A Long Time Coming

“We won’t have much time before they launch another attack. We can only guarantee their safety for another few minutes, so we need to make this transfer fast.”
“Aye, sir. ETA is two minutes. Oh, and one of our passengers has a request. She’d like you to deliver a message to Spartan Davis.”
Corin Davis scanned the hastily assembled perimeter that Fireteam Valiant had established following their assault on the Banished outpost, briefly checking the ammo in his SAW before continuing to monitor, his eyes darting between the treeline and his HUD’s motion tracker. It had only been a few weeks since Cortana, leader of the Created, had vanished, taking her cohesive leadership with her. In that time, the Created had rapidly dissolved from a single united entity into a mess of cells of opportunistic AI and their underlings and surviving Forerunner constructs. The celebrations quickly turned sour as threats, new and old, took to exploiting the newfound chaos of the galaxy, including various Covenant remnants and the Banished.
That was the situation that the crew of the UNSC Vegas had found itself in, engaged with a Banished invasion force on the Frontier colony of Satekha. Normally, the Vegas and her contingent wouldn’t be bogged down in a conventional battle like this, but Satekha had served as a valuable resupply point for the UNSC’s Frontier Command during the Created Crisis and they could not afford to lose it to the Banished raiding parties. Even with the skill of the Vegas and her crew, there was little they could do overall to stop an entire legion of Banished marauders and mercenaries, so the call for support had gone out over the same highly encrypted comms channels they had used during the Created Crisis. It wasn’t long before they had received a response in the form of the UNSC Orphellion, the same carrier Valiant had been assigned to at the outbreak of hostilities with the Created.
Corin had mixed feelings on that, and he was glad his polarized visor kept anyone else from seeing it on his face. Valiant had not left the Orphellion under the greatest circumstances, the heavy carrier had suffered a great deal of damage during its engagement with Forerunner constructs under Created control, and a large number of its crew were wounded or killed, leaving it to limp away to the nearest shipyard still capable of servicing it. They hadn’t heard word of it since then, and Corin was rather surprised to hear that it had been restored to some manner of operability.
He had also left her behind, he thought to himself.
He hadn’t meant to, and had protested rather heavily to Commander 142 and the others who had come to recruit Valiant into Sigma, but he was definitively overruled and he had been forced to leave behind one of the only people he had left in this world. It had weighed heavily on him for months, and the distraction had nearly gotten him killed more than once, a sloppy mistake that he’d expect from some fresh-faced bootcamp bitch. Or Sikowsky. Corin had eventually managed to put it behind him, at least long enough to complete their missions and not get killed, but now, with the Orphellion in orbit above him, it had all come back again.
A dozen teams had been deployed from the Vegas to secure sites that the Orphellion and her escorts could use as landing zones to bring in the reinforcements needed to really push the Banished, with Valiant securing an outpost just a few kilometers south of one of the planet’s major settlements. The battle had been quick and decisive, but everyone knew it wouldn’t be long before a counterattack was mounted, and their position was tenuous at best until reinforcements arrived. Even with word that the first Pelicans were on route, Corin refused to relax, certain that Banished reinforcements would burst from the treeline any moment, snarling and roaring as they threw themselves at the Spartans in a frenzied attempt to get their outpost back.
It was only a few moments more before he heard the roar of the first Pelican’s engines, at the same time as Sikowsky walked up to him. Corin tilted his helmet in acknowledgement, but refused to turn his head from the approach before him.
Sikowsky spoke, “First bird’s coming in, they’ll be hot dropping to make room for the next one.”
“Good, I don’t think it’ll be long before those sons of bitches mount an assault.”
“That’s not all.”
At that, Corin briefly turned his head towards the other Spartan, “What does that mean?”
“I was told to deliver a message, but I think it’s better just to let you know there’s a surprise for you onboard.”
At that moment, the Pelican swooped in low over the trees and fired several of its thrusters to rapidly slow its approach over the makeshift landing site. Sikowsky jerked a thumb towards the dropship, “You head over, check it out. I’ll take over lookout.”
Without asking more questions, but still thoroughly confused, Corin pushed himself up from his prone position and jogged the couple dozen meters to where the Pelican was disgorging its cargo. Eight fully armored SPARTAN-IVs had disembarked from the troop bay, two squads of marines following close behind, a few carrying large supply boxes with them. Corin went to inspect one of the crates as the marines set it down, revealing likely several hundred rounds of ammunition. He moved to the next one, reaching inside to pull out several MREs, the one after that holding even more ammo. He frowned beneath his helmet again, more confused than ever.
He was lost in thought when a familiar voice called out, causing him to jump slightly. He turned towards the source and saw a woman in dark gray Anubis armor approach him and his heart skipped a beat.
She spoke warmly, in the way that made you think of an old friend you hadn’t seen in years, “Hey there, Starship Trooper.”
There were only two women who referred to him by that nickname, a reference to an old science fiction novel from Earth, and one of them, his ex-wife, would be the last person he would ever expect to be in a suit of MJOLNIR. The woman took her helmet off, letting her short, chestnut brown hair out to blow in the warm afternoon breeze, her dark eyes staring straight through Corin’s visor.
He took off his own helmet and almost let it fall to the floor. He tried to speak, but the words kept tripping over themselves, “I… I thought I’d never see you again. W - we haven’t heard anything in months.”
Spartan Caitlin Fletcher smiled and walked up to him, a tinge of sadness in her voice when she spoke, “I felt the same way, big guy. The Orphellion’s been doing what we can to help out in our own way, and now we’re here. I’m here.”
Joy overcame the normally rough and grumpy Spartan, embracing Fletcher in a hug, who quickly returned it, “I missed you, so much.”
“I missed you too, now what do you say we get to what we’re good at, and kill some aliens?”
Corin grinned ear-to-ear, “Of course, one thing first.”
Fletcher raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”
Before anyone could say anything else, Corin leaned in to give the other Spartan a kiss, one that they both held out for several long, wonderful moments. It may have been unprofessional, and he knew the other Spartans and marines would likely be staring, but he couldn’t care less. He had earned this, and by God, he was going to enjoy it. For the first time in over a year, Corin Davis was truly happy.
Category:The Weekly
Category:Demons of Hope