M6: Battle above Hope (Space)

[Frazer]

Captain Frazer York
UNSCS Preston
Virtue Class Attack Carrier
"When will this end?"

"Captain we are coming into range of the Covenant destroyer." Tiffany said as she came back on the A.I pedestal. 

"Good, Blackpool what charge are our MAC's at now?" Blackpool swung round on his chair to reply to Frazer.

"One hundred percent. Fully charged Captain." Frazer nodded. This was it. Do or die.

"Captain just an update. The only capable warships left in the fleets were the Passchendaele, Kilimanjaro, Enterprise, Iowa and the Hibernian. Also the Enterprise has been destroyed but Admiral Klix is starting rescue operations." Frazer nodded again, he didnt like this at all. Not only was the fleet down to its bones but one of Frazer's closest allies, the Enterprises Captain, had been lost. He couldnt afford to think if he was alive or not as the Covenant destroyer was coming into range.

"SIR DESTROYER IN RANGE!" Tony said shouting across as he came off the comms with the marines below. 

"Right lets get this done. Tony inform the med bay to prepare to recieve wounded. This is going to be to a tough one."

"Aye aye." Tony went back on his personal comm. 

"Blackpool I want Archer pods ready on my mark." Blackpool nodded with an understanding. 

"SIR INCOMING PLASMA ROUND. Starboard side." Tiffany shouted across to Frazer as he ran to the holo table chair. 

"HARD TO PORT TRAYNER!" The Preston leaned to the right but it was in vain. A plasma round fired from the destroyer hit the lower decks on the starboard side Preston. The lower decks emerged in flames. Frazer had to react quickly. As the round hit the Preston, the bridge crew felt the blast as it rocked the ship. "Report Tiff?"

"Lower decks hit sir. No major damage to the engines but we are loosing stability. Decks D1 to D7 are engulfed in flames. Med bay are receiving the wounded now." 

"Right, Tony have the marines assist in rescuing the crew from the flames we need everyone on this. Have all available crew to help put out the flames and to assist in emergency repairs." Tony nodded. "Blackpool fire everything. I want the MAC rounds aimed down the aft of that Covenant ship."

"With pleasure sir." Two MAC rounds left the Preston, along with a convey full of Archer rounds. The bridge again shook with the rounds being fired. Frazer awaited for the rounds to hit the Covenant ship.

[SuperCommando]

Silas-009
Gold One
UNSCS Iowa
Armory

Silas emerged from a separate section of the armory appearing very different from his two SPARTAN comrades. As he hustled around the room grabbing various items from the shelves and stowing them in a backpack, he noticed Roy and Dani outfitting themselves with ODST armor. The one-eyed team leader had gone with a different approach, instead opting to don the camouflage fatigues and olive drab plates of the UNSC Marine Corps standard issue, as well as a shemahg neck scarf.

Whereas the Helljumper battle dress may be reputed for slightly higher damage protection, Silas favored the greater ease of movement and superior fit offered by the more conventional armor. Indeed, Dani looked quite cramped in her black suit, while Silas felt quite comfortable, albiet perhaps more exposed than he was used to. The veteran soldier had grown accustomed to being a tank, a battlefield powerhouse. Now, he felt so… lightweight. But although he’d immensely prefer to have his MJOLNIR back, he secretly found the novelty of this liberating garb kind of fun.

He activated his helmet’s eye piece just for the heck of it while he could. The transparent green eyepiece lit up and displayed a head’s up display, targeting reticule, and several readouts containing lines of scrolling text. Being so close to his face, it was almost like looking at a full helmet visor again. But alas, it would not be functional in the AO’s city-wide EMP zone, so he reluctantly powered it back off, removed the device from his helmet, and stored it in his pocket. The eye piece, as well as its attached wireless headset, would come in handy if the EMP effect ended.

Silas then proceeded to continue selecting equipment from his mental grocery list of gear. He was approaching this mission not just as a combat operation, but also as a survival exercise, and his loadout reflected that. The pack he took was more akin to a regular backpack instead of a full-out military rucksack for mobility purposes, but it was still completely stuffed by the time he was done. The Spartan was bringing a flare gun and lots of multi-colored flares for communication, several blocks of C12 explosives, thin wire to use for things like booby traps, tripwires, or snares, multiple lines of rope for rappelling and climbing, a grappling hook, chemical glow sticks for low-light illumination, a lighter, a monocular, a few energy bars, and a giant roll of duct tape. He also grabbed a half-face respirator that could supply a short amount of air for use underwater or as a gas mask.

For weaponry, Silas chose a trusty MA5B assault rifle as his primary weapon. He favored the rifle’s high ROF and enjoyed its large magazine size of sixty rounds, making it ideal for the suppressive fire he liked to have in close quarters combat. He complimented the assault rifle’s capabilities by equipping a hefty M6D as his sidearm, a weapon that always earned a spot in his loadouts due to its impressive stopping power. He also strapped a knife to each shin, just in case. Finally, for an extra edge to make up for the lack of MJOLNIR, he strapped an M41 SSR rocket launcher to one side of his backpack, and a case with two extra 102mm HEAT rockets on the other side. He finished by adding a grenade belt to his waist with a pair of frags, smokes, and flashbangs, and then rigged his armor with as many magazine pouches he could fit onto his torso, legs, and arms as he could.

It took a little while for him to get all his stuff together, but Silas somehow managed to finish first. Probably because Roy had to take extra time to do some custom tailoring to get his armor to fit. Silas left the others in the armory – he had something else to take care of fist before meeting up in the hanger for deployment.

Jogging briskly out the armory’s entrance, he navigated through some of the cruiser’s passages, up several ramps to get to a higher deck, and found a room that contained a sealed doorway with a retinal scanner. He stepped up to the scanner, allowing the machine to read his right eye before admitting him inside.

The scanner beeped at him as it processed the data.

ONI LEVEL 5 RESTRICTED AREA
SCANNING… SCANNING…
VERIFYING BIOMETRICS…
ID CONFIRMED/ [12590-51311-SC]
SPARTAN-009 ACCESS GRANTED

The door slid open. Silas stepped into a darkened room.

This place was usually busy during pre-deployment times like this, but this mission it was quiet and vacant. Due to his familiarity with the location as well as his superior, augmented vision he could make out three distinct shapes dominating the center or the chamber – a humanoid form surrounded by a giant ring. An overhead light came on directly overhead one of the objects as Silas approached it. It was like looking at a mirror, except this time it was from the outside looking in.

The rig before him held Silas’s battle-scarred MJOLNIR Mk. IV power armor, its anti-plasma fire refractive coating gleaming gently across the dull green plates. He took a moment to study his own distorted reflection in the faceplate’s golden mirrored surface, which reminded him of the Marine armor he now wore instead of the suit in front of him. Is this what it felt like when regular soldiers looked up at him on the battlefield?

“Ahem, Chief Petty Officer? I have the items you requisitioned.”

Silas looked over. From an adjacent room, an ONI technician in a labcoat (one of the individuals that typically helps put on and removes his armor, in fact), came up to him with a handful of objects. While Gold Team was on the elevator, Silas used his tacpad to request a favor of this man, which he now collected.

The first item was a rugged, tactical watch currently set to Refuge local time. It was completely analog, no electronics, just lots of tiny wound up gears. Also, the outer ring of the watch featured a traditional magnetic compass. He strapped the useful accessory around the left wrist of his shooter’s glove. Next, Silas received a large folded-up map printout of the city. It was printed on a type of plastic, similar to paper but more durable and also waterproof. Then, the man handed Silas a large black three-ring binder nearly overstuffed with pages, which the Spartan quickly investigated.

“I have to admit, Ares did all the work, I just told him what information to compile,” the technician confessed, “AIs can work infinity faster than I can.”

The binder contained countless pages of information (written in very tiny print), anything and everything that might potentially be relevant to the mission. There were in-depth maps of individual city districts, schematics for prominent buildings and structures, sewer and power system diagrams, articles on Hope’s local flora, fauna, geography, and weather, ect. Without access to the UNSC battlenet or communications of any kind, Silas had to go old school in order to obtain on-the-fly intel if he needed it. There was no way in hell he would have the time to read the whole collection cover to cover, but at least he had something he could reference on demand. It was no search engine, but it would have to do.

“This will be sufficient,” Silas replied. He put the binder inside the last item, a large plastic bag to keep it dry if he ever needed to go underwater. He then thanked the man and managed to stuff the binder into his backpack.

One thing left to go, and Silas would finally be ready for this mission. He strode across the room to a shelf containing spare armor parts, tools and other such things. There he found the tactical load-bearing harness he usually wore over his MJOLNIR armor, complete with all its assorted attachments like empty ammo pouches. It was one of these attachments he now claimed – his signature blade, his one truly personal possession.

The relic from early training had remained with Silas throughout his career, so sure enough it was coming along for this mission too. The large matte-black bushwacking jungle survival machete had long ago been converted into his own personal short sword. It had seen many kills and many adventures. Now, it was strapped across his back, over his armor and under his backpack with its rubberized, ergonomic tactile grip protruding at an angle behind his right shoulder, ready once again to accompany its SPARTAN owner into battle.

“Give ‘em hell down there Spartan!” the technician called as Silas turned to leave.

“Roger that,” was the super soldier’s simple, determined response.

***

When Silas got to the hanger bay, his team was already waiting by the D77-TC Pelican dropship that would shuttle them to the planet Hope. Crewmen were running around wrapping up flight prep and clearing out of the way, leaving the Spartans with nothing left to do but board their ride and wait.

Silas nodded as he stood next to Roy and Dani, lifting his wrist-mounted tacpad and speaking into it as he linked to the Iowa’s communications.

“Ares,” he said to the ship’s primary artificial intelligence. “Inform Admiral Klix that SPARTAN Gold Team is standing by for deployment.”

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

"Sir," Ares said. "The SPARTANs are ready for deployment."

"Give them priority launch," Admiral Klix replied. "Pull two longswords from our hangers for protection." Klix added, scanning the holo-table. The boarding forces that were aimed at the Enterprise had been effectively destroyed or killed when the vessel was destroyed but hostile Seraph fighters were still being a pest in the Admirals side, firing and hiding in a rotating debris field from destroyed brethren and pieces of titanium plate and hull.

"Giving them the okay to launch, sir." Ares said, before disappearing from the holopad by the main tactical display screen. He rarely used the main tactical display screen due to its 2-D design but he had to admit, it did have its advantages. Though few advantages over the real time 3D holographic displays on his bridge, it did have its advantages.

One of those advantages was the ability to display much more information about a target than the holotable ever could, and it was exactly why Eric was glimpsing at it. The holotable detected roughly nineteen hostile single ship fighters just outside point defense gun range and the tactical display screen showed the damage models on those ships. A few of them were missing pieces of hull and Ares projected the Seraph in the worst condition was still ninety seven percent combat effective.

"Sir," The Tactical Officers voice shook. "All friendly Corvettes have been destroyed."

The Admiral already knew that, as the green dots on the holotable slowly disappeared within four minutes. The Corvettes were flanked by what forces the Covenant Navy had left and were destroyed quickly, as they were defenseless and thus unable to protect themselves. Despite their deaths, one Corvette had slip-spaced away with the survivors of the Enterprise.

The Admiral was about to tell his Lieutenant to refocus when warning klaxons filled his bridge. "Torpedoes in the water, sir!"

