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Post by Juan on Dec 14, 2004 21:02:41 GMT -5
The High Prophet of the Ether sat in his chair, silent. His hands were tightly clasped together, as he stared firmly ahead of him. He worked his jaw quietly, clenching and loosening it, silently.
His crusty dark skin looked almost like a death armor in the soft light of his throne, the tints of light mixing as if almost to distort his form. Ord Durzyacee always found it disturbing to see his god in this light.
One of the Sangheilian members of the High Council, it was his purpose to serve god on the behalf of his people, a job he took great joy in, usually. However, today he duly felt caution in dealing with his master. He did not want to anger god himself.
“My lord,” Durzyacee said to the High Prophet, “I bring news.” However the High Prophet continued just to stare forward. Durzyacee stilled the urge to shift, his nervousness being quelled by his warrior’s will. For what seemed to be an eternity to the Council member, the Prophet remained silent. After a long time, the High Prophet finally spoke.
“You haven’t found the vessel,” The High Prophet spoke. Durzyacee merely nodded, his eyes wide in shock. “Do not fret, my sword,” the High Prophet said raising his hand to silence him, calling Durzyacee by his title. Durzyacee calmed slightly at this. The High Prophet grinned, and continued, “They managed to slip through our planetary defense net by the controller’s lack of skills from disuse.” Durzyacee opened his mouth to speak, but the Prophet again raised his hand and again spoke. “They shall not be punished, yet. They will redeem themselves if they can find this ship,” the Prophet intoned quietly.
“How did they find this system, your reverence?” Durzyacee said slowly and quietly. His curiosity was great, and there were many questions.
The Prophet turned his head slightly with thought, and stared forward for a few seconds, before smiling. He turned his head towards Durzyacee.
“Luck.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Captain Lionel Sanders couldn’t help but curse their rotten luck. ‘Out of the fire and into the frying pan!’, he thought to himself in disgust, remembering the old Earth saying.
The Captain sighed as he took a short drink from his coffee cup, drinking the carefully calculated drink, a batch made especially for its high caffeine content. It tasted horrible, but the energy was something he needed.
”What is the status on the concealment procedures?” The Captain called to Mir. She appeared above the panel to the right of his seat, floating in the air. The captain couldn’t help but smile at her beauty. He thin, pale body pulsated in the air, data streams making up her long flowing hair.
“Captain, we are at 30% of full concealment. We have all available personnel using Scorpion Tanks and Warthogs to conceal the crash trail, while others use the new concealment tarps to conceal the ship,” Mir said calmly. Captain Sanders felt like groaning at the the AI’s tone of voice. The thought that anyone could be calm at a time like this almost overwhelmed the knowledge of Mir’s lack of emotions.
“How much longer?” The Captain said evenly. “Two hours,” Mir replied.
“Too long, much too long,” the Captain said with a long sigh. But he knew there was no way to speed it up. However, there were options...
”How much crew can we spare from the cover operations without effecting the rate to considerably?” The Captain asked.
”Well, we have a few Echo-Spartans who were just released from stasis an hour ago, and there are some marine who were assigned just a few minutes ago to the cleanup that we could pull back, perhaps.” Mir said, thoughtfully.
“Have them all meet me at Meeting Room Alpha.” The Captain said, rising from his chair.
His XO, Lieta Garlan, who had monitoring from his console an attempt to repair an engine, turned her head towards the Captain, giving him a puzzled look. “What exactly are you planning?”
The Captain smiled.
“A diversion.”
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Post by DeepFreeze on Dec 14, 2004 21:29:46 GMT -5
"Team Sixteen is lean, clean, and extremely mean. Returning for second load. Sixteen out."
Lance Corporal Rowan Cho floored his Warthog's accelerator. The 'Hog's M41 LAAG had been temporarily removed for this op, to make way for squares of the new concealment tarps. The weapons from the modified Warthogs were mounted on temporary tripods and set up on the perimeter. He was backed by two other similarly-modified 'Hogs, crewed by members of his platoon.
