact on Harvest has stopped sending us messages. During Cortana's reign, they were allowed to continue their planetary rehabilitation efforts. After her fall, they kept their existence and work a secret, acting as a small hub of UNSC and UEG survivors to rally around. Thousands of marines, an ODST platoon, a handful of small warships. Our last received transmission, was our contact telling us the Banished had attacked, and in force. It shall be our mission to investigate, analyze, and either defeat the Banished or rescue survivors and stage a quick evacuation. You, Fireteam Phoenix, will be our speartip. Are there any questions?"
They say equipment doesn't make the soldier, but it was hard to imagine their commander without it, with the same being said for herself and her worn yellow grenadier Mk.IV, the small scratches almost serving as a showcase of how many battles she'd managed to make it through, though the thought hurt to dwell on given the sacrifices that had been made for her sake.

Listening to the briefing, the spartan would quietly purse her lips at the number of 'potential casualties', giving small nods to show her attention. Laid-back as she was leaning against the wall, an observant spartan might have noticed her tensely rubbing a crossed arm with her thumb, unable to completely hide her thoughts as she'd sternly contemplate their situation.

Fear, Anger, Sadness, Hope

It was natural for there to be losses, and she'd long become used to the troubles of war being in the position she was in, but it never seemed to get any easier having to stem that side of her. The banished weren't known for taking hostages, so any hopes of rescue was up to how well they could hold out. An urgent mission to say the least, it was no wonder they were being thrown into the hellfire.

Dorian kept his stance rigid, his fingers idly running over the worn handle of J.D.'s knife as he listened. Fireteam Phoenix. Another team. Another group of Spartans he didn't know, didn't trust—not yet. The last one he trusted was long gone, his closest teammate's name carved into a blade Dorian would never part with.

But none of that showed on his face. His visor concealed any flicker of emotion, and his body language remained unreadable, disciplined. What mattered now was the mission, and more than that, making damn sure this team didn't end up like the last.

His voice was level, steady. "Who exactly is leading this team and mission, sir?"
Once again, Suzuki studied Dorian. It seemed as if he was considering something, and then, saddened, decided against it. "Elizabeth seems best suited for that role," the commander said, looking to her with confidence. "If that is alright?"
"Sounds good to me, sir," Dorian replied, his tone steady and detached. He glanced toward Elizabeth, the only indication of his consideration showing in the slight tilt of his head. "As long as she's okay with it."
A beat of silence would pass as Elizabeth would pull herself from her thoughts at being mentioned, composing herself as she'd shift her weight, standing up straight instead of leaning, though keeping her arms crossed, resolved and determined. It made Ellie wonder if she had the most battle experience of the four. Was she getting old? It was a testament to her luck, at least.

"If there's no complaints, I'll do my best."
 
Commander November held a cold gaze on the Adamantine Shield's tactical display. The Dreadnought had arrived... and so did its attendant fleet. Even as others on the bridge began to panic, and the other commanders of the flotilla asked for orders, he remained calm. Both Fieldings and himself had suspected this might happen, but apart from abandoning Levosia and all those who lived here, there was little more that the Arcadian navy could have done. He took a deep breath, "Maintain course, Helm. Weapons, ignore the warships. They're going to launch transports. We need to kill as many as we can."

A nervous, "Aye," came from the bridge's staff. Not all shared his conviction, and November did not fault them for it. There was no surviving this.

The Kig Yar vessel made its attack, a nuclear fire blotting out the Dreadnought's location on the display. As it dissipated, the Nandao's signals blinked out of existence. A single flash of light engulfed the Dreadnought...

--++--++--

The Last Light of Arcadia died. A thousand kilometers short of its target. It seemed the Dreadnought's screen had better scanners than Fieldings had expected. Fieldings' heart sank. With the escort present, they knew it wasn't a battle they'd be walking away from; but now it would be a slaughter. His command were asking for updated orders, when new contacts appeared. A war-era vessel larger even than the Dreadnought, slip into the space above Levosia. Fieldings never thought the sight of a Covenant warship would bring him hope, but he dared to believe.

His hope was rewarded as the Covenant vessel and its continuously appearing escort charged into the Banished formation. The Dreadnought's bearing changed, course no doubt altered to face that new challenger. He grabbed his microphone with too much vigor, broadcasting triumphantly to his fleet, "Target the nearest Karve! We have a chance!"

