Flight of the Valkyries [EVENT]

[Durant, M.]

1400 Hours, June 2, 2543 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /
Aboard UNSC Vengeance, approaching the
Atlas Moons, Atlas System

It had been a long few weeks since the briefing for the operation had transpired. Much of that time had been spent in the simulators training for the mission that lay ahead. Lieutenant Durant had been stricken with juggling his duties and responsibilities as Second Platoon's commanding officer, and fulfilling his obligations as the Company's Executive Officer. To his credit, he appeared to be managing well. Captain Flannigan hadn't complained about his performance or work ethic. He had worked feverishly to ensure that everyone had the needed equipment to complete what was certainly going to be a long campaign. Thousands upon thousands of Marines were about to embark on an invasion of a star system. There hadn't been an operation of this scale in decades. Not since the beginning of the war, when the Covenant attacked Harvest, and the UNSC responded with what became a five-year campaign to reclaim the besieged planet.

Michael hadn't been a part of that. He'd been a young child at that point, completely unawares of the threat to humanity that had revealed itself. He had not been concerned with war or warrior ethos. However, Captain Flannigan and Sergeant Stone were both grizzled veterans of that campaign. Somehow they had managed to survive an operation that had claimed hundreds of thousands of lives and resources, and they both had the scars to prove it. Durant wondered, quietly to himself, if this campaign would transpire similarly. Would they be fighting for this system for the next five years? Was this the next Harvest? How much was the UNSC willing to sacrifice to achieve a victory here? He frowned, knowing that he'd find out the answer soon enough. If this mission failed, he firmly believed he would not be around to see the results of such failure. While he wasn't afraid to die, he did not want his last act on this plane of existence to be marred by failure. None of Marines deserved that fate.

The Lieutenant was yanked from his quiet introspection by the thrum of the Albatross's engines as they fired up. The Albatross was a much bigger drop-ship than the smaller and more nimble Pelicans, capable of carrying his entire platoon and the supplies necessary to at least withstand a couple days worth of fighting without resupply. Captain Flannigan had been vehemently against using them as troop transports considering they were much less nimble and considerably slower than its smaller counterparts. However, the decision had been made by Colonel Harrison to use them in order to get troops down to the ground en masse while committing less aircraft to the task. While it would make it easier to deploy his entire platoon once the bird landed, there was a very real risk that it could be shot down. If the Covenant managed to shoot it out of the sky and it were to explode on impact, an entire platoon of Marines would perish in an instant. Durant's Marines, specifically.

He shared his superior's misgivings about the decision, given that it put them at greater risk. However, Michael knew he had no say in the matter. A First Lieutenant would never win an argument with a Lieutenant Colonel, no matter how passionate he was in his opposition of the man's tactical decision. This was the deck of cards he'd been handed by command. He had to make due with it. Captain Flannigan and the rest of the Company Headquarters had been assigned to a Pelican drop-ship due to the smaller size of the staff compared to its subordinate units. At least he had a decent chance of making it to the surface unscathed.

Durant hoped.

Warning klaxons suddenly echoed through the hangar bay and into the spacious confines of the Albatross's troop bay through the open ramp. The engines roared louder as the pilots readied the vessel for flight. The crew chief for the drop-ship nodded to the Lieutenant as he made his way to the ramp, hitting a switch on the wall to retract it. The rear hatch sealed behind them and the crew chief spoke into the radio affixed to his flight suit, letting the pilots know the hatch was secure. Michael leaned back in his seat and took the time to fasten his harness. He knew what was to come. He felt the subtle tug in his stomach as the oversized transport descended into a launch tube, ready to be jettisoned out into the bleakness of the cosmos beyond the Vengeance. "This is it, Marines," he said, loud enough for them to hear him over the dull roar of the engines, "get ready for a hot drop."

The intercom came to life with a squelch of momentary static. "Victor Two-Three Airlines, this is your pilot speaking: please keep your seatbelts fastened and your hands and feet inside the ship at all times. If you feel the sudden urge to regurgitate your lunch, please be curteous to your fellow passengers and do so in your lap. According to the radio traffic, we're in for some chop on the way down, so hang on to your butts." The moment the static of the intercom fizzled away, Durant was pressed against his seat as the Albatross rocketed out of launch tube.

