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Operation: Vanguard
Posted By: Sean Mortensen<spartan-257@hotmail.com>
Date: 21 April 2007, 1:48 am
Read/Post Comments
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SECTION 1: Ackerson
Chapter One
0430 Hours, September 12, 2520 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Destroyer Unity, twenty years earlier
Colonel James Ackerson stared out the main view port, and ran his weathered hand through his graying hair. Then, he straightened his slightly wrinkled uniform jacket, and made sure his collar was perfectly aligned with the jacket's. After fighting with the collar for a minute, he just left it alone.
He sighed, as the man standing beside him, Captain Francis Miller, pointed to the main holographic display, which showed their relative position, and the positions of several more vessels in the fleet.
"I don't understand Colonel," Miller said, as Ackerson turned towards him and scowled.
"Captain," Ackerson said. "You don't need to understand, because your job is to take orders and carry them out." He turned towards the captain and looked at him. If looks could kill…
"Do I make myself clear?"
Miller nodded, and turned to consult the display when a technician turned in his chair and looked at Ackerson.
"Sir," the tech said. "I've got something on the deep radar."
Ackerson stepped towards the console and looked at the readouts. The monitor displayed a jumble of graphs, bars and continually moving numbers, which Ackerson couldn't understand.
"What is it?" he asked, and the technician pointed to a continually warping bar.
"This sir," the tech answered. "Is a metallic radar signature."
Ackerson nodded, "I see."
"But," the tech went on. "That isn't what's curious."
The man pointed to the same bar and then turned to look at Ackerson.
"This also is giving off a solid stone signature. Carbon dating is inconclusive, but whatever it is, it is old."
Ackerson nodded, and Miller looked at him, waiting.
"How old?" Ackerson asked.
The technician looked at the monitor, and waited until a estimate appeared on the screen.
"The Unity's deep radar estimates that it is at least one-hundred thousand years old, maybe older."
Ackerson nodded and walked over to the captain, who was patiently waiting.
"Captain," he ordered. "Get one of the Pelicans prepped for departure, and have my squad meet me in the hangar in fifteen minutes."
Miller nodded and began issuing orders as the colonel turned around and walked out of the bridge.
Ackerson stepped out of the lift, and into the cavernous hangar where a team of mechanics were removing fuel lines from the nearest Pelican, a modified turret less Warthog dangling from it. He stopped in front of a squadron of ODSTs, who snapped to attention.
"Men," Ackerson said, addressing them. "We have a mission."
He pointed a stylus at a wall-mounted view screen, as the planet came into view.
"This is Scorpio Major," he went on. "The Unity's deep-radar uncovered this:"
The screen shifted to show a three-dimensional vector drawing of a towering structure.
"With the help of radar dating," he continued. "This structure is believed to be more that one-hundred thousand years old."
The squad looked at him as he turned to their leader, Marvin Mobuto.
"Staff Sergeant," he said. "Are you ready to carry out these orders?"
The sergeant snapped to attention, and saluted.
"Sir, yes sir!"
Ackerson nodded, and smiled as the Helljumpers picked up their gear and climbed into the troop bay of the waiting Pelican.
Ackerson climbed into the back of the Pelican, following behind the marines as Mobuto looked at him, and handed him a headset and a pair of combat boots.
"For you, sir!" the sergeant shouted over the roar of the transport's engines.
He took the headset and slipped it over his head, adjusting the boom mike just below his chin, then he took off his light-duty deck shoes, and pulled on the heavy boots.
The marines grabbed assault rifles, submachine guns, grenades and ammo for their weapons and secured them in-between their individual jump seats, as Ackerson grabbed a MA2B, and inserted a magazine into the receiver with a click.
He smiled as the others looked around, just as the pilot turned around and looked at him, shouting over the howling engines.
"Ready when you are, Colonel."
Ackerson gave the pilot a thumbs-up, and the pilot turned back around in his seat and the transport leapt upward on a shaft of blue-white light.
