Thunder Bunker (2021 Weekly 212)

The Thunder Bunker, Undisclosed Valley
856th Artillery Regiment, Planet Beluga
"We need a miracle, Ser Gerasimov."
Thunder struck the air of New Beluga with their loud bellowing belches of mind-numbing fanfare. All around the planet battle lines were formed that pitted the outnumbered and outgunned UNSC and CMA forces against the force of nature of the Covenant armies. Storms were always frequent so it wasn't rare to be bombarded by the crackling sounds of thunder but add the artillery salvoes hitting both sides endlessly and you would realize that there was a symphony of firepower playing outside. Where it not for the insta-crete and sound dampeners of the Thunder Bunker's command room, the tow inhabitants would have gone deaf without necessary headphones. Lieutenant Colonel Rollo Fowler sat idly on one side of the fore corner room. He endlessly played with his tac-pad siphoning what little data could be mustered in the current stand still against the Covenant.
They had been in battle for a week straight. The meds pumped into the tired Earther as well as the miracle soothers playing in his head thanks to his neural lace were the only things keeping him sane and Rollo felt that if he pushed things further with another shot, it may end as his last. So, he decided to idle - try to enter a trance away from the conflict - and busy himself. 
"It's my son's birthday." Announced the other inhabitant. One thump from the outside. Their table shook but neither mind. It was General 'Ser' Gerasimov and he looked serious as ever. Deceptively cold eyes now watched his subordinate's own tired ones. He was egging Rollo to react, act like a normal human at least for this fleeting moment.
They haven't had time to process the battle a week earlier and now the steely eyed general demanded a change. So, Rollo answered - or at least he tried to.
"Oh?" He held up a wheeze. This wasn't a linguist exam so there was no problem with his answer... where it not for the fact he sounded like a fool in front of his commanding officer. The same officer whom he had followed into battle for close to two decades. 
Ser Gerasimov - contrary to his imposing aura - was quite forgiving. And a Bonafide softy when it came to family. Rollo couldn't relate, his love for his own family never seemed to have that much luster that the general held.
Three thumps. The lights of the Thunder Bunker flickered.
"My son, Michael. He's celebrating with his family on Mars. I'm sure the party is as rowdy as usual. Even with all of this going on." Well, that's great to hear, thought Rollo and no, there wasn't a lick of sarcasm in that pondering of his. Rollo liked the general, a bit too much than what was considered professional - or even healthy for that matter. But it couldn't be helped, people would eventually obsess over their heroes given enough time.
"That's great to hear, Ser Gerasimov." Much as Rollo tried to show a happy reaction, he let out a yawn to go with the congratulation. General Gerasimov was used to his subordinate's demeanor however, letting out a laugh so soft that you needed to lean in close to hear it. What followed next was a booming voice that matched the thunder and artillery outside.
"Of course, it's great news! The best news in fact for me. My young boy's a grown man now!" General Gerasimov carried with him such a proud smile that would bring morale up to those under him. That or it would cause such a stir that every serviceperson still capable of fighting ET would stand at attention, grab a rifle, and charge at bayonet point against the hinge heads and kongs. Either way, to Rollo, it was comforting.
So, he let the comfort linger and let silence return to the room. Wouldn't last. Ser Gerasimov wanted to ask a question.
"When do you think we'll get back home?" He honestly didn't know. No one on this dust ball knew. The artillery outside intensified. Rollo's tac-pad filled up with data fresh from the front. Rifle battalions needed tubed support and the automated artillery answered their call in a symphony of thunder and steel. They would get that, so long as this bunker stood tall, and the recon spotters survived the onslaught but that wasn't the answers or question Rollo was asked.
When were they coming back from this?
"Not sure, ser. The Covenant aren't exactly letting up." And they were running out of men and metal to throw at the god damn aliens. Just on this valley alone, there wasn't enough able-bodied battalions to push them back. His own men were forced to lay back however instead of holding the line or even attempting a counterattack - orders from the man in front of Rollo.
Three dozen thumps shook their table. Rollo was on edge, but Ser Gerasimov was still busy with his letter. Was it the last letter he would ever write for his family? Rollo wouldn't know.
"Well, we aren't letting up either." Gerasimov declared. Those thumps were from his artillery regiment. One-two, rest, one-two rest, was the pattern. Two-Oh-Threes and One-Five-Fives Mike Mikes lobbing what Rollo guessed to be nuclear munitions on the Covenant frontline. Glassing may have been those damned extra-terrestrial's way of making hell, but humans weren't that far behind in that department. "If the Lord above wills it, we can get the opening I've been waiting for all week. I do need to get myself and the folks on this planet out of here. To greet my son a happy birthday after all."
I'd like that too, Rollo thought but so long as the invading fleet played it safe above atmosphere there wouldn't be a chance of escape. The Lord wills it? Rollo was praying for the devil to come and save their ass! 
Five last thumps. The artillery went quiet.
Just then the lights on both their tac-pads turned green. Messages and warnings from every frontal group still with working radios.
WARNING TO ALL: COV FLEET ENTERING ATMOSPHERE - ENEMY CAPITAL SHIP IS DOWN - ALL FRONTS EXPECT COUNTERATTACK
"And looks like I'll get my chance - 228 just provided us a miracle. Spartans never disappoint. The enemy fleet are joining in on the mud fight. The ETs are preparing for a thrust directly aimed at us - I dare say looking for a miracle like we are right now."
"What?" His smile gone yet his satisfaction remained, General Gerasimov stood up and faced his subordinate.
"Proceed to your regiment - you're my next miracle worker."
Well, wasn't that convenient?