On the holotable six new torpedoes appeared and started closing the distance between the two ships they had originated from and the Iowa itself. Immediately every single one of the dots were overshadowed by a targeting image. It was the MLA guns the Iowa boasted for self defense that had identified and locked onto the approaching torpedoes.

Ares reappeared on the holopad.

"Only enough rounds in the starboard MLAs to take out three of the torpedoes, sir. We will be hit." The AI said.

Klix swore under his breath, and without the MLA guns firing at the last three torpedoes using the emergency thrusters was worthless, as the Covenant displayed a magnificent ability to control the trajectory of the torpedoes in space even though it seemed highly impossible. Well, in fact, most of the Covenants technology seemed highly impossible to human standards.

The Admiral keyed the ship-wide intercomm by the holotable, "All hands brace for impact! I repeat, all hands brace for impact! Torpedo impact in thirty seconds, all personnel on the starboard side of the vessel need to evacuate. Firefighting teams standby to repel fires. Bridge out."

"Thirty three seconds!" The tactical officer reported.

"Standing by for damage reports," The engineering officer said calmly, breathing heavily however. "Jesus ch-"

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

Eric pushed himself up after the remaining plasma torpedoes had hit the Iowa's armor, and immediately noticed the internal temperature in the bridge had risen so high everyone had broke out into a sweat of some sort. The tactical display had been shattered as overhead panels collapsed around the bridge. A monitor above the TAC2 station had also ripped free from its foundation and nearly missed the executive officer, who was sitting against the wall breathing heavily with a Marine checking his well-being.

Eric stood up and shouted, "Damage report!"

The engineering officer replied almost instantly. "Armor is depleted along the starboard side, section 19A and we've got massive structural damage. The four torpedoes are craving a creator into us, sir! Section 19A, 20A and 21A from decks seventy five to ninety are not responding!"

"Jesus," The Admiral replied under his breath. "Structural integrity?"

"Down eleven percent and rising, sir."

The lights on the bridge flickered and died, and the consoles shut off. Klaxons were the only thing rotating as the bridge remained in absolute darkness. Eric realized the entire ship had lost power but it appeared to be only momentarily as emergency lighting engaged and the consoles restarted from their 'sleep' mode. The engineer officer typed furiously to check what happened as he brought up four different diagnostic screens.

"Power surge disabled the electronics as the main conduits were destroyed. Power is routing through secondary systems now. Structural integrity down fifteen percent, but it appears the torpedoes have stopped burning through is. As per orders no fired have been detected, but sections 19A, decks seventy five to eighty three are completely gone."

The Iowa literally looked as if a meteor had struck her amid-ship on the starboard side. Their armor plating around the gouge was still operational, but a huge section of the ship was pocketed. Three torpedoes landed in the same spot, while another one was absorbed by the armor meters away... if the damage reports scrolling across the broken section of the tactical display were correct. Eric was missing information, however, and thus couldn't rely on it.

"Armor in section 24A down seven meters." The engineering officer replied.

They had survived, but barely.

"Seal the sections and get a damage repair team in there. Communications, I want a fleet wide channel. We are effectively disabled with the main power conduit being destroyed. We don't have enough power to charge our guns sufficiently."

The communications officer never replied but Eric could see her frantically trying to restore the Iowa's communications. The power had disabled many of the dishes, but he knew the first rate communications officer would restore at least the E-Band channel.

"Sir, the torpedo cut into the port section of the ship. Sections 19B and 20B have been damaged, decks eighty to eighty three have been breached." The engineering officer reported. The spine of the Iowa had been compromised. "Ship integrity standing at eighty four percent, sir."

"Communications up, sir!" The communications officer reported.

"Iowa Actual to all UNSC vessels," Klix started. "We've been disabled, structural integrity down to eight four percent. Our spine has been breached and primary electrical conduit has been destroyed. We do not have the power flow to charge the magnetic accelerator cannons. We are unable to continue the fight against the Covenant, Iowa out!"

The channel immediately cut and the communications officer started to shake.

They were all shaky now.

"Navigation, get us away from the battle. I want a one million kilometer distance for repairs. If we don't get the spine of our ship repaired we won't be going far in slip-space." The Admiral ordered. He realized he was leaving the planet, Hope, and her three moons behind but they needed to repair the spine of the ship before they were engaged in combat once again. The fact two Corvettes were still circling the Iowa only made things worse, but both had been distracted by the valiant efforts of the Iowa's longsword interceptors - when a bright white light pierced into the bridge.

"Nuclear detonation," A tactical officer said. "EMP shielding in place, but we'll get another surge."

When it faded, no more longswords remained. Klix saluted the empty space when the bridge lights dimmed and snapped off again when the EMP shields were overwhelmed by the damaged section of the ship. Both Corvettes had been vaporized, and every single one of the twenty longswords that had just died would get the highest recognition.

"Get us away, navigation."

[Frazer]

Captain Frazer York
UNSCS Preston
Virtue Class Attack Carrier
"We are loosing great."

The MAC rounds flew straight into the Covenant destroyer as it tried to do a hard turn to the starboard side. If only the destroyer didn't fire on the Preston. Then and only then would it be able to turn quick enough. But nope it wasted time. The destroyer's shields went down as soon as the first round hit. Then the second round going straight through the middle of the Covie ship, it erupted in plasma explosions. Must have hit a plasma bay or something. The archer rounds we're really just icing on the cake. The Covenant ship was disabled and unable to move or fire as the Archer rounds came in. The ship crackled and broke up. Explosion after explosion. 

"Sir Covenant destroyer destroyed!" Tiffany said with a cheerful tone in her voice. Probably the first time Frazer had heard her say something positive. 

"Excellent, Wilson any word from any of the remaining UNSC vessels?" Wilson swung around to answer his Commanding Officer.

"Funny you should mention it sir. Incoming message from Admiral Klix."

"Right play it through bridge speakers. This better not be something bad." Frazer said in a worried tone as Wilson started the message.

"Iowa Actual to all UNSC vessels." The Admiral started. "We've been disabled, structural integrity down to eight four percent. Our spine has been breached and primary electrical conduit has been destroyed. We do not have the power flow to charge the magnetic accelerator cannons. We are unable to continue the fight against the Covenant, Iowa out!" The message ended.

"Wilson send a message back saying we understand." Wilson nodded. "Report on the fight Tiffany?" 

"Well I dont think you need an AI to tell you we are loosing sir." Frazer sighed. Had it finally come to this? The last stand?

"Well dont know about you but we are not going to give up until we are swimming into the depths of space. Trayner full ahead. Head for the two closest Covenant corvettes. Blackpool charge those MACs up again! Lets get this show on the road." The crew nodded.

"This is going to be enjoyable payback." Tony said as Frazer looked over to him.

"That it will. That it will." Frazer sat back in his Captain chair by the holo table. Awaiting until he is in range of another Covenant ship. Question is, could the Preston take anymore damage?

[David]

Commander Janeway
Temporairly in Command of Fleet
UNSCS KILLIMANJARO - Bridge

"Damn" Muttered Janeway under her breath. She had brought up the current tactical situation on the tac screen and was not impressed by what she saw. The IOWA was limping away, barely able to move, let alone fight, Another ship was being borded, And fully half of her Fleet was damaged or destroyed. That left one option, and one, She was sure that Admiral Vardy would not have approved of. But he was down in Sickbay fighting for his life.

"Helm. Prepare a randomised vector away from the planet. Accelerate to Slipstream velocity on my mark." Janeway said quietly to Paris. "Kim, open a fleetwide channel."

"Aye Ma'am" Both Kim and Paris said, Eyeing Janeway with a look that could have been incredulty, or understanding, she didn't know. "Channel Open"

"To all UNSC Assets. This is Commander Janeway." Janeway began. Then, pacing back and forth, she took a deep breath and continued. "I am ordering all ships to generate a randomised vector away from the planet and get into slipspace."

Pausing, She tapped in a set of co-ordinates

"We are not leaving the fight, but we need to re-organise. I know some of you do not want to run, But as the Commander of the fleet, I am issuing this as a direct order. Our ground assets will have to make due until we return." Janeway said, with a tone of regret evident in her voice.

"Janeway out." She finished. Then, sitting back down, She cursed under her breath and looked at Paris with eyes that implored him to forgive her weakness in battle.

"Execute Jump."

[Cabel]

[Planet Hope: Orbit: UNSCS Passchendaele: Bridge: Year 2547: Bridge]

“Get those fires under control,” Matvey ordered having braced against the side of the holographic situation table to resist being thrown off his feet when the Enterprise exploded. Quite a few conduits had been torn from their placements in the ceiling plates of the bridge compartment followed by a few consoles erupting in sparks that sent the officers manning those stations sprawling to the deck. “Contact Sickbay, and inform the kind doctor she’ll have incoming patients,” Nodding to three Privates of the two squads that had been assigned to guard the bridge, Matvey watched them pick up the three injured bridge crew from the deck before stepping into the lift to accompany them to the Sickbay. “Status?”

“The majority of the Fleet’s been decimated, with the last of the Hibernian being the last of the low tonnage assets and she’s been destroyed. Two plasma torpedoes took her out, but there are escape pods with life signs aboard. The Preston’s been hit, with the damage spreading and the Iowa’s taken a strike to starboard. Most of the starboard decks have been gutted amidships,….” the Lieutenant at OPS began reporting.

“Incoming Fleet-wide transmission from the Iowa,” Lieutenant Louise Denrae reported from the Communications Station. “I’m transferring it to the speakers, Sir,” Her fingers were a blur as she transferred the Iowa’s transmission to the bridge speakers, allowing everyone to hear.

“Iowa Actual to all UNSC vessels… We’ve been disabled, structural integrity down to eighty-four percent. Our spine has been breached and the primary electrical conduit has been destroyed. We do not have the power flow to charge the magnetic accelerator cannons. We are unable to continue the fight against the Covenant. Iowa out!” blared Admiral Klix’s voice over the ship’s speakers before the transmission came to an end replaced with static.

“Turn that off,” Matvey stated knowing the Fleet’s chances had been severely reduced and that the operation had become more about survival rather than victory. “Open an encrypted channel to the Iowa,”

“Channel open, Sir,” Lieutenant Louise Denrae replied opening the channel to the Iowa.

“Passchendaele to Iowa Actual. Your message was received, and acknowledged. We have you covered. Passchendaele; out,” Matvey said calmly, formulating a plan through his neural lace and through the changing field projected by the situation table. With a quick signal to Lieutenant Denrae, the Lieutenant closed the channel before turning his attention back to the Lieutenant at the Communications Station. “Lieutenant, open an encrypted channel to the Killimanjaro,” he said, as the Lieutenant followed his orders.

“Passchendaele to Killimanjaro Actual. Please, respond. Passchendaele; out,” he’d gestured for the channel to remain open in case the Killimanjaro replied. “Open an encrypted channel to Captain York of the Preston,”

“Aye, Aye, Sir,” Louise replied opening a channel to the Preston, and when Matvey had began to speak his message he was abruptly interrupted.

“One of the Frigates is coming about to face us,” the Lieutenant at OPS reported.

“Status of the primary and secondary cannons?” Matvey asked.

“Both cannons are fully charged, and the ARCHER batteries have been replenished,” Alice Qelar reported from her station at Tactical.

“Wait until the Frigate’s bow is facing us,” the Russian Captain said.

“The Frigate’s bow is facing us,” Alice reported.

