[A-Deck] The NAV Data

[Durant, M.]

((OOC: My apologies for the wait, guys. I've been busy with a lot of stuff recently and I haven't had the opportunity to get around to getting a post up. For those of you with Second Squad, either Cruz or Mason can start that thread. Be advised: the C-Deck thread will also require a time/date stamp at the beginning. The "Knock, Knock" thread has been locked and will be moved to the Past Operations board upon this thread going live.))

1900 Hours, May 1, 2542 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \
Aboard the UNSC Templar, A-Deck,
en route to ship's bridge / CIC

Lieutenant Durant watched came to the top of the stairs behind First Squad, whom has already secured the immediate area and opened the bulkhead to the access corridor beyond. The path ahead appeared desolate. There was obvious signs that heavy combat had taken place on this level, in contrast to the intermittent evidence discovered below. By the grace of whatever deity, there weren't any bodies to be spotted floating around. Even better, it appeared that this deck still maintained its internal atmosphere, allowing for voice communications off of the radio to continue.

"Sergeant Stone, take us to the bridge," the Lieutenant ordered. "Stay frosty. There's plenty of spots for an ambush up ahead."

The squad started to move, and the Lieutenant followed, keeping a close eye on his RTO. After her little freak out, he wanted to ensure he was close enough to remove her from any danger that they may find themselves in if she showed further signs of uncontrolled panic. Personally, he was greatly disappointed and perturbed by her reaction to the sight of death. He understood that no one, no matter how much preparation they had, could properly ready someone for the gruesome results of war. However, despite that understanding, she was a warrior now. A Marine.

Her actions has been a sign of cowardice. Cowardice was an unacceptable trait in any subordinate of his. Michael expected selfless honor and courage from all of the men and women in his platoon. None of them, in his eyes, should be fearing the prospect of death. All honorable warriors who died in battle were granted ascension to Valhalla. Why would Wilkas not desire such a fate to become of her? He did not mourn the losses of the men aboard the Templar because it was obvious they had fought to their last dying breath. The Lieutenant had no qualms sacrificing his own life for those who served under his command.

His faith was complex, yet simple at the same time. By no means was he suicidal - as blindly charging into the enemy was the decision of a fool - but he welcomed the idea of death so long as it befell him in the heat of battle. Mike realized that not all of his subordinates agreed with his beliefs, and many perceived him as crazy, but he could not fathom why. What was wrong with seeking an honorable and glorious end to your life? What was so terrible about transcendence to Valhalla, where true warriors lived and fought amongst the Gods? What could possibly be crazy about that?

Michael shook his head, returning his attention to the situation at hand. The time for such contemplation and self-analysis would come later. Right not he needed to remain focused and attentive or else there could be grim consequences for him and his Marines.

First Fire Team, led by Corporal Davis, had managed to reach the T-junction at the end of the corridor. The Lieutenant raised his hand to the push-to-talk strapped to his armored chest plate and clicked it in. "One-One, break left and head down that corridor for fifteen meters, then head right. We should come across an armory. We'll pass through it and come out in the main corridor with the bridge to our left. Keep alert."

[Davis, E.]

" Private Porter, you've got point," Davis said, sorting his fire team as they reached the deck and found atmo. "I'll take the two spot. Avery, you've got three. Have that 301 ready to go if we need it. Porter, hold before we engage if you can. The more firepower we can put on a target the better, and I'll take the hit if the LT wants to complain about it. Furby, hang back closer to Sergeant Stone. Aim small, miss small. We go radio silent but make sure you communicate if we take contact. Move it out."

Private Porter took the lead, moving forward smoothly and quietly, but still at a speed that would keep them moving. Davis took up as his backup, staying close. UNSC ships were fantastic to defend, with nooks, crannies, and all sorts of side passages. This was the exact reason they were so brutal to clear. Davis was immediately on edge, moving past small doors and dark corners, waiting for something to jump out of them. Thankfully the yellow dots on his HUD were the only things to be seen. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse. His sixth sense was still screaming at him.

The Lieutenant's call distracted him slightly, and he stopped, trying to get his bearings back. Updating his HUD with the info from the LT, he now had a path to the bridge. Motioning to Avery, they set up to clear the T-junction. It was actually a four man task, but with Furby placed so far back, it wasn't worth bringing him up. Giving a mental count that flashed up on his team's HUDs, they quickly popped around the corner, Davis and Porter going hi-low to the left, with Avery covering their six to the left. He hoped that this was just good practice. No shouts, no shots, no pings on his HUD. Davis spared a glance back at Avery, who was still holding his position on watch. 