The Pelican rose off of the hangar's floor, it's thrusters in full overload, and headed towards the ceiling, as the massive blast doors above cycled open, revealing the infinite black of space and the multicolored hues of stars beyond, before disappearing out of the Unity's hangar, and into space.
Ackerson watched as the soldiers secured their combat helmets, sheathed close-combat knives, and began writing their blood type on a roll of tape, before attaching the strip of tape to the soles of their shoes. Then one of the soldiers handed him the tape and a black marker, smiling, before the man slipped on his polarized helmet.
Ackerson laughed and wrote his blood type on the tape and attached it to the sole of his boot, when Mobuto nodded towards the cockpit windows, as the enormous gas planet came into view, obscuring all the stars around it.
The moons orbiting the gas giant orbited the planet at very chaotic intervals, as one of the moons appeared on the pilot's eyepiece, showing a entire surface encased in swirling winds.
Ackerson nodded and pointed to the most distant moon, the surface obscured by the swirls of blue-white winds.
"That's the one? Are you sure?"
The pilot turned towards him and shrugged.
"Sir," the pilot said. "If you question my abilities, perhaps you should drive."
Ackerson shook his head, and then looked warningly at the pilot.
"Watch your tongue, private. I asked you a direct question."
The pilot nodded and gave a curt reply:
"That's the planet, sir: Gamma-04."
Ackerson smiled and turned to look at the Helljumpers.
"Gear up!"
The marines moved into action, grabbing their weapons, and checking to make sure that any loose items were either removed or secured in place.
Mobuto stood in the cockpit, watching the altitude indicator drop as Ackerson secured his backpack, and grabbed assault rifle, just as the winds outside the Pelican started to buffet the craft, making it lurch from side to side.
"We're in for a rough ride," the pilot announced, as the transport lurched to one side, before the pilots corrected their angle and brought the Pelican into a tight turn.
Ackerson stepped towards the cockpit window and looked outside, trying to see the ground beneath the thick fog.
"What's passive scan say?" he asked.
The copilot consulted his display and read off the information.
"Structure is two-point-oh kilometers from our present position. Landing zone approaching in two-point-eight minutes."
Ackerson nodded and patted the pilot on the shoulder.
"Good work," he said. "As soon as were down, your clear to return to the Unity."
The pilot looked at him, confused.
"Sir, are you sure you don't want us to…"
Ackerson growled, and the pilot stopped in his tracks, as the colonel returned to the troop compartment, just as the ramp lowered, bringing in the stench of fuel and burning grass with the view of a flat plain of jungle and scrub.
Mobuto stood up as the Pelican nosed in for a landing and eyed his men.
"Everybody look sharp!" he boomed. "I want a nice tight dispersal this time."
The dropship hovered a few meters above the sandy ground and Mobuto roared over the howl of the engines.
"Let's go, move it out!"
The Helljumpers climbed out of the troop bay, followed immediately by Ackerson and Mobuto as the Pelican deployed the Warthog, and nosed up into the sky, piercing the blue-white clouds and vanishing.
Ackerson looked at the viewfinder on his eyepiece and read off the distance to the massive structure.
"Set up a base camp here, and then we'll load out on the Warthog and head towards the structure at 1230."
Mobuto nodded, saluted him and then issued orders to the Helljumpers, who began to carry those commands out.
1230 Hours, September 12, 2520 (Military Calendar)
Planet Scorpio Major, Zeta II Reticuli system
Ackerson climbed into the passenger seat of the Warthog, and settled himself as Mobuto climbed in beside him, and put the vehicle in gear. The Helljumpers climbed into the back of the modified vehicle and grabbed hold of the specially made roll cage's steel frame. Mobuto looked at them, and stepped on the accelerator. The LRV lurched forwards, and towards the butte beyond.
Ackerson consulted his heads-up display and checked the location of the structure and then pointed to the southern ridge of the butte, and the sergeant nodded and pulled around a clutch of rocks, and over to the hills beyond.
