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Check, please. by Kellen Squire
|
Check, please.
Date: 9 April 2002, 5:21 am
UNUMC DEFENSE COMMAND CENTER
CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN
DECEMBER 16, 2552
0745 UNIVERSAL STANDARD TIME
The Secretary-General of the United Nations, Dr. Dan'el Jes™s Rodr'guez, stood and watched the personnel of the United Nations Unified Military Command scurry around him. Navy, Marine Corps, Aerospace Corps, Space Guard, and EarthGuard personnel of all ranks worked to coordinate what was likely to be humankind's last stand.
The tension in the air was nearly unbearable. Order was on the verge of crumbling entirely. But that was allowed, even for the men and women of the UMC Command Center, who, for almost thirty years of war, had remained calm while Earth's farflung colonies were eliminated, one by one. Now, though, the Covenant faced them personally.
SecGen Rodr'guez watched as one young man, an enlisted technician in the Space Guard, relieved himself from duty, unable to bear the tension any longer, the finality of what was about to happen. At least humanity will still prevail, Rodr'guez thought. They bypassed dozens of colony worlds- even Sanctuary. Sanctuary was the location of an orbital shipyard and a few million colonists, plus a signifcant amount of war material. Since Reach had fallen, it was being prepared to serve as a fallback point for the United Nations, so that in case Earth was taken out of the fight, humanity would still survive, would still be able to fight back.
But only four months had passed since Reach had fallen. Perhaps Sanctuary would be able to produce a few new cruisers before they, too, were destroyed. Maybe they'd send a ship of colonists into deep space, to eke out a new homeworld for humanity- thought Slipspace was notoriously hard to navigate without proper charts. Some would survive, somewhere.
Many in the room would no doubt disagree with the SecGen on that issue.
The UMC personnel continued to work. Some even stopped and spoke to Rodr'guez about various things that required his attention. One did so now. She strode up to him and stood silently by his side.
"Admiral." Admiral Roschael Diedrich, only thirty-five. The youngest woman to make Admiral in the history of the United Nations Space Command. Reknown for her tactical genius, SecGen Rodr'guez had recalled her to coordinate the defense of Earth just before Reach had been destroyed. And thank God for that...
"Secertary-General Rodr'guez. We've just lost contact with Ganymeade station... we believe it's only a matter of time now, sir." As if on cue, a red light began to flash. A holographic chart in the front of the room popped into view, showing cislunar space for a distance of approximately one light minute. A flashing pool of color was prevalent just beyond the moon.
A chime rang through the implants in SecGen Rodr'guez's head. Warning. Enemy ships exiting Slipspace in Sector 12.
"Have Task Force 3.1 prepare to engage the enemy." The SecGen snorted involuntarily, immediately recognizing that it had been the wrong thing to do. The noise level in the room dropped for a moment, and a few people looked at him incredulously. The SecGen felt his face flush- he hadn't been able to help himself. Task Force 3.1 consisted of three frigates, a destroyer, and a cruiser that were the remnants of the once mighty United Nations Navy. They remained in orbit as a pathetic attempt to live up to the term "rearguard action", and only because Rodr'guez knew the people of Earth would not stand for his deploying them somewhere more militarily useful. It was of no consequence, anyway. Only one of the ships, the frigate Sally Ride, was a modern design. The rest of the ships predated the war- the cruiser had taken part in putting down the rebel insurrection in the Eridanus system.
However, aside from a few gunboats and system patrol craft left at the few remaining human colonies, they were the last free UNSC vessels, anywhere.
"How many Covenant are we talking about here, Admiral?" Rodr'guez asked. "One, ten, fifty, a hundred?" Admiral Diedrich paused for a moment, as information was downloaded into her implant.
"There appears to be two formations of Covenant, sir. One is heading for the moon. It appears to consist of somewhere around sixty Capital-class ships. The other formation is heading straight for Earth, sir. We estimate there is somewhere around five hundred ships in that formation. There also appears to be a number of heavy troopships in both formations."
Why don't they just annihilate us, like they did to so many of our colonies?, SecGen Rodr'guez thought. Do they want to make sure we're all dead? No... more likely that they want to assimilate us, to make us serve them...
"Ma'am," a technician called out, "Luna Station reports they're engaging the enemy." SecGen Rodr'guez reguarded Admiral Diedrich carefully before speaking.
"If we can get through the jamming, wish Luna Station luck, and have them target the heavy troopships as a first priority." Admiral Diedrich nodded to a communications tech standing near her who was tasked with waiting for orders like the SecGen had just given, and the tech scurried off to do his job.