"Clear," Davis called just loud enough for them to hear. "Lance Corporal, hold your guard till you're relieved, then take up the three again. Move out Porter."

Private Porter took up the point again, and moved ahead. Davis mentally highlighted the armory door in his HUD and sent it to Porter, indicating that was their next waypoint. They both closed in on it, listening closely for anything but only hearing their breath. It was maddening, but both were used to it.

After all, they were Marines.

[Wilkas, G.]

 Grace Wilkas was grateful for the discovery of atmosphere, the idea of being in a place with no oxygen to breath troubled her somewhat. The concern now faded as an atmosphere allowed for better communications and for sounds to be heard... Or at least she hoped that she would hear them. Grace was aware of the LT's watchful gaze on her, seeming to burn through her armour all the way to her skin. She thought he might have noticed that she had been limping or trying to not put as much weight on her left ankle as possible. Ignoring the dull ache she moved almost normally, though her graceful movements still fluid came off as some what disturbed... Grace did not want to die, she never had wanted to be a soldier yet this was something she had to do now.
 

Fear of death was logical for her, Grace did not believe in religion... She did not want to die for much of her life she still had yet to live. Grace too found herself deeply concerned by her panic attack and she found herself dreading far more the chat with Durant later than probably whatever still lurked aboard this vessel. For the most part it seemed to just be bodies and bullet casings. The sight of so much death was a new horror to her, nothing could have truly prepared Grace for war. It was not something she was ideally built for. Conscript, she was here because she was quite handing with technology... Or at least that had been for her the main reason why they dumped the radio pack onto her. 

Ah the radio pack... The current dead weight that found itself as currently as useful as a water melon would have been at taking down a main battle tank. As a habit from her training, she realised that she hung close to Durant though she really did not want to be near him. Her pack was useless and at the present she believed that he would think the same of her. Why wouldn't he though? She had given into her terror and fear what kind of marine did that make her? However surely being afraid was something she could not help? Perhaps things where different in a platoon of majority vets. 

 Grace checked her rifle, the last thing she wanted was for her to cause another screw up. No point giving the LT any further ammunition to use against her. Her mind panicked more about what he might say to her than the mission now. Would he throw the book at her? Surely there must be a limit to what such thing entailed? After all fear was a natural part of the human mind and Grace for all intents and purposes was never going to make a born soldier. She did however try her best, or had. Though it might not have appeared like it Grace desperately had tried to keep a tight lid on her emotions. Perhaps she would be able to impress Durant during the latter half of the mission, though Grace prayed to whatever was out there that he did not get her kicked out of the Marines. She was their RTO and would be their RTO, she just would not let someone kick her out because she was untested, green, a rookie... Whatever the word they wanted. She owed it to them to at least attempt to prove herself a soldier, a marine. She would never be the best marine nor the bravest, but she would not leave her platoon.

[Stone, T.]

Sergeant Stone surveyed the area ahead with a grimace. The signs of a protracted battle past were rampant, though curiously there weren't any bodies that he could see. This whole situation smelled seemed funny to him. All of the corpses they'd come across were of the crew, yet there was no indication that they'd fired on each other. It was as if someone had boarded the ship and systematically went about slaughtering every last man or woman they'd come across without taking casualties themselves.

He didn't like it. If this was all the work of Innies, there would have to of been some sign of their presence. Surely they would have set up guards throughout the innards of the ship. So why hadn't they stumbled upon resistance? Had they left? Abandoned the ship after conquering it?

No. That didn't make sense. Why would they go through all of the trouble of killing off the crew only to abandon ship? A UNSC ship of this nature would've been extremely valuable to them. The only possibility that came to his mind was that perhaps they had been ignorant to what the Templar was. But even that theory had holes in it.

Clearing the wayward thoughts from his mind, he listened as Lieutenant Durant barked out orders to him and his squad. He nodded and moved forward, letting Corporal Davis and his fire team clear the area up ahead. Once they had announced it as clear, he marched up beside Davis, listening to the orders he was giving his team.

The team rounded the corner and cautiously made their way down the path highlighted by Durant. Thomas stayed close behind them as they closed in on the armory door. Upon reaching it, he ordered them to stack up.