The Warthog rounded the massive hillside as the structure appeared from the valley beyond, and Ackerson almost missed it, as he spotted the spire emerging from a jumbled mess of boulders. He tapped Mobuto on the shoulder and pointed to the pile of stones, and the sergeant slowed the vehicle to a stop.
Ackerson and the others climbed out, as he walked over to the protruding spire and stared at it. It was beautiful. With ancient rune markings and made from some type of metal/stone hybrid as Mobuto walked over to him and nodded towards the spire.
"So," the sergeant said. "That's it?"
Ackerson nodded and made a motion to the marines, who walked over, dragging a massive crate between them.
"Set up the reader over here," Ackerson ordered, and the marines got to work. They assembled a cylindrical device that ended in a point, where a small opening allowed a focused laser beam to scan the area around the spire, and send pulses deep underground, to outline the entire structure buried beneath the surface.
After several hours of scanning the entire perimeter, the scanner started to beep and Ackerson walked over and looked at the small screen mounted on a tripod.
From the display showing a faint red outline of the structure, it showed seven sides and that it must have several levels, either going up or down the structure's walls and that the one spire protruding from the ground was only one of several others situated on each of the seven sides, but any more definite details would be out of reach.
"Good," Ackerson said, smiling. "Very good."
Mobuto walked over to him and looked at the screen, as a howling wind roared over them, spraying dirt and sand in a cloud around them.
"Did you find it," he asked.
Ackerson nodded and stood up, looking into the dawning gray sky.
"Yes," he said as he pulled out a small tablet PC and turned it on, a holograph pad lighting up with an AI staring up at him, arms folded.
"Good morning, Colonel," the AI asked.
Ackerson looked at the display and nodded.
"Good morning, Thedus."
The artificial intelligence, Thedus, unfolded his cloaked hands and pulled back the black shroud over his head, showing long white hair flowing over the neck of the cape. He nodded and then a three-dimensional image of the structure appeared and then vanished.
"This," Thedus declared. "Is under the protection of Naval decree 01147-A, by the authority of Vice Admiral Parangosky. A message has been sent to FLEETCOM to request a fleet to this system to begin excavating the structure immediately."
Ackerson nodded and smiled.
"Good, very good."
He folded his arms as Thedus blinked out, vanishing from the holographic pad as Ackerson turned around and looked at Mobuto.
"Sergeant," he ordered. "Let's set up a perimeter for the excavation team."
Mobuto nodded and began issuing orders to the marines.
1704 Hours, September 22, 2520 (Military Calendar)
Planet Scorpio Major, Zeta II Reticuli system
Ackerson watched as the excavation team began unearthing the massive structure buried beneath with plasma cutters, laser drills as enormous treaded excavators began piling up the removed dirt and rocks around the perimeter, laying a stone pathway around the structure.
"When will the excavation be complete," he asked the chief technician, John Albaross, who checked the time on his helmet's eyepiece.
"We should be finished in two days."
Ackerson nodded and turned around as Mobuto approached him and looked at the slowly emerging construct.
"What do you think it was built here for?"
Ackerson placed a hand under his chin, and thought for a moment.
"I don't know…"
He stared into the sky, as a pair of Pelicans, laden with more equipment, scientists and a pair of treaded dozers dangling beneath them, roared over them and hovered several yards away from the dig site.
Chapter Two
0200 Hours, January 7, 2492 (Military Calendar)
Ackerson awoke with a start, the white bed sheets tangled all around him, to the sound of a insistent beeping on his wrist. He looked at himself, soaked with his own sweat and the sweet, lingering smell of perfume as the colonel touched a button on the watch attached to his wrist. He rubbed his eyes as the woman laying beside him rolled over, and opened her hazel eyes.
She looked at him, worry lines crossing her forehead as she brushed a strand of brown hair out of her eyes.
"What's wrong, James?"
He sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed, trying to rub out whatever dream he had just awakened from, when she leaned over, and placed an arm consolingly onto his shoulders. Ackerson looked at her, and took her hands, and gave them a gentle squeeze. She looked at him, into his eyes and then laid a hand onto his cheek as he sighed.