"Furthermore," Rodr'guez continued, "relay the same orders to Task Force 3.1, and tell them to cause as much damage as they can. Instruct them to let their AIs do the bulk of the fighting for as long as possible." This tactic had been pioneered at the Battle of Reach by Captain Jacob Keyes, the commander of the cruiser Pilliar of Autumn, which had fled from Reach at a random vector, and hadn't been heard from since.
Admiral Diedrich nodded at the SecGen. "The enemy should be in range in about five minutes, sir. If you'll pardon me?" Rodr'guez nodded and Admiral Diedrich saluted him, turned sharply on her heel, and walked towards the holographic battle board.
"Now comes the hard part." Rodr'guez sat down at a spare desk and focussed his attention on the battle board. Several minutes passed before Admiral Diedrich began to snap orders out at a furious speed.
Task Force 3.1 has engaged the enemy, the implant in the SecGen's mind subvocalized.
The SecGen watched as Admiral Diedrich did what she did best. Under her organization, the human defenses began to chip away as the mass of ugly red blips representing the Covenant invasion fleet.
Far too soon, the first bad news came in. "Contact lost with Luna Station," a tech called. Which didn't mean that it had been destroyed- indeed, the defenses at Luna Station continued to fire for another full minute before ceasing entirely. SecGen Rodr'guez tounged his implant for a time check- only six minutes since they'd begun firing, Luna Station had been destroyed.
Makes sense, the SecGen thought, it'd only take a few minutes to destroy them, even without nukes. Luckily... unluckily?... we don't have that concern.
The news didn't get any better- it went from bad to worse. Admiral Diedrich hurried back up to the SecGen, dispensing with all military formalities.
"Task Force 3.1's missiles are fully expended, and their MAC cannons are beginning to overheat," she began. "The Sally Ride and Thermopylae have both taken serious damage and are preparing to abandon ship. Marathon is about to-" A blue dot flashed and then disappeared from the holographic battle board- "has been completely destroyed. The Monument to Peace and the Formidable Opponent have sustained some damage, but not enough to hinder their capablities significantly."
Rodr'guez turned to look at the board again. The blue blips representing the four remaining warships of Task Force 3.1 were pitifully few compared to the angry red smear of Covenant craft bearing down on Earth. Yellow dots and trails criss-crossed the screen. They represented the Archer missiles and MAC rounds of the human fleet, and the plasma weapons favored by the Covenant, flicked between the two fleets, mostly converging on the crippled UNSC ships. As Rodr'guez watched, two of the red dots flickered and vanished. A moment later, one of the blue dots erupted in an explosion of blue specks, moments before a like number of yellow specks converged on it. When they did, the blue blip representing the human ship winked into nothingness.
"That was Thermopylae. They jettisoned escape pods- but it doesn't look like many... I'm sorry, sir, they're just not doing enough damage up there. They're doing all they can."
"I understand that, Admiral Diedrich. That's all we could ever ask of them. God rest their souls." The Admiral hesitated- the SecGen continued speaking. "You didn't do anything wrong, Admiral. There's no tactics that can get us out of this one. I'm sorry." By the look of it, Admiral Diedrich didn't like that statement- but, Rodr'guez was sure, she didn't like the fact it was true much more than the statement itself.
"Go ahead and have the remaining ships fall back on Earth, Admiral. They'll last longer with the defense platforms at their back." So a few more Covenant will die, and some sailors will have a few more minutes of life.
Rodr'guez waved Deidrich away, letting her return to her own duties of directing the remaining planetary defenses. Rodr'guez watched the three remaining human warships retreat back towards Earth. One didn't make it- the Formidable Opponent took a plasma barrage midships and dissapeared from the battle board. The SecGen winced. No escape pods had made it off. The two remaining human warships, a cruiser and a frigate, made it safely within the protective umbrella of the defense platforms stationed around Earth.
"Sir," Admiral Diedrich called from across the room, "the Covenant fleet is almost in range of the defense platforms."
"Fire when they get in range. Take as many of them down as you can."
"Aye, aye, sir." A thin-lipped smile crossed Admiral Diedrich's lips. Finally, the chance to hit the Covenant with something they wouldn't be expecting, or be prepared for. Earth didn't have any orbital MAC guns, like Reach had had. There hadn't been the resources to fortify both Reach and Earth.
"In range- firing." No, there weren't any MAC guns in orbit. But anyone on the surface of the Earth who had happened to look up moments before would have seen dozens of retina-burning flashes in the sky, caused by the thermonuclear explosions of orbital gamma-ray lasers, which sleeted into the Covenant invasion fleet. Rodr'guez watched as a mass of red dots, perhaps fifty in all, flashed vividly on the battle board. Most dissapeared; a few remained, but continued to flash, indicating heavy damage.
