The Official 405th RP

[Primal Weyland]

((Welcome to the 405th RP - or Role Play, as some may prefer.

This is intended purely for fun, but before we begin we'll set up a few simple rules.

1.) There will be no 'godmodding' within this RP. Look at this link and learn what it is.
2.) Taking control of someone else character, without their permission (bunnying, as the legends put it) will result in the relevant punishment.
3.) No spam. If I see spam I'll ask you to remove it. This includes posts not relevant to the RP. If you have a question, post it elsewhere or PM me.
4.) One-sentence posts are prohibited and likewise discouraged. Make it interesting, people.
5.) I'm the Juggernaut, BITCH.
6.) Failure to comply with the rules will earn you my verbal boot up your ass, then a removal and a report for repeat offenses. And believe me, it'll require surgery and vaseline to remove my boot from your ass if I have to remind you of the rules.
7.) This RP is set loosely within the Halo universe, sometime after the events of Halo 3. All characters wanted, but please. We want regulars as well as SPARTANs who can haul turrets around. ODSTs, crewmembers, marines? All welcome. Mix it up.
8.) Please post your PROFILE in the other topic. I'll set up a template.

That being said, I'll set the first post.))

Borg arbitrary date 85520403:4432
Location: unknown [no current analysis yielding results]
Current air supply at 80% - expected supply runtime of 800hours at optimal. Suggest stasis to preserve supply for as long as possible.

Primal growled a little as she rested back into the uncomfortably-small escape pod, flexing her right paw irritatedly as she looked out at the inky lackness before her, dotted with unfamiliar stars.

Approximately half an hour ago she'd piloted a small shuttle close to a susbpace anomaly to take accurate readings. Eddies had torn her little vessel apart, and dragged her escape pod through to... wherever this was. There were no traces of the 'wormhole' that had carried her... heck, she didn't know. All sensor logs had been destroyed with her shuttlecraft, and she didn't even know if she would be able to be rescued. Wherever she was might not have intelligent life for light-years, and even so, who knew how they would react to a Borg wolf? They might not even know what she was. And without her link to the Collective... she was one. One drone. One drone alone.

With a little sigh she poked at the display before her and called up the standard distress protocols, recording a short message to be broadcast on all wavelengths and frequencies.

"This is Primal Weyland - One of Two, secondary command-control of Unimatrix Zero Five. If anyone out there is receiving this message, please respond. I am adrift in an escape pod and am unable to verify my location. My oxygen supply is limited and I require immediate assistance. I repeat, I require immediate assistance. Over."

The message would continue to be broadcast on a loop over and over until the fuel cell in her pod gave out - at this rate, she would suffocate before that happened, and the message would loop out to an uncaring, unheeding void forever. However, she was resourceful, and she had hope. Somehow, someway, she would be rescued, and make it home.

 

[cholo71796]

Nick (me) woke up in an escape pod. He was battered and bruised, blood slowly draining out of his leg. While applying pressure, he moaned. What had happened? His mind blank, he thought for what seemed like hours. Finally one scene entered his memory. Flames, very large flames. Flames bigger than those caused by a successful arsonist, eating through a house like it was paper. The thought slowly drifted from his mind, but the anger which accompanied the thought would not leave. That would never leave. Nick struggled to get into a standing position. He winced as the deep wound in his leg dripped blood, pooling at his foot. He could not stand it. After falling to the ground and meeting a flash of light, he reached up for the communication device on the desk with all the necessary electrical instruments above. After sending out a plea for help through the radio, he tried to get some rest. While tearing off a bit of his undershirt, he thought about why he bothered to try. Finishing fashioning a tourniquet, he continued to think. After all, he never was important. A voice echoed through the pod, "Nick, get your a** off the ground, we've gotta figure out how to get out of here." Nick paused. Who would've been with him? He couldn't be hallucinating already!

(Sorry if this isn't accurate, reasoning in precursor thread.)

 

[Spartan137]

"This is Primal Weyland - One of Two... *CRKK*... is receiving this message, please respond. I am adrift in an escape pod and am unable to verify my location. My oxygen supply... *CRKK*... and I require immediate assistance. I repeat, I require immediate assistance. Over."

SPARTAN-137 jerked awake as he heard the distress transmission come over the COM-system. Sitting in one of the SPARTAN-IV's specially modified C-709 Longsword Interceptor. The Longsword had been upgraded with a new, state of the art Shaw-Fujikawa generator, one so advanced, it allowed the small craft to enter and exit Slipspace with minimal disturbance.

He looked around the cramped cockpit and saw that it was dark, with the only light eminating from the mixing colors of slipstream space. As the message came thru again, hey quickly woke SPARTANS 071, 024, and 102, his squadmates (Feel free to take up one of these roles, if you wish. Otherwise, I will write their stories as well). They were currently on a mission to a Brute controlled desert planet that the UNSC had recently located.

Each SPARTAN-IV was equipped with a mission and role specific suit of MJOLNIR armor, each painted tan and brown. His own armor was designed for absorbtion of high amounts of damage. With a CQB helmet, EVA and CQB shoulders and a EOD breastplate, he was easily one of the heaviest armored SPARTANs in the program.

His commanding officer, SPARTAN-024, wore an ODST helmet, MK6 shoulders, and a CQB breastplate, quickly slid off his bunk and slid into the command seat.

"Primal Weyland, please verify connection. Over.", 024.

