Halo: Infinity Roleplay (Open/Accepting)

Community General Discussion
1

DO NOT POST ANYTHING HERE WITHOUT READING THIS ENTIRE POST. IF YOU’VE READ EVERYTHING, YOU MAY SUBMIT AN APPLICATION.
The Setting
March 3rd, 2558

The UNSC Infinity has returned from its military campaign on Requiem, with little to show for it. While its captain and Spartan Commander are groundside debriefing HIGHCOM, a select number of Spartans, ODSTs, and Marines, with barely any time to rest, have been transferred to a joint-ops unit under the operational command of ONI, called NAVSPECWAR/Group Seven, and find themselves being loaded onto several docked Pelicans where they will be transported to their new home, the UNSC Molon Labe.

For what purpose? As Group Seven will soon learn, they, as well as the men and women of the Labe, have been selected for Operation: ROYAL FLUSH, a covert campaign against the Insurrectionist and Covenant elements present on the planet of Firenze. The members of Group Seven were handpicked for either their familiarity of the planet, their skill and expertise, or both. The Arbiter was even kind enough to send a stealth corvette manned by some of his own loyal Sangheili to assist, as the Swords are very interested in Firenze as well. With the disaster that was the Requiem Campaign fresh in their memory, failure is not an option for Group Seven.

Things to keep in mind

Before we go on, I feel like it’s important to tell you what to expect of this roleplay, and what is expected of you.

  • This is not a walk-in roleplay, like what you may be used to if you’ve ever been a part of some of the other RPs on this site. You must submit an application (see below for the profile skeleton itself), and it is only after you’ve been approved will you be a member. You may post the application either here, or PM it to me directly. - This roleplay is written in the past tense, limited third person perspective. What this means is the narrator does not have any more knowledge than the character does. For example, your narrator would not have any insight into another character’s mind. In addition, we usually do not condone puppeteering another person’s character, unless you have their permission. - We do expect our members to have a decent grasp on the English language, and utilize proper spelling and grammar. Though, don’t think that we also expect you to write short novels for every single post. Just write however much you feel comfortable with. Within reason, of course. - In addition, it is also paramount that members are familiar with the Halo universe and its lore. I’d say at the least, know as much as your character would. - We generally prefer for our members to join the Discord chat at: IP Chatternet. If you are unwilling to install software, then there is always PMing us on Waypoint, or using our Spartan company forum. - If you have any questions, feel free to either PM me on here, or visit the chat room that I’ve linked above.

Profile Skeletons

Simply fill out a profile and send it to me via PM, or post it here. Since this is a site all about Halo, major canonical errors should be minimal or completely non-existent.

If you are joining some time AFTER the RP has already begun, then your character would likely arrive via Condor or Prowler.
<em>NOTICE</em>
Given that practically every class-I Spartan-II that survived the augmentations unscathed has been accounted for in the universe, as well as the fact that II washouts are still crippled in 2553, we will not be accepting anymore Spartan-II applicants. The IIs that exist in this RP’s canon are few, and all are extraordinary cases.

> UNSC
>
> Character Name: (First and last name if your character enlisted in the UNSC. If they are a Spartan-III, then they may possess a fake last name and pose as any other IV, given their classified nature.)
> Age:(As of early-2558. Please make sure that your character’s age is logical. A IV who is somehow only 18 years old is going to be very hard to believe)
> Service ID: (Ex for Enlisted personnel: 12345-67890-JD, Spartan service tags are as follows: Spartan-IIIs of Alpha Company are A001-A497, Beta is B001-B375, and Gamma is G001-G330. Try not to pick a tag that is already in use, either by canon characters, or RP characters)
> (Former, if Spartan)Branch of Service: (Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines. ODST is not a branch, it is a Special Forces unit within the Marine Corps)
> Rank: (Spartan-IIs and Spartan-IIIs received the rank of Petty Officer Second Class [Navy] upon graduation. Keep in mind that the Spartans within the Spartan Branch only have the rank of “Spartan”, or “Spartan Fireteam Leader”, which is more of a designated position than a full on rank. Also, keep in mind your rank in comparison to those in your team. There really shouldn’t be a Marine Fireteam or squad made up of nothing but Lieutenants.)
> Equipment: (Promethean weapons are off the table, but your character may be able to use a Covenant weapon, given that the Sangheili are a part of the operation. Also, try to keep versatility in mind. A soldier with nothing but a heavy sniper rifle and a shotgun isn’t going to last too long in a firefight. When it comes to weapons, the ones you list can just be the ones your character prefers the most. Mentioning that your character carries grenades or a knife is unnecessary.)
> BDU/Armor Variant: (If you are a Spartan, you are using the MJOLNIR GEN2, so choose a variant. However, not all variants will be acceptable, like the FOTUS armor, which may or may not be canon, as well as variants that appear to have been designed SOLELY for War Games, like Athlon or Ricochet. ODST characters of G7 will wear a black version of the Nightfall armor, until 343 gives us a proper post-war ODST design. Marines may wear any variant found in Halo 4.)
> Biography:

> UNSC Unit
> Keep in mind that when you make an UNSC unit, you are essentially making your OWN unit that is entirely comprised of characters controlled by you, unless you allow other people to join. Talk to us about making a public unit that anyone can be a part of.
> We’re going to hold off any one trying to make their own Spartan Fireteams, until we can get Guardian and Sword up to full strength. And don’t worry about starting a new unit for the Asimov Marines. We’ll take care of that.
>
> Unit Name: (Spartan Teams tend to just be a short single word followed by “Team” or preceded by “Fireteam”. Example: “Fireteam Majestic”.)
> Branch: (Spartan is a branch now, just so you know.)
> Unit Type: (Fireteam, or Squad. Sorry, the Labe doesn’t really support the creation of any larger unit.)
> Size: (For Spartan teams, it seems to range anywhere from three to six members. A squad would be six to twelve or thirteen)
> Year of Formation:
> Members:

> Former Covenant
> (A Sangheili from the Swords of Sanghelios would be the most plausible, unless you want to make a Jackal that’s secretly a turncoat for the UNSC in Dek’s gang, or you want to make an antagonist)
>
> Character Name: (It’d probably be best if you looked up some Covenant characters to get a feel about how each species name themselves)
> Species: (You can either put the actual name or the informal name that humanity has given the species, if you want)
> Age:
> Rank: (Again, look up the rank of your species by going to Halopedia or Halo Nation)
> Appearance: (Can leave blank unless your character has some distinguishing physical traits)
> Equipment: (some Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar have been observed to use human weaponry, so I’ll allow the use of both Covenant and Human weapons for all races)
> Biography:

2

OPERATION BRIEFING SHEET
CODENAME: ROYAL FLUSH
ASSIGNED TO: NAVSPECWAR/GROUP 7
ASSIGNED BY: CLASSIFIED
ASSIGNMENT DATE: MAR. 3, 2558
MISSION LOCATION: FIRENZE, FIREN SYSTEM
MISSION GOAL:
NAVSPECWAR/GROUP 7 will conduct a long-duration, covert campaign against the INSURRECTIONIST elements, believed to be led by DMITRI CROSS, a known associate of MATTIUS DRAKE, on the planet of FIRENZE, and its moon, DUOMO. Apprehension of CROSS and dismantlement of the NEW COLONIAL ALLIANCE presence are primary objectives.