Though none of them could see it, the scene outside was that of chaos. Point defense fire and plasma tore through space as Covenant fighters attempted to engage the vessels that were launching from the belly of the Vengeance. A flight of Longswords gave chase to the alien ships, letting loose with their autocannons. A Pelican that had just cleared its launch tube disintegrated into dozens of pieces as it was strafed by a lucky Seraph. The pilot cursed under his breath as he oriented himself using the complex suite of sensors that decorated the panel in front of him and maneuvered the Albatross towards the moon below. A pair of Seraphs attempted to give chase but were dispatched by the Longswords in short order.

Durant grit his teeth as the shuttle rattled from the acceleration of the thrusters. He imagined the pilot had the Albatross at maximum speed in an effort to gain distance between them and the enemy. The battle in space had begun the moment the fleet had exited slipspace. Thanks to Wilkas, Michael had been able to monitor the radio traffic between the Vengeance, which acted as a sort of command vessel, and the rest of the fleet. The ships had exited from slipspace kilometers apart from one another and had been forced to hastily regroup. The Covenant had not missed their arrival and had immediately engaged the nearest ships. By his count, at least three frigates and a couple destroyers had been obliterated by a onslaught of plasma torpedoes. It seemed the Covenant took offense to their sudden arrival. The only advantage they had was that the alien bastards hadn't expected their arrival, giving them the precious minutes they needed to reorganize and orient themselves to the incoming threat.

"Condition One, Marines!" the Lieutenant shouted. "When we hit the dirt, get ready for a fight!"

[Wilkas, G.]

 Wilkas knew she was afraid, terrified even. Yet despite the fear which pulsed through her tiny body with each rapid beat of her heart she continued to operate, to function. Had she not been so busy, she might have had time to admire the change in herself since landing in Oscar Company as a marine. She was not the same little college drop out she had been. True, she was far from the perfect soldier, but she certainly happened to be a lot better than the green as grass rookie that got dropped into the marines as a replacement. She had spent most of the journey time here trying to keep herself occupied, to prevent herself feeling anxious and worried about the future. Lots of time on the ranges, spending time working with the radio to the point she had sworn she could fix it blind and plenty of running and swimming. If she was going into the 'big one', a proper battle, a planetary invasion then she was going to be in the best condition she might possibly be. Grace Wilkas, RTO, Marine, holder of probably the shortest person here, was sick of being scared. She wanted to be the one doing the scaring, though with people like Stone, Durant and Temple around, she suspected she probably was as threatening as a cute puppy greyhound. 

She occupied a seat next to Durant, not able to offer much in the terms of conversation other than the occassional grunt or nod of acknowledgement. She was not being rude, rather too much of her attention was on her radio which she adjusted, trying to keep the net from descending into the hissing crackle and pop of static. A difficult job with a radio pack during a space battle. She swallowed, her mouth dry at the thought of the casualties already sustained in the fleet as she listened to the words coming in. Her cheeks paled, was this it? Any moment now they might all die? A single moment of fiery pain then whatever came next? She blinked her large green eyes and pushed the unwelcome thought aside. She was not going to die today, the LT was not going to die today, Stone was not going to die today, Furby as not going to die today... She had been determined to work her way down the long list of names which made up the platoon as well as Oscar Company when Durant's voice made her jump. "I'm going to bag myself a trio of Grunts." Wilkas told him, finally managing to find her voice. She shot him a nervous grin, before turning back to focus on the radio. 

[Stone, T.]

Sergeant Stone leaned back in his seat with his weapon between his legs. He gripped it loosely by the barrel as he casually glanced around the troop compartment. The Marines of Second Platoon were housed with their equipment in the back of the large transport. The Powers That Be had decided that they were to deploy with as much as they could carry with them. He frowned. He'd received similar orders over a decade ago when Oscar Company made way to Harvest. This mission reminded him of that fateful day, and every emotion that he felt swirled around in his mind like a cyclone. 