"Watch yer fire in there, Corp'ral," Stone warned, technically addressing the fire team as a whole. "If shit goes south 'n ya hit that ammo in there, the place'll go up like a regular Harvest parade."

Stone readied his weapon and took his place behind PFC Furby. He'd breach with the team, letting them go in first. He waited until the team seemed ready, before ordering, "Breach! Breach!"

[Furby, J.]

Jayson stormed up the stairs behind the other three Marines of First Fire Team. As soon as he reached the top of the ladderwell, he broke to the right and brought the Trijicon ACOG optic up to his eye and he scanned for targets. Luckily, there were none. It seemed that the old grumpy Murphy was on their side today.

Corporal Davis ordered the team up to the tee junction up ahead. Furby moved along with them, watching the right corner closely as they grew closer to the intersection, as the other fire teams had the rear area covered. Once they reached the corner, Corporal Davis issued a slew of orders.

Furby groaned. Davis had ordered him to stay back towards Stone. The order didn't make much sense to him. If an enemy popped out around the corner it wouldn't make a difference if he was beside them or standing near the Sergeant. The risk of injury or death would still be the same.

He shrugged, deciding it wasn't worth arguing over, and backstepped some. With his BR shouldered, he kept the barrel trained to the right in case anyone had the bright idea to pop out. No such event occurred, however, and First Fire Team was ordered forward.

The PFC caught up with his team and followed them until they reached the door to the nearby armory. Apparently they would have to pass through it on their way to the bridge. He liked the idea, just for the sole fact that he would have the opportunity to "appropriate" a few more magazines of ammunition for his rifle. With the ship's crew having been seemingly wiped out, he felt no one would miss the ammo. Plus, it might come in handy later.

Sergeant Stone took up position behind Furby, putting him slightly on edge. Part of him hoped he wasn't still angry about the whole breaking ranks thing earlier. Wilkas had been in need of help or she might have died, and so naturally he came to her aid as any good Marine should have. That wasn't the whole reason he'd risked the platoon and an ass chewing for her, but it sounded like a nice thought.

At least one that might make the later repercussions for his actions less severe. Because if there was anything he'd learned about the squad's illustrious Sergeant, it was that he possessed a long memory. And he wasn't the type to forget to chew someone's ass.

Snapping back to reality, Furby readied himself for the breach. Upon Stone's orders, the team moved forward, and Furby steeled himself for the worst.

[Davis, E.]

Davis was half a step behind Porter, breaking opposite of his lead man's button hook around the door frame. He could almost feel Avery on his tail, clearing the center starting high then low. By the time Furby made it in every danger zone had been cleared with each of the four men holding their position and waiting for something to show itself. Nothing did, but it didn't help settle Davis's nerve in the slightest. In fact, the room was even more unsettling than finding an enemy.

This armory had been nearly cleared out, with a few rifles left standing cockeyed in their cradles. A scorch mark on the floor looked like a grenade had gone off in here, and judging from the bodies to be found, Davis could only assume he was right in that assumption. Some of the racking was twisted, and there were plenty of spent shell casings and other gear strewn about. Davis wanted to look closer but he was brought back to reality by a ping in his HUD indicating that Porter was clear. He sent his clear, quickly followed by Avery and Furby.

"All clear," Davis shouted, making sure that Sergeant Stone could hear him. "Porter, take five before we move again, I want your eyes sharp. Avery, Furby, cover the hatch. Second team can cover our six."

Pointing his muzzle in a safer direction, Davis started examining some of the carnage that was to be found. Everything seemed wrong to him. If this was an Independent attack, they must have been completely embedded. Though even that didn't make sense. The weapons fire seemed somewhat random, but there was no indication that they had turned on each other. What could have done this besides Innies though? Davis was at a loss.

"Hope you got some solid stomachs," he said as he heard footsteps at the door. "This is worse than the mess hall."

Davis looked back for Sergeant Stone, waiting for the next set of orders. He wished he had answers, but their weren't any to be found here. He could only hope that the Nav data would be enough to give the LT a clue about what was happening.

[Durant, M.]

Lieutenant Durant rounded the corner just as Davis's men had breached the armory door and were in the process of clearing the room. He stood still, briefly glancing to make sure Wilkas was keeping up, and that the Major was also with them. He nodded to the both of them and eyed Wilkas up for a moment, noting the slight limp in her foot.