KIG-YAR pirates and mercenaries are known to be dealing with the local INSURRECTIONIST elements. The leader of said band of KIG-YAR has been identified as DEK. Another group of COVENANT present on the planet is a tribe of JIRALHANAE COVENANT LOYALISTS, led by the Chieftain, TYRUS. Termination or capture of these two is a secondary objective.

AGENT JAMES SADIQ has command of mission. All standard inter-agency secrecy practices are in effect.
EXPECTED RESISTANCE:

  • HEAVY - Expect INSURRECTIONIST, and COVENANT forcesADDITIONAL SUPPORT:

  • UNSC vehicles as available - Spartan operatives have been outfitted with a variety of both general-purpose and specialized upgrades, such as enhanced life support and inertia dampeners. - ODST operatives have been outfitted with a variant of the Nightfall, which in addition to the far superior life support compared to their old armor, also includes maneuvering thrusters for zero-g environments. - Spartan and ODST operatives also have been given the Artemis tracking system software. - Spartans have had their armor’s thrusting capabilities increased significantly (Thus, the Spartans can use the new Spartan abilities from 5. Except for that ground pound. That one doesn’t make any sense.) - All operatives have been cleared for various state of the art weapons and technology (So, you can use an armor set from Halo 5 that is described as a “prototype” set, as well as the new UNSC and maybe even Covenant weapons) - Type-3 Refraction Dissonance Modifier/Camouflage (Active Camo) - Z-90 Photonic Coalescence Emitter/Aegis (Hardlight shield) - T-27 Responsive Holographic Form Emulator (Hologram) - Series 12 Single Operator Lift Apparatus (Jetpack)SEE ATTACHED FILES FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
    UNSC MOLON LABE

  • Service Record - SpecsNAVSPECWAR/G7 (We will update when new characters join)

  • Service Record - RosterFIREN SYSTEM

  • FirenzeTARGET PROFILES

DMITRI CROSS
Cross is an Insurrectionist sympathizer, and a known associate of Mattius Drake, which of course links him to Drake’s New Colonial Alliance. ONI believes that Drake had sent Cross to Firenze a few months ago to both bolster the ranks of the NCA, and to control the moon’s abandoned Titanium mines. Likely for warship construction. The arms dealing with Dek’s gang just seems to be icing on the cake. If we can capture Cross, it may lead us to Drake.

Dmitri is six feet tall, with a medium build. He is of Caucasian descent, possesses short blonde hair with a trimmed beard, and his eyes are blue. With the Artemis Tracking System, our operatives should be able to ID Cross easily enough. Getting close enough to actually scan his face may prove to be more difficult. -Yoink- almost never pops his head out of his hiding hole. Which is why we need to flush him out.

DEK
Pirate, mercenary, arms dealer. All these words could be used to describe the Kig-Yar warlord, Dek. But recently, the Jackal added a new title to his ensemble, and that’s “NCA’s latest business partner”. We’re not sure how, but Dek has come into quite the amount of Covenant weaponry, and is selling the spares to the highest bidder. Which just so happens to be Cross. The UNSC doesn’t care whether Dek lives or dies, as long as his pillaging and arms dealing days are done. Though, however risky it may be, it might just be worth it to capture this Kig-Yar alive, if only to find out how he was able to obtain such a large amount of contraband.

Dek is a T’vaon Kig-Yar. You know, the ones with the black feathers and beaks, and the ones that actually look far more like birds than any other Jackal. Dek is known to wear the yellow armor of a Skirmisher Champion, with red marks painted on it. Kig-Yar runes, perhaps? Regardless, these marks seem to coincide with the red streaks in Dek’s feathers, which is one of the only useful physical attributes that we have on him, I’m afraid.

TYRUS
The Jiralhanae Chieftain that our Elite friends are so interested in. Tyrus and his tribe are Covenant Loyalists, and have been waging war with the Swords of Sanghelios for years. Though, it seems like the Covenant weapons they had since the Great Schism have either run out of juice, or are in such a great state of disrepair, they’re pretty much useless. He seems to be another one of Dek’s buyers, but why exactly he is on Firenze as well is a mystery. Some of the brass think that Tyrus might be not just be Dek’s buyer, but also Cross’s. And what could Cross offer that Tyrus would take? Likely more ships in order to continue their war against the Sangheili. Obviously, we can’t have that. However, the Sangheili insist that they should be the ones to end Tyrus’ life.

Tyrus and his pack are Vheiloth Brutes. Trust me, you’ll be able to tell which one’s Tyrus when you see him. He’s a giant, even among Jiralhanae, and his skin is far darker compared to his lighter skinned brothers. And, of course, there’s the giant Gravity Hammer strapped to his back and the extravagent (at least for Brutes) head piece on his skull. That sort of gives him away, too

3

MISSION BOARD

Here, I will post missions with pre-made objectives that any unit can accept and undertake. How the mission plays out is then up to you, as long as it makes sense. Like, if your unit is sent in to intercept some arms deal, then they probably shouldn’t stumble across a live Forerunner who teleports them across the galaxy. Though, in the case of a mission more relevant to the plot, priority would be given to a more veteran team.

Day 1

HEAR NO EVIL - Infiltrate Firenze’s main communications station, which is currently under NCA guard, and insert a data chip containing a fragment of Mennyko into the main control terminal. This will allow us to monitor and control all interplanetary communications. If Cross tries to contact Drake through official channels, we’ll know about it. Detection by the enemy will result in a failure. Deadly force is NOT authorized. If they find men shot or stabbed full of holes, they’ll know something’s up. Leave no trace of your presence.