“Both cannons, fire!” Matvey ordered, feeling the deck plating shudder a little as two shells tore from the barrels of the Passchendaele’s two cannons. “Fifty-millimeter barrage,” The CAR Frigate that had turned to bear down on the Marathon Class Cruiser lay broken, with its spine shattered, with main power down and with compartments venting. Fires erupted from those compartments that still had oxygen, or the Covenant equivalent of such and even compartments that held methane which only furthered the spread of the flames.

“Helm, bring us to bearing three-three-zero by two-seven-five and recharge the primary and secondary cannons,” Matvey ordered.

“Fleet-wide broadcast incoming, Sir. It’s from the Kilimanjaro, from a Commander Janeway,” Lieutenant Louise Denrae reported.

“Transfer it to the bridge speakers,” Matvey replied.

“Aye, Aye, Sir,” Louise said before transferring the transmission to the bridge speakers.

“To all UNSC assets. This is Commander Janeway. I am ordering all ships to generate a randomized vector away from the planet and get into slipspace,” the voice from the Killimanjaro blared over the bridge speakers conveying what the Passchendaele’s crew had feared and to which Matvey had loathed. Running from a fight and more importantly from a worthy adversary had been a pet peeve of his, a loathing he’d held since his days being trained in the arts of Cossack Saber training those many years ago.

“We are not leaving the fight, but we need to re-organize. I know some of you do not want to run, but as the commander of the fleet I am issuing this as a direct order. Our ground assets will to make due until we return,” the voice continued, that of the Killimanjaro’s executive officer before the transmission cut out and the channel closed.

“We aren’t going to run, are we, Sir? Our forces on the ground, your own marines will be left to defend for themselves. We can’t abandon them…” a Lieutenant Junior Grade, an attaché assigned to Matvey and more a cadet officer from Mare Nubium OCS Academy spoke out.

“Your concern’s dully noted, Lieutenant, and as I am in agreement with your concerns, Commander Janeway has made her decision. The Commander was placed in command of the Fleet when the Fleet Admiral was incapacitated, and we are in no position to protest. I would rather stay and fight, but orders are orders. The Fourteenth is in tatters, but we will re-group. We’ll come back for our men and women on the ground,” the Passchendaele’s Russian Captain explained not even in a mind to reprimand the young attaché for speaking out of turn. “Lieutenant Michaels…Ellis, plot a random course out-bound of the system. Commander Kantle,…Harold, prepare the slipspace reactor to jump. Recall any of our pelicans, or longswords if they haven’t been retrieved yet. Nadezhda, coordinate with the Iowa’s AI and have us come alongside to intercept and retrieve any of her escape pods or other craft that managed to launch if the Iowa’s situation is worse than reported,”

“Crew of the Passchendaele,” he said, having picked up a com-set open to the rest of the ship including the bridge. “We have received orders from the Flagship to distance ourselves from the planet, and to jump from the system to re-group. I want it to be clear, that while it may appear we are leaving our men and women on the planet’s surface to their own devices we will return. This is not the end. This is not a retreat. We will be back, and we will hull their ships. Before we leave the system, we will come alongside the Iowa to take on her survivors. I implore that room be made available, and compassion be granted to the survivors of the Iowa and the Hibernian. I will say this again, this is not the end. Galina; out,” he said, depressing the com-set and hooking it back into place above the situation table. “Ellis, bring us about on bearing zero-nine-zero by two-four-five and shift to main thrusters. I want us alongside the Iowa, and Nadezhda keep the Covenant occupied with the fifty-millimeter defense fire. Form an umbrella, and pass the word to the Preston,”

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

"Sir," The communication officer said. "Incoming transmission from the Hibernian command pod. They've abandoned ship." The junior officer added. Eric sighed explosively and moved towards the second holotable, as the one he was by was flickering and failing. What made Eric pissed, however, was the message that pipped through the bridges speakers a moment later. The Kilimanjaro had ordered her fleet to leave the area of operations.

The bridge seemed to freeze when the message ended, but the fact the Hibernian's crew needed help was the first priority on Eric's mind. He stepped over some debris and moved towards the communications officer, watching as her screen lit up with internal transmissions. She was busy at work ordering personnel around the damaged areas of the ship.

Eric moved towards the two engineering officers, there screens were lit up with damaged areas and both of them were conducting repairs on the ship with automated systems, closing bulkhead doors around breached areas and issuing orders to damage details attempting to repair the ships hull. "Make sure you prioritize the spine. If it isn't repaired when we truly needed we'll be free floating molecules when those Covenant ships enter weapons range." Eric said calmly. The Engineers nodded their heads, but were talking on their headsets so couldn't acknowledge verbally.

Eric moved towards his tactical officers next, realized that one of them had been wounded, and saw the blood around the console the Lieutenant Junior Grade was once sitting at. The other Tactical Officer nodded. The man hadn't made it. Klix glanced towards the rear of the bridge and saw the ends of the stretcher disappear. He sighed again and frowned, returning his attention to the sole tactical officer.

"What are the Covenant ships doing?" He asked.

"Nothing right now, they appear to be regrouping." The (Full) Lieutenant replied.

"Alright, deploy the pelicans and longswords to assist the life pods from the Hibernian." Eric replied, grasping the young officers shoulder. "We're going to get through this, but you need to do the job of two tac officers until you can get a secondary rotation tac officer to man that console." Eric added, staring at the blood.

He turned towards a Marine helping a crewmen up. "Lance Corporal, can you clean up this blood?"

The man looked to be in pain, but didn't say anything. "Of course, sir."

Eric stopped the Lance Corporal and saw a piece of steel piercing through his abdomen. "Delay that, get to the sick bay. When you leave tell another Marine or Crewmen there is blood that needs to be cleaned up." The Admiral said, ironically assigning the crewmen the Marine helped up to help the Marine to get to the sickbay.

"Operations, what is the status of the fleet?"

"UNSCS Preston and the UNSCS Passchendaele haven't jumped yet, but the Kilimanjaro is seconds away from entering FTL. Passchendaele has moved along-side us to assist in our evacuation."

"Evacuation..." Klix mused. "Janeway assumed we were going to abandon ship, but we aren't... Engineering, engines are still functioning at one hundred percent capacity, yes?"

"Aye, sir." The engineering officer replied.

"Good. Make room to take on the Hibernian survivors, but direct them towards the Passchendaele with the note we aren't slip-spacing away, while they might be. It's one hundred percent volunteer."

"Aye, sir!"

"Communications, I want a ship wide channel open."

"It's open, sir."

"Crew of the Iowa - this is Admiral Klix. As you know, we are badly damaged. I've just received word that the acting commander of the fourteenth tactical fleet has ordered her remnants into FTL Space, something we can not achieve... we are being abandoned. The Passchendaele has come along side us to take survivors. I, however, am not going. You, however, have the decision to board the Passchendaele or remain with me. You have little time to make a decision, if you want to volunteer to remain with the Iowa... stay aboard. If you wish to retreat with the Passchendaele you need to make your way to the port side to make the transfer," Klix said. "Klix out."

"Anyone on the bridge who would like to leave, do it now!" Eric ordered. He was surprised that nearly half the bridge stood up and left their consoles. By the time the officers left, he was left with a Tactical Officer, a Navigation Officer, a weapons officer and both engineering officers. His XO manned the operations console. He nodded, however, that the Marines assigned to the bridge remained standing.

"I figured the Marines would be the last to leave," Klix said proudly. "Thank you."

"Ooorah!" The Sergeant replied. "I won't leave you, sir, and my men most certainly won't."

"I know, Sergeant." Eric replied.

"XO, I want to know how many people from our crew are heading towards the Passchendaele."

"I'll know in a minute, sir..."

Eric sighed, and hoped that there were people left to repair the Iowa.

[Cabel]

[Moon of Refuge: UNSCS Passchendaele: Bridge: Year 2547: Alongside the Iowa: Bridge]

“We have a hard seal on the umbilicals attached to the Iowa’s port side docking rings fore, amidships and aft,” the Lieutenant at the OPS Station reported having monitored the boarding umbilicals used either through docking with a repair facility, station or even with other ships.

“Have the marines and other personnel assigned to the starboard airlocks to assist the survivors from the Iowa…” Matvey began.

“The Admiral is staying aboard, Matvey,” Nadezhda reported having materialized on the holopedestal bordering the holographic situation table.

“It is the Admiral’s call. I cannot order an Admiral off of his own command, and I wouldn’t do it either. The Admiral knows the risks, and understands it may be some time before we return with reinforcements. How many of his crew are transferring over, Nadezhda?” the Russian Captain asked, knowing Admiral Klix whom being a close friend had to have weighed the stakes.

“I’ll have to inform you when I can make a definite assessment. The Iowa’s crew are only now starting to cross over the umbilicals,” the Passchendaele’s Third Generation “Smart” A.I. replied.

“I know you will. Keep me apprised of the situation, and Alice…keep an eye on the Covenant Fleet. We know the risks if they turn towards us,” Matvey ordered and opened a com-channel to the Iowa. “Galina to the Iowa. Admiral, if there is anything you need in place of your own crew or assets that have been deployed you will have it. I will not leave you here in this system defenseless or short-handed,” He could have called Eric on a first name basis, but on the bridge in the middle of an engagement with the situation rapidly deteriorating the Russian officer had to maintain protocol for both the purpose of morale to prove to both crews the Covenant had not crushed them.

* * * * * *

[Starboard Side Airlock Alpha]

More than a few dozen marines, ODSTs and crewmen along with medical personnel had gathered near that airlock to help their fellow UNSC brothers and sisters, even if they hadn’t volunteered for the task. Shortly after the hard seal on the umbilicals had been achieved, the airlock doors slid open on both the Passchendaele and its counterpart on the Iowa to allow those crew from the Iowa that had opted to evacuate over to the Passchendaele. The survivors were met by their counterparts aboard the Passchendaele, helped along to designated areas ranging from the mess halls to the lounges and to the Sickbay for those that had been injured during the strike against the Iowa. The marines, ODSTs and crewmen didn’t slow down or show signs of exhaustion in helping their fellow human beings from their stricken ship, and every now and then gurneys pushed by medical personnel hurried away from the airlock to the Sickbay laden with injured personnel. Gestures of comfort, of camaraderie was ever present at that airlock and the other airlocks that had the ability to make even the critics of the UNSC realize their judgment had been misguided.

* * * * * *

[Bridge]

“Crew of the Passchendaele and members of the bridge,” Matvey began after opening a com-link throughout the ship. “I will not tell you how dire our situation is, or that we have a stricken ship alongside us. We are currently in the process of taking on survivors from the Iowa, and making room for them. What I ask of you now is difficult, but I know it is in your nature or you wouldn’t be here. I will ask this. I beseech you, that I…no, that Admiral Klix needs volunteers. Anyone that wishes to transfer over to the Iowa, to stay in-system need only cross back over the umbilicals. I will not hold it against you, if you wish to volunteer or for those that wish to remain aboard the Passchendaele. Your officers will not hold it against you, and there will be no reprisals either way. I must tell you in full confidence, that I do not know when we will return with reinforcements only that we will return. You may take whatever supplies, weaponry, armor, ammunition you wish. Any pilots, that wish to volunteer, we will open the starboard launch bays and you will be guided by the Iowa’s flight deck officers to the designated bays. This is for those who wish to volunteer,” He said, closing the ship-wide com-link and reopened the channel to the Iowa.

