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Covenant vessels set the planet Reach aflame. Broiling orange-gold magma, roiling firestorms, and untold amounts of ash kicked up into the atmosphere. Whatever remained beneath choking—the once-green planet reduced to a charred, blackened ball.
The curved alien ships chased Battlegroup Indigo from high Reach orbit to the ring system of Aegir. Relentless in their dogged pursuit, scouring hulls and engines with pulse laser fire.
Major Orenov observed them from the bridge of his Prowler. The ten vessels dwindled to seven before he decided enough. The lone Covenant Battlecruiser still chasing them down would be too focused to see a lone stealth ship slip beneath their port-side guns.
“Christine—” he caught himself at the last minute, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Helm,” he began again, turning to the navigation officer manning a console to his left. His voice soft, the bridge was small enough that fitting the full crew was a squeeze, but over the years the small bridge became cosy to him.
She turned to face him when he paused for a while, and he covered up his musings with a cough and a sip of coffee from his thermos.
“I’d say we’ve observed the battle for long enough,” he continued. “Get us in close to the ship. Maintain minimum noise and power usage, but the faster the better.
The Lieutenant blinked at him in a rather owlish fashion, her large brown eyes creasing at the top where her brow lowered in confusion. “Close?” she asked.
He nodded at her.
“That’s what I said. Close”
“We’ll be spotted,” she said.
The Major shook his head and smiled. “They’re rather busy, don’t you think?” He gave his Nav officer a lopsided smirk and held out his hands. “We could spit at them and they wouldn’t care.” He held up an index finger as he spoke.
“In fact, I say we do exactly that. That’s a worthy enough cause for me. So,” he motioned at her. “Get us close, Lieutenant.” Turning back to the Prowler’s main window—they weren’t budgeted for a proper Viewscreen—he placed his arms behind his back.
The tug of acceleration pulled at the Major’s gut, and the Battlecruiser grew on their sensors and viewport. A screen on the ceiling folded down, opening up into a tri-monitor setup that displayed tactical information about the Battlecruiser. Everything their sensors could see—including the most important information at the time; the position of the Covenant’s main torpedo launchers.
Orenov reached a finger up and pressed on one of the launchers. ONI’s finest software opened up a full tactical and technological readout of the weapon. At least as much as Section III understood at the time. The Sundew’s databases were kept up-to-date with all the relevant info every time they made it back to a port or berthing tether.
“Helm,” he turned his head to one side but kept his eyes on the screens in front of him. “Adjust course, bearing zero-three-three. Declination point-five.”
“Aye sir,” Christine replied. “Declination point five, bearing zero-three-three.”
“Weapons,” this time, Orenov turned his head fully towards a young-bushy-haired man with the start of a moustache on his upper lip.
“Give me one pulse laser charge. Maximum burn, as long as you can make it.”
The man looked up from his console. “That’s a risky move, sir. With that much power drawn from our reactor, we’ll light up like a road flare.”
“Not next to an active torpedo launcher, we won’t,” Orenov said.
Christine took her hand off the yoke for a few seconds in shock, turning to look at him with eyes full of fear. “You want us to fly next to a torpedo launcher?”
“Aye,” Orenov said with a nod. “That I do.”
Christine didn’t say anything else, she went back to her console. Orenov felt the thrum of energy under the deck as the weapons charged, and the viewscreen was fully engulfed by the ornate, curvaceous form of a Covenant warship.
If ONI’s theory of Covenant firing patterns held, then they would approach the active torpedo just as it began to charge for a launch. Sure enough, the bright red warning of a large energy spike showed up on Orenov’s monitors.
They were neck and neck with one of the Covenant’s most devastating shipborne weapons, and they were still alive.
“The Covenant have to drop their shields to fire,” he said. “When they do, I want you to deliver a pulse laser burst right at that turret.” He turned to the weapons officer, pointing outside the viewscreen at where the faint outline of a Torpedo took up no more than a tenth of one of the diminutive windows.
“Got it?” the Major asked, his brows arched.
The weapons officer nodded. “Aye, preparing for pulse-laser burst.”
“Pray to god this works.” Major Orenov let out a breath, leaning forward and gripping the only railing on the entire bridge, separating him from the small windows at the prow of the ship.