In addition to the primary communication station, another team will be sent to investigate one of the planet’s three relay stations. This one in particular, according to our informant, has been decommissioned for years. However, Mennyko has a theory that the local rebels have disconnected the relay from the primary station in order to allow them to contact the rest of the NCA without worrying about whether or not the primary station had been compromised. Rules of engagement are identical. Once the mission is complete, Operatives will arrive at the RV for extraction.
METHOD OF DEPLOYMENT: Operatives will be transported to the surface via Owl (or HALO jump) and dropped off about 20 kilometers away from the objective.
ASSIGNED TO: Fireteam Wolf, Fireteam Panther

CARGO TRACKING- We managed to get a decent amount of intel from one of our informants, until he decided to go dark unexpectedly. According to his report, there are two crates of interest that are both slated to be shipped out of Vecchio in the morning, which we have designated as Objectives Alpha and Bravo. Objective Alpha is supposedly filled to the brim in Covenant contraband, which is going to be loaded onto a freighter in the morning, and delivered to who knows where. Bravo’s contents include a particular brand of bourbon that, according to our informant, Cross is quite the fan of, which means there’s a chance that this shipment will eventually find its way to our target.

Unfortunately, our informant wasn’t able to acquire knowledge of the objectives’ locations, outside of being somewhere among the several warehouses in the southern district of Vecchio. However, he was able to provide identification numbers for these crates. Use the Artemis Tracking System to find these crates, but make sure that the labels are visible in your HUD. Once located, place a tracker on the crates, and return to the RV for extraction. Do all this without being seen or leaving behind evidence of UNSC presence, and we’re one step closer to finding Cross, and putting an end to the NCA.
METHOD OF DEPLOYMENT: Operatives will be transported to the surface via Owl/HALO jump, and dropped off near the outer limits of the city. They will then make their way to the southern district by foot.
**ASSIGNED TO:**Fireteam Phalanx

HALL MONITOR - In addition to the information regarding the crates, our informant has told us that two Kig-Yar freighters, each loaded with Covenant contraband, are due to leave the system about an hour after our own estimated arrival. Looks like in addition to arms dealing, Dek’s willing to deliver his goods to wherever his clients needs them to be. After we’ve finished deploying the Owls, the Labe will then move to intercept these vessels. Operatives, supported by the Labe’s fighters, will utilize 0F92 booster frames in order to cripple the vessel’s engines, and disable its weaponry. Don’t worry about them calling for help, the Labe will jam their communications. Once that is complete, the objective is to secure the shipments by any means necessary, as well as the ships’ NAV data. Let’s find out where Cross had planned for these weapons to end up.
METHOD OF DEPLOYMENT: Operatives will use OF92 Booster Frames.
ASSIGNED TO: Lieutenant Adam Foulke, Lieutenant Rachel Marks, Fireteam Guardian, and Fireteam Sword.

The Great Escape - Remember what I said about our informant going dark? Well, that may not have been the best choice of words. After crunching the numbers, Mennyko has determined that there is a very real possibility that our informant didn’t go dark-- he was captured. Likely by the NCA. We’re not sure if his cover was blown, if the NCA are just suspicious of him, or what. Hell, like I said, it’s only a possibility. That said, it’s a chance we’re not willing to take. If our informant talks, that’s the end of ROYAL FLUSH, understand?

In one of our informant’s earlier reports, he makes mention of some pub that known NCA members and other Insurrectionist sympathizers liked to frequent, “The Mad Dog”. Apparently, it’s not exactly a reputable establishment for like-minded individuals to share a pint. According to the report, there’s a local rumor that says that the NCA uses the pub’s basement as some sort of prison where they stuff anyone they think might be a UNSC spy. Of course, it is a rumor, but it’s our only lead on finding our informant.

The objective is to infiltrate the “Mad Dog”, and gain access to its basement. If our man is down there, and alive, bring him to the RV for extraction. Find anyone else down there? Either stay camouflaged and avoid contact, or extract them as well if you can. I’d imagine after being trapped in some dirty pub’s cellar, they’d be more than willing to get back at the people who put them in there.
DEPLOYMENT/EXTRACTION: Operatives will be deployed to the surface either via Owl, or HALO jump. Once mission is complete, head to the RV point with the objective(s), and prepare for extraction via Owl.
ASSIGNED TO: CROWBAR SQUAD

COMPLETED MISSIONS

Obviously, this is where completed missions would go.

4

reserved

5

Reserved

6

Reserved

7

(I hope this doesn’t actually start until enough people join in.)

UNSC Character Name: Luke Campbell
Age: 25
Service ID: 43786-42921-LC
Branch of Service: Marines
Rank: Sergeant
Preferred Weapons: M6G Magnum, Assault Rifle, M6K compact Magnum
Armor Variant: Marine BDU (Halo 4 variant), modified with additional chest pouches.
Biography: Luke Campbell is a native of Earth. Born in a time where the Covenant was on a rampage on the Outer Colonies, Campbell slowly became more and more interested in joining the UNSC to keep them back. His high marks in school would have landed him in the officer academy, but after making an unsavory remark to the school representative he could only join the military by enlisting. He graduated a corporal just as the Fall of Reach was coming to a close, and soon found himself to be the designated driver of his team of 6 on Earth. After a close encounter with a Covenant recon squad (his team’s sergeant died in the skirmish) he became the de-facto leader of the Warthog team. From then on his missions involved quick reinforcement of friendlies, engaging Covenant vehicles, and reconnasaince. He eventually got attention from ONI near the end of the Covenant War after an incident where all but Campbell and one other got killed by a squadron of Ghosts, when they managed to defeat the squadron entirely and scavenged parts to unsuccessfully fix the Warthog, and eventually just put 2 ghosts in working condition and sped back to base. It was then Campbell learned his interest in alien technology, and ONI offered him a position as a Marine liason to plasma research. The next few years, Campbell became well versed in Covenant weaponry and vehicles, and even translated this into an advanced Marine course.

Campbell tends to speak simply and infrequently, unless an expert opinion is needed. He also has a small sense of humor based on irony.

Campbell is 6’0 and 155 pounds. He has longer dark blond hair, blue eyes, and a small mustache. He’s wiry and has a pointed chin.

ONI has requested Campbell for Operation ROYAL FLUSH for his expertise on Covenant weaponry and vehicles, as well as his general experience with Warthogs and combat with the Covenant.

8

Spartan Scott Edwards
Troop Bay of the Pelican

Scott was never really a fan of sitting in a Pelican. Not in space, at least. Due to the craft’s size, there was of course no gravity, or rather, just microgravity, so you were basically in a perplexing state of motionlessness. You didn’t really sit in your seat so much as just hover a millimeter above it, really. It was also eerily quiet, since there was no air to carry the roaring rumbles of the Pelican’s engines in the vacuum. The only sound came more from the hull vibrating, rather than from the engines themselves. The irony of a former ODST being uneasy in a Pelican was of course not lost of them. Though, in his defense, after Requiem, any one would think twice about getting in any Pelican.