“Admiral, I have requested volunteers to be transferred to your command. Be ready to receive personnel,” he said, closing the channel. “Alice, inform me of who has volunteered and how many. I will not leave a friend with an arm bound,”

“Sir…Matvey, I wish to go over to the Iowa. They need good engineers, and who else is better than someone that has worked the reactors aboard frigates, destroyers, a carrier and a cruiser?” Lieutenant Commander Harold Kantle said, pushing from his chair to stand next to it. The sixty year old veteran sailor, and Chief Engineer of the Passchendaele had been a man Matvey had come to view as a close friend if not family as he’d come to view the entire crew over the last seventeen years with many having been known before that. Matvey knew if Harold had felt as strongly that there had been a reason, and the Russian officer hadn’t been about to deny him that.

“You do realize I cannot give you an estimate of when we’ll return, and that you will be under Admiral Klix’s command,” Matvey replied.

“I understand that. I don’t want to die. I doubt anyone does, but the Admiral’s ship is in dire straights. You have enough engineers here to do my job, and even if I take two teams with me you’ll still have more than enough. Let me do this. I want to do this,” Harold explained, hoping he hadn’t had to defend his reasons against his friend and captain.

“You may go. You may pick your teams, and you may have the supplies you need,” Matvey said in return.

“Thank you,” Harold said, with a small smile before crossing the deck to the nearest lift.

“Harold,” Matvey began.

“Yes?” Harold asked.

“Be careful. We will return. Rest assured,” the Russian Officer said as his chief engineer walked off the bridge taking a lift to gather his teams.

* * * * * *

[Starboard Airlock Alpha, Delta, Gamma]

After the survivors from the Iowa had finished transferring over to the Passchendaele, roughly six hundred marines had opted to volunteer for duty aboard the Iowa filtered across the umbilicals laden with gear, weaponry, supplies and other essentials followed by the entire complement of ODSTs laden with their extra gear. Three teams rather than the two Harold had requested followed the ODSTs laden with engineering repair kits, tool kits and the like while those were followed by two rather large teams of medical personnel and other crewmen, which hadn’t left the Passchendaele shorthanded. Twelve pelicans complete with their flight crews with mechanics covered the brief flight from the Passchendaele’s bays to those designated by the Iowa, and happened to carry over ten tanks of the fourteen assigned tanks to the Passchendaele ranging from six M808B Scorpion Main Battle Tanks and four Grizzly Tank Destroyers. Of the thirty-eight Warthogs assigned to the Passchendaele, twenty were transferred by the pelicans to Iowa ranging from six M41 LAAG models, four G1 Models, six R Models, and four M831 Troop Transports. The entire squadron of C709 Longsword Interceptors, twelve craft in order, with their crew and mechanics willingly transferred over to the Iowa giving the Iowa enough firepower and field assets to make a difference. The assets that had transferred over hadn’t left the Passchendaele worse for wear, though while it were under strength Matvey could easily request replenishment when the remnants of the Fourteenth Fleet made the rendezvous point.

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

The Admiral stood at one of the umbilical tubes where troops, supplies and equipment were being ferried over from the Passchendaele at double the rate he expected, but on the other side of the deck people from his crew were leaving the warship much quicker. Eventually, all of the umbilical tubes were inbound resources from the Marathon cruiser a mere one hundred feet away. Eric swore he could reach out and touch the armor plating of it.

"Admiral?" A man asked. It appeared to be an ODST Captain as his troops streamed in behind him, carrying boxes of weapons, ammunition, medical resources, engineering equipment. Nearly every ODST not carrying something themselves were helping another ODST carry long crates. With the umbilical tubes being nearly solid, a few forklifts brought over more heavy supplies; 50MM rounds for the point defense turrets.

"Sir, you're not going to believe me." The ODST said. "But I've got nine hundred volunteers for you, all of my ODSTs and roughly six hundred of the Marines from the Passchendaele have opted to join you. I'm well aware of the stakes, and so are the men who've joined your crew. I'm honored to meet you in person, sir, and may I say I'm thrilled to be serving temporarily under your command when you just did the most ODST thing I could think of. Not bad for a swabbie, sir." The man said with a smile, saluting and then offering his hand.

The Admiral shook it hard, personally thanked him and watched the man grab two creates carrying M6 sidearms and hurry away with the rest of his troops. The Admiral waited further as more Marines strolled across, but saw someone of important. Lieutenant Commander Harold Kantle had also joined the Iowa's command. The Admiral approached the man.

"Thanks for joining, Lieutenant Commander." The Admiral said, "I'm happy to have a veteran Navy officer joining my crew. You've got a priority one tram car waiting to take you close to the damaged area. You'll meet my best engineer there."

Sergeant Brandon Smith (NPC)
UNSCS Iowa
Iowa Marine Complement; 7th Marines

"Okay, two-one! We've got a shit ton of work to do and not that long to do it. Lieutenant Harris has given is orders to secure this airlock and prepare for counter-boarding!" Sergeant Smith informed his squad. "Staff Sergeant Hoffman will be unavailable for the platoon as he was killed when the plasma torpedoes hit us."

"Sarge, how do we know they'll come through here?"

"We don't, but we have our orders. The Covenant use our own airlocks against us when they board, so it's fairly common sense that this could be targeted. We're to set it up with barricades and weapon emplacements by the blast doors and, uh.. The three airlocks on this specific section of the deck."

This area, a large deck with three 'airlocks' that were attached to expended lifepod tubes, were a perfect insertion point for the Covenant. Without having to destroy the lifepod in the tube, a boarding craft could easily slid in and lock with the hull, hack the airlock doors open and storm in. Regardless, it was Smith's job to see they didn't get past the label that said 'Airlock'. They'd come in and get mowed down.

The only problem he had, however, was he was only given four barricades and two mounted M247 machine guns. Not exactly the best defenses despite the rising resources the Iowa was getting. He was pleased, however, that this specific airlock would be reinforced by a fireteam of ODSTs. The width of this 'corridor' wasn't significant, so two barricades on either side actually sat fairly close next to each other. There was, maybe, a five foot gap between the barricades sides which were flush to the wall.

"I don't want cross fire this time," Smith said. "We're to close and a cross fire will likely mean you're firing into friendly forces on the other side of the hall. This is a choke point so watch your aim and shoot and Covenant son of a bitch stupid enough to try to storm our castle!"

"Oorah!"

"Two-one, this is actual." The radio spat. "I'm a deck below you with the rest of the platoon. If you need reinforcements there is a stairwell just a hundred meters off of bulkhead P/S4/D55/B114, so I suggest you keep it secured."

"Actual, do you know if this stairwell will have natural defenders?"

"Two-One, Two-Two is defending it." The Lieutenant replied, a burst of static as the officer switched channels, and silence. The Lieutenant had finished what he needed to say and was talking to another person.

"Alright, boys. We have a retreat option if we need it, but it also serves as reinforcements so we can't lose it. If anyone hears Two-Two is starting to crumble you split off and reinforce them. We cannot lose that stairwell." Smith said. They could lose the airlock and retreat further into the 'soon to be' heavily defended ship, but the consequences were on his head.

Ensign D'Anna Welling
UNSCS Iowa
Damage Detail

"Ain't this a fucking mess?" Welling said as a Petty Officer pulled a piece of stuck debris off the power conduit. She chucked it away and it spun lazily out of the damaged area and into space. This was a full on EVA repair they were conducting right now. Ensign Welling, and twenty other Navy personnel, were hard at work at least fixing the power conduit.

The plasma had melted right through it, the conduit would take some time with the materials they had available. If anything, it would be a patch job. The power conduit was literally one huge cylinder that transported only five cords massive in size. That was meant to provide power to the Iowa's main gun. That is why this specific conduit, the largest conduit on the warship, was protected by meters of armor and deck. The torpedoes still managed to burn right through it.

D'Anna swore and smashed her hand against the metal tube. "Let's get this thing repaired, bring up the replacements!" She shouted into her boom mike. Five men brought up tube that stretched more than ten meters. D'Anna let the men measure and cut the wiring, and begun replacing and welding the new wires into place.

"How long until the main power conduit is up?" D'Anna asked, pointing at another engineer to weld some stabilizers on the damaged decks.

"About an hour or so, ma'am."

D'Anna sighed and pushed herself away form the conduit, using the damaged and twisted metal to guide her along a path. This was going to be a hard day ahead of them. They had to stabilize the surrounding decks, which was hard enough, and then make a full repair to the spine if they wanted to leave.

[Cabel]

[Moon of Refuge: UNSCS Iowa: Port Side Airlock Corridor: Year 2547]

“Thanks for joining, Lieutenant Commander,” the Admiral said. “I’m happy to have a veteran Navy officer joining my crew. You’ve got a priority one tram car waiting to take you close to the damaged area. You’ll meet my best engineer there,”

“Aye, Aye, Sir. Lieutenant Commander Harold Kantle, Chief Engineer of the Passchendaele requesting permission to come aboard. It’s an honor to be aboard. I will say Matvey…Captain Galina understands and respects your decision to remain in-system, and he understood it is what I wanted. I wanted to put my services to the test in helping you, Admiral, and your crew. I’m sure he would have come in person to see you, but the Captain knows his place is on the bridge and we’re not out of the hot zone yet,” Lieutenant Commander Harold Kantle explained. “I’ll take the tram, and will meet with your engineers to see how bad the damage is. We’ll get your ship up to fighting specs again. I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a few of my people over to help out. They wouldn’t have had it any other way,” He said, gesturing to three teams of ten engineers each that were only now clearing the umbilical. The engineers carried with them engineering equipment, repair kits, plasma torches, miter saws and other gear along with EVA suits. “We won't leave here without getting the job done, and giving you a bit more of a power increase while we’re at it. After we’ve finished with the spine, and the main conduits, I’ll take a look at your reactors with your permission, of course, Sir,”

* * * * * *

[Starboard, Nearest Deck designated for the repairs of the Spine]

Crawling along the guide line along the exterior of the hull nearest the Iowa’s Spine, Harold had suited up in an EV Suit complete with emergency tether, an oxygen supply both internal and external along with a tool belt.

“Ensign Welling, this is Commander Kantle from the Passchendaele. I’m coming up on your right. I’ve got a few people of my own following behind on the guide line with a few more tools. I thought you could use the extra set of hands,” Harold said into the helmet-mic on a frequency to the rest of the engineers crawling around on the hull. He’d been nearing the Spine of the ship, the Marathon II Class Cruiser that had been damaged in the exchange with the Covenant Fleet and by a plasma torpedo.

[MrKill]

Ensign D'Anna Welling (NPC)
UNSCS Iowa
Damage Detail

"Right, sir." D'Anna replied. "We don't have a lot of room to move freely by the spine. It gets larger as you get further." D'Anna added, extending her hand towards the vacuum of space. D'Anna's detail was one of many repairing the ship anywhere they could. Her detail was assigned the spine of their wounded Cruiser, but a few others were specs in the distance almost a thousand meters away where the original ten meters of Titanium A armor was. It had literally tore right through her.

"Can you believe it, sir?" D'Anna asked again. "It fuckin' tore right through us. Ten meters of armor and eight hundred meters of deck plating like it was pieces of paper! Just three torpedoes hitting the exact same spot at a time. I couldn't imagine the damage of the fourth had managed to slip in here."

"Ensign Welling," The Admiral's voice came over her headset. "I assume the Lieutenant Commander has arrived."

"Yes sir," D'Anna replied. "His teams are arriving now."

