Red and orange flames danced like deadly fireflies in the cracked window of the bridge of the Valkyrie. Following not far behind was the terrible shock wave caused by the destruction of the Firefight.
Every Marine in the room was blown backwards by the force of the nearby explosion. The cracked window pane finally gave way, allowing a swift burst of energy to blast away two unfortunate service workers. The hull of the Valkyrie shook and groaned, loose metal panels giving way to reveal dangling electrical wires hanging like vines. Unable to swiftly compensate for the shift in force, the ship was pushed as if by an invisible hand away from the wreckage.
The chaos that followed was deafening. Panicked Marines scrambled from one side of the room to the other, some tending for the numerous wounded sprawled on the cold deck and others desperately attempting to repair vital systems. Golden sparks danced from damaged computer consoles, some igniting electrical fires from nearby equipment.
Captain Marcus Andrews opened his eyes lethargically. He bared his teeth, angry at the incessant ringing in his ears that wouldn't stop. The world was a blur, a nauseating swirl of grays and greens and every other shade imaginable. A long moment passed as the shock of the situation wouldn't quite reach his consciousness. He attempted to rally his thoughts, to act as a captain should, only to be halted by an intense throbbing in his head. He tried the simple act of walking, only to find himself seemingly paralyzed...but by what, he wondered.
He watched absently as a Marine's arm was blown away by a stray explosion from an overloaded computer. "Why can't I move?" he wondered, "why can't I do anything? This isn't what's supposed to happen. I wasn't trained for this."
"Why can't I move?"
The question burned in his mind. He sought answers through little more than pleading looks at the scrambling Marines, only to receive ignorance in reply. One Marine, a young scraggly fellow, looked into his eyes for just a second. Marcus saw only pity in those eyes as the Marine averted his gaze.
He felt cold. An odd feeling, he decided. Just moments ago, the bridge had been rather toasty for his liking. What was happening just moments ago? He found he couldn't quite remember, as someone struggles to remember a dream of nights past.
He felt tired. That feeling confused him too. Shouldn't any sensible Marine be fueled by adrenaline in a situation like this? Yet, he wanted to close his eyes, even if just for a little while. The numbness in his legs confused him too, but he had little energy to ponder it. He saw only chaos and confusion expressed in the wild stares and panicked movements of the Marines he was supposed to care for, the men and women who relied on him for their very lives.
Through the sound of death, he felt a noise reverberate through his being. A consistent, powerful, thump-thump-thump, like the sound of a blacksmith forging a weapon with his hammer. He forced his eyelids open to find the source of this odd sound, turning his weary head right towards the source.
There he saw him. A savior of humanity, a demon in the eyes of those bent on its destruction. The slayer of a thousand evil creatures for darkest depths and the rescuer of tens of thousands innocent lives. He seemed to exist on a different level of reality than the dozens of maddened Marines darting in and out of Marcus's field of vision. His gray armor, blackened in places by plasma fire, contrasted sharply with the greens and reds of the burning deck. While the other men and women moved as a mob, his movements were sharp, defined, determined as the wolf.
His features were hidden under a helmet whose visor was a tan brown, slightly reflective in the light of the bridge. In that visor Marcus saw his own stunned face. He felt a swift twinge of guilt as his pleading eyes looked back into his own. Marcus had thought himself to be as much a warrior as anybody, as courageous, if not more so, than those whom served under him. Looking into that reflective visor and into himself, however, Marcus saw only a broken, prideful man, an officer who brought death and destruction upon his loyal Marines through his arrogant blindness.
In a long moment, the Spartan was directly in front of him. Marcus watched, dreamily detached from his own mind, as the Spartan hefted him over his shoulder. He wanted to protest for a moment, to say that he could carry himself, only to discover an intense numbness spreading from his legs.
The tiredness quickly grew overwhelming. He allowed his eyes to close for just a moment, only to be shocked awake by a voice like a lethal viper,
"Captain, stay awake. Stay with me, sir."