“So, got any ideas on what ONI wants with us?” Spartan Davien Calson’s voice reverberated off the hull. Well, so much for quiet. Wolf-Three was seated between Scott and Brandt. He, like every other Spartan on the Pelican, was only in his armor’s undersuit, a pair of blue fatigue bottoms and a matching pair of boots. Basically a Spartan’s everyday attire. Aside from their armor, of course.

“No idea,” Brandt replied, in a quieter voice. Not even an hour prior, Wolf Team along with several others had been herded to into Pelicans in one of the Infinity’s starboard hangar bays, without knowing why.

“Well, we’re not in our armor, or our dress blues, so I guess today’s not the day I finally get to fulfill my life long dream of appearing on camera,” Calson sighed, hunching forward with his arm holding up his cheek.

“Armor…” Brandt looked up towards the overhead lights which dimly lit the interior of the Pelican, scratching his chin.

“What’s up?” Calson and Scott had both been around Brandt long enough to know that whenever he stared off into space with his hand going to town on the hair on his chiny chin chin like that, he was thinking hard about something.

“I just remembered something,” He said, turning his attention back to Calson.

“And that is?”

“Yesterday, when I went to put in my required hours in the simdeck, I couldn’t because the tech at the armor bay said my armor was ‘unavailable’, or something like that,”

“Well, no offense, man, but you do sort of have a habit of playing… rough with your gear. Sure you didn’t like, ‘rupture the gel layer’ or something?” Calson said incredulously, with one eye brow raised. At this point, Scott was looking out of the corner of his eye at Brandt, listening intently on their conversation. “Besides, what are you even getting at?”

“I’m not getting at anything,” Brandt’s face scrunched into a frown. “You asked me what was up, and I told you,”

Both Calson and Scott’s groans of disappointed replaced the eerily silence of the Pelican’s interior.

9

LT. ADAM FOULKE - Inside Hangar Bay

Adam sat in his shiny new plane, helmet off and TACPAD displaying the details of their new ship. The new Broadswords had been given as requested to the pilot and his wingman, Pixy, both of which who’d had their planes severely damaged.

The aircraft in question weren’t extensively tested yet, so the team would be flying the planes to somewhere yet undisclosed - presumably the Labe - and would have to submit the flight data to ONI shortly thereafter.

“So, what kinda op do you think we’ll do when we’re on the Labe?” asked Foulke to his wingman through the COMs, while looking at the Molon Labe’s specs - apparently, their Broadswords weren’t listed.

“I got nothing.”

The Broadswords weren’t too impressive, with the only actual upgrades being canards and stronger engine output, along with slightly increased stealth capabilities. But the real joy the pilots found was that they were allowed to custom paint the fighters. They both picked dark grey.

“Either way, I doubt we’ll be doing anything but Pelican escort and air domination, in any case.”

10

> New character

Character Name: David Blake
Age: 37
Occupation: Smuggler/Mercenary
Appearance: Dark brown breather mask that covers half of his face. Shaped like a Grunt’s mask. Light blue cap. Black leather long coat with boots.
**Preferred Weapons:**M392 DMR-Suppressed,
M71/Caseless Submachine Gun
Biography: David Blake has been smuggling and hired as a Mercenary since the age of nineteen. He was born on planet Tribute. His father was never around much and his mother worked on a different continent and was left in the care of his dad’s friend. David was never a trouble maker until his dad died and mom got laid off from work and moved in with her. David would often do small illegal jobs for the local gangs to help pay bills. He never graduated high school and by the age of sixteen, he had earned a reputation for getting his jobs done. He had narrowly escaped being killed by two gangs after he was done doing a job for them. A few weeks later David was approached by a insurrectionist sub-group leader and was asked to deliver some Shaw-Fujikawa translight engine parts to a disclosed location. David was escorted by five other hired Smugglers to get the job done. They were stopped by a random patrol ship more than half way to his destination. The ship was searched, but as the inspector was about to leave, he wanted to check the ship’s manifest again. David panicked and shot the inspector three times in the back. The inspector’s security force was soon eliminated thereafter. The insurrectionist leader was pleased with David’s success and was refered him to Dmitri Cross for more “handy work”. Dmitri Cross sent David on a number of missions to make people repay debts. More than half of the targets had one or two family members killed in order to pay their debts. Dimitri would also send David to protect his investments when they were being transported. Davide has been in a number of firefights and was shot multiple times, puncturing both of his lungs. Due to the lack of surgery equipment, Davide had to have a respirator transplated into him until the proper medical facilities were available to make replacement lungs. David had always heard about the covenant but tried to stay clear of their path and only encountered them when he started working for Dimitri. Dimitri sent David on a few missions to trade with the covenant but only was successful once.

David is now on Firenze to report in on his recent mission. He is also there to rest for a few weeks and then take on some more assignments.

David tends to joke a lot when an missions and when he’s in a sticky situation. He had always been honest and blunt. David would only tell a lie if he was getting paid to keep a secret or his life depended on it. David rarely drinks and has been known to play old war simulators in his free time.

