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In Amber Clad 2: Homecoming
Posted By: Jackie<apocryphal333@aol.com>
Date: 13 March 2005, 9:26 PM
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0610 hours, October 20, 2552//Earth Defense Platform, Cairo
Spartan John 117 stood just outside Cairo Station's armory, waiting to be called in - and fitted for a new Mark-VI MJOLNIR suit. He had been looking forward to the upgrade for nearly a month; after enduring countless battles on Halo and the Unyielding Hierophant, his once brilliant armor was dull and damaged.
After docking in the Vyrlian system for necessary repairs to the Gettysburg, John and his fellow Spartans had taken up Admiral Whitcomb's request to warn earth about the upcoming Covenant invasion. They had been assigned to different posts across UNSC-controlled space. Linda had been on several missions, fighting all along the west spiral. Fred was stationed on Syrakeet III, the colony nearest to Earth. Will was on the planet below, preparing for a ground assault. John had spent a day recovering, and then was shifted to duty on the orbital platform.
John felt out of place on the station. His Mark-V armor had been abandoned and sent to UNSC headquarters for analysis, leaving him feeling as if he had lost a layer of skin. He could still fight exceptionally, of course, but the UNSC was hesitant about sending their best to the battlefield without the finest protection - for without the MJOLNIR armor, John was just as vulnerable to death as any other. The UNSC wanted to keep him alive for when they needed him, and though John understood and respected this, he couldn't help but feel eager for battle.
And, perhaps worst of all, the mere thought of the impending Covenant invasion hung over the station like a plague. Everyone, whether situated on or above the planet, was watching the skies with a sense of utter trepidation.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.
John, thrown from his thoughts, walked to the railway and looked down. A man was stumbling up the steps, lugging a crate and breaking a sweat. John walked down to him and took the crate, balancing it on one side.
The man rose an eyebrow, and then grinned before heading to the armory door and unlocking it. John followed and set the crate on a spare table.
"Nice to meet ya, Chief. Master Joshua Guns," he introduced himself, holding out a hand. John's firm grip easily shrouded his, and the man laughed. "Always wanted to do that. Never worked with a Spartan before; we're lucky to have one on station. Sorry I'm late - the shipment just arrived this morning, and there was some confusion on the docks."
John nodded in acknowledgement, studying the man. He was short and slightly heavy-set, with a bold, laid-back manner of speaking. Older than John, but not a grizzled veteran in combat like Sergeant Johnson. John disliked him immediately.
"Well, let's get started, shall we?"
John nodded again, glancing around the room. Racks of submachine guns and battle rifles adorned the walls, winged by helljumper helmets and other spare parts. Laid out on the center table, however, was the real prize: MJOLNIR plates, iridescent shields glistening in the light.
"You're armor's been bumped up a notch," Guns said. "The shield incorporates more Covenant technology - they recharge faster, more resilient, almost a millimeter slimmer...very efficient. Just came up from Sondheim."
John slid on the black, skintight suit of buckministerfullerine. The gel inside cooled to his touch, and it was noticeably lighter. One by one, he clicked the metal plates into their latches.
Master Guns, meanwhile, had opened the crate. Inside were the remnants of John's Mark-V armor, and a data pad detailing design. Master Guns looked dismayed as he pecked through the gear. "How're we supposed to work with this? The new ODST suits won't be out for months..."
He picked up the data pad and whistled. "Whoah, Chief. You're lucky you got back here alive - the plating was about to fail. There's viscosity throughout the gel later. Optics? Totally fried...and let's not even talk about the power supply." Guns paused a second, and then ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Do you know how expensive this gear is, son?"
Master Chief smiled wryly. "Tell that to the Covenant." He picked up his helmet and donned it with a hiss.
"Damn aliens, raising our taxes. 'Least it's going to something worthwhile." Guns shrugged. "Come on over here, and step onto the zappers. We'll make sure everything's workin' fine, and then you'll be outta here."
They ran through all standard procedure tests - shield recharging, HUD schematics, and checking the optical neural interface. The armor was flawless; John was eager to put it to the test.
If only the assault were set for somewhere other than Earth.
"You done with my boy here, Master Guns? I don't see any training wheels." drawled a familiar voice. John glanced up to see Sergeant Johnson leaning in the doorframe. He was adorned in full dress uniform, crisp and professional with a chest full of medals.
Master Guns scowled. "His armor's working fine, Johnson." He turned to Master Chief. "You're free to go, son. Just remember - take things slow."
Johnson smirked. "Don't worry, I'll hold his hand." He turned into the hallway and stepped on a lift. John followed. "That boy's been pissy ever since before I shipped out for basic - and lemme tell you, that was ages ago." He glanced at his reflection in the glass panels. "Couldn't guess it by looking at me, though."
The car they were traveling in halted momentarily as shaft outside opened up. The station's rigid metal interior gave way to a vast expanse of open space - Earth, swirling vividly green and blue against a backdrop of inky stars.
Johnson looked out appreciatively. "Earth - haven't seen it in years. When I shipped out for basic, there was nothin' here. The Orbital Defense Grid was all theory and politics. Now look at it - 300 GOC platforms, every one with a MAC gun! With coordinated fire from the Athens and the Malta, no Covenant capital ship's getting through without looking like Swiss cheese - and in that case," he continued proudly, "we've got my Corps."