It was another twenty minutes before the Covenant fleet could regroup effectively. The remaining gamma-ray lasers didn't slow the Covenant down this time- but they took out another twenty ships before being destroyed fifteen minutes after the Covenant regrouped. And it was only ten minutes after that before the UNSC Sally Ride took a direct hit in her fusion reactor and dissapeared from the battle board.
The last warship of Task Force 3.1- the last human warship, anywhere- was gone. * * * * * * * * * * *
Rodr'guez climbed the seemingly endless flight of stairs leading to the entrance of the Command Center. When the United Nations had taken control of the Cheyenne Mountain center, from what was now the United States of North America, they had spent billions of commarks strengthening it, digging deeper into the mountain, until the center was declared totally impregnable, even by repeated direct hits with thermonuclear weapons. This, of course, made the task of getting out quite a chore, since the lifts had been disabled when the fighting had begun.
A few members of the SecGen's security cadre followed him up the stairs, along with a number of personnel from the Command Center. When he'd announced his intention to watch the final stages of the battle from the surface, a few of the personnel had volunteered to follow him. Rodr'guez looked around. Most were enlisted, but no branch of the service seemed to be represented more than any other. Navy, Marine Corps, Space Guard, Aerospace Corps, Space Guard, EarthGuard, even a young man in a Reach Planetary Defense Corps uniform, who, by the Grace of God, had made it off of Reach before it had been destroyed. But it had only delayed the inevitable.
The SecGen stopped climbing stairs. "I'll give you one chance to go back. I won't turn around. I'll never know. There is no shame in doing so."
Silence prevailed. Nobody moved. After a moment, Rodr'guez shrugged inwardly and continued the trek up the stairs. Before long, he reached a landing, where he had to pass through five sets of titanium-III battle-plated doors, the corridors between them preventing a chemical agent from entering the complex, or from letting the hell of plasma fire reach the command center that was buried within the mountain.
As he passed through a sixth doorway, he entered a narrow permacrete hallway, recessed into the side of the mountain. The air was thin, the corridor dark.
But he was outside.
Within a minute, he was in the clear. It was completely dark outside; all power plants on the planet, except for vital defense needs, had been completely shut down, producing a planet-wide blackout. The stars were brilliant in the sky. A few were clearly artificial. The only sound was that of the wind blowing gently through the mountains.
Secretary-General Dr. Dan'el Jes™s Rodr'guez, the 132nd Secretary-General of the United Nations, one-time surgeon turned diplomat, looked upwards.
Watching.
Waiting.
Pinpoints of lights began to appear in the sky; first, one here and there, but before long, dozens, hundreds filled the sky.
Dropships.
Check Please, Part II- Teaser
Date: 15 August 2002, 5:25 pm
DEEP INTERGALACTIC SPACE
SEPTEMBER 1, 2552
1733 UNIVERSAL STANDARD TIME
Among the darkness, something moved.
It was slow, travelling merely a fraction of the speed of light. Already painted black, it was almost entirely lost amongst the darkness.
But for one, glowing portal, through which light shone brightly.
"Chief?" A moment's pause.
"Yes, Cortana?"
"We are now safely outside the system's gravity well... we can make the jump into slipspace whenever you're ready."
"The engines won't overheat?"
"No... well, at least not in the time it'll take us to accellerate to jumpspeed."
"How long will it take us to get there?"
Cortana was silent.
"Cortana?" No response. "Cortana!"
"It'll take us a little over three months to get there, Chief... these fighters weren't built for long-range intergalactic travel, you're lucky that they even put Slipspace engines in these fighters! Otherwise, it'd be you, me, and hard vaccum cruising for a long, long time.
"There are some emergency rations on board, in the crew survival packs... and there's plenty of water from the emergency maneuvering jets and fuel cells. But... but I don't think you'll be able to make it the whole three months it will take us to get to Sanctuary."
Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, United Nations Space Command, saw, for the first time in his entire life, his mortality. He'd never thought of it before. Never contemplated it before a mission- the only outcome a mission could have was success.
But now he saw it, clear as day.
And he wasn't afraid.
Without another word, he tapped a button on the console in front of him. The Broadsword fighter responded immediately, engines powering up to full, their velocity increasing until it was an appreciable fraction of the speed of light- and then, blackness, once again, only this time the glimmer of nearby stars was gone.
Complete nothingness.
The Master Chief was on his way.
But I Don't Want To Go On The Cart!
Date: 29 May 2004, 1:38 AM
ALPHANUMERIC ONLY. 2D ONLY. ON SCREEN.