He'd noticed it earlier but had decided not to say anything. While technically he could've ordered the Corpsman to take a look at her ankle, Wilkas had yet to complain about it and seemed to be trudging their. In contrast to the panic attack she'd exuded earlier, he actually admired her will to keep going despite the injury.

It could not have been easy to continue moving with the platoon on that ankle, especially considering the weight of the clothes and gear she wore. Her silence in the face of the pain that likely stemmed from her ankle showed how tough she very well could be. All she needed to do now was learn to better control her emotions and adopt the mentality of a warrior, then she'd do just fine.

Durant heard Davis announce the all clear and he started on his way towards the door as the rest of First Squad flooded into the armory. Even as he grew closer to it he could see some of the damage that had been done to the room. Whomever had occupied the armory during whatever had happened hadn't lasted long by the looks of it. The carnage didn't look much different from what he'd so far seen since they'd infiltrated the Templar.

Stepping into the room, he was able to examine the devastation more closely. It appeared that the Marines and crewmen had tried turning the armory into some sort of choke point. Judging by the bodies and strewn shell casings everywhere, things had not gone as planned for them. Michael's eyes surveyed the rest of the room, noticing the dings in the metal walls from bullet impacts.

The fire had been random and in all directions. But why? Marines were trained to hit targets at five hundred yards or more with near pin point precision. How could they have missed a threat no more than ten meters away? And why would they fire in all directions?

An idea formed in the back of his mind, and it chilled him to the core. He kept quiet about it, however. He wasn't willing to share it until he knew whether or not it was a truly viable explanation. Hopefully the bridge would shed some light on the subject and provide the answers he sought.

"Let's keep moving to the bridge, Sergeant," Durant said. "Head out the hatch, head left; the bridge'll be to your right."

[Wilkas, G.]

Under the gaze of the Lt, Wilkas' felt her skin burn as if it penetrated right to her soul. She returned the nod and after he disappeared into the armoury let out the breath that she had not realised she held. Shaking her head she followed Durant into the room and immediately wished she hadn't done so. The pain in her ankle seemed to waned as if scared into submission by the sheer sight. Grace felt her stomach knot and twist, her skin paled, forcibly with great effort she forced herself not to be sick. She felt herself tremble but that was a result of her body's effort to not bring up the contents of her stomach.

 How could the others seem to act so calm around all this death? She gingerly stepped around a corpse, trying not to lose her balance or step on anything that may have once been a human body part. She flinched as her right boot scraped passed a hand, her eyes rested on the face of the dead marine's for too long. The blank vacant stare seared itself into her brain, etching itself into her memories. Grace knew she would never forget the face, someone her age, all torn up, their guts scattered around them. Wilkas' seemed to lose track of time, her eyes lingering on the dead marine's far too long. Shaking her head and with visible effort she moved past.

 Grace stopped herself and turned round to the fallen marine and checked for his dog tags, finding them she snapped them off and pocketed them. He could have been barely a few days older than she was. The shock and the sudden realisation that the marine there easily could have been her did not hit her hard, it in fact strengthened her resolve. Wilkas had to remain strong, level headed otherwise she could end up like that marine, her platoon could end up like that if she panicked. Admittedly much of her newly found resolve found itself in her being because of the fact that Grace feared, no she was terrified that Durant would kick her out for her panic attack. She could not let that happen.

 By the time Durant had issued his next order, Grace found herself once more at his side. She could do this, no there was no could... She did not have a choice, she had to do this. No one else here was as good as operating a radio as she was. Grace Wilkas had been a RTO for a reason and she had to remain strong because if she didn't... How many of her platoon could die or be injured. She doubted that she could live with the guilt of having that knowledge.

[Davis, E.]

Using the HUD, Davis started issuing orders quickly to his team without talking. The cramped quarters of the entire squad in the remains of the armory was making his nervous. A single grenade would wipe out most of them. He pulled Furby up, and all four hit the hall past the hatch within seconds. Leaving Furby to cover their six till second team made it up to releav him, Porter stepped out in the lead again, with Avery and Davis running close support.

Highlighting their route with way-points in the HUD's mini-map, with the door to the bridge highlighted in the overlay. He warily watched around, looking for the boogymen that were still prodding at the back of his mind. Something was still wrong here, and he wasn't going to be comfortable till they found it. Every shadow and piece of cover screamed danger to him. He actually went to motion a danger area at one point before stopping. The whole damned ship was a danger area. One little hand sign wasn't going to put anyone on more of an edge.