11

UNSC Molon Labe
Hangar Bay
Around that same time, radio chatter was being exchanged by the Labe’s hangar control room and an incoming aircraft, designation Alpha-314. After a few “affirmatives” and “wilcos” about thirty seconds passed before the broad, angular form of a GA-TL 1 Longsword phased through the sapphire aura that was the shield door, looming overhead for the few moments it took Lieutenant Rachel Marks to finally work up the nerve to begin turning it in a flat 180 degree turn.
In the cockpit, Specialist Talia Hammad sat in the co-pilot seat over the Lieutenant’s shoulder, full ODST armor protecting her from whatever mishaps were to come out of the pilot’s first unsimulated flight in her new starfighter. “You could just leave it in like this, parked nose-forward? It’d be easier?”
“No chance,” Rachel said sternly.
Hammad breathed in slow as she saw the inside of the Labe’s hangar bay pass by their view ports, hitching her breath at the thought of scraping one of the walls. “I’m just saying…this is painfully–”
“Talia, I love you, but now is really not the time.”
Within ten seconds, they were finally nose-out, facing the hangar bay doors, they began a slow descent for the vacant platform. The touchdown complete, Rachel disengaged the engines with a series of flicks and taps at her flight console. Unbeknownst to her, Hammad was sinking into her seat and breathing out with a relieved sigh. “Ladies and gents, welcome to the Labe.”
With the little space, they had, Crowbar squad had found their way of stowing away aboard the aircraft despite having a Pelican reserved for them. Since it didn’t exactly have the time to be fitted with anything by way of armament and cryo-storage, it was fairly easy to fit a handful of people in cargo. Or cram nine or so ODSTs. By the time they stopped moving, they stood up one by one and exited to the rear-side drop ramp, Bowski rolling his neck as he shook off post-flight sleep.
“I miss anything?” he asked with a yawn.
Fuchs threw up a hand. “We were in flight for ten minutes. How did you manage to fall asleep in that time?”
“Don’t question my Polish charm, Ahnuld.”
Ahead of the others, Sergeant Michael Krone and Staff Sergeant Isa Valdez tapped their way down the ramp first, rucks slung, weapons unloaded and in hand as they slowed to a curious waltz as they looked around the expanse of the hangar bay. Around the time they saw the Broadsword fighters behind their platform, Rachel was exiting as well, pulling off her flight helmet as she stood beside Krone. For moments, they just observed their new surroundings, taking in the scenery in. It wasn’t as vast as Infinity, but they had enough room for what they needed. Mike felt a set of gloved fingers interlock with his free hand. Rachel wore a wide grin, looking back at her craft, clearly happy that she managed to fit the interceptor within the smaller bay.
She turned her head back to him, her soft gaze to his opaque visor. Mike let his visor’s tint fade away to clarity, revealing a raw smile as he gripped his wife’s hand tight before letting go, patting her shoulder guidingly. “C’mon.”

Sam observed the moment briefly, though focusing less on the affection between the Lieutenant and her husband and more on the frigate’s hangar bay itself. As he stepped off the ramp, he kept his BR85 in an patrol carry, tight to his chest as he observed the surrounding deck crews. When Paul’s hand his his backplate, the Specialist tensed a little bit, halting in his tracks. He turned his head, waiting for Deatrice. When she came into view, he let out a sigh.

“Remind you of anything?” he said.

UNSC Molon Labe Crew Deck

Lieutenant Violet Solnan’s footfalls were going muffled underneath the heavier thunks of Spartan James Dante’s GEN2 gait as she kept pace with him down the hall of the crew quarters. Helmet tucked under one arm, hair once messed neck-length black hair was now partially presentable after she had untangled it with her gloves. Her icy blue gaze wandered over his armor steel gray armor mid stride. He pretended not to notice, keeping his visor forward until she mimicked him with a smile. “You look good in black.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, unsure of what else to really say. Internally, he thought his Warrior set up was fairly rugged enough to his liking, the Air Assault helmet not contrasting it too hard. It reminded him of his old ODST kit and gave him a fairly good range of view. That’s how he was perceiving the compliment anyway–he didn’t dare think of any alternative when it came to the woman.

Violet scoffed. “I’m not working behind a desk yet, Spartan. ‘Lieutenant’ will do just fine. I’ve been asked to see how you’re adjusting, I figured asking you directly would be the easiest way of figuring out what to tell them.”

At first, James said nothing, thinking of something stock and vague enough that would keep him out of ONI’s scope, but seeing as they already recruited his services as a singular asset, he felt it was too late for that. “Do you want the truth, Lieutenant?”

“You can tell me the part of the truth that you trust me with, how’s that sound?”

He tilted his head to the side, slowing his pace as they began to come up on his designated bunk room. “I’d have a better time getting adjusted if I knew what exactly who I’d be operating with.”

Violet stopped and shifted her weight to the side. “Like we said. You’d still be working with the rest of Group-7, but you’re not on anyone’s designated team. You answer to ONI, no one else.” After a moment of pause between the two, she straightened out, shifting her helmet from one arm to the other. “By now you had to have figured out why you were assigned originally to a Spartan-III Fireteam before being put onto Zenith.”

There wasn’t much of an answer from Dante, other than the faint beginnings of a headshake. “You all operate differently,” she said. “Spartan Two’s, Threes, Fours, ODSTs, Marines,” she rotated her finger in the air as she listed off each branch of service like she was wrapping a ball of yarn around her finger. “At the start of your Spartan Career, you had two of those covered. Now you’ve worked with the Three’s, saw them apart from the Fours. Then you worked with Zenith, a fireteam that housed two of your former ODST squaddies–you couldn’t have thought that to be a coincidence.”

Truth be told, he did. Dante, as observant as he was, never really was one to question the deeper things in life…like, why he was reacquainted with the one person that tipped the scale in making him agree to Spartan status. He didn’t give an answer.

She shook her head as a response to his silence. “You’re all part of the same body now. You have different jobs, no one is better than the other when you’re all working together. As of right now, you work alone, but with everyone else. Does that make any sense?”

“No.”

Violet shrugged, then gave him a slap on the arm. “I’ll tell my superiors that you’re enthusiastically ready for duty then. Relax. It’ll be just like Infinity Ops. Same friendly faces, better results. I’ll see you around.”

12

Spartan Isaac Langley
Hangar Bay

Isaac ran a hand through his freshly cut hair, the dirty blonde cut was relatively perfect for regulation minus the slightly longer top. The color of the man’s hair did seem to appear weaker in color than it had within the last few years despite his age, giving it almost an ashen blonde hue. He flicked several loose hair strands loose, the small pieces still remained for the trip to the barber was only a few hours ago.

The Spartan allowed Fireteam Wolf to converse amongst themselves, choosing to listen rather than speak. Looking over his left shoulder, he analyzed the two other spartans with him: Zero Machina and Lucy Capolo. Past Capolo was an empty seat, one reserved for a long time friend whom he wished could join them on their introduction to their new home.

Spartan Jesse Jenkins had been recovered during the search for Doctor Catherine Halsey, one good thing to come from that Op. They barely had the chance to reunite as the man was incapacitated and quickly rushed away for medical treatment and a thorough debriefing. Hed be sure to be the first one to see him once his friend and partner was cleared.

Isaac drew himself away from the thought and back to the present, listening in to the discussion regarding ONI. Like many times past, he had decided he would sleep better at night if he just let the group be, if they helped him get his job done thats all he needed to know. To get his boys home.

As the pelican touched down with a gentle thud and hiss as the bay door opened, the man finally broke his silence motioning to both teams, his own, Fireteam Guardian had been relatively silent. A characteristic he had grown used to and partly appreciative of.