LOGGING ONTO FILE.UNSC.MILNET
WHAT ARE YOU SEARCHING FOR?
THAT FILE DOES NOT EXIST ON THIS SYSTEM. YOUR SEARCH HAS BEEN AUTOMATICALLY RECORDED, ALONG WITH
YOUR UNSC.MILNET IDENTIFICATION INFORMATION.
WHAT ARE YOU SEARCHING FOR?
SYNTAX ERROR - ABORT, RETRY, FAIL?
PLEASE WAIT...
WHAT ARE YOU SEARCHING FOR?
PROCESSING.
SECURITY CLEARANCE - LEVEL i
GRANTED
WHAT ARE YOU SEARCHING FOR?
PROCESSING
WARNING - MAJESTIC LEVEL SECURITY CLEARANCE
UNMILJCOS EYES ONLY
YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO ENTER THE CORRECT PASSWORD.
CLEARANCE GRANTED.
THIS DOCUMENT IS CLEARED FOR:
Secretary General Dan'el Jesús Corazon Rodr'guez
Grand Marshall Rainer Wind Chaser, CJCOS
Admiral Roschael Diedrich, UNSC
General Johnathan MacTyler, UNAF
Director Arkady Stepanovich, EarthGuard
Director Xu Xu Liu, Terran Intelligence Agency
ORDER 52 - DEFENSE OF THE EARTH IN CASE OF MASSIVE ENEMY ATTACK
1. MARTIAL LAW IN EFFECT; UNRESTRICTED CONSCRIPTING OF CIVILIANS CLASS 1A TO 1F INTO MILITARY SERVICE IN EFFECT.
2. ALL MILITARY UNITS ARE CLEARED FOR RULES OF ENGAGEMENT LEVEL SIX- UNRESTRICTED WARFARE
REGARDLESS OF ALL CIVILIAN SITUATIONS.
3. ALL OFF-DUTY MILITARY PERSONNEL WILL IMMEDIATELY RETURN TO THE NEAREST MILITARY BASE.
4. OVERALL COMMAND OF UN MILITARY WILL PASS TO MILITARY LEADER APPOINTED BY SECRETARY GENERAL.
5. UN HEADQUARTERS AT GENEVA MUST BE DEFENDED AT ALL COSTS. UN SENATORS AND COMMAND CABINENT ARE
TO BE EVACUATED TO DESIGNATED SAFE ZONES AND SHELTERS.
6. ALL WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION ARE TO BE PUT UNDER THE TACTICAL COMMAND OF THE CJCOS.
7. ALL ESSENTIAL FILES IN EVEN REMOTE DANGER OF CAPTURE MUST BE DESTROYED.
8. ENEMY FORCES MUST BE REPELLED AT ALL COSTS.
* * * * * * * * * * *
DEEP INTERGALACTIC SPACE
SEPTEMBER 1, 2552
1733 UNIVERSAL STANDARD TIME
Among the darkness, something moved.
It was slow, traveling merely a fraction of the speed of light. Already painted black, it was almost entirely lost amongst the darkness.
But for one, glowing portal, through which light shone brightly.
"Chief?" A moment's pause.
"Yes, Cortana?"
"We are now safely outside the system's gravity well... we can make the jump into slipspace whenever you're ready."
"The engines won't overheat?"
"No... well, at least not in the time it'll take us to accelerate to jump speed."
"How long will it take us to get there?"
Cortana was silent.
"Cortana?" No response. "Cortana!"
"It'll take us a little over ten weeks to get there, Chief... these fighters weren't built for long-range intergalactic travel, you're lucky that they even put Slipspace engines in these fighters! Otherwise, it'd be you, me, and hard vacuum cruising for a long, long time.
"There are some emergency rations on board, in the crew survival packs... and there's plenty of water from the emergency maneuvering jets and fuel cells. But... but I don't think you'll be able to make it the whole three months it'll take us to get to Sanctuary."
Master Chief Petty Officer John-117, United Nations Space Command, saw, for the first time in his entire life, his mortality. He'd never thought of it before. Never contemplated it before a mission- the only outcome a mission could have was success.
But now he saw it, clear as day.
And he wasn't afraid.
Without another word, he tapped a button on the console in front of him. The Longsword fighter responded immediately, engines powering up to full, their velocity increasing until it was an appreciable fraction of the speed of light- and then, blackness, once again, only this time the glimmer of nearby stars was gone.
Complete nothingness.
The Master Chief was on his way.