John admired the view. Hundreds of starships spun in and out of orbit, docking either on stations or the planet itself. All of the ships were, technically, extraterrestrial - John doubted most of them had ever been in the Sol system - and yet they gathered here with a protectiveness and vivacity that no colony would ever see. John understood - though he had seen only vids of the planet, he felt with overwhelming sense that this place was home.
"Ships've been arriving all morning. Nobody's saying much, of course, but I bet something big's about to happen." Johnson said as the lift halted. John felt gravity sway beneath his feet. He had a grave feeling that Johnson was right.
They stepped off the lift, and into a windowed bay.
UNSC officials and crew crowded alongside the bay walkway, clapping and cheering. Automated cameras hovered above, orbiting the Chief and Johnson.
John nodded to the crowd, but frowned behind his reflective faceplate. "You told me there wouldn't be any cameras."
"And you told me you were gonna wear somethin' nice," Johnson retorted, waving. "Folks need heroes, Chief - we give 'em hope. So smile, would ya? Because soon, we won't have much to smile about."
The crew parted, allowing the Chief and Johnson through. Two officers in dress uniform snapped to salute before keying open the doors to the bridge.
The room was magnificent, alight from a wrap-around display. It was artificial, of course - any real windows would be a dead shot for any Covenant ship, putting the entire station out of operation - but the view was impressive all the same. Officers in full dress uniform lined the walls, applauding with what seemed to be true enthusiasm - something hard to come by at such ceremonies, these days.
Sergeant Johnson and Master Chief strode down the center of the bridge and up a ramp, where Admiral Hood and an aide waited for their approach. Admiral Hood was a wartime, one-man superpower, in command of all human forces. His victories were well known, even those before the Covenant war - John and his fellow Spartans had studied his fleet's defeat of pirate forces endlessly. His face was twisted with age, but he was still surrounded by an insurmountable air of authority. John, instinctively and respectfully, snapped his fingers to his temple.
The Admiral returned the salute. "Gentlemen, we're lucky to have you back." He paused for a moment as the aide approached from behind, and then tightened his lips. He turned to the controls. "Go ahead, Cortana."
Cortana's holographic figure appeared on the pedestal beside the controls, foot-high and a royal blue. Complex mathematic symbols scrolled her body, glowing purple and then fading. "Another whisper, sir, near Io," she spoke. "We have probes enroute."
There was no doubt on the bridge about what she was speaking of. The applause was suddenly dulled.
Admiral Hood nodded. "I apologize, but we're going to have to make this quick." He reached towards his aide, who held out a tray of medals. Lifting one from the selection, he nodded to Sergeant Johnson. "Sergeant Major, the Colonial Cross is awarded for singular acts of daring and devotion. For a soldier of the United Earth Space Corps, there is no higher honor."
He reached for another decoration and turned to John. "Master Chief Petty Officer John 117," he said, resting it in John's armored gauntlets. "Few have shown such courage and endurance while in the jaws of death - and fewer have succeeded in escaping. For gathering invaluable intelligence, and perhaps saving us all, no tribute stands high enough." John nodded, deeply honored, and stepped back.
During the applause, a young, dark-haired woman marched forward from the line of officers behind Admiral Hood. She stepped in line with the Chief and Johnson, standing solemnly.
"Commander Miranda Keyes," Admiral Hood said to her. "Your father's actions were in keeping with the highest traditions of military service. His bravery in the face of impossible odds reflects great credit upon himself and the UNSC. The Navy has lost one of its best." Her eyes lingered on the medal in her hand - as did John's. He held only a select few in as high regards as the late Captain.
An alert sounded, blaring throughout the bridge.
All eyes were on Cortana. "Slipspace rupture, directly off our battle cluster," she reported to Admiral Hood.
"Show me."
She clicked on the display, holding out a hand to demonstrate the location. "Fifteen Covenant capital ships holding position just outside the killzone." Their figures glowed red-hot on the screen. Master Chief's muscles tightened.
"This is Fleet Admiral Harper," buzzed a voice over the comm. channel, filled with static. "We are engaging the enemy - repeat, engaging the enemy - "
"Negative, Admiral," Hood commanded. "Form a defensive perimeter around the cluster." He turned to Commander Keyes. "Commander, get to your ship and link up with the fleet."
"Yes, sir." She saluted smartly, and then was gone.
"You have the MAC gun, Cortana. As soon as they come in range, open fire."
"Gladly," she responded. Her hologram blazed from blue to violet, and then flickered off.
Admiral Hood walked to the display, scrutinizing. "Something's not right," he muttered. "The fleet that destroyed Reach was fifty times this size..."
Master Chief watched as UNSC ships surrounded the red cluster. Suddenly, the cluster starburst, sending red points spilling through gaps in the defense system. It would be impossible to stop them all.
"Sir!" an officer reported from his terminal. "Additional contacts! Boarding crafts, and lots of 'em."
"They're going to try to take our MAC guns offline...giving their capital ships a straight shot at Earth." Admiral Hood turned to John. "Master Chief, defend this station."
"Yes, sir." He nodded. Master Chief and thee Sergeant promptly exited the bridge. John could feel adrenaline rushing through his veins; his knuckles curled in formation. He turned to Johnson. "I need a weapon."
Johnson grinned. "Right this way."
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