"He'll be in command. You listen to him, but take the initiative to correct a mistake. This is a Marathon Two, much different than the ship the Lieutenant Commander has been aboard for most of his career. From what I recall, he hasn't been on my ship and Rear Admiral Micheals is M.I.A with the second Marathon Two behind enemy lines... So guide him to the correct answers."

"Wilco, sir."

"Klix out."

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

The tram shuttled the Admiral to the hanger bay, where a pelicans transporting the survivors of the Hibernian were arriving. Some were cycling through the airlock, but others had their skids already on the ground. Quite a bit of people roamed the large, cavernous hanger bay looking completely confused as to where to go. It happened to everyone when boarding a ship three times the size of the one you were just on.

"Crew if the Hibernian who wish to board the Passchendaele you need to follow the Marines I've assigned to escort you. This Marine, Warrant Officer Mekovic, will only leave when you've gotten organized and give him the go ahead. Get organized!"

He spotted the pelican that carried the command team and waited until the engines died, moved forward and watched as the ramp dropped. Klix scanned the crew, especially Woods, for three things people felt when they lost a warship; Anger, depression and anxiety - fear it would happen again.

"You realize, Commander, I cannot guarantee you'll live to see tomorrow if you stay with the Iowa and her now voluntary crew. This is not my decision and you volunteering is not a responsibility. I cannot, in good conscience, ask for the presence of you or your men. If you understand that, you're welcome aboard. But if you're volunteering because you feel you owe the Iowa something, I ask you to order that pelican pilot to take you to the Passchendaele."

[Cabel]

[Moon of Refuge: UNSCS Iowa: Starboard Side: Damaged Spine: Year 2547]

“I can believe it, Ensign, but I’d advise you shouldn’t think about the damage or what caused it. Call it a little career experience. There will always be something out there to pit the plating on the hull, whether Covenant or natural debris. Our job is to see to the damage, repair or replace it and make sure we don’t blow ourselves up or the others in the process. If you don’t dwell on what could have been, it’ll make the repairs that much easier. Trust me on that,” Lieutenant Commander Harold Kantle said in completely understanding tone and a friendly helpful one. He'd pulled up alongside the area the Ensign had been near. “I’ll need your help. I hope you don’t mind that. I’ve been on the Passchendaele for most of my career, but I’ve served on at least a few frigates, destroyers, cruisers and a carrier to date though this is the first time I’ve had a chance to check out a Marathon Two. I’ll set up my teams around this area, the other damaged sections and even inside the ship to help your people out. I’m not here to take your command, Ensign, but I’m here to help. Show me where you need my people most, and we’ll get to work,”

“What have we got here…Iowa, tell me your ills and I’ll do my best to fix them,” the old engineer said quietly before leaning in against the hull to get a better look inside the spine. Using his helmet’s flashlight, he took out a small insulated crowbar designed with EV activities in mind and traced the conduits at least as far as he could without actually touching the conduits. “You locked down the power to these conduits….good. I think there are a few lines that managed to get twisted,” he said before finding several smaller strands inside one of the main conduits had become twisted and melted. “I’ll have start to cut these strands, untangle them and replace them. We brought over some spares, just in case,”

“Kantle to Meryl,” Harold said into the helmet-mic to one of his team members.

“I’m here, Sir,” Ensign Lisa Meryl, one of the engineers from the Passchendaele replied, her voice coming in over the speakers in Harold’s helmet.

“Could you grab some spare strands for section…” he began, rattling off that particular section and which of the main conduits. “The ones here have become entangled, and were melted in the process. It’ll speed up the repairs here, and will make it easier for Ensign Welling and her people. Bring a plasma cutter, cable threader and a welder with you,”

“Request acknowledged, Sir. I’ll be out there with you with Lawrence and Donalds with the spares for that section shortly,” he heard from Ensign Meryl before the link closed.

“Ensign Meryl will be out on the hull with the spares in a few minutes,” Harold said into the open mic, to the other engineers on that section and to Ensign Welling. "We'll get you back into the fight soon enough,"

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

Eric sighed at the near rebuke from the Commander, it wasn't a good sign. Anger, and actively seeking vengeance, clouded someones judgement. Klix pulled out his fathers watch for the first time in years and thought quietly to himself. Should he give a reprisal for the obvious discontent the Commander was feeling? He knew what it was like to lose a ship he commanded, but he needed her head in the proper place. He remembered the names of all the ships he had served on in his career.

The Gillions Pride, the Dresden, the Athens... The Sound of Triumph. All Cruisers destroyed by insurrection and Covenant Forces, but more importantly the internal strength it took to maintain his demeanor during those catastrophic events in his career. Eric clicked a button on the old analog watch and it popped the cover open, revealing the arms beneath it. He put his thumb on the picture of his parents and son posing for a picture. Eric was an old man - 56 years old. His son had nothing to do with him at the age of twenty nine. Eric didn't even know if he was a grandfather.

He decided to ignore the Commanders attitude - despite his entire being screaming at him to correct that attitude; he was known as a strict commanding officer but under the circumstances... Instead he turned away and walked towards the awaiting tram car that would take him to the bridge. When he passed the Marine Warrant Officer, he was about to lead the men and women of the Hibernian towards the evacuation umbilical tubes.

"It'd be wise, Commander, to prep for counter-boarding." Eric said, putting the watch in his fatigue breast pocket. He was only a couple of feet away from the position he originally spoke to the Commander, so he knew she would hear him amid the noise from the hanger. So much confusion, so much disorganization as deck hands tried hard to organize the influx of people arriving with tanks, weapons, ammo and what not. Klix was nearly satisfied with the thought of staying and helping, but the survival of the ship needed him on the bridge.

He entered the tram car, watched as the doors closed and hissed as pressure restored. This specific tram, along the lateral lines of the ship, would pass through a breach in the hull but the line its-self had received no damage. While Eric was cautious, he knew nothing would happen. He'd see the damage for himself, which was something he was adamant on observing for himself. He sat down and buckled in.

The tram accelerated. A tram could cover the one thousand, six hundred meter warship in a mere minute. Tram cars typically, on the Iowa, accelerated thirty meters per second. However, Eric slowed the tram by the damaged areas, and Ares slowed it even more for the safety of the Admiral. He saw the line above the tram sparking, and knew the tram would lose power temporarily. The bottom line, however, remained unscathed. It appeared that the power to the top rail had disconnected at some point.

The tram passed, but Eric was displeased when the only 'breech' on this line was a small hole on the upper corner of the tube. He chuckled to himself and engaged the trams full speed. He arrived at his stop, boarded a elevator, and arrived by the bridges entrance. He strode onto the bridge, and the XO immediately spotted him.

"Admiral on the bridge," He said. "Welcome back, sir."

"Good to be back, XO." Eric said. "Page Commander Wood and give her the option. If she wants a bridge spot, she is welcome to it. Were undermanned right now anyways and we could use her experience. With Lieutenant Commander Kantle spearheading the repairs with Ensign Welling, we need someone up here to balance the team out."

"This reminds me of the time I was serving on the UNSCS Poison," The XO off handily stated. "Woods has been paged. Ares, give her the automated message if she picks up the intercom unit." The XO ordered.

"Aye, sir." Ares said.

"Detach all umbilical tubes when the Warrant Officer returns. Ares, how many people did we lose?" Eric asked.

"Roughly sixty five percent of the crew now, sir." Ares responded.

"How many crew members do we have? Add the ones we received from the Passchendaele."

The AI took a moment to process the information, "We have roughly two thousand, nine hundred and seventy one souls aboard the Iowa. Give or take a hundred, sir. My analysis are inconclusive."

It didn't surprise the Admiral. Five hundred years ago, a mere three hundred meter ship - famous aircraft carriers - carried five thousand plus people. A one thousand six hundred meter ship was able to carry twenty thousand plus, but the big Marathon Two was only crewed by six thousand souls. Two thousand, five hundred of them were Marines stationed on the brick of Titanium A Armor.

"Most of them are Marines. Ares, are we managing the Iowa short handed?"

"I estimate that only one thousand or so naval personnel remain on the Iowa."

"We can manage with that," Eric said. "Alright. Get us free. Navigation, spool up our sub light engines. I want distance. Give me three hundred percent until five seconds from the red line. Use aft placed emergency thrusters as a boost. Will coast out system on our inertia after that."

"Aye, sir!"

"You want to be zipping through this solar system, don't you?" The XO asked. A ship using three hundred percent accelerated ever second. It was calculated 'per second/per second', meaning with every second that passed while the ship was powered with sub light engines it would keep getting faster and faster, hence the second 'per second'. There was no terminal velocity in space. Theoretically, a vessel could achieve faster than light travel on sub light engines alone - but it had never been attempted.

"Aye, sir! ... UNSCS Passchendaele this is a Iowa Nav Officer. Standing by for automated umbilical release on your end. Be advised, Iowa is unable to provide automatic disengagement. Hard seal is confirmed - manual disengage is authorized if necessary."

[Llau]

1st LT Alex J. Bishop
UNSCS Iowa - Bridge
Security Team


When 1st Lieutenant Alex Bishop's order was to take part as Admiral Klix's security team with a company of other marines on the bridge of the Iowa, he didn't think it would suit him since he wasn't much for staying on a ship. He would much rather have his feet on the ground during this war, but what can he do? Orders were orders, and he'll just zip his lips and go where they needed him the most - space or ground. He still didn't like it, being there, in space, but it's been quite an honor. Everything he heard about the admiral was up par to what he imagined him to be when he was finally able to meet him, and seeing the older man in action, doing what he knew best, was awe-inspiring. Not only seeing the Admiral, but seeing how the rest of the man's crew worked hard, made him wish he joined the Navy instead...almost.

He stood guard at his place in attention, weapon held in his hands, and he looked on as he listened to the commotion around the bridge. The atmosphere was tense, he could feel it (hell, he was tensed too) but everyone continued to do their assigned duties, while everything seemed to be going on at once. 

'Damn, if I survive this, I'm going to get so wasted when I get back... ' He thought. 'Maybe, I'll buy everyone here on the bridge a drink if we all survive this.' The keyword was if. This battle was far from over. 

[Doíteán]

Commander Frank Harris
UNSCS Thermopylae
Paris-class Heavy Frigate
One hour away from Hope

Commander Harris stood at the bridge, cursing how long it took to finish their repairs. They were supposed to have jumped with the rest of the fleet but was delayed due to some repairs that were a priority. The UNSCS Thermopylae moved through slipspace, the crew praying they'd be in time.

"Lieutenant Chekovik, open a line throughout the ship", Frank ordered standing in front of the commander's chair.

"Yes sir", Vladimir responded from his station, "Line opened commander."

"Attention all crew! We are about to exit slipspace. The current situation is unknown, so I want everyone to be on high alert. I want all weapons armed and ready and our Longswords ready to launch. We may not survive but we will not let the Covenant take Hope. Harris out.", Frank said, his voice reverberating throughout the ship.

The entire crew began heading to their battlestations while the Longsword crew headed to their fighters. Just then, Helena popped up in the holotable.

"Commander, we are about to exit slipspace", she said, her face lacking any emotion.

Frank just nodded, standing with his hands behind his back.

"Exiting slipspace now sir", Nathan said from his station, monitoring the screens.

Once they exited slipspace, alarm klaxons went off.

"Sir, enemy targets. We're outnumbered", Nathan yelled out in a panic.

"Calm down Nathan. Are there any friendlies still around?", Frank ordered in a calm voice, staring out the viewport.

"Yes sir. The Iowa, Passchendaele, and the Preston are still in the area", Nathan responded, wondering why there was so few.