Harvest had been one hell of a campaign. Truthfully, it had been the place where the old Thom had perished. Whoever Stone had been prior to the Harvest Campaign had died on that barren hellhole. The Covenant had transformed Harvest into an glassy wasteland. All of his hopes and dreams outside of the Corps had been shattered with the fall of the planet. Everyone he'd ever known growing up had been killed by those alien bastards. The anger and the grief that consumed him had probably been the thing that kept him alive. He'd wanted revenge against the bastards that had destroyed his life and vowed to never stop until they were all dead or he was six feet under the dirt. Somehow, he'd managed to stay above ground, and he continued to carry out that solemn vow. 

There was a small part of him that was nervous. He wouldn't be human if he wasn't. The Covenant had control of the system. Despite all the Navy had brought with it, he foresaw many casualties before the day's end. Generally, Covenant ships were able to take on three UNSC ships with relative ease. Overwhelming firepower and superior tactics would be the only thing that would win the day for humanity's Navy over the Atlas Moons. Thom wasn't sure if they had either. Beyond that, he was concerned that the platoon would never make it down to the surface. Naval superiority meant that the Covenant had plenty of air and space assets to deploy, and those assets would be targeting any human drop-ships that broke for the surface of the moons. All it would take is one lucky pilot to end their mission before it could even begin. 

However, he could not express these thoughts aloud. The men and women under his charge counted on him to see them through the fight. He had to be confident -- even if feigned -- that they would make it down to the surface and get to kick some alien ass back to wherever they came from. Of all the things that someone could say about Thomas Jeremiah Stone, it wouldn't be that he had a terrible poker face. Stone had perfected the art of the stoic. If he wanted to shut people out, he would. 

Given the circumstances, that was exactly what he wanted to do. 

The sudden shudder of the Albatross as it was catapulted out of the launch bay at breakneck speeds was enough to break him from his reverie. Lieutenant Durant's voice reminded him that he needed to focus on the matter at hand. He did not have the luxury to think about all the very many possibilities that the mission could go south for them. His sole purpose in life right now was to prepare his Marines for the combat ahead. "Alrigh', listen up Marines!" he barked, briefly taking stock of First Squad. "There's a whole army of Covenant beneath us that are lookin' fer a fight. If ya ain't thinkin' 'bout how yer gon' kick their teeth in, git'cher head outta yer ass! Condition One yer weapons an' git ready to hit the deck runnin'." 

"Faust" he called to the leader of First Fire Team, "I want Firs' Team ta be firs' boots on the ground. Git yer team inta overwatch an' cover the platoon as it offloads supplies. Mihaylov, yer team will post up opposite of 'em. I'm sure there'll be plenty of split-jawed freaks waitin' ta lay out the welcome mat. Make sure ya thank 'em fer their hospitality!"

At that moment he looked over at the odd team out. "The rest of ya will git all our shit off this bird so it can take off. Once the bird's gone, we hold until LT says otherwise."

[Chambers, T.]

Chambers was nervous, not overly so but he had hardly talked this morning. This was different than last time. Something felt off about this drop. It felt just as it had been at Arkhangelsk on the Jackboot. He was unable to shake the feeling that something was about you to go wrong. The plan was... Bold to say the least but they couldn't keep on the back foot forever, he just wished they weren't gambling with his life. He'd prefer it was someones elses. Most everyone Agreed with Lance Corporal Furby to some degree. Most people however found it was better for them not to voice their frustrations so openly. Though he didn't hate him for it, it took bravery to be so yourself in the Corp.

Tom was jolted back into his seat as the Albatross was launched from the Vengeance. Tom looked over first Squad and finally settled on Mihaylov. "You're gonna beat him. Fair and square too." He replied lowly with a smile. He attention was quickly brought to first Lieutenant Durant and then quickly followed by Stone, even with all the other NCOs going about their prep and pep talks it was still easy enough to listen to the leader of first squad.

"Alrigh', listen up Marines! There's a whole army of Covenant beneath us that are lookin' fer a fight. If ya ain't thinkin' 'bout how yer gon' kick their teeth in, git'cher head outta yer ass! Condition One yer weapons an' git ready to hit the deck runnin'."