They reached the door to the bridge, stacking quickly. The hatch popped and they rushed in, fanning quickly. There was no way to clear this room from a single point, but they could start while second and third teams made their way in with the LT. No one moved from their points, but the undermount lights started sweeping what could be seen of the bridge. Davis knew this was a terrible place to be in and acted quickly.

"We're gonna need another team," he called back to Sergeant Stone, knowing the old man couldn't be far behind. "Avery, watch our six while we start sweeping. And that pig better be ready to puke some lead if we need you. Furby, Porter, we start clearing to the left. Move."

Rifle still at a high ready, the grenade launcher weighing on the weapon awkwardly, Davis started forward with his team. The bridge was the perfect setting for a nightmare. The fighting had been fierce here, leaving the lights flickering between full power and emergency lighting only at random intervals. There was debris to found everywhere, with full panels from the walls laying haphazardly about the room. It was the point of the worst fighting, Davis could see that. But as far as what had happened, he didn't have to to conjecture. The shadows still held secrets that he had to uncover.

[Durant, M.]

((OOC: I apologize, guys. My phone is out of service and I've been extremely busy with personal stuff - to include writing my book - and this kind of fell by the wayside in my mind. Nevertheless, I'm back.))

Durant stayed behind First Squad as they made their way to the bridge doors. Corporal Davis led his team in with Sergeant Stone holding position by the door. The Lieutenant heard Davis's call for another team, and Stone ordered Second Team in. The two teams swept through the dimly lit bridge, finding nothing but destroyed or damaged equipment and bodies strewn everywhere in a bloody display.

When the all clear was given, the rest of First Squad and the Headquarters element moved in. The scene left to Durant's inspection was gruesome, but not something he hadn't seen before. He muttered a quiet prayer for the deceased and made his way to the helm of the bridge. What he saw wasn't any less gruesome.

Blood was splattered on the walls and floor, and the bodies of bridge crewmen were prevalent. The ship's captain lay across the NA console, a pistol clutched tightly in his cold dead hand. Michael made his way to the console and gingerly laid the body on the floor and tried to wipe away the blood on the screen of the console.

It didn't help much, but he could at least see the screen. He glanced over at Major Killinger, whom was inspecting the nearby corpses, and then returned his attention to the screen. Pressing a few buttons he accessed the NAV data. To his surprise, an alert popped up on the screen warning him that Cole Protocol had been initiated and then suddenly interrupted. That sparked a curious stare at the warning before he closed it out and accessed what data was left.

A star chart appeared and marked a celestial body on the map. He clicked on it and an indicator appeared letting him know the information was recently accessed. The information on a colony, Pheonix III materialized into view. Instantly the pieces to the puzzle clicked in his head.

Durant stepped away from the console. He looked to his left and his right before saying, "We're reinitiating Cole Protocol. I'm going to set the self-destruct after I know we're secure."
He then switched to the Command Net on his radio so that all squads could hear him. "Marines, prepare for contact. The Covenant may still be aboard."

[Wilkas, G.]

Grace Wilkas' shadowed Durant, like her training commanded her to do. If the armoury had been bad, it looked a lot better than the nightmare on the bridge. The gruesome scene was too much for Grace to take in and the rookie, gagging left the bridge, unclasping her helmet before retching violently outside the door. Her stomach heaved even after the limited contents where emptied, wiping a few stray strings of drool off on her left gauntlet she slid back into her helmet. It was rather obvious what she had done, if they hadn't seen her bolt out the door like she was on fire, then the sounds would have given it away. 

A small mercy was at least she could take her helmet off without fear of dying as a result. Grace re-entered the bridge, yet did not meet the eyes of the rest of the marines present. Two fouls ups, she might as well just shoot herself now and let them get on without her. Sighing she stayed alert, keeping herself near the LT just in case he required her for something. However... Grace really did not want to speak to him after the mission was completed still, even if she lived to see the end of it. Her dread of the talk almost outweighed the terror that she felt when Durant mentioned the Covenant. 

