Thunder from the Heavens (2021 Weekly 213)

Above Orbit, Planet Beluga
Unknown Spartan Group, NAVSPECWAR
ENEMY CAPITAL SHIP IS ABOVE THE THUNDER BUNKER. GIVE ME AIR, 228.
Thrusters softened her touchdown, but in the vacuum of space silence reigned.
Two-Two-Eight (A228) landed on the UNSC Corregidor without a thud. Each step was hard and quick yet there was no crunch from the metal. Solid Titanium-A plating allowed such rugged maneuvers and Two-Two-Eight was short on time.
Looking 'below' her was the vast expanse of the dark abyss. If she gazed long enough, she thought, she could have been lured into the vast expanse.
Looking 'above' her was another story. The often-nicknamed azure pearl of the Andreon System, Planet Beluga, was boiling. Reddish scorched marks popped and burst across the planet’s equator. The azure pearl scarred. Her pristine white sand beaches turned into the inhabitant’s own personal hellscape.
If Two-Two-Eight were to guess, the planet was screaming. Shrieking in a time where no one would hear it.
Sparks across the landscape lit. From this distance they were only a flicker. You couldn’t even here a thud from the blast, nor could you see any of the combatants. Two-Two-Eight was too far from the battles on the planet and atmosphere, but it was becoming clear to her there were two sides to this spectacle – the side of artillery rounds and missiles against the side of pulse lasers and energy projectors. Unfortunate that her side was on the losing end… things could be turned around if she completed her task on the Corregidor.
The bow of the Corregidor surprisingly survived. Power flickered and silence dominated the vacuum. Two-Two-Eight spotted three servicepersons. Lifeless like the ship, the crewmen had been in a hurry from the looks of things. Each of them adorned with exo-skeletons designed for heavy lifting.
Two-Two-Eight wondered what were they so pressed to accomplish? They clearly weren’t trying to run. Their faces carried a struggle of a fighter. Muscles spasmed. Their veins popped. They screamed perhaps. Two-Two-Eight will never know, it wasn’t her purpose.
As it turns out the crewmen of the Corregidor had a similar idea to her plan. Even in the absence of hope there always those who were willing to rage against the abyss. Create one final lightshow.
The room whispered to her 'finish what they started'. She walked to the ready rack, mag boots keeping her strapped. The crane cling to the single round. Sub-caliber in nature, Two-Two—Eight guessed enough for what she was about to do.
Miraculous feats was a Spartan’s forte. Carrying the round in zero gee and thruster support certainly helped and soon the munition was loaded. A few minutes after, the MAC fired.
Rattling like the first jets breaking the sound barrier. Two-Two-Eight watched as a bright streak of unmatched force speeded across the dark abyss. It may have only taken seconds before reaching its target - her keen senses and adrenaline-infused-self allowed her a light show like no other.
Now accompanying the azure pearl’s red scorched marks was a purple flash. Then five yellow streaks followed by sparks all around the purple flash.
Time to give the general the great news.
ENEMY CAPITAL SHIP IS DOWN, GENERAL GERASIMOV.
Category:The Weekly