Surrounding him, the crew cheered in affirmation, as the dread in his commanders' voices turned hopeful. Adamantine Shield had broken off of its course, however. Before he could open a direct line to November, the old veteran signaled him, "The Onager's a good choice for shooting down transports admiral, we're going to make sure as few enemy transports reach atmosphere as possible." The commander left little room for Fieldings to reply, acting above his station. The admiral let it slide, however, as they were entering combat and it was a sound decision.

A fusillade of missiles soared out from his fleet as they entered combat range, and the MACs of Twin Engine thumped satisfyingly beneath Fieldings' feet. The Karve and Drekar nearest them had half turned to meet the Covenant warships, before again turning back to face the Arcadian warships. Too late to prevent their own demise. Twin Engine's MAC rounds slammed into the Karve, its shields flaring as Pale Rider's rapid fire shots followed after it. The vessel was finally overcome as Adamantine Shield and her sister Charons connected with their own MAC rounds, rending the Brute vessel apart. Adamantine Shield's Onager, fast cycling as it was, had already unleashed another round towards the Drekar, and Pale Rider fired moments after. Archers yet to reach the Banished, and their second vessel was rendered glittering shrapnel.

--++--++--

It was with the death of the Drekar that Adamantine Shield broke off from the formation, dipping into the atmosphere on an aggressive intercept course of the Banished landing craft. Having reserved her Archer compliment from the fleet's initial launch, the frigate now unleashed a fusillade against the comparatively ill-armed Banished craft. November nodded with grim satisfaction as signals vanished from his tactical display. One of the Ceudars reacted to his assault. Pulling up from its reentry course, bolts of plasma sailed towards November's warship. He didn't need to give his Helmsman the order, already feeling the ship lurch underneath him as Ensign Ford maneuvered to avoid the blast.

Typically, this would have been a fight favoring the Covenant, one he'd dare not engage in. Fortunately, the addition of an Onager to the Adamantine gave the vessel all the firepower it needed to level the playing field; and being higher in the atmosphere only further favored the Arcadian warship. The precision of November's gun crews was immaculate, as the main cannon collided with the Ceudar's shield in a fiery display, igniting the atmosphere around the Covenant warship. The Onager's blows continued to batter the vessel, until the shield failed completely.

As Adamantine Shield's MAC fired once more to deliver the coupe de grace, the Ceudar spat a final rebuke into her starboard nacelle, melting away Titanium plating and disabling a portion of her thrust. November turned to his Operations staff, and one of his crewmen was already giving him the thumbs-up. nothing critical. As the Banshed corvette fell to the surface below, November gave his orders, "Helm, pursue that cluster of transports approaching Fortin Solano. Our forces there have yet to organize, we need to give them time. Damage Control, you have until we reach engagement range to patch the hole. Full repairs will wait until space is ours once again.

--++--++--

Admiral Fieldings dared to allow himself a moment of relief. The Covenant warships had performed well, and the crippled remnants of the Banished flotilla were retreating into Slipspace. A Karve had managed to strip the Twin Engine's shields, but Pale Rider's captain had intercepted the secondary weapons fire before the vessel could suffer her twin's fate. Fieldings would be sure to award Captain Asil and her crew in the aftermath. For now, he had a more pressing matter.

His Communications officer nodded to him, and the face of a Sangheili appeared before him, "Greetings, Shipmaster? This is Admiral Fieldings of the UNSC. Your timely arrival has been appreciated. I must ask, however, what brings your forces to this world, and what nation do you sail for? I wasn't made aware of any Swords activity in this region." Fieldings, as always, kept his personal distaste for hinge-heads aside. Past sins couldn't factor in, now. Humanity's survival depended on cooperation. Still, his Charons, aside from Adamantine Shield and Bronze Bulwark, had arranged themselves in a defensive posture around Twin Engine. It didn't seem likely that this Covenant force was hostile, but it never hurt to be careful. And with its shields damaged from fighting the Dreadnought, the Arcadians might just have a chance.

If it had to come to that.
 
January 24th, 2560
Earth Standard Time
Human Outer Colonies


At the edge of the Procyon system, a UNSC D80 Condor dropship exited slipspace. Following protocol, the vessel activated its short-range distress beacon, pinging nearby UNSC sensors - namely, the fleet and ground stations of Arcadia and its residents.

Onboard the Condor was still a host of typical small arms, the contents of the ship not even cleared out before Bael Team stole it in their great escape. There was about a dozen assault rifles, with the standard 7.62 ammunition to accompany them, but they were of a make the Spartans had not seen before. On their sides was labeled 'MA40', apparently produced in the year 2558. That was a clue, a stark one. They had been frozen for at least six years. The rifles were each pressed and stamped on the planet Tribute, though one seemed to hail from Mars.