“Whatever the big wigs want, its big enough to get us a new ship. Boys, welcome to the Labe.”

13

UNSC Molon Labe
Crew Deck - Aft Quarters

Sergeant James Malachi was marching at the head of his line of Wolfpack-3’s FORECON Marines, each one armored in their personalized, Olive Drab M52B, and each one miserably lugging almost one hundred pounds worth of seabag. Each one in high spirits otherwise. “Here it is, gents,” he said arriving at the bunk room door. “The next closet we’ll be sleeping in for the months to come.”

As they entered, it was, much to their surprise, relatively quaint. Neat and orderly, the bunks were all squared, surprisingly, and it wasn’t without the proper amenities. One thing the team leader noticed that was out of place, or in place depending on how he looked at it, was that one of the bunks was already occupied by someone’s gear. At a close glance the rucksack and PPE donned the name “Lockett” on various tags. Mack let out a tired sigh and shook his head as he claimed the bunk nearest the door.

“Guess we know where Lockett went,” he said.

A resulting laugh emitted from Lance Corporal Gobel. “Doesn’t answer his current position. I can give you three guesses.”

“Medlab, medlab and medlab?” said PFC Leganinsky, their tech specialist, as he hefted his pack to the floor with a grunt.

“Well…yeah. But, remember I said ‘positions.’”

Private Slade punched his battle buddy’s shoulder in passing with a metallic clack. “Smartass.”

“Really though. Every man in Wolfpack is destined to mack on medical staff at some point.”

Malachi furrowed his brow. “You have two people on that list that you can really call out; me and Lockett, and you can’t blame him for visiting an old friend, so who even knows if that’s going to happen.”

“Gray,” Gobel said with a tired sigh. “Help me out with this?”

Corporal Richard Gray silently offloaded his pack to the cot and got as far as removing his CH252 helmet before he answered. “No comment,” he said in a low voice.

“What else is new?”

UNSC Molon Labe
Medical Bay

Private First Class Aaron Lockett, now relieved of his cumbersome travel weight and eighty pounds worth of kit, now found himself bogged by an even heavier set of rucks. HM1 Vivian Nyro stood beside him, still wearing her matte-black ODST armor. Having decided to take the Pelican out, she hadn’t come with the rest of Crowbar Squad, and as a result, had more time on her hands to help medical get set up at their new home.

“We even sure this lab will hold all this sh*t? It might be smaller than the one on Infinity,” said Lockett, his voice strained.

“The one we were at on Infinity wasn’t exactly the same kind of bay,” Vivian said in a tone muffled by her helmet. “More of a…lab. Kinda like a critical or Intensive Care Unit.”

Aaron stepped inside first, halting after he pictured himself walking into a wall face first as the infirmary’s shadows swallowed him. “Lights are off…that’s a great sign already. Hey, Nora, you still got that flashlight?”

Vivian brushed past him by accident, letting out a curse before she set her bags down. “I got this,” she said, toggling her VISR. Within seconds, the low light setting mapped out a big empty of beds and equipment, only showing off the bare minimum that her NODs would provide in the pitch black.

“Oh wow…” she muttered, standing dumbstruck until she found the light controls along the wall, marked in the dark by a green light. She switched off her VISR and waved a hand over the device.

Lockett shielded his eyes with a free hand for all of a moment, then let out an low whistle. “Damn…you could host a f*cking rally here…”

14

Nora walked down the long hall bobbing her head to the music in her head. Her helmet to be exact, she had probably been on the Infinity for a couple weeks and then there was an invasion, and now they were moving into a smaller ship. She had made sure to procure a set of armor by now.
Next time I won’t be caught naked. For now she only had the helmet on so she could be accompanied and surrounded by her music; let’s make this happen girl we can show the world that something good can work for you, and you know that it will. She danced occasionally when she was sure no one was watching.

And probably with a ship this small the medbay was going to be even smaller than the little clinic she had on the infinity how they got away with a medbay so small on a ship that big… And then she found herself in the doorway of the medbay, It was enormous! she dropped her bags where she stood. She always contained herself into a business appropriate attitude but she flew past Lockett and Vivian when she saw a door in the back which she suspected might be…
She opened it to find a cozy little office and sleeping quarters just for her. She flew at Vivian and Lockett with a joyful squeal pulling them both in tight.

15

UNSC Molon Labe Hangar Bay
Isalyne Deatrice, Crowbar Counter-Sniper
Deatrice shrugged. “Haven’t exactly gone from hangar to hangar in a Longsword before, so that changes things up, but uh… yeah. Been here before, if not here on the ship.” She walked down the ramp, her BR85 held at her side in what was probably considered a highly unprofessional stance. At that point, though, boarding a new ship and among friendlies, she didn’t really feel the need to seem all regimented and disciplined and whatnot.

“Question, though,” she said as she approached Sam, stopping at the bottom of the ramp to look at him. “Am I the only one who has no f**kin’ idea why we’re here?”

Derek H. Leonhart, Fireteam Panther Lead
The chatter that had no doubt taken place in the other transports was lacking almost entirely in the Pelican that carried the most recently-assembled fireteam of SPARTAN-IVs to the ship. While some other existing fireteams had some of their soldiers switched around for the sake of creating fully operational teams, most of them knew each other. Fireteam Panther didn’t exactly have that advantage.

Derek himself had been a solo operative for months onboard the Infinity, finally only making his presence known to the others when it was required by necessity during the attempted boarding of the ship by a joint force of Covenant and Prometheans, and even then, socializing wasn’t much of a priority. The other S-IVs in the ship, though, were turning out to be an even bigger mystery than he was.

The three of them clearly didn’t know each other, and yet none of them were willing to divulge the location of their previous deployment, instead skirting any questions directed to that particular part of their pasts with misdirections and subtle changes of topic. Weird as it was, that only made Derek more determined to figure them out. Sure, maybe it was hypocrisy that he had ONI wipe his not-so-legal past as part of his deal for coming onboard in the first place, but at the end of the day he needed to know his team to work with them, and the black ink all over their files didn’t help one damn bit.

Panther was a team filled with people who didn’t communicate much and clearly didn’t want anyone to know about them, and it was beginning to be a pain in the *ss for Panther’s new team lead.

Mark Vargas Silver, a bulky bull of a man almost as tall as Derek and almost certainly stronger than him, was evidently an assault specialist – armed with a drop shield for emergencies, he tended to wade in with a heavily customized HMG that had one side painted with a dragon, and he had to be the least talkative of the group, which was definitely saying something. He seemed to do nothing but spend his free time performing maintenance and making modifications to his weapon, which seemed to Derek like an excuse to be a brooding tank man. Sitting across from Derek, the SPARTAN was humming quietly to himself, earphones quite clearly playing some kind of music that only he could hear.