Now for the veterans who had faced them before the Covenant where an enemy that could be killed, yet for an Earth born and raised lady like herself the Covenant where always a distant foe. The thought of actual combat against them wasn't something she was eager to do. Yet Grace wanted to do her part, defend humanity, Earth and her colonies from the evil Covenant intent of humanity's destruction. It was her job now, as a marine she had to fight them, she must fight them because if she didn't others might be killed because she fled. Yet the fact that the Covenant was here still filled her with a terrible fear, that almost outweighed her personal shame of vomiting and breaking down previously.

She checked her rifle, making sure it was loaded and ready to fire, the action made her feel a little bit better about herself, Grace tried to fortify her resolve to continue the fight. She could feel it weakening, Grace wasn't the most confident soldier more reluctant than confident. Her cheeks burned from shame, Grace felt awful about herself. She did not meet the gazes of anyone in the room, whether they were questioning looks doubting her ability to stay in the fight or confident ones designed to encourage her to keep going, she avoided them all. She simply was too ashamed to meet them any more. Perhaps Durant would transfer her out after all this was over and get a decent RTO instead of what he current was stuck with. 

[Stone, T.]

Stone marched through the cramped confines of the armory, scrutinizing the scene. It had been left a mess by whoever had caused the devastation. There weren't any clues to be found as to what exactly had happened. From the looks of things the men inside had taken fire from all sides by an aggressive ambush.

A couple theories swam through his mind, but he did not vocalize them. He wanted to be absolutely sure he had the right train of thought before making his thoughts known to the others. Judging from the look on Davis's face, however, he wasn't the only one with these thoughts in mind.

Davis took the initiative and ordered his team to exit the armory. Thomas smiled, though it couldn't be seen due to the breather mask, and followed the Marines out the door as Team Two relieved Furby. The men etched their way down the corridor to the bridge and Stone watched as Davis and his men stacked up.

A moment later they disappeared through the door. Stone took their place and covered the adjacent doorway that led to the mess hall. When Davis called for a second team to aid in clearing the bridge, Stone turned to Team Two's leader.

"Alpha needs help clearin' the bridge," he said, and then added, "So git in there 'n clear it out."

Bravo circled around Stone and passed through the door. The grizzled Sergeant patiently waited until the all clear was given, then he and the remaining Marines made their way into the room. He stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell upon the hellish scene inside.

Damaged and destroyed equipment lay everywhere, as well as broken glass from the console monitors, and bodies were strewn out everywhere. Coagulated blood painted the once dull grey metal walls a dark crimson color, and lights flickered overhead.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he moved towards the front of the bridge where it seemed the others were gathering. As he did, Private Wilkas brushed past him, rushing for the door that they had just breached. The sound of vomiting met his ears and he grimaced. This was probably the worst thing the young woman had ever seen.

It reminded him of his first mission, back in a time when people were ignorant to the fact that they weren't alone in the universe, during the apex of the Insurrection. His platoon had come up on the sight of a gruesome ambuh, where the Innies had slaughtered a bunch of civilians that had been loyal to the UNSC. He hadn't been able to contain the contents of his stomach on that mission, and it had been the first time he had seen death before.

So, in a way, Stone empathized with the young private. He'd heard she was a conscript, drafted into service without any say in the matter. He was certain that she hadn't planned on being in the military, and this mission was a hell of a way to start her service.

Stone watched as Durant accessed the NAV console. When the mention of the Covenant having been aboard left his lips, his instincts kicked in. "Alpha, secure our point of egress 'n prep t' move out. Bravo, Charlie, lock down the bridge."

As his subordinates sprung into action, the Sergeant made his way over to Wilkas. He placed his big, meaty hand on her shoulder and patted it. "Don't feel bad, boot," he said with sympathy in his voice, "We all puke our first time. Anyone who says they didn't are fuckin' liars."

[Killinger, J.]

"Ain't that the truth," Killinger muttered to Stone's remarks. "Especially against the Covenant." He added, his hand tightening around the grip of his assault rifle. He saw what Durrant had accessed, noticed the Cole Protocol had been stopped, and nodded as the junior officer made the decision to resume the purge. A correct one, but a fatal mistake to the UNSC. The Covenant probably already had warships heading towards the found colony. Killinger couldn't see what it was before Durant moved away, but he did see 'Phoenix'.

"One thing I don't understand, Lieutenant, is the Cole Protocol has been extremely effective thus far since its implementation. Where did it go wrong this time?" The Major questioned, moving towards the console Durant has stepped away from. "I suspect this 'Covenant Technology' stopped the purge, but this is a very complex set of viruses that erase the NAV databases. You've read, as have we all, Emergency Priority Order 098831A-1. So where did we go wrong..."