The torpedo launcher in front of them boiled from gold to a raging red, then a luminous white that hurt to look at. The windows dimmed, but it still burnt straight through. Orenov had to avert his eyes.
“Shields dropping!” the weapons officer yelled. “Firing pulse!”
The deck shuddered with fresh vibrations, and a line of angry red light raced forward towards the bright purple hull of the CCS-class Battlecruiser. It slipped through the opening in the shields, impacting with sparks of bright gold and blue. It seared the turret housing, collapsed its electromagnetic field generator, and ruptured the housing. The entire turret exploded seconds later, taking a chunk of hull plating along with it.
“Nav, get us away. Nose down, declination thirty, bearing zero-seven-five.”
“Aye, sir!” Christine pulled on the yoke, and the carnage disappeared from view. The prowler arched ‘downwards’ relative to the colossal Covenant ship, and it disappeared entirely from view. They slipped ‘beneath’ the vessel’s ventral side.
“Are we good?” Weapons asked.
“If we weren’t,” the Major responded, “we’d be dead by now.” He turned to Christine, flashing her that same smirk from before. “I told you we could spit at them. Bring us to their other side, I have a feeling they have more guns.”
“They’re charging another torpedo!” the voice came from the communications officer—doubling on their sensor console.
“It’s on the other side of the ship.” Orenov smiled. “Luckily, that’s where we’re headed.”
“It won’t work a second time.” Christine looked over her shoulder at the Major, this time not disguising her facial expression.
The Major looked at her, gripping the rail a bit tighter. “We don’t need it to. Send a narrowband communique to the battlegroup, tell them to bring guns to bear at the signal.”
“What’s the signal?”
Orenov scoffed, flashing Comms his smirk. “Well, another turret blowing up, of course. Or,” he hummed. “When we blow up. We need the Covenant distracted, and that won’t happen unless we give them something to fight.”
“Aye.” The man reached over his sensor console to type something on comms, before leaning back in his seat. “Narrowband away. It’s pure luck if it makes it to the battlegroup, they’re hightailing it pretty fast.”
“Probably trying to get away from the Covenant before they make a jump,” Christine said. “I don’t blame ‘em.”
“We won’t know if they’ll reply.”
“We’ll know.” The Major nodded. “If they turn & burn at the signal, we’ll know.”
“And if they don’t?” Christine asked.
Orenov shrugged at her, cocking an eyebrow up in a slight arch. “Then our last moments were spitting at the Covenant. That’s good enough for me.”
The Prowler came to a halt next to the next turret, already glowing a brilliant, radiant white-hot. It was as beautiful as it was painful to look at.
“Pulse laser still charging, sir,” weapons said.
His sensor operator spoke up a half-second later. “They’re dropping shields, already!”
The Major leaned forward, tossing a look over his shoulder towards weapons. “Do we have any missiles?”
“If we fire a missile we’ll be detected!” Christine hissed. 
“It all rests on the battlegroup,” the Major said. “The Covenant won’t risk firing at a vapour trail when UNSC ships are bearing down.”
“How do you know?” Christine asked. “It will only take one laser burst.”
Orenov shrugged his shoulders, offering her an empathetic look. “I don’t. We have to take a gamble.”
Christine shook her head. “I don’t like gambles, sir.”
“Then trust me enough to make them,” he turned back to weapons. “And fire the missile.” He said.
The hull thumped, a vapour trail split the vacuum, and streaked towards the cruiser. “Missile away!”
It streaked into the unshielded turret with a puff of yellow fire, swallowing the weapon whole in its destructive aura. The torpedo turret followed in a much bigger, blue explosion a second afterwards.
A split second later, a purple pulse-laser turret fired up next to the turret and slashed its way through the dissipating smoke. Orenov felt the deck lurch, an explosion ripped through the hull, and the force of decompression took them into a lazy spin. 
“We’ve taken fire!” someone cried out. "It clipped our wing, right where the missile came from!"
“Dammit!” Orenov cursed. “Break off, get the venting under control.”
“The battlegroup is turning around,” the sensor/comms officer said with a wide smile. “They’re lining up a shot!”
The Major sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Oh, thank God!” He went back to his three monitors as the crippled Battlecruiser and the UNSC ships lined up for a slugfest. 