Chambers nodded and quickly pulled his weapon up. It was loaded but chamber empty and safety on. He quickly went through the drill and cycled the M739 Saw and popped the safety back on, it was about to be showtime. He quickly looked back up as the grizzled NCO barked his orders to the Teams.

First and Second Teams were to post security. He sure was going to give the alien sons of bitches what was coming to them, 100 round drums of 7.62 as fast as he could load them and hit his targets, they would need to conserve ammunition he felt. The sinking feeling was about supplied he was telling himself. Resupply was not going to be good he thought, not with all the Covenant space assets about.

Tom knew the drill by now. He was likely to be the one on the radio but Dimi had been working on his Ruslish and it was become more passable. However one thing remained. He glanced at the Sergeant and then made doubly sure to go through his smoke grenade loadout. He was not repeating the same mistake they made in the training sim against Davis... the ass kicking they'd received for that was one he cared not to repeat.

[Silva, J.]

 Silva had deliberately breakfasted light in the hope of not bringing anything back up on the drop. She doubted this strategy would work however, since even the shortest of air flights or space drops tended to result in the young woman redecorating the floor with a delicate shade of le vomit. The motion of the vessel soon began to do it's magic upon her. She swallowed, desperately attempting to keep down the contents of her guts whilst she had turned a noticeable shade of green. She closed her eyes and hunched over, fighting a losing and futile struggle against her growing nausea. She swallowed, distantly aware of the buzz of conversation, Stone saying something, Durant talking... The ship gave a sudden lurch and so did Silva. Her resistance was overcome and she was sick, splattering the floor and her boots with what had been breakfast. Honestly, she did not cared what they faced when they hit the ground. She just wanted to get off the ship so she would stop feeling sick. 

[Gray, L.]

Gray remained quiet as normal throughout the trip down to the planet's surface, with Lawrence at her side. Though this time, rather than being in the pelicans, they normally used to get to where they were going on missions, they were in one of of the bigger transport ships, an Albatross to be precise. The ship was capable of carrying an entire platoon and its supplies, however it was slower than a pelican which meant it could become a deathtrap for Gray and her fellow marines, an idea that she was not particularly enamoured with.

Gray had made sure that she was with her squad leader and the rest of second squad when they had boarded the ship. She was now sat between her squad leader and Lawrence. The ship gave a lurch as they exited the slipstream, which caused her stomach to churn. The woman took a deep breath and glanced over at her marines when she heard Durant speak. She could also hear the faint sounds of battle going on outside the bird. It sounded like whoever was out there was being kept busy and Gray hoped that herself and her fellow marines could get to their destination safely. The bird lurched again and Gray looked over at Silva, noting the other woman was looked slightly green, as the poor girl succumbed to the rather "hot" ride they were currently being subjected to.

"Ah...yikes, these rides never get any smoother huh?." The brunette said sympathetically to Silva. She could empathise with her teammate as she, herself had ended up sharing her breakfast, more than once during mission drops. As they got closer, she heard the rather dulcet tones of the one and only Thomas Jeraiah Stone as the man called on his squad to make sure they were ready when they hit the ground. She had to stop herself from smiling at his usual tactics. Granted the man was very taciturn and tough, but goddamn he was a legend in his own right and Louise Gray had always been in slight awe at his ability to be a squad leader. She also had a very healthy amount of respect for him as well. She glanced over at her own squad leader and then muttered quietly to her. "We should get our guys ready too." She said as she then looked over at her own fireteam when she heard Durant shout.

"Alright you three, you heard the LT, it's a condition one out there. I want you guys ready to take the fight to those bastards when we hit the ground running got that? Eyes and ears open and keep your heads down, don't go pulling stupid shit as I want to bring you all back alive, am I clear? That goes for the rest of you in Second Squad too." The woman said as she glanced over at the other two fireteams in the Squad. They were all good marines, they deserved to have the chance to live without the Covenant fucking that up for them. As for her own team, she knew she could trust them to get the job done.