Additionally, there was about six battle rifles. Hidden on the top of their stocks was small engravings - BR75 DEVLOOP. Yet again, another new weapon, generations ahead what they were familiar with. These weren't even stamped.
Lastly, there was a weapon that they recognized - for how could its destructive power be forgotten. An M41 SPNKr, classic in build, with a tracker module. There was four missiles aboard.

It didn't take long for the locals to respond to the distress signal. What showed up, was...

@Moonlight501
@Doctor Jax
@rissa
@Bael

As the Condor cried out to the void in distress, Bael Team would notice something deeply concerning, and confusing. Covenant vessels, floating in orbit over a human colony. Two small warships, and two vessels that would appear similar to the Missionary vessels that the Spartans had no doubt been briefed on before their time on ice. Alongside them were a trio of Paris-class frigates, an ancient destroyer from before the war even began, and something that appeared on sensors as a cross between an SDV corvette and a Stalwart.

While the Spartans processed this information, a hail reached them. The gruff voice of an Elite barked through the Condor's comms unit, "This is Shipmaster Cortam of the New Arcadia Initiative. Condor; identify yourself."
 
January 24th, 2560
Earth Standard Time
Human Outer Colonies


At the edge of the Procyon system, a UNSC D80 Condor dropship exited slipspace. Following protocol, the vessel activated its short-range distress beacon, pinging nearby UNSC sensors - namely, the fleet and ground stations of Arcadia and its residents.

Onboard the Condor was still a host of typical small arms, the contents of the ship not even cleared out before Bael Team stole it in their great escape. There was about a dozen assault rifles, with the standard 7.62 ammunition to accompany them, but they were of a make the Spartans had not seen before. On their sides was labeled 'MA40', apparently produced in the year 2558. That was a clue, a stark one. They had been frozen for at least six years. The rifles were each pressed and stamped on the planet Tribute, though one seemed to hail from Mars.

Additionally, there was about six battle rifles. Hidden on the top of their stocks was small engravings - BR75 DEVLOOP. Yet again, another new weapon, generations ahead what they were familiar with. These weren't even stamped.
Lastly, there was a weapon that they recognized - for how could its destructive power be forgotten. An M41 SPNKr, classic in build, with a tracker module. There was four missiles aboard.

It didn't take long for the locals to respond to the distress signal. What showed up, was...

@Moonlight501
@Doctor Jax
@rissa
@Bael

As the Condor cried out to the void in distress, Bael Team would notice something deeply concerning, and confusing. Covenant vessels, floating in orbit over a human colony. Two small warships, and two vessels that would appear similar to the Missionary vessels that the Spartans had no doubt been briefed on before their time on ice. Alongside them were a trio of Paris-class frigates, an ancient destroyer from before the war even began, and something that appeared on sensors as a cross between an SDV corvette and a Stalwart.

While the Spartans processed this information, a hail reached them. The gruff voice of an Elite barked through the Condor's comms unit, "This is Shipmaster Cortam of the New Arcadia Initiative. Condor; identify yourself."
Bas-0782's voice crackled through the comms, steady despite the confusion and shock of the situation. His grip tightened around the edge of his seat as he tried to make sense of the unexpected encounter. The words came out with the same unwavering confidence he had always maintained, though beneath them was the lingering question of what exactly was happening.

"This is Bas-0782 on board the UNSC D80 Condor. I am the leader of Bael Team, comprised of Second-Class Spartan-IIs. We came here with the assumption this planet was abandoned. And why aren't you trying to kill us? You are an Elite."

He let the question hang in the air for a moment, the confusion in his voice only heightened by the bizarre sight of Covenant and UNSC vessels in orbit together. The unknown motives behind the situation gnawed at him, but his team would follow his lead, whatever this new development brought.
 
January 24th, 2560
Earth Standard Time
Human Outer Colonies


At the edge of the Procyon system, a UNSC D80 Condor dropship exited slipspace. Following protocol, the vessel activated its short-range distress beacon, pinging nearby UNSC sensors - namely, the fleet and ground stations of Arcadia and its residents.