"I have to go."
She looked at him, still thinking he was half asleep and in a dream state.
"Where," she asked, "do you have to go?"
He stood up, and looked at her as she stared up at him, the sadness in his eyes, his mouth as his lips quivered and then he closed his eyes, and fought back those feelings.
"James," she said when he wouldn't answer. "Tell me."
He sighed explosively and then took her hands in his and got down onto his knees, touching the soft carpet floor underneath him.
"Rachel," he said. "I'm going back to Epsilon."
She looked at him, and only nodded as he leaned over, and kissed her lightly on the cheek, before getting out his freshly cut Colonel's uniform out of the bare closet.
She watched him get dressed, and as he began tying his tie, she stood up, and helped him adjust the jacket collar and the tie.
"Just be sure," she said. "You come back in one piece."
He leaned closer to her, and embraced her. After a moment, their lips touched in an everlasting kiss, until he pulled away, and gathered his black beret cap, a tablet PC and opened the apartment door.
Before he left, he turned around, to look at her as she rolled over to his warm spot on the bed, snuggle beneath the sheets and fall fast asleep. He smiled, then quietly pulled the door shut behind him as he left the small bedroom and apartment.
He stepped out into the hallway as a pair of marines stood waiting for him. He gave them a nod and then led them down the flight of stairs, and out into a small parking lot and courtyard as he climbed into the Warthog waiting outside.
As the LRV pulled out of the parking area, one of the marines handed him a small disc, which he slipped into the tablet PC, before a image of a thumbprint appeared. He sighed, and slipped his thumb onto the small inch-wide fingerprint reader as it scanned his thumbprint and matched it with the one on file. After a moment, the screen lit up with deployment orders, personnel records and then a long line of redacted thumbnails.
Those blacked out images were those of several marines that were killed in action, and, beneath those was a pair of images with question marks on them. That meant that those two soldiers were still MIAs, and have yet to be found.
Ackerson continued reading as the Warthog pulled onto a highway, and towards the mountains beyond. He scrolled ahead until he found what he really wanted to read: the force deployment orders.
He was going to be infiltrating, with a battalion of Special Forces marines called "Helljumpers," a deserted military research vessel that was thought to have been lost several years ago. And their main objective was to recover the data and mission logs, and if possible, any survivors that might've went into cryogenic stasis.
He turned off the tablet as the Warthog pulled onto a crumbling airstrip lined with hundreds of Pelicans sitting unused. The driver pulled over to one of the transports and stopped as Ackerson climbed out and walked towards the rear troop compartment. He looked inside as the marines stopped at the rear and just stared at him.
"What are we doing here," he asked, but the marines didn't answer. He looked at them, just as another Warthog pulled around the dropship, and another, and another, until four of them were there, along with a modified one made to carry passengers, and no weapons.
He climbed out of the back of the Pelican as a four-star general approached him. Ackerson snapped off a crisp salute, and the general returned it.
"General Howard," Ackerson said. "Such a pleasure to see you, sir."
Howard smiled and nodded to the waiting marines standing behind him, clad in their black combat armor.
"These are the Helljumpers, colonel. The most elite strike team in the UNSC."
Ackerson eyed them up, one-by-one.
"Sir," he said. "They look a little…wild, sir."
Howard laughed and slapped him on the back.
"Well," he chuckled. "Of course they are. It's an all-volunteer unit."
Then, one of the marines, a sergeant, walked over to Ackerson, saluted and then snapped off a response.
"Colonel," the corporal said. "Me and my team," he waved to the men and women standing around. "We can handle anything. Sir."
Ackerson nodded, then scrutinized the sergeant.
"Sergeant," he quipped. "Do you have any idea what our mission is?"
The sergeant nodded.
"Yes," he responded. "Our primary objective is to infiltrate a possibly enemy-owned military vessel, retrieve any data from the research and mission logs, and possibly the crew, if any of them went into the freezer before it jumped."