SPARTAN-071, the squad's scout, was clad in a SCOUT helmet, RECON shoulders, and a MK6 breastplate, sat down in the pilot's seat. She began scanning for the ship on her radar, knowing full well that it wouldn't work in slipspace.

"Scanning for any signs of a lifepod. So far, nothing. Do you think we should drop out?", 071.

"Yes", 102.

The normally quiet SPARTAN-102 had spoken. Clad in a specialized SECURITY helmet, designed for snipers, as well as a MK6 chest and SCOUT shoulders, he was the teams sniper. He was still sitting on his bunk, resting his hand on an M99 Stanchion rifle that was his weapon of choice.

"Chief?", 071.

"Do it.", 024.

SPARTAN-071 complied and dropped the ship out of slipspace. Immediatly, the ship's COM died.

"Damnit. Put us back in Slipspace!", 024.

(Oh, and 100th post)

 

[Primal Weyland]

Primal's heart raced as she heard the voice filter through the speakers, the quality shocking due to the battering the pod had taken and the distance. Something was interfering with the signal, and the small on-board computer could be heard almost churning as it tried to clarify the location of the transmission.

Almost a full light-year away - no wonder the quality was so shocking. The pod hadn't been designed for anything more than short-range use, given that her shuttle hadn't even been outfitted with anything other than impulse drive. Normally she would have been picked up by now and debriefed - whatever was responding to her distress call was right on the edge of her broadcast range.

With a jolt, she remembered the Prime Directive - if her rescuers were pre-warp, she would have to destroy his pod and all related technologies. No matter where she was, she would not violate orders. If her rescuers had something other than warp technology.... an interesting problem. But better to focus on the immediate problem.

"This is Primal Weyland responding. Please alter your communications array to broadcast on all local-"

There was an ear-shattering screech as the communications array within her pod lost the transmission - whoever was broadcasting a response must have inadvertently swapped to a different wavelength or changed their speed radically. She cut the comms for a second and re-started it, sending out her original transmission again with a sigh.

Come on... you have to be out there...

 

[Spartan137]

With a jolt, the C709 was thrown out of Slipspace. While equipped with the advanced Shaw-Fujikawa generator, the small craft was still only meant for subspace missions.

"Damnit. Put us back in Slipspace!", 024.

"On it, sir!", 071.

The young SPARTAN immediatly threw the ship into a foreward tumble and, as the ship was pointing back in the direction it had come, launched it into Slipspace.

"This is SPARTAN group 09, also known as gold team. Please respond!", 024.

Releasing the transmit trigger, 024 began giving his team orders.

"SPARTAN 071, keep us on the current heading. Slowly, please. 102 and 137, grab light weaponry and the salvage tools. We may need to cut this guy out of there.", 024.

"Yes, sir", 137, 102.

SPARTANs 137 and 102 proceeded thru the hatch located at the back of the cockpit and opened the weapons locker, each grabbing an M7 caseless SMG. Slipping them in their holster, they shut the locker and moved down the boarding ramp and came to a halt at the inner airlock doors. Opening another locker, they removed salvage charges, grappling hooks, a small number of personal rebreathers, and their tethers. Opening the inner door, they stepped intp the airlock and hooked their lines to a railing running along the wall. They sealed the inner door.

"SPARTANs 137 and 102 ready for egress. Give us the signal, sir.", 137.

"Roger that. Prepare for EVA and await my signal. Switch to COM scilence.", 024.

The green status light appeared on 024 visor.

 

[Assassin716]

'Commander, we are eta 5 minutes to our exit point of slipspace', an ensign said.

I walked up next to Commander Valstaff. 'So, do you think they stuck around?', I said in a sarcastic voice.

'Lieutenant Akalar...Get your squads ready, who knows what they might be up to', he replied.

'Can do sir', I replied as i gave him a salute and walked off the bridge. You could hear a click as I activated my helmet com to my squads. 'Alright boys and girls this is it! We coming up on the coordinates the Chief left in a report some time ago before the battle of Earth started. In the report was some coordinates to an asteroid populated by the old Separatists. Our orders from command are to protect the Commander and the crew while they make negotiations. Is that understood?'
Immediately each squad gave an acknowledgment of a green light in my HUD. I made my way down to the Hangar, and noticed my personal squad Dragoon Team Alpha. Sergeant Kalkire approached me and began relaying information of the departure, and handed me my lucky S2-AM Sniper Rifle.

'Lieutenant, preparations are ready for departure. We have three pelicans prepped and ready, and escorts or gearing up as we speak. Oh and thought you might want to give it a pep talk sir', the Sergeant said with a smirk.

'Alright Sergeant, good to hear. But i already talked to Malinda today', I said with chuckle. 'Lets saddle up!'

The other two teams of well trained ODSTs entered their respective Pelicans. Each team staring out the back as the Pelican rear blast doors closed. The Com speakers on the Pelican switched on. "This is Commander Valstaff, All crew members prepare for slipspace exit. Lieutenant I'll be down in a bit."
'Yes sir', I replied to my com.

The UNSC INCARNATE Destroyer begins to exit from its long journey and finds itself looking over an asteroid field...Eridanus Secundus.
It slowly begins to accelerate to the coordinates that were contained in the data report.
Suddenly a message came through, 'This is The United Resistance...What Is It You Want?.....'