Onboard the Condor was still a host of typical small arms, the contents of the ship not even cleared out before Bael Team stole it in their great escape. There was about a dozen assault rifles, with the standard 7.62 ammunition to accompany them, but they were of a make the Spartans had not seen before. On their sides was labeled 'MA40', apparently produced in the year 2558. That was a clue, a stark one. They had been frozen for at least six years. The rifles were each pressed and stamped on the planet Tribute, though one seemed to hail from Mars.

Additionally, there was about six battle rifles. Hidden on the top of their stocks was small engravings - BR75 DEVLOOP. Yet again, another new weapon, generations ahead what they were familiar with. These weren't even stamped.
Lastly, there was a weapon that they recognized - for how could its destructive power be forgotten. An M41 SPNKr, classic in build, with a tracker module. There was four missiles aboard.

It didn't take long for the locals to respond to the distress signal. What showed up, was...

@Moonlight501
@Doctor Jax
@rissa
@Bael

As the Condor cried out to the void in distress, Bael Team would notice something deeply concerning, and confusing. Covenant vessels, floating in orbit over a human colony. Two small warships, and two vessels that would appear similar to the Missionary vessels that the Spartans had no doubt been briefed on before their time on ice. Alongside them were a trio of Paris-class frigates, an ancient destroyer from before the war even began, and something that appeared on sensors as a cross between an SDV corvette and a Stalwart.

While the Spartans processed this information, a hail reached them. The gruff voice of an Elite barked through the Condor's comms unit, "This is Shipmaster Cortam of the New Arcadia Initiative. Condor; identify yourself."
Bas-0782's voice crackled through the comms, steady despite the confusion and shock of the situation. His grip tightened around the edge of his seat as he tried to make sense of the unexpected encounter. The words came out with the same unwavering confidence he had always maintained, though beneath them was the lingering question of what exactly was happening.

"This is Bas-0782 on board the UNSC D80 Condor. I am the leader of Bael Team, comprised of Second-Class Spartan-IIs. We came here with the assumption this planet was abandoned. And why aren't you trying to kill us? You are an Elite."

He let the question hang in the air for a moment, the confusion in his voice only heightened by the bizarre sight of Covenant and UNSC vessels in orbit together. The unknown motives behind the situation gnawed at him, but his team would follow his lead, whatever this new development brought.
The Sangheili paused, seemingly as confused as the Spartans. After a moment of thought, he replied, "That day is behind us, as is the Covenant. My vessels are sworn to Arcadia, and many of the 'Elites' throughout the galaxy are allied to your UNSC. You are not the first humans to have arrived from an era long past, The 'Stalwart' class vessel approaching your position is friendly, and Captain De-" The Elite seemed to struggle with the name, "Deh-grease will brief you. Whenever you hail from, Spartans, we welcome you to the cause."

As the Elite spoke, the Stalwart-SVD vessel approached their position. A pinpoint slipspace jump brought it from near-orbit over Arcadia to the edge of what Bas would know to be missile range, approaching his Condor's position at speed. A new voice spoke, "Hail, Spartans! This is Captain Lupe Devries of the starship Unhealth Care, representative of the New Arcadia Initiative. We have so very much to talk about. Tell me, do you have a preferred refreshment?"
 
January 24th, 2560
Earth Standard Time
Human Outer Colonies


At the edge of the Procyon system, a UNSC D80 Condor dropship exited slipspace. Following protocol, the vessel activated its short-range distress beacon, pinging nearby UNSC sensors - namely, the fleet and ground stations of Arcadia and its residents.

Onboard the Condor was still a host of typical small arms, the contents of the ship not even cleared out before Bael Team stole it in their great escape. There was about a dozen assault rifles, with the standard 7.62 ammunition to accompany them, but they were of a make the Spartans had not seen before. On their sides was labeled 'MA40', apparently produced in the year 2558. That was a clue, a stark one. They had been frozen for at least six years. The rifles were each pressed and stamped on the planet Tribute, though one seemed to hail from Mars.

Additionally, there was about six battle rifles. Hidden on the top of their stocks was small engravings - BR75 DEVLOOP. Yet again, another new weapon, generations ahead what they were familiar with. These weren't even stamped.
Lastly, there was a weapon that they recognized - for how could its destructive power be forgotten. An M41 SPNKr, classic in build, with a tracker module. There was four missiles aboard.

It didn't take long for the locals to respond to the distress signal. What showed up, was...