While it was great to be out on the field, in a Warthog no less, Cho was not a happy camper. Instead of evacuating the crew, the old man plowed the damn crate into the surface. And he really wanted to try out the new HEV he was assigned (the last one was irrepairably damaged after a few...modifications). That, and he was stuck with tug-and-plug detail, while squads of less-qualified ODSTs were out on perimeter patrol.
To vent his frustration, he gunned the throttle and took the light recon vehicle over the shallow valley that was what was left of the Baltimore's crash furrow, grabbing some major air on the other side. His teammate riding shotgun whooped, and his wingmen in the other two Warthogs followed suit. He slammed the vehicle's emergency brake, described two tight circles, and stopped with the 'Hog's rear bumper just centimeters away from an airlock that was serving as a loading dock for the concealment tarps. A staff sergeant rolled his eyes.
While other Marines loaded piles of tarps into the Warthog, Rowan slotted a data chip into the built-in navigation system. The screen immediately blanked out, and pounding Flip music issued from the single speaker mounted on the dash. Not the best sound quality, but Rowan knew what he needed to correct that problem and where aboard the Baltimore to find it...
He bobbed his head in time to the "music" and hoped something would happen soon.
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Post by The Giant-Size Man Thing on Dec 14, 2004 21:51:42 GMT -5
Carl sat in the driver seat of an MR12 LRV, affectionately called the "Warthog." He and several others had managed to remove the chaingun turret so they could use the back as a bed. He looked at the crash site and sighed. Debris was everywhere, and he was in charge of picking it all up. Carl's attention wandered as he looked at the miles of forest and jungle ahead of him.
Carl was soon jolted back into reality when a large chunk of starship was hefted into the bed of his truck.
"Hey, buddy, a little help out here?" yelled an annoyed marine.
This isn't what I signed up for, Carl silently thought to himself. Sighing, he took off his floppy hat and used it to dry the sweat on his forehead. He climbed out of the Warthog and helped a fellow pilot grab a large camo-tarp from the back of the truck. A large peice of the Baltimore was sitting in the middle of a clearing, and it was too big to bring back. With the help of several marines, they managed to cover the piece with the canvas.
"Come on, hurry your asses up before the Covenant find us!" barked a sergeant. Even in this mad rush, Carl couldn't help but keep his cool. Even facing imminent death, he seemed almost calm. This, of course, was an attitude that would piss off any grunt CO, but then again, he wasn't a grunt.
"Hey, Lieutenant! Mir just called us on the radio saying that they need us back at the ship!" Again, being snapped back into reality, he ran to the Warthog and hopped into the driver seat. A fellow pilot jumped into the passenger seat and three marines piled into the back on top of the retrieved debris. With a spin of the tires, the truck was off.
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Post by Pkmatrix on Dec 14, 2004 22:08:15 GMT -5
"Ugh...work, dammit..."
Warrant Officer Vincent Deimos growled a bit before rubbing his tired eyes. He's been at this since the crash, running from station to station, maitenence shaft to maitenence shaft, working alongside the other Technicians and Engineers to get the critical systems back online. So far, there's been some success.
The lights are on, aren't they?
"Okay...okay, I think that should do it..." a voice echoed from inside the dark and cramped hole in the wall, "Try it again."
Vince types the necessary commands into the terminal and runs a system check.
"Green...green...red..." Vince types some more, trying to reroute the power to a seemingly working circuit. "Green...green...green...Okay, you can come out, I think this is as good as we're going to get it."
Deimos activates the Terminal's VidCom.
"Bridge, this is Deimos, we've been able to restore 40% of the MLAs to operating status. I wouldn't expect to get too much more than that at this point, about half were smashed in the crash and the rest were probably rendered useless due peripherial system damages..."
Vince sighs. At least we'll have something to defend ourselves with when the Covenant finally show up...
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Post by DeepFreeze on Dec 14, 2004 22:12:27 GMT -5
A young, pretty Petty Officer came over to Rowan's Warthog and eyed the ODST, who had his feet up on the dash, bopping away.
"Um, excuse me, Corporal?"
Rowan raised an eyebrow at her approach.
"General briefing in Deck Nine Conference Room Alpha in five."