 

[Sigma LS]

The UNSC Cruiser Titan’s Pride dropped out of slipspace to begin her orbital survey of Makos, fourth planet of the Barnett system. Her hull scarred and patched from old battles reflected the light of the red dwarf star brightly into the depths of space. The Pride had been sent to Makos in order to investigate a number of signals that had been detected by an automated probe passing through the system. The pictures the probe had sent back of the surface of Makos indicated it was nothing but a rock. However, the transmissions indicated there was some sort of sentient presence there as yet not encountered by either the UNSC or the Covenant. The captain stood at the bridge looking down at the surface, his eyes intent on the red barren world before him. Since the ship had to travel a significant distance and the probe had not indicated any kind of threat, the captain had taken the opportunity to send the new Shaw-Fujikawa generator-equipped Longsword Interceptor ahead of them in an endurance run. ‘Might as well kill two birds with one stone,’ he thought. Captain Dufraine had pulled a lot of strings to get such an advanced fighter assigned to his antiquated ship, even if it was only for testing purposes. The Pride was sturdy but she was old, some of her scars dated back to battles fought before Harvest fell, scars made by other human vessels.

“Captain, I can’t detect the experimental Longsword within our sensor range.” The ship’s AI Aislyn announced. She was the other gift he had gotten with what little political pull he had left. Aislyn was actually a new AI designed for fightercraft operation but she had been integrated into the Pride’s systems with some minor adjustments to their hardware. She was the ship’s 3rd AI, and probably the last. Dufraine was lucky that he had found a replacement. The higher ups had long since resigned the Pride to a support fire role and did not feel such a ship would need the real-time strategic capabilities of an AI anymore. Too bad they didn’t think he’d pull her out of the Longsword when they shipped it to him. He justified it by saying having to control all the systems of a Cruiser would test the limits of her abilities. He had been very lucky indeed.

Captain Dufraine’s mouth tightened at the bad news. “Give them a few minutes. I want us at combat alert yellow. Continue to pilot the Pride into an orbital trajectory and track that transmission. I want that MAC gun ready to fire five minutes ago.” He turned to Aislyn’s holographic projection, a neon green lith woman with shoulder length hair. “We can’t afford to lose Gold team. Damn that experimental equipment. Ace, I want you to project a return route along their flight path...just in case.”

“Right away Sir.” Aislyn responded. A moment later she spoke again. “I’ve located the source of the signals, they’re emenating from multiple metallic structures on Makos surface, I can’t be sure but they seem to be wreckage.”

Captain Dufrain nodded. “Once we retrieve the Longsword, I want multiple drop teams ready to go.”

Aislyn put her hands on her translucent hips. “Should I notify the Incarnate of our discovery Captain? They are the closest vessel in our area of space.”

He put his pipe to his lips. “No. We’ll only contact them once we have examined the area. Besides I know Commander Valstaff, and he would be eager to take credit for anything we find as soon as he completes his own mission.”

In the bowels of the Pride, Sergeant Bertrand and the rest of his ODST squad finished gearing up. The ODST squad leader wore an old Mk V helm in the place a normal ODST helm. As he pulled the bolt back on his battle rifle and loaded the first round into the chamber, he could feel....things were about to get interesting.

 

[helios]

"REEEP REEEP. REEEP REEEP." The klaxon's piercing cry, combined with the flashing lights brought John to his senses.
Uh. Okay, what the heck just happened? Okay, the three steps. Where am I? He opened his eyes, revealing a large steel bulkhead. Looking up, he saw a rack of weapons. I'm on the the floor, of the armoury, of the UNSC Banewulf. Step two, who am I? I am Staff Sergeant John Edward, Callsign Helios, of the UNSC marine corp. Step three, What happened just before? Stretching his memory, he remembered. The Banewulf had been in an engagement with Covenant forces, and something had happened. He'd heard someone yelling something about being sucked into slipspace, and then blackness.
So, What do I do know? he mused, as he picked himself up off the floor, despite the pain. As he finally reached his feet, a door swung open, and an ensign poked his head through.
"Sergeant! Thank God you're in here!"
"Why? What happened?" Hi replied, suprised at how raspy his vioce sounded.
"The whole front of the ship's fallen off!"
"What? You serious? Who's in charge?"
"Uh, We don't know. Most of the command staff were in the bridge, and well, it was at the front of the ship."
"Holy crap.Where is everyone?"
"In the mess. All the survivors."
"The survivors?"
"Yeah. Hardly any of the ship actually managed to seal in time for anyone to survive."
"Damn." He followed the ensign out, through the maze of corridors to the mess. The faces he could see in the flashing red light were subdued. He wasn't surprised. They probably just lost many of their comrades, and with the command staff in tatters, they had no direction.
"Alright. attention!" He bellowed.
"Now that I've got your attention, are any of you above sergeant?" When no-one responded, he shook his head, and said,
"Looks like I'm in charge. Damn."

 

[Primal Weyland]

Suddenly, Primal had a bright idea. While she couldn't verify the nature of her rescuers - be they in a shuttle or a long-range ship - she could have them transmit a map file of their location, and vent some of her oxygen as a means of propelling herself towards them.

In glee at the idea, she punched up the comms system again.

"This is Primal Weyland broadcasting to the ship previously engaged. Please transmit your local coordinates and prepare to receive an escape pod."

((Short, I know but I'm busy and there's not much I can do until my wuff-butt is hauled away))

 

[Spartan137]

"Negative. Stay were you are. We are coming to you.", 024.