* * * * * * * * * * *
SECRECT UNSC FLEET REDOUBT "SANCTUARY"
SEPTEMBER 10, 2552
1242 UNIVERSAL STANDARD TIME
The orbiting shipyards at Sanctuary were among the most impressive spaceborne objects ever built by mankind. Although smaller than the orbital shipyards at Reach or Mars, and less glamorous than the glittering domes hovering above Caltech, the shipyards hovering above Sanctuary were impressive because they, perhaps, held the key to mankind's salvation.
Sanctuary itself was impressive, too. It was the most Earth-like planet ever found in the galaxy. It's gravity pull was .999 that of Earth's, it was nearly the same diameter of Earth, it was 1.0 AUs out from it's bright, yellow sun, and it had an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere almost exactly like Earth's. It had an asteroid belt further out in it's star system, too, which provided the shipyards an unending supply of minerals with which to build new ships to fight the Covenant.
But all good things come with a price. Due to navigational hazards in deep space, and a nebulae of dust surrounding Sanctuary's solar system, it was extremely difficult to reach. In fact, the survey ship UNSC Icarus stumbled apon it by a fluke in a dysfunctional Slipspace navigational computer. The Icarus made the required series of Slipspace jumps to reach Sanctuary completely at random, which was later calculated to have been almost an infinitely improbable occurence.
So it was here that humanity located it's last redoubt. And it was here that, a few short weeks after the fall of Reach, that the Secretary-General of the United Nations paid a visit, to see the progress on what would, perhaps, be the key to humanity's salvation.
"Here she is, sir." The SecGen couldn't help but gape, even though he'd seen pictures and had reviewed specifications for the ship before. They didn't do the actual sight any justice.
"The UNSC Savior, sir. Two thousand meters long, armed to the teeth with SIX multi-fire MAC cannons, a hundred and fourty four reloadable Archer missile pods, hundreds of automated and crew-served autocannon, and enough anti-matter Shiva missiles to level a planet. Her armor is meters thick and layered, sir, in an alloy of titanium-III, iridum, and floroborocarbon, and weaved with the new anti-plasma cooling systems."
"But what about the special additions?"
"Don't worry, sir, I'm not done yet. We've got four of the modified Covenant plasma batteries almost ready to go online and be tested, and we're confident we'll get the shields online and working before the ship becomes fully operational."
"When will it be done?"
"In approximately six months, sir." This was definitely not what Rodr'guez had wanted to hear. The last time he'd talked to the Sanctuary engineer in charge of the Savior project, that's what he'd been told.
"I disagree." The SecGen turned around, to face a man wearing a UNSC uniform with Captain's epaulets on his shoulder. "I say we're ready to go out now."
This evoked a huge cry from the assembled crowd of engineers, each one spouting off exactly why that was such a horrible idea. Through it all, Rodr'guez could make out the Captain, yelling "We've got weapons, we've got propulsion, and we've got an AI!"
Rodr'guez raised his hand for quiet. "Please, everyone, calm down. One at a time."
"Sir," the lead engineer began, looking Rodr'guez plaintively in the eyes, "When your predecessor ordered this project to be started, we identified over three million scientific milestones we had to pass to make this ship possible. We've accomplished almost three-quarters of those milestones, sir, and a helluva lot of them weren't easy to accomplish. Reverse engineering Covenant technology isn't simple- it's like giving a holographic display projector to Leonardo DiVinci and trying to tell him to make another one.
"Not to mention our own stuff! We had to re-engineer the MAC guns to sustain multiple three-round bursts! Do you know how much kinetic energy a MAC round expends when it's fired? You don't want the barrels turning into slag or exploding, do you? Or how about how we've had to interweave the cooling system into the armor WITHOUT compromising it's integrity? And that's hardly all- we've got the top scientists and engineers from the Hans Morec AI Institute and the Navy's AICI program working 20-hour days retooling the shipboard AIs to be more self-aware and adaptive, like the experimental ones Dr. Halsey was working on, but we're nowhere near close enough!
"Now, you can take the Savior out now, and it might kill quite a few Covenant ships, sir- but then what? Then, we've got nothing, and we've got to start from scratch. Again." And everyone present knew that was unacceptable.
Humanity was running out of time.
"Si. You're right," The SecGen said, his voice colored with resignation. "Keep working, as hard as you can. That's all we can do."
"Yessir." The engineer nodded, but the SecGen wasn't done.
"Because," Rodr'guez continued, "this ship will go into all-out combat on it's shakedown cruise. It and it's sister are going to join what's left of the Fleet, blindside the Covenant invasion armada that's looking for Earth, and will drive the Covenant out of human space, roll them back to their own territory, and end this war once and for all!"