Lina Cadence Kymara, on the other hand, was someone he thought he could see himself getting along with. She was more capable of communicating than the others, and when she spoke, it was with a cheerfulness that bordered on intimidating sometimes. This was, however, not exactly a point in her favor – she found ways to speak without saying anything that mattered. She tended to be more useful when it came to situations out of combat, according to her file, proving herself to be excellent at breaking into secure systems, credited to a past as a child with a lot of time on her hands. Lina was also supposedly an excellent diplomat, having defused a few fights in her time if her stories were to be believed. Lina had still managed to become an S-IV, so Derek was confident that she’d proved herself in combat, too… probably in one of her blacked-out activities, he assumed. She was sitting next to Derek, sketching an Elite getting a piggyback ride from a Grunt on a notepad she’d brought with her, citing her reason for not using a datapad instead as “I’d rather use something that doesn’t need me to hit ‘save’.”

At the back sat Robert Lloyd Lewis, who had managed to go back to sleep in the short time it took for them to arrive. It wasn’t unexpected, though, given the man had been bleary-eyed and barely standing on his feet when they’d been ushered into their transports. A rifleman who was adept at quickly surveying the area around him and collecting intel, Lewis was just about Silver’s height, but he moved faster than most augmented personnel Derek had seen in action. The team lead wouldn’t even have been surprised to find that Lewis was the fastest S-IV there was, but he was probably giving the man too much credit. Nevertheless, it was a sight to see him run at top speeds that would leave others with damaged muscles and shake it off with a smile.

The team spent the ride in relative quietness, the occasional question from Lina about alien physiology and a corresponding answer or unknowing grunt being the only breaks in the silence. When the Pelican began to touch down, Derek couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. As much as socializing wasn’t his forte, he needed some signs of human life before he started to go crazy, too. Derek was the first out, glancing around at the size of the hangar bay. Definitely smaller than Infinity’s, but then*, Infinity* had been a statement of power, too. Everything had needed to be big, impressive, and destructive.

He thought he’d prefer this place, whatever it was.

16

LT. Adam Foulke - UNSC Molon Labe Hangar

“Bravo 424 and 425, callsign Olympian, to UNSC Molon Labe hangar control, requesting permission to land.”

“Roger that, Olympian. You are cleared to land.”

It felt slightly surreal for Adam as he used his ‘formal’ callsign for entry into the Labe - the callsign ‘Olympian’ served him just fine before, on the Infinity and the rest of the days since he’d been assigned to the squad.

“Wilco.”

“Welcome to the Labe, gentlemen.”

The Pelicans, Longsword and other aircraft in the hangar reminded Adam of how smaller the Labe was compared to the Infinity, where a large number of Group Seven had previously been stationed - regardless, he did feel slightly unsettled by the many differences between this and other stations he’d been at.

Then again, he wasn’t the only new one to this ship.

Besides, he couldn’t be alone with that…right?

The pilot ordered Orpheus to send some ONI agent the flight data as requested, while setting down the Broadsword on one of the hangar’s platforms.

17

Medical Bay

Vivian saw it coming, but just barely. The speed at which Nora assaulted her and Lockett gave neither of them time to react, resulting in a set of dropped jump bags and a clattering mess of armor and affection. Lockett wasn’t so fortunate considering he dropped his armor off, so he ended up within personal space with nothing inbetween. Complaints numbered in the negative amount as he grinned as a response and put a hand around her waist.

“I’m happy you’re happy. C’mon, lets unpack.”

Wiggling herself out of Nora’s grip, Vivian adjusted her helmet with a refreshed mixture of joy and embarrassment. “I’m gonna bail if that’s okay. I gotta check in with squad lead–they’re probably here by now.”

Hangar Bay

Sam allowed himself to relax, allowing the bad memories of frigates to fade as he saw Deatrice in a more relaxed posture than his own. “I’m as lost as you are. I haven’t been on regular deployment since the forties. So…maybe one of veteran members of the squad would have a better idea.”

For a moment he thought about what he said, trying to predict a reaction out of most of the team. Probably a lot of shrugs, the occasional “We’ll find out soon enough” from Krone or Hammad. Then there was Bowski; “Hey man, I just work here.”

Sam shrugged finally. “Stick together. We’ll figure it out.”

18

Spartan Scott Edwards
Molon Labe Hangar Bay

Two minutes later, Scott could hear the Flight Officer in their cockpit hailing someone on COMs. Considering the shut door separating the Spartans’ troop bay from the cockpit, Scott wondered if he wasn’t meant to actually hear what the Flight Officer was saying. However, after the augmentations, Scott’s hearing improved to such a degree, he could hear a needle hitting the ground in the middle of a tornado. Not to mention the fact that the Flight Officer’s muffled voice was one of the only things to hear in the Pelican.

“UNSC Molon Labe, this is Charlie-242, requesting permission to dock, over.”

“Molon Labe?” Scott mouthed the words, curious. Was that the name of a ship, or some sort of station? No, that definitely sounds like a ship. Station designations usually had, well, “station” in them.

“So it’s a ship?” Calson whispered, clearly thinking the same thing Scott was, and Wolf’s Lead was sure Brandt had come to the same conclusion. “Are they bringing us to some classified ship to debrief us?” Either that, or–

“Maybe we’re getting transferred,” Brandt took the words of out Scott’s mouth. Them being transferred would certainly explain why their gear had been unavailable the day before. Unless of course, ONI had confiscated their armor for the sake of securing the video footage within.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Scott finally said, doing his best to make it sound like he was completely disinterested in whatever reasons had ONI for spiriting them away from the Infinity. There was nothing to be gained in rampant speculation. As soon as those words left Scott’s mouth, he could feel his stomach lurch, and his body being pressed downwards into his seat. Gravity had once again taken its hold on them. And with the return of the familiar force came the roar of the Pelican’s engines as they slowly, but surely, lowered in intensity until the Pelican landed. Wherever and whatever their destination was, they had arrived.

Stepping off the bird with the rest of Wolf, Guardian, and Phalanx, Scott was surprised to see how similar the Labe was to the Infinity. Well, at least, as far as this hangar was concerned. Everything was a pristine blueish white, with orange hand rails and exposed pipes. At first glance, he wasn’t sure if they were actually taken to a new ship, or if their Pelican just circled aimlessly in space for ten minutes before coming back into one of the smaller hangar bays. Though, the most telling sign that this was certainly an entirely different vessel was the blue translucent energy shield that separated the hangar bay from the harsh vacuum… on the other side of the room. Unlike the Infinity, this ship wasn’t wide enough to warrant separate starboard and portside hangar bays. It was just the one, but with two “doors”. With that in mind, Scott assumed that this ship must be a frigate or a heavy corvette. Though, he wouldn’t have to wonder for long.