"Any progress on the position yet?", 024.

"Yes, sir. Target vessel approximately 500 miles off. Request permission to begin the move.", 071

"Granted.", 024.

"Coming about on bearing 273. Correction 275.", 071.

The Longsword's sub-light engines ignited, propelling the craft thru space.

"137 and 102, prepare for EVA and salvage operation.", 024.

"Primal Weyland. Do you have any means of EVA travel?, 024.

Sitting in the cramped airlock, alongside an M12 LRV Warthog that the SPARTANs had requisitioned, the two SPARTAN-IVs moved to the outer door. 137 typed in the command code to open the door, and his finger hovered above the ENTER key. He pinged his status light.

"Roger that, 137. Open the door.", 024

The SPARTAN opened the door and he and 102 smoothly glided out the hatch, holding onto an overhead railing.

A console beeped in the cockpit.

"024, We have just been pinged by the Titan's Pride.", 071

"Roger that.", 024

A silent moment passed.

"Sir, the ship has just appeared in the sensor's scanning range... unidentifiable class. Sir?", 071.

"What?", 024.

"The ship is neither Human nor Covenant.", 071.

The Longsword hurtled toward the un-identifiable ship.

 

[Primal Weyland]

Primal growled a little and stayed where she was obediently - her rescuers probably had something up their sleeve in terms of rescuing her, and she was deterimned to help them to the best of her abilities. Still, her Borg-Starfleet pod had to be destroyed upon her rescue, and to this end she set up the auto-descruct mechanism, primed for a fifteen-minute detonation. Upon activation, microcharges placed under the hull plating would ensure the only microfragments remained.

"Affirmative - I am able to survive in space for approximately two minutes before my biological components cease to function."

The female wolf knew that would confuse her rescuers, but it was the truth - her Borg implants would allow her to survive the complete vacuum of space for two minutes before her body gave in to the laws of physics and simultaneously boiled and froze in the empty void. She couldn't help that her organic components would possibly be far more advanced than anything her rescuers had - she would have to play it safe. She knew that some species would gladly kill her for the tech.

 

[Sigma LS]

“Captain, we have confirmed the situation of the Longsword. Spartan 024 and Gold team are currently investigating an escape pod of unknown origin and attempting to render aid approximately 2.8 light years from our current location.”, Crewman Norbert P. Carrington (NPC).

Dufraine’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Took them long enough to let us know.” He turned to Sergeant Bertrand beside him. “Give the ODST teams the order to finish their drop prep. Launch when Gold team returns.”

“You got it Captain.” Bertrand saluted and opened up the com. in his old helm. “Teams Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, get your asses in your bricks now. We’re taking a little trip to the junkyard. Keep weapons ready. We might have a surprise party waiting for us down there.” His teamate Erin chimed in on the comm. “Can I have the cake sir?” Mike responded on the other channel. “Don’t you know Erin, the cake is a lie.”

Dufraine’s attention was returned to the bridge as Aislyn yelled “Captain!” He turned toward her. “I’m receiving a distress call from a ship within the system.”

“What kind of ship?”, Dufraine.

“It’s one of ours, looks like the Banewulf.”, Aislyn.

“What the hell are they doing out here?...Send two of the Longswords to investigate and render aid. Keep them silent though, we don’t know if this is a trap. This day sure as hell isn’t going the way I planned it.”, Dufraine

“It will take them awhile to get there Sir. Should I bring any of our other Spartans out of stasis for this?”, Aislyn

“No, I want them onboard in case things go south.” Dufraine.

“Roger Captain.” Aislyn.

 

[leegrisham]

Eeri 'Eelomee sat crouched behind a rock, his squad mates posted up in various positions around him.
The rain that was falling made a strange pattern as it cascaded down his active camouflage.
This rain felt strange, Eeri thought, it looked like normal rain, it smelt like normal rain and if you caught or tasted it - it would be just like normal rain.
The rain wasn't normal though, it was simulated weather created by Installation 001, that sole fact tainted this rain.
Strange as this rain was though Eeri was glad that it was falling, it kept his scent hidden from the brutes and allowed him to sneak as closely as he had.
He peeked over the rock down into a dry small creek bed. He saw 4 brutes watching over at least a dozen grunts, with two jackals patrolling the perimeter.
Eerie and his battle group had followed a band of Covenant here to Installation 001 and then followed this unit into the dry creek bed where they were poised and ready to strike at his notice.
When the jackals were on the far side of their patrol Eeri yelled "Attack!" - this Human Common English still felt unnatural as he spoke it but since The Great War and the collaboration with the Humans, Elites had adopted it for ease of communication and hatred of the prophets dialect which had deceived them.
He jumped over the rock and pulled out his energy sword it hissed to life illuminating the area around him. He dropped to the ground behind a Brute and drove his elbow deep into his spine; he heard it snap, the brute fell over muscles twitching. The rain turned to steam on his blade and fierce explosions of plasma grenades erupted from the darkness.
Burning plasma had a certain scent to it... He smirked; he was back in battle again...

 

[Spartan137]

"Biological components...", 024.

The SPARTAN had thought aloud, but promptly dismissed the thought. Who was he to discriminate against another cybernetic being...

"There it is!", 071.

"Weyland, this is Gold Team, standby. Prepare for two of my men to come knocking. Wait at your airlock untill I say.", 024.