With two out of seven turrets destroyed, the Covenant cruiser couldn’t hope to win against a battlegroup of nine escorts. Missiles streaked from the Frigates and Destroyers, followed by the bright golds of MAC fire. The broadside silhouette of the Battlecruiser glowed a blue-white as the ship’s shields flared, then dimmed again.
Another turret on the hull began to glow, and Orenov picked it up on his monitors when the power surge began. He motioned to it on the screen. “Has our pulse-laser recharged yet?”
The weapons officer nodded. “Yes, sir!”
“Helm, bring us close to it. Prepare for a pulse.”
When the torpedo went to launch, and the shields were brought down, the Sundew was there with a precision laser burst to bring it down. The Covenant had their pulse-lasers, but against a full barrage from a UNSC battlegroup, there was only so much the Covenant could do.
Their shields failed with a shimmer of blue light, and the missiles and MAC strikes began to land. The purple organic hull of the Battlecruiser began to splinter, peeling away and cartwheeling off into space in a glittering display of a million tiny shards.
Somewhere along the superstructure, a plasma line ruptured, and the port side began to blossom outward in an iridescent cyan fireworks display. 
The UNSC ships ceased fire, the Covenant vessel lazily listed to one side as explosions and fire ripped through its hull. The vented atmosphere and chunks of nanolaminate intermingled with bodies and glowing, molten metal. 
The Major let out a breath, slumped over, and sighed. 
Christine let out a laugh. Hollow, stressed, and lacking any mirth.  
“Sir,” she sighed. “As much as I love pushing our luck, let’s not do that again.”
The major blinked and smiled. “That’s what makes piloting a Prowler fun.”
“We’re getting a transmission,” Comms said. “Wideband. Handshake hail.”
Orenov turned to him and his smile turned genuine. “Pop the outer lights, let’s answer them.”
“Channel open, sir.”
Orenov turned to his monitors, where an audio file opened. This is Major Orenov of the ONI Prowler Sundew. How may I help you today?”
“This is Commander Harrison of the UNSC Sunchaser. God bless you, Sundew! You saved our asses, back there,” came a strained voice over the channel.
Orenov smiled, despite there being no video connection. “We need all the blessings we can get, Chaser. Best scarper before any more show up.”
A laugh on the other end, and Harrison hummed in agreement. “Don’t need to tell us twice, Sundew. We’re already gone.”
Orenov went to close the channel but hesitated. “Oh, one more thing, Chaser.”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you see a Covenant ship,” he said, “make sure you destroy it.” He let the request hang there for a moment, before adding something more. “For us.”
“I…” Harrison hesitated, the full weight of the implication behind Orenov’s words only hitting him after a few seconds. “Will do, Sundew.”
“Appreciate it. Sundew out.” The Major closed the channel and watched the sensors as the battlegroup moved away from the destroyed Covenant Battlecruiser, towards the rings of Aegir once more.
The Major noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Some movement, or lack thereof, from Christine. She was watching him, some strange miasma of emotions on her face.
The Major straightened up, furrowing his brow at her. 
“You have something to say, Lieutenant?” he asked.
She shook her head, going back to her console. “Sir, no sir.”
“If you do, now’s the time,” he said. “May not get another shot.”
“Are we…” she started, shut her eyes, and sighed. “Is it gonna be enough?”
Orenov drew back at her tone, looking around at the rest of his Bridge staff. The same question was etched onto each of their faces. The question of whether or not it was worth the risk. 
“We just saved hundreds of lives, Lieutenant.” The Major said. 
“But—” Christine began, but Orenov cut her off.
“Will we be enough to turn the tide of the war?” he asked the question for her, and then solemnly shook his head. “No. We never will be. But there are ships out there, right now, full of people we just saved. That is absolutely enough.”
She nodded at him. “Sir, yes sir.”
He smiled. “What do you say we go save another one? Bring us about.” He turned to his monitors, folding them up and away, back into the ceiling. 
The Prowler’s hull glittered for a moment in the sunlight of Epsilon Eridani, before the outer hull lights dimmed, and the black ship slipped away into the howling darkness, leaving the Covenant in its wake.
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Category:SilverLastname
Category:Short stories
Category:The Weekly