“Whatever the big wigs want, its big enough to get us a new ship. Boys, welcome to the Labe.” Spartan Langley said. Early in the Requiem conflict, Langley had lost his arm, and had to make due with a mechanical prosthetic while a flash clone one was being prepared. One of the downsides of being a Spartan was the fact that any flash cloned limb would have to be augmented as well, which could take weeks. The augmentations might have altered their genetic makeup somewhat, but you couldn’t modify someone’s DNA give them carbon-reinforced bones. At least, not yet. Though, luckily for Langley, his flash cloned arm had arrived a few days before hand.

“I believe that’s my line, Spartan… Langley, correct?” A voice spoke behind Langley. Beyond the Spartan’s frame, standing on the floor of the hangar bay a few feet away from the unloading Spartans was a dark-skinned man in a darker Navy officer uniform with a datapad cradled in his arm. In an instant, Scott recognized the gold oak leaf on his collar. A Lieutenant Commander.

“Wolf!” Scott barked, his boots clacking together as he gave the officer a crisp salute. His men were already at attention when he bellowed: “Officer on deck!”

“At ease, Spartans,” The man said, returning the salute. “This is where I’d say something like ‘let me be the first to welcome you to the UNSC Molon Labe’, but I guess that’s no longer necessary. But allow me to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Commander James Sadiq. I’m sure you all have plenty of questions, but if you would, I’d like for those questions to wait until we’ve reached a more… secure location.”

Lieutenant Commander Sadiq looked down at his datapad, and frowned. “Seems like our Helljumper friends have decided to take their own bird to the ship. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to find them and greet them as well. In the mean time-- here.” Sadiq produced a palm-sized disc from his pocket, and handed it to Scott. When he thumbed a switch on the side, a six inch tall hologram of a man, with facial features consistent with that of a young Eastern European, in a Navy working uniform materialized, except for his legs, which sort of just became floating series of pixels towards the end. And Scott wasn’t sure if it was part of the AI’s avatar or simply a malfunction on the part of the portable holodisc, but it seemed like electricity crackled around the avatar’s “body”. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of the ship’s AI, Mennyko. Just listen to him, and he’ll talk to where you need to go,”

“Always happy to help, Spartans” The AI said through the speakers in the device, with his avatar smiling. Despite his superfluous appearance, the AI spoke with a normal enough tone and accent. Sadiq nodded to Mennyko, turned around, and started walking away from the group of Spartans.

“So, uh, ‘Mennyko’,” Calson said, moving close to Scott to try and get a better look at the AI. “Where do we go again?”

“Right this way,” The avatar pointed its index finger to a double door to their left, still smiling. “Spartan Calson.”

19

Spartan Isaac Langley
Hangar Bay-Mennyko Escort

“Good to know we had a welcoming party.” Langley commented off handedly. He didnt feel a need to mention his noticing of the man’s rank or seemingly knowing the entire ships ensemble.

The glowing AI continued to give the group directions down the maze of hallways, which were noticeably smaller and composed of a lighter color palette than the infinity.

Upon arriving at what could only be a briefing room, the large holotable surrounded by several monitors was an instant give away, the group was instructed to wait for the rest of their unit.

After a slight pause, Isaac leaned over to Scott and Brandt, “So,” he said in a hushed tone, “looks like you might be right about a new home after all.”

20

SPARTAN Richard-465 - UNSC Molon Labe Hangar Bay

As the various aircraft of UNSC origin flowed into and out of the Labe’s cavernous hangar one figure stood out amongst the masses. Covered from head to toe in thick titanium armour the olive SPARTAN towered over the swarms of crewmen that shifted back and forth in their swarms, unloading supplies for the Labe’s as of yet undisclosed missions as he watched out through the shimmering sapphire energy field which separated him from the cold void of space beyond, the glistening blue-green sphere that was the Earth shimmering in the light of its parent star, taking a moment to reflect on how close humanity had come to losing it all, all those years ago. He’d been there, of course, who could say they hadn’t these days. It was the final fight, the ultimate battle for humanity’s survival, and after the Fall of Reach almost the entirety of the UNSC military had served to defend the planet from the Covenant and the Flood that followed in their wake. It was an age where heroes were made, and he was acutely aware that many of those who had fought in Earth’s defence had gone on to become Spartans or ODSTs themselves - a form of preparation for the age of rebuilding that followed.

His gaze only broke from the Earth and the many glimmering space-going vessels orbiting it when a massive shadow was cast over his glimmering golden visor, looking up to see the colossal, angular form of the GA-TL1 Longsword Interceptor enter the hangar. From behind his visor an already frowning pair of eyes narrowed into a cautious grimace as the vehicle squeased into the metal cavern, the incredible 75 metre wingspan threatening to gouge out either side of the Hangar as it wormed its way in before, incredulously, turning a complete 180 before finally touching down, bathing massive areas of the deck plating in complete darkness from the floodlights above.

The crews were calling the craft ‘Alpha-314’, and from the way the squad of ODSTs stood as they filed out, they seemed to be as relieved to have left the vehicle as the crews were to finally have it on the deck, not that he could blame them after watching that for himself. It seemed a small miracle of its own the massive machine was still in one piece, and just to confirm, he briefly checked the hangar walls for any signs of damage. As he turned back over, his gaze locked on an incoming pelican, flicking his HuD into action he caught the IFF tags of those he recognised to be from the three Fireteams Guardian, Wolf and Phalanx before a second drifted in, both Pelicans stopping just behind the Longsword to unload their Spartan cargo before being lowered into a compartment below, off and out of the way. After the Battle of the Infinity a week prior he had taken the time to learn about the two Fireteams, so to learn they were here was encouraging, regardless of the reason.

The additional Broadswords entering the hangar registered to him, but he paid the vehicles little heed as he noticed Lieutenant Commander Sadiq appear in the crowd, switching to his visor’s zoom as he began to make his way over before blinking it away again. Easing his way through the masses he passed the Commander, pausing momentarily to offer the senior officer a cordial salute before arriving at the group, lingering just behind in his armour as his new comrades conversed with the A.I. along the halls, his bulky, tank-like MA5B magnetised to his back