It took the SecGen a moment to realize what had just happened. The last part of his impromptu speech had risen in volume until it was near shouting, and his hand had thrust up into the air on the word "all," as if to fully emphasis his point.
It had taken everyone aback, and for a moment no one reacted. No one was quite sure *how* to react.
Finally, a junior engineer, near exhaustion from having worked sixty-five hours in the last seventy-two, had the presence of mind to scream "YEAH!" at the top of her lungs, and, moments later, everyone joined her.
"Yessir, Mr. Secretary-General! She'll be ready! I promise! Yes sir!
Check, Please- Reissue
Date: 7 June 2004, 1:40 AM
UNUMC DEFENSE COMMAND CENTER
CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN
DECEMBER 16, 2552
0745 UNIVERSAL STANDARD TIME
The Secretary-General of the United Nations, Dr. Daniel Jesus Rodriguez, stood and watched the
personnel of the United Nations Unified Military Command scurry around him. Navy, Marine Corps,
Aerospace Corps, Space Guard, and EarthGuard personnel of all ranks worked to coordinate what
was likely to be humankind's last stand.
The tension in the air was nearly unbearable. Order was on the verge of crumbling entirely. But
that was allowed, even for the men and women of the UMC Command Center, who, for almost thirty
years of war, had remained calm while Earth's farflung colonies were eliminated, one by one.
But the Covenant now faced them personally, on their home planet.
SecGen Rodriguez watched as one young man, an enlisted technician in the Space Guard, relieved
himself from duty, unable to bear the tension any longer, unable to accept the finality of what was about to
occur. At least humanity will still prevail, Rodriguez thought. The Covenant bypassed dozens
of colony worlds- even Sanctuary. Sanctuary was the location of an orbital shipyard and a
few million colonists, plus a signifcant amount of war material. Since Reach had fallen, it was
being prepared to serve as a fallback point for the United Nations, so that in case Earth was
taken out of the fight, humanity would still survive, would still be able to fight back.
But only four months had passed since Reach had fallen. Perhaps Sanctuary would be able to
produce a few new cruisers before they, too, were destroyed. Maybe they'd send a ship of
colonists into deep space, to eke out a new homeworld for humanity- thought Slipspace was
notoriously hard to navigate without proper charts. Some would survive, somewhere.
Many in the room would no doubt disagree with the SecGen on that issue.
The UMC personnel continued to work. Some even stopped and spoke to Rodriguez about various
things that required his attention. One did so now. She strode up to him and stood silently by
his side.
"Admiral." Admiral Roschael Diedrich, only thirty-five. The youngest woman to make Admiral in
the history of the United Nations Space Command. Reknown for her tactical genius, SecGen
Rodriguez had recalled her to coordinate the defense of Earth just before Reach had been
destroyed. And thank God for that...
"Secertary-General Rodriguez. We've just lost contact with Ganymeade station... we believe it's
only a matter of time now, sir." As if on cue, a red light began to flash. A holographic chart
in the front of the room popped into view, showing cislunar space for a distance of
approximately one light minute. A flashing pool of color was prevalent just beyond the moon.
A chime rang through the implants in SecGen Rodriguez's head. Warning. Enemy ships exiting
Slipspace in Sector 12.
"Have Task Force 3.1 prepare to engage the enemy." The SecGen snorted involuntarily, immediately
recognizing that it had been the wrong thing to do. The noise level in the room dropped for a
moment, and a few people looked at him incredulously. The SecGen felt his face flush- he hadn't
been able to help himself. Task Force 3.1 consisted of three frigates, a destroyer, and a
cruiser that were the remnants of the once mighty United Nations Navy. They remained in orbit as
a pathetic attempt to live up to the term "rearguard action", and only because Rodriguez knew
the people of Earth would not stand for his deploying them somewhere more militarily useful. It
was of no consequence, anyway. Only one of the ships, the frigate Sally Ride, was a
modern design. The rest of the ships predated the war- the cruiser had taken part in putting
down the rebel insurrection in the Eridanus system.
However, aside from a few gunboats and system patrol craft left at the few remaining human
colonies, they were the last free UNSC vessels, anywhere.
"How many Covenant are we talking about here, Admiral?" Rodriguez asked. "One, ten, fifty, a
hundred?" Admiral Diedrich paused for a moment, as information was downloaded into her implant.
"There appears to be two formations of Covenant, sir. One is heading for the moon. It appears to
consist of approximately sixty Capital-class ships. The other formation is heading straight
for Earth, sir. We estimate there is somewhere around five hundred ships in that formation, though
with that many ships in such close quarters, it's hard for even our AIs to get an accurate count."
Admiral Diedrich hesitated briefly. "There appears to be a number of heavy troopships in both
formations."