"137 and 102, prepare for contact with ship. Be warned, it is neither Human nor Covenant.", 024.

The 137 and 102 status lights hesitated, but lit up.

071 had zoomed the ship's camera in on the alien vessel. It appeared to have taken a lot of damage...

When the C709 came within 10 feet, SPARTANs 137 and 102 pushed off from the underbelly of the craft. Drifting slowly through space, they came into contact with the strange metal that composed of what appeared to be an escape pod. Moving along the craft using anything that provided purchase as a handhold, the two SPARTANs managed to locate what appeared to be the door. 102 flashed his light.

"Roger that, 102.", 024.

"Weyland, Gold Team again. Please seal your inner airlock door and open the outer.", 024.

"What do you think it is?", 071.

"The hell if I know...". 024.

"SPARTAN 024 to the Captain. Be advised: craft not of any known origins. Repeat: not of any known origins. Possibly hostile, but unlikely.", 024.

024 released the COM trigger and lapsed into thought.

 

[Assassin716]

The Grand Dinning Hall luxurious as a royal palace, decorated in linen cloth, draperies, tapestries, anything of the past has been pinned to the wall. In the middle laid a circular glass table, where Commander Valstaff and a few UNSC political officials who accompanied us on our trip, as well as the Leaders of the United Resistance sat. Behind both factions of leaders stood guards protecting their own hierarchs in silence. Valstaff waved for me and assured me that he would not need me or my squads assistance. I turned around on my heels and gave a signal to move out into the hall. Soon after the United Resistance body guards followed. I thought things might turn a little ugly between us until i saw that one of the guards had some plasma burns.

Easy talk started from there between my squad and the guards about what has happened with the covenant. I asked a question of Commander Valstaff via com, and he answered back through his neural link connection through the com system. I had asked the guards if they could take us on a small tour of their city. Exploring the vegetation and construction sites, I began helping out with some of the labor. The guards looked at me awkwardly and the rest of my squad began picking vegetables and fruits. The guards joined in as well, surprised at how we would help them. After about an hour and a half i got a neural link message saying the negotiations were over. My squad and I quickly packed away the fresh produce we picked into the freezer storage house, and began our trot to the "Palace".

As I opened the door, I could hear the pleasant tone of a humorous discussion. 'So I am glad things are at ease now, we will be sending carriers along with supply ships to help you move to a more suitable atmosphere, and Eridanus Secundus shall be considered a Capital Colony, as well as a small port system. I Commander Valstaff of the UNSC Navy, appreciate your help and hospitality and welcome you all to the UNSC', He said with a polite and confident voice.
And one of the former resistance leaders applauded, and soon the whole room began to applaud, including me. The former resistance leader opened his mouth to say something, 'We too are humbled and appreciate your hospitality, and are glad things could be settled.'

'Sir', a voice said. i pulled my left wrist guard up horizontally to see the projection of young female translucent figure, a UNSC AI named Kayln. Ever since the release of the Mark VI Spartan Armor, further upgrades were added as well to the UNSC Marines and ODSTs armor allowing AIs to either fuse with its hosts armor or transmit a holographic message to a receiving node. 'Whats the matter Kayln?', I asked. 'Sir I'm reading a distress signal from a UNSC ship a few light years away.'
'What seems to be the problem then Kayln..', Valstaff interrupted. 'Well sir', as she placed her hand across her cheek. 'It seems this UNSC Ship, the Banewulf was believed KIA or MIA at the least, I have the other three AIs working hard in tracking the signal. Though we also discovered a few other anomalies', Valstaff immediately gave a quivered look as to what else could be added to the plate. 'The other AIs also found another stress signal, its neither human or covenant. But it seems that a UNSC Cruiser...The Titan's Pride has already begun investigation of the mysterious craft.'

The commander turned to the new UNSC settlers and alerted them that he has an issue to deal with. Before leaving, he left a historical document dictating the events that took place at Earth and some recollections of the battle for the Ark, and assured them that supplies will be delivered within a matter of days and a ride for those that wish to embark on a new adventure to colonize the UNSC once again.

It was only a matter of minutes before we reached and docked with the Incarnate again. 'ODSTs, mess hall then one sleep cycle, afterwards 3mile run on the track', I said as my teams walked off the Pelicans. I made my way back up to the Bridge with Valstaff. The whole command deck was up and running checking signals, radiation levels, anything that might cause a hazard.

'Looks like we got alot on our hands dont we Commander?', I said.
He Just gave me a wide eye and a cocky smirk. 'Nothing we can't handle. Kayln!',

'Yes sir?', she asked. 'Send a message to fleet com, that successful negotiations took place with the former resistance colony, and that immediate supplies be brought to Eridanus Secundus'. 'Transmitting...', she replied.

'Petty Officer Kendelman, lock in the coordinates of the UNSC Banewulf and make the jump to slipspace with in ten minutes!' Valstaff barked.

'Yes sir locking coordinates, the Shaw-Fujikawa engines are at 37%, we will be able to make the jump eta two minutes', Kendelman replied.

'Kayln...while your at it fire up the MAC Cannons and all launch tubes, I want to be ready just in case' Valstaff added. 'Of Course Commander', she replied. Valstaff sat in his command chair, and activated the readout monitor in front of him. Statistics and calculations began scrolling up the screen, as well as a 2d figure of Kayln. She began to look around the screen and it information. 'Anything else?', she asked. He looked around the command deck which was located on the inside of the UNSC Destroyer, this ship was not like the Halcyon Cruisers, where the bridge actually protruded from the ship.