The ODST sighed, ejected his music chip, and rolled out of the vehicle. He turned to the private in the passenger seat.
"If I'm not back in ten, get moving."
He double-checked to see if Lincoln was still in the holster at his hip, rolled up his day uniform's sleeves, stretched, and sulked off to Deck Nine.
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Post by Triyun on Dec 14, 2004 22:14:40 GMT -5
Unit 534 groaned as he finished the armour recharging and calibration drill. God damn this hibernation sickness he thought in the back of his eye. The crew members finishing his evaluation luckily couldn't see the utter anger in his eyes for it was quite intimidating.
In the control room over top the cryo stasis chamber a voice came on the loud speaker from a young naval officer.
"Captain Sanders once to see you in meeting room alpha Master Chief." he said.
'Sarge' looked up. "When?"
"Immediatly sir." the voice on the speaker responded.
He growned, he still had a bit of hibernation sickness, even though he was a cyborg he had some human in him. His stomach was not doing so well.
"Am I done here?" he asked the calibration team.
"Yes sir." the team leader said.
"Then I'll be on my way."
He began walking a calm pace in his green armour down the seemingly chaotic passage ways of the Marathon Class vessel to the meeting room.
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Post by DeepFreeze on Dec 14, 2004 22:33:43 GMT -5
Corporal Cho strode down the hallway, bobbing his head and muttering lyrics to himself. He stopped dead in his tracks as a Spartan clomped down the intersection in front of him and turned down the hall. He just stood there, nodding as the Spartan continued down the hall without noticing him. Then he continued dancing down the corridor to the briefing.
(This might be a little late, but "Ord Durzyacee" is not an Elite's name. More like Ord 'Durzyamee. All Elite "surnames" begin with a ' and end with "mee".)
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Post by Pkmatrix on Dec 14, 2004 22:46:07 GMT -5
His things gathered up, Vince is about to head back to the bridge when a soft voice flows from the Terminal's speakers.
"Warrant Officer Deimos?"
"Yes, Mir?" he asks, recognizing the voice.
"Captain Sanders has asked that you join him in Meeting Room Alpha."
"Wha...did he say why?" Vince inquires, a bit surprised and bit confused. Why would Sanders want to meet with him, now of all times? I doubt he's going to give me a promotion for restoring less than half of the MLAs...
"I do not know, but I am sure that he intends to tell you himself."
"Oh...okay," Deimos replies, somewhat dissapointed by the answer, "Thank you, Mir."
"You are welcome."
And with that, Vincent heads for Meeting Room Alpha.
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Post by DeepFreeze on Dec 14, 2004 22:51:48 GMT -5
Rowan took his place with some of the other similarly-tatooed members of ODST-9 that were aboard the Baltimore when it jumped. He stood in place, still bobbing his head and tapping his foot. His platoon and company commanders rolled their eyes at the same time.
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Post by Draco Starcloud on Dec 14, 2004 23:04:33 GMT -5
Meanwhile, atop a hill overlooking part of the covering operation, Echo Spartan-411 "Finch" sat watching the skies through the scope of his S2-AM. He had the weapon set for 8x; good for scanning an area while good enough to hit faraway target.
"What are we doing here?" asked one of the two marines that had been sent as bodygaurds for the Spartan. Simon, Salmon, Simone...Finch hadn't paid too much attention to learning their names.
"Ha. As if a Spartan really needs protecting." Finch said to himself.
Finch tuned out the rest of their conversation and kept looking into the sky. Nothing but birds, bugs, and something that looked suspiciously like a pair of briefs.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly.
He quelled those thoughts immedately. He recalled something Spartan-316 had mentioned to him back on Garrison. Something about a legislator named Murphy.
He continued his silent musing as he companions bickered until a tiny voice said something in his ear.
"This is Spartan-411. I copy. Roger that. I'll be there yesterday." Finch said.
He stood up and turned to his "bodyguards".
"I need to get back to the Baltimore. Garth..." he said.
"That's Griff, sir." one of the marines interuppted.
"Sorry. Griff, you'll stay here and keep watching the skies. Simon..." Finch continued.