Why don't they just annihilate us, like they did to so many of our colonies?, Rodriguez
thought. Do they want to make sure we're all dead? No... more likely that they want to assimilate us,
to make us serve them...
"Ma'am," a technician called out, "Luna Station reports they're engaging the enemy." SecGen
Rodriguez reguarded Admiral Diedrich carefully before speaking.
"If we can get through the jamming, wish Luna Station luck, and have them target the heavy
troopships as a first priority." Admiral Diedrich nodded to a communications tech standing near
her who was tasked with waiting for orders like the SecGen had just given, and the tech
scurried off to do his job.
"Furthermore," Rodriguez continued, "relay the same orders to Task Force 3.1, and tell them to
cause as much damage as they can. Instruct them to let their AIs do the bulk of the fighting for
as long as possible." This tactic had been pioneered at the Battle of Reach by Captain Jacob
Keyes, the commander of the cruiser Pilliar of Autumn, which had fled from Reach at a
random vector, and hadn't been heard from since.
Admiral Diedrich nodded at the SecGen. "The enemy should be in range in about five minutes,
sir. If you'll pardon me?" Rodriguez nodded and Admiral Diedrich saluted him, turned sharply on
her heel, and walked towards the holographic battle board.
"Now comes the hard part." Rodriguez sat down at a spare desk and focussed his attention on the
battle board. Several minutes passed before Admiral Diedrich began to snap orders out at a
furious speed.
Task Force 3.1 has engaged the enemy, the implant in the SecGen's mind subvocalized.
The SecGen watched as Admiral Diedrich did what she did best. Under her organization, the human
defenses began to chip away as the mass of ugly red blips representing the Covenant invasion
fleet.
Far too soon, the first bad news came in. "Contact lost with Luna Station," a tech called. Which
didn't mean that it had been destroyed- indeed, the defenses at Luna Station continued to fire
for another full minute before ceasing entirely. SecGen Rodriguez tounged his implant for a
time check- only six minutes since they'd begun firing, Luna Station had been destroyed.
Makes sense, the SecGen thought, it'd only take a few minutes to destroy them, even
without nukes. Luckily... unluckily?... we don't have that concern.
The news didn't get any better- it went from bad to worse. Admiral Diedrich hurried back up to
the SecGen, dispensing with all military formalities.
"Task Force 3.1's missiles are fully expended, and their MAC cannons are beginning to overheat,"
she began. "The Sally Ride and Thermopylae have both taken serious damage and are
preparing to abandon ship. Marathon is about to-" A blue dot flashed and then disappeared
from the holographic battle board- "has been completely destroyed. The Monument to Peace
and the Formidable Opponent have sustained some damage, but not enough to hinder their
capablities significantly."
Rodriguez turned to look at the board again. The blue blips representing the four remaining
warships of Task Force 3.1 were pitifully few compared to the angry red smear of Covenant craft
bearing down on Earth. Yellow dots and trails criss-crossed the screen. They represented the
Archer missiles and MAC rounds of the human fleet, and the plasma weapons favored by the
Covenant, flicked between the two fleets, mostly converging on the crippled UNSC ships. As
Rodriguez watched, two of the red dots flickered and vanished. A moment later, one of the blue
dots erupted in an explosion of blue specks, moments before a like number of yellow specks
converged on it. When they did, the blue blip representing the human ship winked into
nothingness.
"That was Thermopylae. They jettisoned escape pods- but it doesn't look like many... I'm
sorry, sir, they're just not doing enough damage up there. They're doing all they can."
"I understand that, Admiral Diedrich. That's all we could ever ask of them. God rest their
souls." The Admiral hesitated- the SecGen continued speaking. "You didn't do anything wrong,
Admiral. There're no tactics that can get us out of this one. I'm sorry." By the look of it,
Admiral Diedrich didn't like that statement- but, Rodriguez was sure, she didn't like the fact
it was true much more than the statement itself.
"Go ahead and have the remaining ships fall back on Earth, Admiral. They'll last longer with the
defense platforms at their back." So a few more Covenant will die, and some sailors will have
a few more minutes of life.
Rodriguez waved Deidrich away, letting her return to her own duties of directing the remaining
planetary defenses. Rodriguez watched the three remaining human warships retreat back towards
Earth. One didn't make it- the Formidable Opponent took a plasma barrage midships and
dissapeared from the battle board. The SecGen winced. No escape pods had made it off. The two
remaining human warships, a cruiser and a frigate, made it safely within the protective umbrella
of the defense platforms stationed around Earth.
"Sir," Admiral Diedrich called from across the room, "the Covenant fleet is almost in range of
the defense platforms."