"Only three? Lieutenant Chekovik, open a fleet wide broadcast", Frank ordered, saddened at seeing only three ships.

"Broadcast online sir", Vladimir responded, now staring back at Frank.

"To all UNSC ships, this is Commander Frank Harris of the Paris-class Heavy Frigate, Thermopylae. I apologize for the late entry. What is the current situation? Thermopylae out", Frank said, praying for a quick response, "Vladimir, end the broadcast."

Vladimir nodded and turned back to his screen, ending the transmission.

"Transmission ended sir", he responded, waiting for a response from one of the other ships.

Frank waited on the bridge, having his ship hold position for the time being. He just prayed that the Covenant didn't fire upon them.

[Cabel]

[Moon of Refuge: UNSCS Passchendaele: Bridge: Year 2547: Alongside the Iowa: Bridge]

“Message incoming from the Iowa,” Lieutenant Louise Denrae reported from her post at the Communications station. “I’m transferring it to the bridge speakers, Sir,”

“UNSCS Passchendaele this is the Iowa Nav Officer. Standing by for automated umbilical release on your end. Be advised, Iowa is unable to provide automatic disengagement. Hard seal is confirmed -- manual disengage is authorized if necessary,” blared the voice of the Iowa’s Nav Officer over the bridge speakers.

“Open a channel back to the Iowa, Lieutenant,” Matvey replied standing next to the situational table at the rear of the bridge with its holographic projections of the Marathon Class Cruiser Passchendaele and the far larger Marathon Two Class Cruiser Iowa along with the umbilicals bridging the gap between both. The Covenant Fleet, what remained of it, orbited the planet of Refuge though the Covenant Fleet had been whittled down to a number of Corvettes which although being less an intimidation than the larger CCS or Reverence class cruisers posed a danger by being smaller and oftentimes more numerous than their larger brethren and as the holographic projections held had remained at a distance from the two UNSC cruisers.

“Channel open,” Louise reported from her station.

“UNSCS Iowa, this is the Passchendaele. Automatic release of the umbilicals will commence following the transfer of the last of the supplies and medical personnel,” Matvey said into to the open channel, knowing the Fleet would return and relieve the Iowa for repairs.

“Transfer complete, Sir,” the Lieutenant at the OPS station reported after receiving confirmation on his console that the last of the personnel and supplies had cleared the umbilicals. The feeds from the cameras equipped in the umbilicals hadn’t hurt either, allowing those on the bridge to insure that no one became stranded in the umbilicals either after the seals had been confirmed or before they were disengaged.

“Iowa, the umbilical release will commence. The last of the supplies and personnel have been transferred into your care,” Matvey said before giving a nod to the OPS station to severe the umbilicals. “Umbilical release commencing,”

* * * * * *

The nearly solid umbilicals connecting the Passchendaele to the Iowa that had ferried over supplies to the crippled Marathon II Cruiser had started the decoupling process by retracting back into the Passchendaele’s hull once the last of the personnel had cleared airlocks on the Iowa. Armored plating slid across the birth for the umbilicals once they had successfully been retracted followed by the series of airlocks being protected by armor plating, and the Passchendaele’s maneuvering thrusters fired altering its course away from the Admiral’s cruiser.

* * * * * *

“Incoming message from the Thermopylae, Sir,” Lieutenant Louise Denrae at the Communications station reported.

“Transfer it to my station, Lieutenant,” Matvey said finding the arrival of a lone Paris Class Heavy Frigate skeptical if not surprising and that he’d been the one to relay harsh news to the commander of the Thermopylae.

“Transferring it now, Sir,” Louise replied before the console near Matvey signaled the transmission had been transferred, and awaited his command.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said before picking up the com-link, that resembled an old phone receiver. “UNSCS Passchendaele Actual to the UNSCS Thermopylae, the com-line has been secured. As per orders from the Executive Officer of the Fourteenth Fleet, we have been ordered to establish a random outbound vector before executing a slipstream jump. This is not a retreat, Thermopylae, but a tactical gamble. We will be returning to the system with reinforcements. I repeat, we will be returning to the system with reinforcements. The Iowa has decided to remain behind, with supplies provided by this ship. The Iowa is too severely damaged, and cannot execute a jump at this time. Do note, we have forces planet-side though were unable to re-establish communications due to an EMP zone. It would be advisable you did not deploy any forces to the planet or communication will be severed once they breach the EMP zone. You have two choices, to either remain in the system with the Iowa or to jump with the remainders of the Fleet,”

“OPS, chart a randomized outbound course and execute slipstream reactor once we’re clear of the Iowa,” Matvey ordered without looking over at the bridge stations.

“Aye, Sir. Setting randomized outbound vector, and the slipstream reactor is spooling,” the Lieutenant at the OPS station reported as the Passchendaele’s main thrusters fired pushing the Marathon cruiser past the Iowa. Though, the Passchendaele wouldn't execute the jump out of the system until it had cleared the Marathon II Cruiser completely.

[Llau]

1st LT Alex J. Bishop
UNSCS Iowa - Bridge
Security Team


He watched as Commander Woods entered the bridge, and for a moment, she looked a bit lost as she stood there and waited for someone to make the "officer on deck" call, but none came. He looked around the bridge for whoever paged her, but everyone was busy at the moment, and he decided to take it upon himself to answer her. Do I have to do everything? he thought. He sighed and ambled over to the Commander, straightened up in attention and saluted her. 

"Commander Woods," He then explained the reason for her being paged to the bridge. "Sir. Your presence was requested if you'd like to have a spot here on the bridge." There it went, calling her sir and not ma'am and he knew it, and he didn't seem to care that he blurted out sir, because he was purposely being annoying after standing guard for so long.

Oh, nice. Real nice job, Alex...I bet she'll kill you or something because you called her a sir. She looks the type...

He went on explaining, "They are currently undermanned and Admiral Klix could use your experience on his team. With Lieutenant Commander Kantle spearheading the repairs with Ensign Welling, your help will greatly be appreciated if you decide to stay and help balance things out."

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

"Sir, a new UNSC ship has arrived. IFF tags are identifying it as the Thermopylae." The Tactical Officer informed. Klix signed, little good it did. The holotable was still updating. Three Covenant Corvettes were all that remained, plus a Reverence Class Cruiser - which appeared more interested in other things at the time. Too interested to engage the crippled human Cruiser at least.

"Tell them to get the hell out of here, Co-"

"Passchendaele has an active line sir, and she only has one communications officer as per her class." The Communications officer said. Klix snorted half amused, but the fact was he was interrupted. Everyone had a short fuse right now with everything. Anger, annoyance... tolerance.

The bridge was still littered with debris, let alone the damaged consoles officers had no choice but to man, but a damage detail were moving as quickly as they could to clear the bridge from the distractions, and a repair detail was on the way to fix the consoles that had been rendered inoperable. Klix realized that half of them were shorting out and were deemed a liability - thus shut down from making connections to the ships electronics.

"Has the Passchendaele moved away, Ops?" The Admiral asked.

"Yes si-" The XO said, being distracted by the arrival of the Commander and the ensuing conversation by the Lieutenant. "The Pass.." If the two hadn't realized by now, they would shortly. The entire bridge crew had trained eyes falling upon them, and the silence broke the XO's report as the Commander rebuked at the Lieutenant.

"Oh," The Admiral announced. "Sorry, we're we interrupting something?" He said, clearly frustrated. The XO exhaled sharply through his nose as his console, turned around and started working again. Everyone else returned to their tasks, followed by the Adimiral.

"As I was saying, sir, the Passchendaele is moving away and their FTL drive is spun up and ready." The XO said, but the Admirals mind was still on the other two standing in his bridge. He nodded in reply, knew the XO saw it, and returned his attention to the commander.

He was still trying to wrap his head around her whole demeanor. How does one with that much attitude make Commander he thought, eyes steeled past the Commander. She hadn't let on a good first impression yet, that much she had proven herself. Under the circumstance, the Admiral would have relieved her if she was part of his crew. His opinion was still the same when they met on the hanger, to what it was now. Eric begun to second guess his decision to give her the option to remain on his vessel, but immediately decided against it.

Eric sighed, only five seconds had passed since the Ops Officer, the XO, replied but it seemed like minutes. "Man the console, shut the fuck up and start acting like a Commander, Woods. Your composure over the upcoming hours will decide your fate on this bridge."

"Okay, XO. Inform me as soon as the remnants of the UNSC Fleet jump away," Eric said immediately after; not allowing the Commander to respond. He needed soldiers, not complainers. "I also want to know the moment the Covenant so much as twitch in out direction, Tactical."

"Yes sir!"

"Weapons, unlock safeties on everything we have down to the last bullet for the fifty millimeters and prepare firing solutions to blanket us in the event plasma fire is launched at us. I want rotating fields of fire to persuade boarding craft not to board, but if the Covenant weapons are warming up make a hole to allow boarders access."

"Sir?" The XO asked.

"If the Covenant have troops on our ship, they won't risk destroying it. We're crippled, and they know it. They'll probably try to board and attain information on Earths whereabouts, or at least information on their own troops on the surface." The Admiral reckoned. It was a gamble, a risky gamble, but he had seen it before. In this situation, he practically confirmed it himself. "But I'd like a defensive option if they do decide to open fire instead of board."

"Aye, sir! Releasing SHIVA safeties, all ARCHERs standing by and MLA fire is being coordinated through Ares." The Weapons officer announced.

Ares, appearing like she was paged, hovered over her pedestal cross legged. She seemed overly calm.

"Admiral," the AI started. "My analysis are inconclusive with the lack of information, but I believe the EMP being generated on the planets surface is non-Covenant in terms of technological abilities. It's a sustaining field, and based on the de-briefings I have access too this technology has never been implemented by the Covenant before on any known battlefront past or present."

"So were dealing with," The Admiral stopped, realizing that not everyone on the bridge was a member of high command - thus restricted to the information Ares was revealing. "Classified information, Ares..."

"Yes," The AI replied. "I do believe that this is a 'classified' subject, but I have not revealed anything classified as my perimeters restrict it. This is common, unclassified knowledge on a classified topic."

"The irony.."

[Llau]

1st LT Alex J. Bishop
UNSCS Iowa - Bridge
Security Team


When Woods thanked him, Alex stood there for a moment, listening about her gripe being called sir instead of ma'am. He could roll her eyes at her, smirk at her, and insult her, but he didn't. He just stood there, looking down at her with his jaw set in slight annoyance. He was right, the Commander was one of those types of women who would rather complain about what they're being called by, than bothering to ignore it and do their job. He's encountered a few of them already, so her rebuke was nothing new. He bit his lower lip, deciding it was best to keep his mouth shut, while thinking that she was so moody because of what's been going on since this battle started. So, it really wasn't her fault for acting like a complete bitch, then again, it wasn't like she was yelling loudly at him about what he said to her. 

"Yes, ma'am," He shrugged his shoulders, and motioned for her to follow him over to the console she will be using. "Sorry, ma'am...things are just, uh, tense right now. You understand, I'm sure, Commander." He stopped for a moment when Klix talked to Woods, and looked on until the Admiral was finished. He slowly looked over at her, smiled a little in an apologetic way, and then headed over to the unmanned console. 

"Here you go, Commander," Alex said and started to head back to his assigned area, but stopped and whispered to her. "Look, I may be a marine, but I can understand that you really didn't want to leave your own ship, right? I mean, everyone can, but we're all soldiers, and understand what we've all signed up for in this god damn war. So, uh...try not to piss off the Admiral and you'll be fine here. He's a strict old man, but he's good...really good. We'll be fine. I hope." 