The Major, having had time to learn a few operating systems, let his fingers dash across the keys which only solidified his position as a Battalion XO. It appeared, to him at least, that the NAV system was erased but the virus that purged the back ups was neutralized before it could delete this last, final system in the NAV database. Killinger restarted the purge, the file deleted and an error appeared on screen. There was no more NAV data to load. A new screen appeared moments later, the typical navigation screen, which allowed the navigators to plot a course for the ship.

"My god," Killinger muttered. "They stopped the virus purge. What the hell was on this ship? What 'experimental technology' is ONI fucking around with?" Killinger said, growing frustrated. Everyone had to come to terms with the possibility of this colony being nothing more than a smoldering world by now. He sent the information he had gathered about the system, Phoenix III, to his neural lace and relaxed his posture, the weight of the dog tags from the men and woman from the aged Halcyon taking its psychological toll. Killinger stepped away from the console and waited Durants platoon to move out.

[Wilkas, G.]

Grace looked up when she felt a heavy hand rest on her shoulder and pat it. Stone's words sounded sympathetic but she doubted that she deserved them, honestly she doubted that she could even become half as good as these veterans. She tried to remain strong, resilient and calm, however her morale seem to have plummeted. Grace finally found the words to reply to the Stone and Killinger yet as she took in the air in order to speak her sentence, she took along the wretched stench. It immediately made her stomach crawl and churn. The heavy, sickly, sweet scent of guts, the iron tang of blood and burnt flesh, it clung in her nose and on her tongue. 

She barely had time to turn away from Stone and find a empty spot before, her stomach started heaving, trying to make her be sick even though there was nothing left for it to bring up. Grace knelt on the floor, rifle resting by her side with her right hand on it while her left rested against the wall in which she leaned. Grace shut her eyes, this was beyond embarrassing, this was down right shameful. She wouldn't leave the bridge, she couldn't. Not while the threat of the Covenant still being on board the ship remained. At this point she breathed in again and immediately the stench made her try to vomit and wretch. 

Her stomach ached and she brought up a thin, liquidly like substance. There was nothing to bring up unfortunately this did not stop her body from trying to. It felt like her body was trying to force her organs out of her body, the cramps painfully latched onto her stomach. Opening her eyes, she forced herself to take a small breath and wiped a string of drool on the back of her left gauntlet. "I'm sorry..." Wilkas' whispered pitifully unable to motivate herself to get up. Some marine she was, it couldn't have been any worse for her platoon if they where escort a civilian, Grace thought bitterly.

Grace stayed where she was feeling utterly wretched, pitiful and sorry for herself. She wasn't cut out for being a soldier, training was one thing but actual combat and the horrors it brought about where another thing entirely. She swallowed trying to rid her mouth of the foul odours that occupied the bridge and the taste of vomit. Unable to, she messed around with some of her pockets until she found a crumpled packet of chewable mints. Grace popped one into her mouth, the sugar and minty freshness exploded into it. For a time it cast back the foulness that had invaded. Though one problem may have been solved as easily as that, Wilkas' morale was currently somewhere in her boots, rather than her heart or her head. How quickly, Wilkas thought how her feelings could change. Grace was one conscript who clearly had never been designed for warfare. 

[Durant, M.]

The fact that there was no response from the other squads or Gunnery Sergeant Cruz troubled Durant. Normally, he would have received acknowledgments from his men right away. A handful of scenarios crossed his mind, none of them particularly positive. Forcing those aside, he knew he had a job to do.

He turned to the others after listening to the Major, whom questioned what ONI might have been doing aboard the Templar. Indeed those thoughts had crossed his mind, and he was just as curious as his superior, but he saw no need to vocalize those thoughts for all to hear. Whatever ONI was doing was far above his pay grade and level of security clearance. As much as he detested the idea, he knew he would have to find satisfaction in ignorance. Someone like the Major could ask the hard questions while Durant did what he did best; fight.

With that thought in mind, he motioned for his men to huddle up around him. He knew that right now, divided as they were, the platoon's defensive posture was weakened. It'd be easy for any threats to back each of them into a corner, especially if they possessed the numbers. He needed to bring the platoon back to full strength.