Ackerson smiled and then looked at him.
"Do you know of our extraction plan, sergeant?"
The man looked confused, for a second, then smiled and looked at Ackerson.
"Sir," he said. "Our extraction is going to be via a zero-gee transfer from the vessel to our base ship a few clicks away from us."
Ackerson nodded, impressed by the bravado and command this man brings with him.
But, he had to make one point clear.
"Sergeant," he asked, carefully modulating his voice. "What happens if one of your teammates is lost during the zero-gee transfer? How will you retrieve him, if you can rescue him before his vacuum suit's air supply wears out."
The sergeant thought about that for a moment and then smiled.
"Sir," he said. "My men are willing to accept the risk of losing our lives. We are prepared for anything and can handle any combat situation you should hand at us."
Ackerson grinned and turned to Howard who nodded and folded his arms as the sergeant looked at the colonel.
"Just one question: when do we leave?"
0430 Hours
The Pelican, laden with troops and Ackerson, lifted off the ruined tarmac airstrip, and vanished into the twilight of dawn.
Ackerson watched as the men and women played cards, checked their gear and weapons and talked to each other, when the sergeant entered from the cockpit, and stood above them.
One of the marines, a private stared at him through his piercing blue eyes, and held out a open palm to the sergeant.
"Where's my peanuts?"
The entire compartment suddenly erupted into roaring laughter as the sergeant sat by Ackerson, just as the Pelican slowed to orbit around a towering bulk of steel.
The Pelican docked on top of one of the secure loading platforms, as the enormous airlock doors cycled shut, and the air explosively reentered the cavernous chamber, filling it.
The troop bay cycled open, and Ackerson and the marines climbed out, and walked across a narrow catwalk spanning several hundred feet above the bottom of the enormous chamber, connecting their platform to the small hatch leading to the cryogenic chamber. A pair of technicians stood at the opposite side of the hatchway and led them down a narrow corridor, and into a cavernous room.
"Welcome to the freezer," one of the techs said as the other one keyed a control on a far wall, and a line of cryotubes lowered themselves from the ceiling to the floor in a cloud of icy fog. One of the marines rubbed his shoulders and looked at the sergeant.
"Jeez it's freezing!"
The sergeant growled a response as the first tech looked at them, and motioned to the far wall.
"If you'll please remove your clothes and step into the preparation room," he said with the air of a flight attendant. "We'll get you squared away."
One of the other marines looked at him, and grunted.
"What," he said. "No in-flight movie?"
The second technician shrugged as the first one keyed a control panel and a low rumbling sounded throughout the entire chamber until the sound of a thick liquid slapping the floor emerged from the small room beyond.
The squadron pulled off their fatigues and combat boots, and stepped into the narrow room where they were immediately assaulted by a freezing cold substance with the consistency of yellow jelly.
The marines groaned as they walked through the chamber, getting covered in the thick, viscous liquid.
Several of the marines looked at themselves, then each other, ribbing each other about how disgusting this stuff feels, and how it makes you smell, until the sergeant silenced them, continuously sick of the soldier's endless complaining.
They stepped back into the main chamber, and the tech motioned to their individual capsules, as the soldiers began dabbing off some of the viscous liquid, then the technician looked at them, and then waved a hand to the capsules."
"Now, if you'll just get into your cryotubes, we'll start the procedure right away."
Ackerson, the sergeant and all of the marines climbed into each of their own cylinders, as the technician aligned a small 'hat' over their heads. Attached to this hat like device were several needles that would inject soporifics into their skulls, numbing their brains. Then, the man inserted a pin sized needle into their arms, which would inject them with the agent that would assist them in falling into a infinite dreamlike state.
After all that was completed, the technicians secured the lids on the squadron's capsules, just as the marines' minds faded away into that trance-like limbo between awareness and sleep.
Then, Ackerson was the last to go under, and before he went into deep-sleep he did, as he always did, thought of his wife's beautiful face, and then he faded away, into that cognitive state of dreams.
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