'Kayln how bout pulling those special armor enhancements out from storage, I think its about time i gave them a try...', I said while looking at her in her 2d format. She Just smiled, winked and said 'All Done Tiger'. Valstaff just looked at me, even though he couldn't see me through my ODST helmet he knew what i was thinking, he just chuckled. 'Okay Tiger lets see what ya got', he added.

 

[SPARTAN II]

A fleeting moment of consciousness, of being encassed in some sort of metal chamber. Then, a loud explosion, and the sudden sensation of being weightless, of floating through space. The moment of consciousness ended with a harsh, jolting thud, of hitting something solid. Then, consciousness faded away...

"SPARTAN... oh, SPARTAN... wakey wakey..."

He struggled to gain consciousness, his foggy mind focusing on the soft, soothing voice calling out to him, which quickly trailed off into nothingness.

"Hey, SPARTAN... it's time to wake up... this is no time to be lying around..."

When he finally came to again, he awoke to find himself literally floating through space. He moved his helmeted head lazily from side to side, taking in his surroundings. For some reason unknown to him, he found himself drifting through an asteroid field. He wasn't sure just how he could've wound up there, but he had a feeling what got him there couldn't have been good.

Upon surveying his surroundings, SPARTAN-079 noticed that amongst the various-sized rock fragments that made up the asteroid field, there was also a great deal of metal wreckage, some pieces of debris being reminiscent of a UNSC Halcyon-class cruiser. He groggily thought back to his last posting, and was fairly certain he had been assigned to just such a vessel.

Could the debris floating around him be all that was left of his ship? He couldn't be sure, and sincerely hoped that wasn't the case.

"SPARTAN-079... Blackwell? Are you conscious?"

"Yes, Ardrosa. Thanks for the wake-up call."

"Anytime. Besides, there's two of us in here. I can't very well do anything unless you're up and about."

SPARTAN-079 tried adjusting his position, but found his armour wouldn't move as per his thoughts. Grunting lightly under his breath, Ardrosa spoke quietly in his ear:

"Your suit's in lock-down mode right now. Considering the way you were getting tossed around in that Cryobay, the impact gel layer activated, and your power supply went on stand-by to restrict any unnecessary movement. Just in case you were injured in some way."

"Well, I'm not."

"I know you're not, but the suit didn't. Could be some of the contacts in your neural-lace got jostled from all the commotion on the ship. Give me a moment to establish a connection between you and the suit."

SPARTAN-079 felt a somewhat unsettling sensation, like tiny thin tendrils slithering into his mind. Not at all like the sensation he got when he interfaced with Ardrosa. He realized he very much preferred the sudden sharp, cold feeling he got from that than what he was experiencing at the moment.

Suddenly, the HUD on the inside surface of his visor came to life. With a momentary, audible beep he saw his shield status indicator creep up into the green and his motion tracker light up with all sorts of red contacts; the other objects floating alongside him in the asteroid field.

"There we are. How's that? You should have full use of your armour now."

He quickly moved his arms and legs, satisified with the suit's response to his mental inputs relayed through the neural-lace in the back of his neck.

"That's fine. Just where are we, though? And what about the locator/distress beacon? Was it activated?"

"After the ship took a turn for the worse, I anticipated the need for it and had it start broadcasting, but as the suit went into lock-down mode and powered down, it stopped transmitting at that point. I honestly don't know if there'd be anyone out this far to even track us anyway, as I don't believe anyone else escaped the ship before it was destroyed. I'll get it going again, though. Maybe we'll luck out."

A moment later, the low-tone bleeping of the locator/distress beacon could be heard emanating from the suit's power pack area, located in the back of the torso. He wondered how long they had been left floating through the asteroid fields, and just how much power was left in his suit. And oxygen. Ardrosa, being an AI, could survive on what power would be left in the suit long after the oxygen supply ran out.

He quickly calculated thier chances of being picked up in this as-yet-unknown star system, and silently prayed they'd somehow find some way out of this dire predicament.

"I guess now we wait and see if someone comes along, then."

"Yeah... fingers crossed. Well, if I had fingers, they would be..."

 

[Spartan137]

(*Cough*. Whoops. Refer to my refrence post.)

A console light blipped on the pilots chair. Erika noticed it and quickly found out that a SPARTAN of unidentifiable class had activated a distress beacon in an asteroid field not far from their position.

"Sir, just got pinged with another distress signal.", Erika had to speak loudly, for Nick was deep in thought.

"What?! Another one? SPARTAN you say... alert the Titan's Pride.", Nick spoke quickly and opened a log of SPARTANs.

Meanwhile, Justin and Zach had located a hatch on the pod's surface. A single window was placed in the door. Peering through, he felt his heart suddenly jump in pace.

That isn't human! It's nothing I've seen before!, he quickly dropped his hand to his M7, but stopped. Whatever she was, Primal Weyland had seemed peaceful.

Weyland looked approxamatly 5-6 feet tall, had white fur with red highlights, and a very wolf-like structure. But she also seemed to walk upright and appeared to be humanoid. Justin tapped on the glass. Weyland looked around suddenly and took a step back. She then approached the window and held up one finger. Universal sign language for Wait.