The pleading words indeed kept him from unconsciousness, at least for curiosity's sake. Why was the Spartan so determined to keep him awake. He was so tired...
"Just a little further, sir."
His sight faded at last. Only muffled sounds entered his ears now, the sounds of rapid movement and panicked voices. He felt a dropping sensation, followed swiftly by the sound of a monotonous beeping. He felt his entire body go numb and finally give way to the exhaustion. Darkness took him.
_.-0-._
Noble Six hefted the broken man onto the hospital cart as the medics swiftly wheeled him away. He had little time to ponder what might happen to the Captain as he turned to look for more wounded. Blast, there were quite a few.
A Marine missing his right arm tried desperately to get to his feet to help a fellow downed serviceman, only to slip on his own blood and fall back upon the cold, steel floor. That act, vain and gruesome as it presented itself, was typical of so many courageous men and women dedicated to selfless service. That critically wounded Marine was more concerned about the life of the man next to him than the blood spurting from the stump of whatever remained of his arm.
Noble Six hadn't really admired this quality in his Marines before. It was simply an expectation that came with the job. However, after his recent events when those he truly cared about lost their lives, he found himself admiring much more about these sacrifices. His late team certainly did.
Without speaking a word, Six hefted the two wounded Marines on each of his shoulders. A short walk and they were on another urgent care bed heading towards the sick bay, now filling rapidly with victims of the surprise attack.
While to the other stunned Marines Noble Six certainly seemed completely calm and sure of himself, he felt otherwise. Years of military discipline result in that air of certainty around Spartans, but underneath that facade are feelings quite similar to yours our mine, perhaps suppressed. It is that calm ferocity that makes the blood of the Covenant run cold, that earns the respect of every Marine.
Noble Six had little experience regarding naval warfare. This uncertainty brought an element of fear and uncertainty swirling in his gut. He mentally reminded himself to read up on it, should he survive.
He understood that time was limited before the Covenant Super-Carrier recharged its cleansing beam and eviscerated the remainder of the fleet. Turning to face the room, he saw the faces of the panicked officer and enlisted Marines. There was shock, there was confusion, and there was fear in their wild eyes.
One Marine stood with a large gash in his left shoulder and a communicator up to his ear, frantic, "The Valkyrie is hit, major systems offline! Requesting immediate support from the Hammer. Respond immediately!"
The Marine's eyes widened further as he continued, "What do you mean you're under attack? By what? Just shoot the bastards and get over here!"
Six's heart stopped and his blood ran cold as the reality of what was about to happen set in. Moving twice as quick as a Marine runs away from a horde of Flood, he snatched the communicator from the startled Marine and activated the intercom system. His voice echoed over every ship in the entire fleet with a power that demanded respect,
"This is Spartan B312 speaking. On behalf of the UNSC, I apologize for the conflict conducted with the inhabitants of this world and order all personnel to lay down weapons."
On a nearby monitor, each nearby frigate's command center was displayed in high definition. The scene was rather comical. The ponies and humans that had been locked in a magic-fueled stalemate suddenly stopped fighting, many simply freezing in place before firing a spell of shooting their guns.
"Captain Andrews is critically wounded. As of now, I am temporary commander of this fleet. All ships, ready MAC cannons to fire on my mark. To the inhabitants of this world, I cannot guarantee your safety. Evacuate immediately."
Giving the intercom back to the trembling Marine, Noble Six strode to the center of the command deck. A high backed steel arm chair rested on an elevated platform, facing the shattered observatory now open to the chill wind. Taking a seat in the captain's chair, he addressed the dozens of eyes fixated on their new leader,
"Prepare to engage the Covenant Super-Carrier. We must disable the enemy Cleansing Beam before it is ready to fire."
For a long moment, nobody dared to move a muscle. Most of the Marines were shocked by what they were hearing. Engage the Covenant Super-Carrier, a behemoth almost a mile long, armed with enough firepower to destroy an entire planet alone? Their broken and distraught fleet of four damaged mid-class cruisers surely didn't stand a chance.