"Simmons, sir." the other marine interuppted.
"Right. Simmons, you're going to back him up." Finch finished.
The two marines saluted and Finch handed his rifle over to Griff. He still had an M6D if he needed protection.
He hopped on the nearby ATV and zipped back to the ship.
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Post by Pkmatrix on Dec 14, 2004 23:30:29 GMT -5
Vincent casually strolls into Meeting Room Alpha, only to find himself awfully confused.
What the hell? Marines?
Sure enough, a bunch of Marines (based on their get-ups, he'd say ODST) were standing around. Vince grimaces slightly when he spots the Spartan. He never cared for them...especially after they nuked Côte d'Azur.
Deimos sighs, crosses his arms, and starts to wonder if maybe he'd walked into the wrong Meeting Room.
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Post by The Giant-Size Man Thing on Dec 15, 2004 12:12:56 GMT -5
"So what do you think the captain has up his sleeve?"
"Search me."
Carl and his co-pilot Lt. Dennis "Red Snake" Jordan stood in the middle of the elevator, making their way up to the meeting hall.
"Something tells me the captain has a plan, though," remarked Carl. "Otherwise we're toast."
"I hope you're right. Being the human cinder is not something I've always wanted to be," Dennis replied.
The lift door opened, and the two pilots exited. They step into the hallway and notice a variety of characters entering the hall. They enter the meeting room and take their seats. Dennisl leans over to Carl.
"Heh, I feel kind of out of place, you know. Helljumpers, Marines, and, hell, even Spartans. Something big is going down," whispers Dennis.
"He's got a plan," Carl calmly replies.
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Post by Ai on Dec 15, 2004 15:15:42 GMT -5
Glenn stood in his quarters. He stayed on the ship, rather than go out to clean. He saw no point in it.
He was practicing one of his katas as the message to meet the captain in the Alpha Room came in. Glenn stopped in mid motion, and sighed heavily. He put one of his pistols into his shoulder holster, and left the other in the room. He walked into the hall, looked both ways, and casually strolled to the meeting room. He approached the door, and stood outside of it for a few minutes, so he wouldn't be the first one there.
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Post by Mega Raptor on Dec 15, 2004 16:37:10 GMT -5
Lance Corporal Ryan Corwin was busy assisting the quartermasters examine the high-explosive munitions that had survived the crash. After an impact like that, it was very important to make sure the various shells, rockets, etc. were all accounted for and deemed as either safe or unsafe to use. Even though he wasn't part of the supply teams, he'd been called in to help because of his expertise in handling such munitions.
He was in the middle of examining a rocket when Mir's voice sounded in the room, "Lance Corporal Corwin, please report to Meeting Room Alpha. Captain Sanders wishes to speak with you."
"Okay, I'll be there in juuuuust a minute," he replied to the AI, taking a closer look at the inside of the propellant case of the rocket in the process, "Thought so..."
He stood up and dropped the rocket off with a nearby supply sergeant, "This one's no good. The propellant tank has a bit of a crack in it. If someone tried to fire it, well, they'd be going home in a matchbox."
The sergeant nodded and put the rocket with the others set to be scrapped and Ryan made his way to the meeting, absently wondering just what was going on that would have the Captain order Mir to summon him personally.
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Post by Naz T Mann on Dec 16, 2004 1:30:07 GMT -5
Darren sat up in the bed. His arm hurt like hell, but it still felt better than it did a few hours ago. He noticed his IV had been removed. No wonder why he felt so awake. A doctor came up to his bed.
"Good news and bad news." Darren didn't like the sound of that.
"Go ahead and give me the good news first."
"The good news is, your arm isn't broken."
"Then what's the bad news."
"The bad news is you've been called to report to Conference Room Alpha."
"Already. How did they even know I wasn't badly injured?"
"Well, I did put you back to healthy status on the rosters, and was actually about to give you orders to report to the cleanup. But Mir told me to have you report to the conference room instead."
"For a dumb AI, she sure is quick." Darren got up from the bed, and walked out of the make-shift infirmary. Someone had dropped his guns at the door, and he picked them up. He then headed for the conference room.
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