@Moonlight501
@Doctor Jax
@rissa
@Bael

As the Condor cried out to the void in distress, Bael Team would notice something deeply concerning, and confusing. Covenant vessels, floating in orbit over a human colony. Two small warships, and two vessels that would appear similar to the Missionary vessels that the Spartans had no doubt been briefed on before their time on ice. Alongside them were a trio of Paris-class frigates, an ancient destroyer from before the war even began, and something that appeared on sensors as a cross between an SDV corvette and a Stalwart.

While the Spartans processed this information, a hail reached them. The gruff voice of an Elite barked through the Condor's comms unit, "This is Shipmaster Cortam of the New Arcadia Initiative. Condor; identify yourself."
Bas-0782's voice crackled through the comms, steady despite the confusion and shock of the situation. His grip tightened around the edge of his seat as he tried to make sense of the unexpected encounter. The words came out with the same unwavering confidence he had always maintained, though beneath them was the lingering question of what exactly was happening.

"This is Bas-0782 on board the UNSC D80 Condor. I am the leader of Bael Team, comprised of Second-Class Spartan-IIs. We came here with the assumption this planet was abandoned. And why aren't you trying to kill us? You are an Elite."

He let the question hang in the air for a moment, the confusion in his voice only heightened by the bizarre sight of Covenant and UNSC vessels in orbit together. The unknown motives behind the situation gnawed at him, but his team would follow his lead, whatever this new development brought.
The Sangheili paused, seemingly as confused as the Spartans. After a moment of thought, he replied, "That day is behind us, as is the Covenant. My vessels are sworn to Arcadia, and many of the 'Elites' throughout the galaxy are allied to your UNSC. You are not the first humans to have arrived from an era long past, The 'Stalwart' class vessel approaching your position is friendly, and Captain De-" The Elite seemed to struggle with the name, "Deh-grease will brief you. Whenever you hail from, Spartans, we welcome you to the cause."

As the Elite spoke, the Stalwart-SVD vessel approached their position. A pinpoint slipspace jump brought it from near-orbit over Arcadia to the edge of what Bas would know to be missile range, approaching his Condor's position at speed. A new voice spoke, "Hail, Spartans! This is Captain Lupe Devries of the starship Unhealth Care, representative of the New Arcadia Initiative. We have so very much to talk about. Tell me, do you have a preferred refreshment?"
Bas-0782 let out a quiet breath of relief as the initial tension in the air seemed to ease. His grip on the seat relaxed slightly, though his mind was still racing, trying to understand the rapidly shifting circumstances.

"Bas-0782, sir. I am the leader of Bael Team. As for refreshment, water will suffice... after being frozen for god knows how long."

He leaned back, momentarily processing the relief that they weren't about to face an immediate threat. Still, the strange alliance and the mention of a 'New Arcadia Initiative' weighed heavily on him. He kept his focus on the team, making sure they were ready for whatever came next.
 
@Bael

As the vessel reached visual range, it was clearly a Stalwart, though visibly modified. The dark gray alloy hull the Spartan team was familiar with had been replaced with a smooth, silvery skin. The color resembled a CAS. When the Condor docked, the team would be greeted by a man with no UNSC insignia, a rather dapper hat, and an ear-to-ear grin. A small cart was beside him, with two pitchers. Water and lemonade, it seemed their host couldn't help but offer something more.

"Welcome aboard my friends! I am sure you have so many questions."
 
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@Bael

As the vessel reached visual range, it was clearly a Stalwart, though visibly modified. The dark gray alloy hull the Spartan team was familiar with had been replaced with a smooth, silvery skin. The color resembled a CAS. When the Condor docked, the team would be greeted by a man with no UNSC insignia, a rather dapper hat, and an ear-to-ear grin. A small cart was beside him, with two pitchers. Water and lemonade, it seemed their host couldn't help but offer something more.

"Welcome aboard my friends! I am sure you have so many questions."
As Bael Team stepped onto the Stalwart-class deck, they each took their turn to introduce themselves, standing tall and wary yet intrigued by the odd hospitality.

"Bas-0782, leader of Bael Team," Bas said, his voice even as he addressed the man with the dapper hat.

"Elara-0922," Elara spoke next, her tone professional but with a trace of curiosity in her eyes. "CQB specialist."

"James-1132," James added, his voice low but firm, though he was trying not to make a joke. "Heavy weapons and Second in Command."

"Armando-0542," Armando concluded, his voice calm, betraying no surprise at the unusual situation. "Strategist."

After they had all introduced themselves, Bas-0782's voice cut through the silence again, more direct this time.

"And who might you be?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the man, awaiting his answer.
 
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