One perhaps brave, perhaps fool-hearty enlisted Marine stood to challenge Six's order, saying, "Respectfully, sir, the Super-Carrier's shields are still online. Our MAC rounds will have no effect."
Every soul in the room held their breaths as Noble Six took a few seconds to respond, unwavering and cold, "Regardless, either we destroy that Cleansing Beam or it destroys us."
Another officer stood, only to be immediately sat back down by Noble Six's lethal voice, "And I will not abandon this world to the Covenant."
"Bring the fleet into position and target the Cleansing Beam."
This time, nobody dared to speak a word. The damaged Valkyrie lurched forwards, engines operating at full capacity, to point its nose at the sky. The rest of the fleet formed a compact triad around the Valkyrie in a defensive formation, also pointing their MAC cannons towards the above Super-Carrier.
Noble Six felt cold anger as he saw the gigantic vessel through the broken observatory. The Covenant Super-Carrier hung in the blue sky like a specter. A shadow descended upon the bow of the fleet, extending downwards onto the earth below. The hull of the carrier was a dark purple, seemingly absorbing the light around it to create a menacing darkness. Various systems shone with cerulean blue lights, like small suns, providing energy to the vessel. At the center of the carrier, protruding outwards like a dagger was the ship's Cleansing Beam. The Spartan eyed it with a glare. That weapon was capable of instantly disintegrating a small city into glass in one burst. It was essentially a controlled nuclear detonation.
Such power would ravage the serene landscape of the life forms he sacrificed so much to protect. His blood boiled as he watched it glow a bright orange, signifying that it was beginning to charge. The Covenant had tried in the past to destroy everything he loved, and they had succeeded to a large extent. Not this time. Not while he lived.
"What is the status of the MAC cannons?" Noble Six's voice demanded attention from the confused and terrified servicemen and women strewn about the bridge.
"All ships report green, sir. Awaiting your order."
Like a swarm of bees, hundreds Covenant intercept ships, including Banshees and Phantoms, descended from the vessel, rapidly approaching the undefended fleet. Noble Six's voice grew more determined as he spoke into the captain's communicator,
"Noble Six to the Steelheart, prepare to fire."
"This is Lieutenant Burns, ready to fire on your command."
Everyone in the bridge held their breaths as the horde of Covenant assault craft grew closer, at last, a voice broke the silence,
"Fire."
The lack of a reinforced glass pane for the command deck allowed for the cracking sound of the MAC cannon to temporarily deafen the ears of every Marine aboard the Valkyrie. For a moment, only a loud ringing remained in Noble Six's ears. Finally, Noble Six opened his eyes.
The Covenant Super-Carrier's shields had deflected the MAC blast. The swarm of assault craft seemed infuriated by the gesture, descending more swiftly upon them. The forward scouts were already blasting the fleet with sustained plasma fire.
"Six to the Conflux, fire!"
Another shot rang out in his ears, like the sound of a hammer railing against a steel plate, but with so much more emphasis and force.
"Sir, the carrier's shields are still up! I recommend immediate evac!"
Hordes of Banshees ripped apart the Steelheart's outer hull while the broken vessel activated its reserve flak cannons in an attempt to ward off the invaders.
"Hammer, fire at will."
Another shot and another reading indicating the shields were still up. Noble Six gritted his teeth. It was all or nothing now. The enemy Cleansing Beam glowed with a fierce orange light.
"Sir, that Cleansing Beam is 90 percent charged! We've gotta get out of here now!" The frantic Marine couldn't contain himself any longer. It was his life Noble Six was betting on, and Six himself was quite aware of that risk.
"Ready MAC cannon." Six's concise and powerful voice again caused the Marines to follow the order. The horde of Banshees reached the outer hull of the Valkyrie; already the ship began to groan in protest of the sudden plasma barrage.
Live or die, everything hung in the balance of the next shot.
"Fire."