Meanwhile, Zach had secured a tether to a pinion he had fixed to the surface, and prepared a personal resperator for Weyland. He stopped when Justin waved his hand in dismissil. That won't work.

 

[Primal Weyland]

The female wolf rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she heard the telltale bumping of hands on the pod's outer hull, at least thankful that her rescuers had made contact. Moments later a rond helm popped into view across her pod's 'windshield' - she could tell that it was armor, and she grinned. Her rescuers were at least humanoid - a good sign. Wherever she was, they might have Human life. Good - Humans were predictable. She hoped she wouldn't have to resort to... 'assimilative' techiques to get through to them once on board.

The calm voice crackled through her almost-blown speakers, courtest of the earlier static, and she waggled a finger in response

"Negative, Gold Team. I'm going to blow the hatch - be prepared for immediate retrieval and extraction of one humanoid. Upon my exit you will have a maximum of three minutes to get me back into a pressurised, oxygenated atmosphere. Your respiratory gear will not conform to my biology, and will be useless. Stand by..."

Primal grinned, rolling her eyes as she took one deep lungful of air and dumped the rest of her canopy supply back into the reserves, eseentially creating a vacuum in her pod - any escaping air would throw her pod into an erratic trajectory and make her rescue more difficult. Gold Team would have to act on impulse from now - her plan was clear, and she'd initiated it anyways, so they'd have to play along.

One last look at her countdown by her head confirmed it - ten minutes to pod detonation. She'd have to move...

With a little grunt, she jammed the canopy release button, the plexiglass cover sliding open and sucking her and what little atmosphere of her pod remained into space. Remembering her zero-G training, she planted her feet firmly on the cushioned 'bed' of the pod and angled herself at the nearest figure - a bulky-looking armored person, presumably the leader of the team, before kicking off towards him, hoping he'd have the sense to catch her and secure her before getting her into the ship she could dimly see in the distance. Already she was beginning to suffer the effects of space - her vision was clouding and her biological componets were struggling to cope, even with her implants sustaining her. Closing her eyes, she held up two fingers on her left paw while pointing to her left wrist with her right paw, hoping that these humaniods knew what a wristwatch was. Just over two minutes....

 

[Assassin716]

INCARNATE slowly drifts out from its exit of slipspace and comes face to face with a horrendous battle ground. Debris laid all around the field of vision that the INCARNATE had. 'Sir we have multiple life-signs in numerous areas,' Kendelman stated.

'Alright, i want all crew on Yellow Alert.', Valstaff replied. Klaxon counters started to light up, and feet could be heard running about the bridge to pinpoint locations of possible threats in the area. Valstaff continued to look at the readout screen, which then just turned to a live video feed of the desolate battlefield. 'Lieutenant, grab two pelicans and pick up that stranded beacon here, send the other to find out whats left of the Banewulf.'

'Yes sir.' I replied. My squads should by now have already been done with the chores i had them do so they should be okay with a bit of space exhibition. Activating my squad com. 'Alpha and Omega Squads, combat preparations in 8, meet in the hangar. This is a rescue operation, chop chop.' It took me ten minutes to reach the hangar, and as I walked in I was actually a bit surprised to see both teams prepped, I had anticipated they would have taken eleven minutes only making it down here a bit after me. 'Alright, Alpha with me. Okay we just entered a hell spawn battlefield. It aint pretty, but we got multiple lifesigns out there and its up to us to get them back.'

Kalyn began to speak through the the com system. 'Lieutenant, Alpha squadron shall be dropped next to a lone distress signal, please investigate the source and if at all possible save whatever is left. Omega team is to investigate the remnants of the Banewulf, and to rescue any survivors. Two Katanas shall escort both of your teams. Alright the Incarnate is passing over the first distress signal. You will be making a zero-g drop something i think you and your soldiers are used to, cya in a bit.'

'Thanks Kayln, keep an eye out for us', I replied. Hmm Katanas, I was always curious about those new fighters that Oni equipped with the Incarnate, I have only seen the performance of one via datapad view screen, but supposedly its an extension fighter, with all the maneuverability a longsword had but with the arsenal the Covenant Seraphim had.

The Incarnate slowly began halt over the first distress signal. The hangar doors began to slide back. Within five second the pelican slowly descended. The pilot activate the engines and you could hear a soft roar of the 4 pivot axel engines begin to move us toward the distress signal. 'Contact in 3,' the pilot stated.

'Alright you all know what to do!' I yelled. Alpha squad all began hooking a tether restraint to their armor as well as I. I activated the cockpit blastdoor, and deactivated the ramp blastdoor. 'Sir your not going to believe this,' the pilot said over the com. 'Its a...a...its a Spartan.'

What, how could it be, how long could he or she last out here. The pelican pivoted in place and there to view with my own eyes was a true spartan mounted in glossy green armor. I held up my hand giving an indication to watch for my signal. I propelled my self toward the Spartan with a small jump. Making contact with the Spartan I attach a latch to the Spartans back, and gave the signal. A squad member activated the tether and it began pulling me and the Spartan in. Letting the Spartan land first in the ramp, i knew as soon as the area had atmosphere again it would have crushed me to death if i was underneath it. I grabbed hold of one of the ceiling bars and the ramp blast door closed filling the room with air. Still staring at it, i reached in satchel above the seats and pulled out a armor readout monitor, its usually now used for ODST armor considering its so close to Mjolnir Spartan armor, it would still give a precise detailed report on the vitality of the spartan. Identification popped up on the readout monitor, Spartan Subject 079. Hopefully this lucky bastards still alive.