"Marines," he started, his eyes wandering over each of the men and women in front of him, "Right now, we find ourselves in a precarious situation. Out of necessity, I had to split up the platoon, and thus left ourselves open for ambush. However, we have something the enemy does not: the grace of the gods to watch over our shoulders. And should we perish on this day, I promise that we shall not do it alone. We're going to take every last one of those heathens with us, and I will be honored to die a warrior's death amongst such fine company."

He paused, and noted some of the reactions to his words weren't exactly positive. "Do not mistake my words, as I have no intention of dying on this day, nor is it my intention to see any of you fall at the hands of the Covenant. If they're still aboard, likely they have greater numbers on us and the element of surprise. But, we have spirit, we're tenacious, and we expect them to attack. So, my plan is simple."

"My plan is to regroup with the rest of the platoon, find the source of the enemy, and cut the head off of the snake by denying the transportation home," Durant elucidated. "We have much ground to cover, and it's likely we'll encounter the Covenant before we reach our destination. Stay vigilant and fight like I know you can, and we'll make it out here alright."

Silence reigned as his words settled amongst the group. The slightest hint of a smile passed over his lips as he surveyed them. He ended his scrutiny with Wilkas, and offered her a warm smile. She had the potential to be a fine warrior; she only needed to believe in herself and not let her surroundings overpower her ability to use her training.

Time would tell whether she learned that lesson. If she survived this mission - if any of then survived the mission - she would have a lot on her plate to think about. He knew he probably should have a talk with her, but now was not the place, and they simply didn't have the time. Perhaps when they returned to the Vengeance he'd have a talk with her.

Time would tell.

Boxing those thoughts up and stowing them in the back of his mind for later use, he marched past his men and made his way over to the door leading back to the corridor. The sound of boots clacking against the grating told him his Marines were behind him, following their leader as he led them into the unknown. The door opened with his signature snik and he passed through it, turning into the hallway that appeared totally deserted.

The Lieutenant stopped for a brief moment to access the ship's schematics. He spied a short cut back to the ladderwell through the chow hall and marked it on his Heads Up Display. He closed the schematic and marched over to the double doors on the right that would bring him and his Marines into the mess hall.

They parted to admit him and he stepped through their threshold with his rifle shouldered and at the ready. Sweeping the massive room with his weapon, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary to be had. So, he continued on his way through the mess hall. Across it, directly parallel with the doors they'd just entered through, was the door out into the next corridor, which would take them to the landing down to the lower decks.

The squad filed into the room, following their commander, when the pneumatic hiss of doors opening echoed through the room. Durant stopped in his tracks and looked to the right, the noise having sounded like it originated from deeper in the room. His eyes didn't seem to pick up anything, but that tingling feeling in the back of his mind told him he was under watch. He turned and took a few steps forward, hearing one of the tables that surprisingly wasn't covered in blood, and narrowed his eyes as he looked harder.

A light flickered on in the back of the room for a nanonsecond, and he caught the outline of someone standing towards the back of the room. A silhouette. There had been no body; only a rough outline. Before the thought could piece itself together and a connection could be made, the heavily accented Sergeant Stone, in his typical Southern brogue, beat him to the punch.

"Contact right!" he roared, darting for cover behind a support pillar. "Cov'nant down range 'n camouflaged! Engage!"

Durant reacted by seizing hold of the table in front of him, the reason why he approached it, and flipped it onto its side. As he fell into relative safety behind it, the room erupted with the sound of gunfire. Blue and green blobs of superheated plasma zipped over the table Durant hid behind and crashed into the far wall. The Lieutenant glanced to his right and spotted Corporal Davis sprinting towards his position, his men spreading out into a line and finding cover wherever available.

One of his men weren't so lucky. Just as the Marine, whose name escaped Durant, had attempted to flip a table over just as he did, a flurry of plasma peppered him across the chest and stitched a line up to his face. The Marine fell like a rock, his chest and face smoldering and grotesquely burned.

A surge of anger seized Michael, and he brought himself onto his knees so that he could peer over the top of the table at the Covenant several meters down range. He took aim with his assault rifle and opened fire, the weapon bucking as it spat seven-six-two rounds at the aliens in fully automatic. A pair of Grunts fell to the barrage, but there were at least a dozen and a half more hostiles where they had come from.

((OOC: Davis, your point man NPC is now KIA. No worries, I only killed him off because he will be replaced next op with my new character, Private Ward. So, you'll have a replacement, and one to interact with too!))