With that, he headed back to his place and stood guard near the Admiral. 

[Doíteán]

Commander Frank Harris
UNSCS Thermopylae
Paris-class Heavy Frigate
Turning about

Frank stood on the bridge watching the umbilical retract to the Passchendaele. He turned around and walked back to his chair.

"Sir, incoming transmission from the Passchendaele", Vladimir responded from his station to Frank's right.

“UNSCS Passchendaele Actual to the UNSCS Thermopylae, the com-line has been secured. As per orders from the Executive Officer of the Fourteenth Fleet, we have been ordered to establish a random outbound vector before executing a slipstream jump. This is not a retreat,Thermopylae, but a tactical gamble. We will be returning to the system with reinforcements. I repeat, we will be returning to the system with reinforcements. The Iowa has decided to remain behind, with supplies provided by this ship. The Iowa is too severely damaged, and cannot execute a jump at this time. Do note, we have forces planet-side though were unable to re-establish communications due to an EMP zone. It would be advisable you did not deploy any forces to the planet or communication will be severed once they breach the EMP zone. You have two choices, to either remain in the system with the Iowa or to jump with the remainders of the Fleet,”

The entire bridge was silent. The Iowa was staying behind? Frank just nodded, of course the fleet would regroup. Frank looked out the viewport, quickly coming to a decision.

"Nathan, set a randomized vector. We're going to jump with the fleet. We'd just be a liability to the Iowa", He ordered looking around at his crew.

"Yes sir", Nathan responded as he prepared the ship to jump.

[Frazer]

Captain Frazer York
UNSCS Preston
Virtue Class Attack Carrier
"They have won the fight but not the... oh wait..."

Frazer whilst leaning over the holo table anxious for the moment to strike on the Covenant Corvettes then suddenly Wilson perked up. "Captain you need to hear this. Commander Janeway acting Commander of our fleet..."

"Bridge speakers and quickly Lieutenant." Frazer didnt have time to wait on him, there was a war going on.

"Aye aye." The message started playing through the speakers. 

“To all UNSC assets. This is Commander Janeway. I am ordering all ships to generate a randomized vector away from the planet and get into slipspace, We are not leaving the fight, but we need to re-organize. I know some of you do not want to run, but as the commander of the fleet I am issuing this as a direct order. Our ground assets will to make due until we return. Janeway out." Frazer hated this idea but he had to obey. After all she was in charge.

"Trayner prepare for slipspace. I dont want to hear any complaints just do it." Trayner saw Frazer was frustrated and did as he said. 

"Yes sir." Trayner said as Frazer pressed the microphone on his chair.

"Crew of the UNSCS Preston this is your Captain. We are pulling out of the fight to regroup with the rest of the fleet. York out." The ship began to shake as it went into slip space. Frazer looked at the planet for one last time. He didnt like leaving the marines down there but it had to be done. He hated leaving the Iowa and other ships behind to. Then shortly after the Preston came out of slipspace with the rest of the fleet.

"Wilson channel with the Commander now please." Wilson nodded and pressed a few buttons.

"Your live Cap." Frazer walked over.

"UNSCS Kilimanjaro, this is the UNSCS Preston. Captain York speaking. Whats our next move since we have left the a few ships and the planet behind?" Frazer then leaned back into his chair as he sat down. Waiting for the reply. He was annoyed and frustrated. 

[Cabel]

[Moon of Refuge: UNSCS Passchendaele: Bridge: Year 2547: Pushing away from the Iowa: Bridge]

“We’ve cleared the Iowa at a distance of twenty-thousand meters and growing,” the Lieutenant at the OPS Station reported. “The Thermopylae has altered course towards a randomized outbound vector,”

“Status of the slipstream reactor?” Matvey asked from his position at the situation table.

“The Shaw-Fujikawa Reactor is reading green across the board. We can jump anytime, Sir,” the replacement officer at the Engineering station reported.

“Helm, bring us to a stop,“ Matvey began. “Engineering, channel coolant directly into the slipstream reactor and shunt the reactor’s remaining energy to the regular reactors,”

“Sir?!” the relief officer at the Engineering station, along with the majority of the bridge officers including those from the Hibernian turned towards the Russian officer questioning whether the man were insane or too devious for even the navy. He'd seen it in the eyes of the officers from the Hibernian, and those from the Iowa along with his own crew that they had wanted to do more than simply grant supplies to their fellow stricken ship even though many of them other than his crew had grown to regret fleeing to the Passchendaele.

“What are you considering, Matvey?” Commander Alice Qelar asked from where she stood opposite Matvey at the situation table.

“We’re not going to join the rest of the Fleet, but we will remain within the system. I know the Admiral’s pride, that the Iowa still holds fight within her, but even the Iowa is one ship against the equivalent of a task force. Lieutenant Denrae, open a channel to Iowa Alpha priority and encrypted,”

“Channel open, Sir,” Louise reported from her station at the Communications Console.

“UNSCS Passchendaele Actual to the UNSCS Iowa Actual. If it would not be too much of an inconvenience, the Passchendaele will be remaining within the system. Earlier, I conveyed we would cover you and that is our intent. If I were to leave you, Admiral, your valiant crew and our forces planet-side, I would be betraying my kinsmen and the Volga Boatmen. If I left a comrade, a close friend, I would not be fit to wear the uniform again. If the Admiral is willing, the Passchendaele will come alongside. We will cover you, Admiral,” Matvey stated, knowing his words carried through the open channel to the Iowa and hopefully the Admiral and Commander Woods of the Hibernian. “Our cannons are charged. The ARCHERs have been cycled, with the point defense turrets on standby and the keys off the SHIVAs,”

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Ipwa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

"Well," The XO muttered after Matvey's transmission ended. "Looks like the whole 'transfer over to this ship' idea was practically useless. If the Passchendaele is staying sir we need to get our crewmen back, especially the engineers and repair details."

Eric knew his XO was right. If the Passchendaele wasn't leaving then perhaps, just perhaps, they could go on the offensive. Completely obliterate what was left of the Covenant Forces... Yes, Eric thought. We will go on the offensive. The Covenant fleet had consisted of mere Corvettes, and Klix realized that the UNSC fleet running with their tails between the legs was a premature call. It was his ball now, and he had another Marathon with him to do so. Iowa was still combat effective, even with her primary weapons offline. She still posed quite a significant threat to the Corvettes.

"Comms line still open, sir. They are receiving." The Communications Officer spoke.

Eric nodded. "All right, Captain, you'll get your way. But if you stay, we're going on the offensive. The Reverence appears to be dead in space but keep an eye on it. I have some business to attend to so you don't get reprimanded about your decision. Klix out." The Admiral said, glancing over to his smoldering console. He signed, all of his passwords and encryption codes were on that console but he was glad his command neural lace finally came in handy on the bridge.

He produced his tactical pad, accessed the Iowa's sensors and retrieved the operational details about the UNSC PERSCOM NODES still active in this system of space. Certainly enough, PERSCOM NODE 7 - tethering on the edge of the system - was still activated and broadcasting. Klix accessed it but was hit with layers of slug code right away. Access to a personnel command from an unauthorized tactical pad was strictly prohibited, but the counter intrusion software stopped when Klix uploaded his credentials, used the tactical pads touch ability to verify his finger print and gained access to the information inside the node - which contained data from 'Personnel Command'.

He quickly scanned for the Captains portfolio, was met with a delay in the server ping, and had to search again as the process failed. By the time he opened the profile a good three minutes had already passed. He scrolled down the long CSV to his current assignment. He located the fleet the Passchendaele was a part of and reassigned it to the 22nd Tactical Fleet - Klix's own fleet - so Matvey wouldn't get any penalties for staying behind. Klix was well within his rights to do this, too, and deeming the tactical situation it was the right thing to do.

"Alright," Eric said. "Send a burst transmission to the Passchendaele welcoming them to the twenty second." Eric said bluntly, before resuming his train of thought of an offensive plan. Two UNSC Cruisers were more than a match for the Corvettes, but he was worried about the Reverence. Oddly, the ship was appearing to be largely inactive. Perhaps they suffered internal damage, or materialized from slip-space into a wrecked Covenant or UNSC ship. If the Reverence plowed into the remains of the Enterprise perhaps it could have received some significant damage and was, momentarily, rendered disabled.

Eric wasn't about to sit on his ass and wait for the Reverences running lights to flick on again. The Admiral inhaled sharply, held his breath for a second before exhaling calmly. Truth be told, he was terrified of what might happen in the upcoming minutes. One wrong move, one wrong decision and the large risk he was about to take would turn into a fatal one. He realized, however, if his plan failed he wouldn't be alive to see the consequences. Motivated to achieve a victory, not because he was going in for the glory, but because he owned the men on the ground a chance to see Earth one more time.

"Re-open the channel to the Passchendaele." Klix ordered.

"Yes sir... channel open." The communication officer replied.

"Passchendaele, Iowa. Get into formation with us and prepare yourself for oncoming fire. Since the Iowa is largely disabled, we'll be a sacrificial shield for you and your cannons. We're going on the offensive, Captain. We owe it to the men on the ground to at least try something. It is our duty. Klix out."

[Cabel]

[Moon of Refuge: UNSCS Passchendaele: Bridge: Year 2547: Coming alongside the Iowa: Bridge]

“Incoming transmission from the Iowa,” Lieutenant Louise Denrae reported from her station. “Transferring it to the speakers,”

“All right, Captain, you’ll get your way. But if you stay, we’re going on the offensive. The Reverence appears to be dead in space, but keep an eye on it. I have some business to attend to so you don’t get reprimanded about your decision. Klix out,” the Admiral’s voice blared over the bridge speakers.

“The word has been given. To your stations. Crew of the Hibernian and Iowa, those who volunteered for bridge duty man the unoccupied auxiliary consoles or stand-by to be the relief officers of those currently on duty at a station of your training,” Matvey said turning to view the entire bridge. “Helm, bring us alongside the Iowa, and form up on her lead. Prepare to reattach umbilicals to transfer her engineers back aboard the Iowa. The Admiral will need their services more than we will,”

“Incoming burst transmission from the Iowa. We’re being welcomed to the Twenty-Second Tactical Cruiser Group,” Louise reported from her station.

“That means you won’t lose your stripes,” Alice said, with a small smirk knowing her friend and longtime commanding officer had higher priorities than the eagle and stripes of his office.

“Incoming transmission from the Iowa, Sir,” Lieutenant Louise Denrae reported from her station. “Transferring it to the bridge speakers,”

“Passchendaele, Iowa. Get into formation with us and prepare yourself for oncoming fire. Since the Iowa is largely disabled, we’ll be a sacrificial shield for you and your cannons. We’re going on the offensive, Captain. We owe it to the men on the ground to at least try something. It is our duty. Klix out,” the Admiral’s voice filtered over the bridge speakers.

“Bring us to TAC CON Alpha Two. Nadezhda, coordinate with the Iowa’s A.I. and keep a continuous recharge line from the secondary reactor to both the main and primary cannons,” Matvey ordered working through the calculations needed in order for their plan to succeed and kept a wildcard in the mix since it had been rare a military plan or plan in general worked as described.

[Doíteán]

Commander Frank Harris
UNSCS Thermopylae
Paris-class Heavy Frigate
Slipspace

As the Passchendaele moved closer to the Iowa, Frank turned to Nathan.