"Fire when they get in range. Take as many of them down as you can."
"Aye, aye, sir." A thin-lipped smile crossed Admiral Diedrich's lips. Finally, the chance to
hit the Covenant with something they wouldn't be expecting, or be prepared for. Earth didn't
have any orbital MAC guns, like Reach had had. There hadn't been the resources to fortify both
Reach and Earth.
"In range- firing." No, there weren't any MAC guns in orbit. But anyone on the surface of the
Earth who had happened to look up moments before would have seen dozens of retina-burning
flashes in the sky, caused by the thermonuclear explosions of orbital gamma-ray lasers, which
sleeted into the Covenant invasion fleet. Rodriguez watched as a mass of red dots, perhaps fifty
in all, flashed vividly on the battle board. Most dissapeared; a few remained, but continued to
flash, indicating heavy damage.
It was another twenty minutes before the Covenant fleet could regroup effectively. The remaining
gamma-ray lasers didn't slow the Covenant down this time- but they took out another twenty
ships before being destroyed fifteen minutes after the Covenant regrouped. And it was only ten
minutes after that before the UNSC Sally Ride took a direct hit in her fusion reactor and
dissapeared from the battle board.
The last warship of Task Force 3.1- the last real human warship, anywhere- was gone.
* * * * * * * * * * *
"Sir! They just folded in- inside our formation!"
"Son, I need you to calm down..."
"...additional contacts... moving to engage-"
"...get your picket back to rally point Alpha!"
"Admiral, you can't let them maintain orbit!"
"I'm trying, General, but we've lost advantage within the lunar perimeter! My frigates are combat
ineffective, and the fighters... they don't have enough punch to take out a Covenant assault carrier!"
"Your pilots let up, and down here its the goddamned apocalypse!"
"I'm asking you to retarget the orbitals!"
"And let more of them slip the kill zone? That's insanity! There's nothing more I can do!"
"The core defense is too intense. Our grid is maxed, I don't think we can last another run!"
"Admiral, tell your men to hold their positions. Reinforcements are on the spoke."
"The entire fleet is engaged, Cortana. With respect, what the hell sort of reinforcement have you got?"
"It's passing below your position ma'am. proximity zero."
"What if you miss...?"
"I wont."
* * * * * * * * * * *
Rodriguez climbed the seemingly endless flight of stairs leading to the entrance of the Command
Center. When the United Nations had taken control of the Cheyenne Mountain center, from what was
now the United States of North America, they had spent billions of commarks strengthening it,
digging deeper into the mountain, until the center was declared totally impregnable, even by
repeated direct hits with thermonuclear weapons. This, of course, made the task of getting out
quite a chore, since the lifts had been disabled when the fighting had begun.
A few members of the SecGen's security cadre followed him up the stairs, along with a number of
personnel from the Command Center. When he'd announced his intention to watch the final stages
of the battle from the surface, a few of the personnel had volunteered to follow him. Rodriguez
looked around. Most were enlisted, but no branch of the service seemed to be represented more
than any other. Navy, Marine Corps, Aerospace Corps, Space Guard, EarthGuard, even a young man
in a Reach Planetary Defense Corps uniform, who, by the Grace of God, had made it off of Reach
before it had been destroyed. But, it seemed, he had only delayed the inevitable.
The SecGen stopped climbing stairs. "I'll give you one chance to go back. I won't turn around.
I'll never know. There is no shame in doing so."
Silence prevailed. Nobody moved. After a moment, Rodriguez shrugged inwardly and continued the
trek up the stairs. Before long, he reached a landing, where he had to pass through five sets
of titanium-III battle-plated doors, the corridors between them airtight and perpendicular to
prevent a chemical agent from entering the complex, or from letting the hell of plasma fire
reach the command center that was buried within the mountain.
As he passed through a sixth doorway, he entered a narrow permacrete hallway, recessed into the
side of the mountain. The air was thin, the corridor dark.
But, finally, he was outside.
Within a minute, Rodriguez was in the clear. It was completely dark outside; all power plants on the
planet, except for vital defense needs, had been completely shut down, producing a planet-wide
blackout. The stars were brilliant in the sky. A few were clearly artificial. The only sound was
that of the wind blowing gently through the mountains.
Secretary-General Dr. Daniel Jesus Rodriguez, the 132nd Secretary-General of the United Nations,
one-time surgeon turned diplomat, looked upwards.
Watching.
Waiting.
Pinpoints of lights began to appear in the sky; first, one here and there, but before long,
dozens, hundreds filled the sky.
Dropships.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Far above the planet, an armored figure dove through the endless night.
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