 

[SGT Razor]

Razor woke up from a startling dream from his past. He could swear his past was out to haunt him. His squad was in the room, playing cards as usual, when the ominous voice came in over the PA, “Teams Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, get your asses in your bricks now. We’re taking a little trip to the junkyard. Keep weapons ready. We might have a surprise party waiting for us down there.”

"Bravo,... damnit, that's us." Razor knew that deep, raspy voice. It was Anderson, ODST-607, the team's sniper.
"Not much of a surprise party if we know about it," That was Li, ODST-614, the radio technician-slash-network hacker-slash point-man. One doesn't need an AI when he has Li on his side.
"Rise and shine, boss." Butkis, ODST-637 the squad's explosive specialist, had a smirk on his face. He was never good at bluffing, and Razor was never any good at poker, but he knew who would have won the game if it wasn't for the call.

"Alright, boys. Let's gear up," Razor said in his Texas draw that sometimes snuck up on him as he jumped down from the bunk, cracking his back, neck and fingers. As they walked down the hallway of the barracks, they noticed that it was nearly empty, and what were left were injured or sick soldiers that had been freshly debriefed from their assignment.

"I hate it when it's this quiet," Anderson said as he looked down the long corridor with his shifty eyes.

When they reached the armory, it was completely full. This was surprising considering they were fighting for so long. Li turned to the Gunny, "Did Christmas come early this year?"

"I guess you can call me Santa Clause," replied the Gunny, wearing a smirk on his face. All Gunnies had Southern accents. It was like regulation. They all found it humorous in the least.

Anderson, nicknamed Andy for short, grabbed an SRS99D-S2 AM sniper rifle, his weapon of choice, and slammed the magazine in his modified M6D Magnum. They all carried those, it was like firing a rifle from your hand. Li, or "Grasshopper," as his callsign was, grabbed a M90 Shotgun and an M7 caseless submachine gun. He was still mastering the technique of the modified M6D. Butkis, or "Boomer," as they liked to call him, took a Rocket Launcher and a Spartan Laser from the shelf, almost forgetting his breaching and remote detenating charges. Again, they all took breaching and remote detenating charges just in case. Razor, "the Blade," took a BR55HB SR Battle Rifle off the shelf after checking the ammo counter and magazine. The last one shorted out on him, electricuting him.

They put on their helmets, HUDs flickering on. Each of their helmets were custom-painted for identification. Andy painted the face of his helmet to simulate blood smear. Grasshopper had a thick blue lightning bolt painted down the middle of his. Of course, Boomer went with flames. Blade painted an emblem that came to him in a dream. It was a white star with wings. It was his lucky symbol, and came to find out it was his family crest.

They all loaded into the Pelican, briefed and ready for their assignment. This was Razor's first mission with his newly-assigned team. Their orders were simple, eliminate any ground forces and rescue anyone that was aboard the BaneWolf.

They neared the drop zone. "Sixty seconds out, standby for the green light," the pilot yelled through the door.

"Just so you know, I had double Aces," Andy said to Li, breaking the long pause.

"Let's focus! Get ready!" Razor shouted the orders.

"Thirty seconds!" The rear door started to open. Bravo team's hearts pounding in their ears. Li thought his throat was going to explode. The door jammed. "Li, get on it!" He tried everything he knew, even resorted to pounding on the console, but couldn't get the system to reboot.

"I'll see what I can do from up here," called the pilot. The door jerked, trying to open, but still, there was no luck.

Suddenly, there was an explosion heard from outside. The Pelican started shaking violently.

They all glanced at Boomer, who was trying to calm himself.

"Wasn't me!" He said, questioning the sound of the explosion.

"Contact! We've been hit! Missile lock! Taking evasive manuevers!" They heard the pilot's voice from the cockpit call on the radio.

"Li, get yourself buckled up!" Li was still pounding on the console. "Li!"

They could feel the Pelican hit the ground. It came down with a terrifying crash as Li's body was thrown around the cargo bay. Razor closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to watch his squad go down. Not again. Weapons came loose from the weapon holders. Razor looked towards the front of the Pelican as it was torn off. The rescue squad has just become the ones needing the rescue.

After the violent tumble of the squad's over-turned Pelican, Razor got up and staggered towards where the cockpit used to be. The pilot was dead, no doubt. He looked back. Li's body was laying on the ceiling, strewn around like a ragdoll. The others were still buckled up, but hanging. They couldn't be dead. Not now. Not when they were needed most. Sure enough, Razor's HUD displayed all of their vitals as 100%. Even Li's. He tapped his visor. That couldn't be right. He had just seen Li die the most violent death he had ever witnessed. Sure enough, Li coughed a couple times as he was helped up. They cut the others down and geared up once again. Li immediately got his radio working. He tuned in.

"Bravo Team, what's you're status, over?"

"We've been hit! We've lost our pilots and our Pelican's down at... What are our coordinates, Li?" Called Razor.

"We're at... let's see... Sector C, Subsection 7."

"Did you get that?"

"Roger that. The area is said to be hot with Covenant ground forces. Keep still until we can call in a Warthog, over."

"You heard the man. Let's get ready."

Andy peered out the crack in the door that still remained. "Too late. Here they come!"