"Take us out", Frank ordered as he walked back to the commender's chair.

"Yes sir", Nathan ordered as he prepared the ship for slipspace.

The ship slowly moved further away from the two cruisers before she jumped into slipspace. Frank sat in his chair praying that the two cruisers survived. The jump was short, lasting only a small amount of time. Exiting slipspace, the crew saw the rest of the fleet.

"Sir, we've exited slipspace near the rest of the fleet", Nathan responded with relief.

"Good, move us near them and then hold position", Frank ordered looking up

"Yes sir, moving now", Nathan responded as he directed the ship near the fleet.

The Thermopylae drifted closer to the fleet before coming to a stop right behind the other ships.

[David]

Commander Janeway
Temporairy Command of fleet.
Bridge - UNSC Killimanjaro.
In Slipspace.

"Commander, Sensors show we have transitioned to slip space as per your orders." Announced Paris, His annoyance thinly vieled under a facade of a calm and collected voice.

"Thank you Lieutenant. Continue to designated Co-ordinates." Replied Janeway, In no mood to deal with peoples annoyance. She knew it would be unpopular but it was in her opinion, the best move if they were to have any hope of salvaging the situation.

Standing up from the command chair, Janeway walked over to OPS and reviewed the sensor data on the screen infront of her. She then tapped the comms. "Janeway to any repair teams, Focus efforts on restoring reactor effiecinecy and then focus on other tasks." She said, more calmly than she felt, and then slammed the Comms button down with the heel of her hand, cutting the channel. Then, Hitting it once more, she opened a comm to the Medical bay. "Janeway to sickbay. Status of the Admiral?"

What came over the Comms next was a relief, but also sent a spike of fear through her. "This is Admiral David Vardy. I'm sore. But I will live. The good doctor has informed me of what you have done. Could I see you down here please?" David said in a tone that brooked no discussion.

Swallowing, Janeway replied "Yes sir." and cut the channel with now a shaking hand. Turning around, She started towards the lift. "Paris," She called over her shoulder. "You have the bridge...Whats left of it." She muttered as she entered the lift and the doors closed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral David Vardy
Sickbay - UNSC KILLIMANJARO
Pissed.

As David waited for Janeway, Several emotions played through him. Regret, Anger, Fear, Compassion and most oddly, Relief. He was shocked to learn that she had called a fleet wide retreat in the middle of a battle, leaving numerous assetts and troops on the planet where they could now be stomped out of existence. Fear was for his good friend [yellow]Admiral Eric Klix[/yellow] of whom he had learned was on a crippled ship that was now on its own. Compassion was for Janeway. She had never commanded a fleet and he understood the difficulty and hardships that went along with it. His regret came from the fact he hadn't had time to come up with a better plan before sending fighter pilots to their death and how he had now wound up with a wound in his chest. Relief was for the fact that he had lived so he could possibly die at a later time defending the UNSC against the Covenant one more time.

Suddenly, the doors to the medical bay hissed as they wheeled open and Janeway walked through the door, Arms behind her back, Trying to look composed but her fear betrayed her in her eyes. She stopped infront of him and saluted. "Admiral! Glad your with us. Reporting as ordered." She snapped off.

"At ease." David said quietly, then looking to the doctor, Nodded towards the door. "Privacy please Doctor."

"But Sir... your cond.." He started to sputter, but his words were quickly cut off by a steely gaze from David. "That is an order." David replied, his voice now with a steely undertone.

Nodding, the Doctor gulped and retreated out the door, perhaps a little faster than protocol should have allowed but David didn't care. He wanted to understand his first officers thought process.

"Admiral, Permission to speak freely." Janeway began.

"Denied. You will listen to what I have to say first." David said, cutting her off with a stare that betrayed just how angry he felt. Taking a breath, he continued. "I was told all about what has happened. Lambert can be an amazingly useful tool at times. What I want to know is why you have retreated, Leaving assets on the ground, Leaving an Admiral with a crippled ship and now us hurtling through slipspace so you hope that we can regroup and reform. Have I taught you nothing?"

"Sir!... I... Oh to hell with it." Janeway sputtered out. "I was left with a fleet that was being whittled to pieces. I just saw my commanding officer, someone I care and respect for, taken out by a crewman. I've never commanded a fleet before and now you want to criticize my command tactics?"

"So you can learn so that when the time comes again..." David replied calmly "You will be more prepared. Nows not the time for a court martial or putting you on report. Frankly its a waste of time and paperwork. I won't enter this in your report either. I just want you to know so that if you ever come into this position again, You will be better prepared."

"I...Yes sir." replied Janeway, Her face flushed and red. She was humiliated. She felt betrayed but at the same time she saw the wisdom in his words. "Then maybe.." she said, a little humor returning to her. "You need to get yourself back up to the bridge and do things right so I can learn from them."

Smiling, David clapped her on the shoulder and nodded towards the door. "Then you best be helping my ass back up there then."


[red]**Admiral David Vardy has regained command of the fleet. The bullet wound did not hit anything vital and the doctor has patched him up enough that he can command again. The Doctor will be accompanying the Admiral to the bridge to keep an eye on his vitals.**[/red]

[Huka]

Shipmaster Chur'R-Suf
Endgame of Combat, Covenant-dominated atmosphere
Waiting on anything from Ground Ops
::A Couple Units before Artifact Destruction::

The bridge crew watched their esteemed shipmaster in coordinated lefts and rights of their heads, pacing side to side with the only noise being the silent clicks of his armored talons and little hisses of worry from his beak. They have survived a heated battle and lost almost all of the task force from the humans' defense, but in turn eradicated more. Covenant tech was superb in romanced combat but even then, the humans' cunning and cornered mentality can do such terrible damage. Even now, the Burning Lineage was getting her own repairs from the gifted Huragok engineers. However, the impatience of hunting down that crashed carrier wasn't Suf's woe right now, unlike some.

So right now, the corvette was getting a little breath before something else happen. There have been literally nothing from the ground forces for two cycles now. What was unusual and anyone will a brain to see that but the new Reverent cruiser arrival seemed less keen on the ground's silence than glassing everything before the humans could save their innocence. Gods, where was the loyalty and brotherhood anymore? This was some poacher's game!

"Shipmaster?" Zik chirped out, making the old Kig-yar halt fast and aim his bulbous eyes on him like scopes. Standing up straight and fidget his hands some, the youngster seemed to have forgotten his reason to call the Shipmaster and looked abit for someone merciful enough to save him. No one seemed keen to step in.

"Erm...you can try to persuade that Sangheili again?" He asked with a stumble. Harsh and quills turning red for a brief moment, Suf exhaled and reflectively stroke on the bridge of his beak, "As much as I would to like to, Zik. The Shipmaster have gone silent, might have choked on his own glory." The others continued to stare at their commander, unsure of what to do in such a vital situation.

If they break line, the Covenant's repercussion can be quite severe. If they remain as they are, death and failure will be inevitable.

Cursing under his breath, the elder Kig-yar practically stomped over to the communication console before he worked his taloned digits over the holographic controls and chirped, "SDV Burning Lineage to CNV Harbinger of Absolution, do you read?"

Waiting a half-rook, the standard time to answer a call, Suf looked over to Bol. The female T'vaoan shrugged her broad shoulders with little urge to care for the lack of command, doesn't seem much different from the days of chaotic piracy.

"SDV Burning Lineage to CNV Harbinger of Absolution, do you read. This is Shipmaster Chur'R-Suf, requesting immediate action for the planet-side ground forces." He said, hopeful there would be an answer at least for that. They weren't on this mission to just clean up another heretic-infested planet, they were here for a Forerunner relic. That was the highest priority for any Covenant soldier.

Finally the Battlenet gifted Suf with a deep gruff voice, "This is CNV Harbinger of Absolution, Shipmaster. Forgive the silence, there was a radioactive spiking through the Battlenet and important counseling with the new Council of Masters." Catching his breath to the mention of their attached Fleet's commanding force, Suf swallowed and replied, "What is their analysis?"

"As we know, the Ground operations have went silent, not even the Zealot strike team is giving-or possibly receiving-calls from the Council. With our very limited force now, they are giving them another half-cycle to respond or risk a containment glassing."

Suf nearly lost his demeanor and shouted but caught himself with a wheeze, playing it off as a elderly cough, "B-But we have only a few ships capable of proper glassing, we would need to call in reinforcements for a cleansing worthy of the Gods." He said, trying to weave a sneaky way around this radical choice. Then again, the Covenant was universally radical naturally but they pay well.

"We are not ones to question the demands of the Council, Shipmaster." The cruiser's communications officer replied with a threatening growl attached the title.

Suf wasn't going to take the bait. "I request permission as Fleet scout and advanced requisitions to look upon the last known location of the sect then. Surely the Council can give me the responsibility of that much." He said with a humble speech, trying to appeal to the Sangheili's consideration. There was silence for a moment before the officer replied, "The Shipmaster is convene with the Council on your request."

That will take a while and that alone will give his old friend more time before absolute reverence in purity breaks logical need of able soldiers, especially with the deployed sect's caliber. "Thank you, excellency." Suf finished before waiting the Sangheili cut the line. "Good work, Shipmaster. Now what do we do?" Bol asked.

"Now we wait and prepare, Second mate." The venerable Jackal said with a devious grin.

(This will give a good excuse of the sudden halt of action for the Covenant Fleet remnants and glimspe of rescue for the Ground Forces at the Climax)

[Frazer]

Mission 6 has officially ENDED. Click here for the intermission for the UNSC or for the Covenant (Coming Soon).

End of Mission Report for Both Sides:

UNSC Side:

UNSC Objectives:

-Reach the Rally Point or if the Rally Point isn't able to be reached, an auxiliary site. (C)

-Regroup the survivors, and assess who they have with what kind of equipment. (C)

-Distribute the available equipment, ammunition and rations as needed while keeping a central stock (F)

-Hunker down in a defensive position if possible (F)

-Send out scouts or patrols to learn the location of the artifact/EMP and figure out a means to keep the Covenant busy or observe from afar. (C)

Optional Objectives:

-Regain communications with orbital assets, if possible. (C)

-Mount a counteroffensive against the Covenant (C)

Ending UNSC Military Strength:

Vessels in Orbit (22nd Fleet):

2 Cruisers 

Vessels near the region (14th Tactical Fleet):
1 Cruiser
1 Carrier
2 Frigates

Ground Forces:

7th Marines - 100-150 Marines & ODSTs

UNSC Amry - 25-30 

NavSpecWep - (3)

With the near destruction of Hope's military garrison, the devastation of the 14th and 22nd Tactical Fleets and the annihilation of the 7th Marines the UNSC deemed this a Pyrrhic victory due to the destruction of the Forerunner Artifact, but a strategical and tactical defeat.

Covenant Side:

Covenant Objectives:

-Defend the Artifact at all costs until it can be extracted (F)

-Determine a method of regaining contract with the Battlenet and the incoming fleet (S)

-Regain order (S) 

Optional Objectives: 

-Determine a method of deactivating the artifact without harming it (F)

-Prevent the Humans from reorganizing (F) 

Ending Covenant Military Strength: 

Vessels: 

1 Reverence-class Cruiser

2 Corvettes 

Ground Forces: 

Reticent Strike Team (Field Marshal R'ha 'Katolai recovered by Kig-yar Search Lances) 

Covenant Vanguard (150) 

Jiralhanae (50)