| abstract | - Her head was slammed hard into the weapons console as the maelstrom of heat and pressure washed over her. Kathrin Grunwald gingerly lifted herself from the computer panel. Her head span and her ears rang, trapping her in confusion. Even as she recognised this as shock she struggled to remember the cause. She regained her senses slowly- noting the sharp ache of her skull, the ringing in her ears and the acrid stench of plasma and coolant. Her Navy experience quickly kicked in- there was still air. That was a good sign. There was still gravity- the ship must be at least mostly in one piece. Grunwald scanned around the bridge, searching for the source of the blast, but thick smoke obscured her vision. As sounds returned to her, muffled and distant, she began to make out the fires sprouting from consoles, licking the low ceiling before being smothered by automated foam. The ringing abruptly faded and sound flooded her ears. Immediately she became alert and her mind cleared, as if her daze had been flooded out by the noise. Grunwald noted the repetitive clamour of the impact alarm and the babble of shouting voices assailing her senses. The cacophony of voices and klaxons overwhelmed her, and the Lieutenant shook her head, desperately trying to clear it. So they had been hit. Grunwald raised her hands to clear her eyes and found wet blood staining her temple. Shrugging it off, she noticed the thinning smoke intermixing with the flashing red warning lights, as the vapour was quickly whisked away by the air filters. Through the rapidly clearing veil, she surveyed the damage wrought on the bridge. An involuntary gasp escaped her mouth as she saw it- the entire left half of the bridge had been gutted by the blast. Wall plating was torn and fallen, severed coolant pipes and electrical cables were exposed, computer terminals were completely missing, and the bodies of the officers who had crewed them lay nearby. A smoking black crater in the bulkhead marked the spot where the blast had emanated, as medical personnel hurried to remove the dead and wounded. Her eyes met the body slumped in the command chair. Two titanium reinforcing bars thrust through him, pinning him to the high back of the command chair, splitting his uniform, now crimson instead of white. The figure at the body's side rose and, meeting Grunwald's gaze, shook his head slightly. The voice shouted and, though she did not hear him fully, she knew Captain Lewis was dead. The Lieutenant blinked twice before she managed to distinguish the voice of the tactical officer. "Lieutenant," the figure repeated. She focused on the voice, and saw Ensign Lambert standing amidst the dead. He spoke with a level voice though she noticed he was still reeling himself from shock. "Lieutenant Grunwald. The captain and XO are dead." For a split-second she froze. Panic rose in her usually ice-cool mind. She ignored her desperate surroundings for a moment, and recalled something a friend had taught her to deal with stress. Breathing deeply, she mentally checked off her emotions- she found shock, apprehension, and fear- and mentally boxed them away in the back of her mind. It was all she could to prevent herself from being overwhelmed. As her mind cleared in that instant, she felt slightly more confident. It had worked often. Thank you Miranda Keyes. "Understood Ensign," she said slowly, watching with anguish as the corpsmen began to remove the captain from his chair. "Take my station on weapons. McArdle, man the sensor station. Nelson, damage report." A holographic avatar flickered into life in the bridge's centre. Grunwald's eyes widened as she saw the AI, his usually pristine admiral's uniform now torn and charred. She knew that was a bad sign- the artificial intelligence's response to the death of the captain, or the damage to his ship, or both. As the corpsmen removed Lewis's body, she chose to stand in front of the command console rather than take his seat. Not only did she not wish to disrespect the captain, his chair was saturated with a substantial pool of blood. "Significant damage, Lieutenant. Electrical overload on the bridge, explosive decompression on decks fourteen through seventeen, plasma fires on decks nine and ten. Reactors two and four undergoing emergency shutdown, engine thrust at thirty nine percent. MAC number two is offline and Archer tubes fifty-seven through ninety-two are inoperable. And my AI core has sustained damage." Grunwald nodded. The Seraphs attacking the cruiser would slowly tear holes until they could fly straight through her. She'd seen the UNSC's mightiest vessels brought low by Covenant single ships before, she reminded herself, as she recalled with a shudder the slaughter of Reach- still uncomfortably fresh in her mind. She cleared her throat, a little nervously. "Kill those fires, vent atmosphere in sections needed, and dispatch damage control teams to the rest," the Lieutenant directed with what could've passed for experience. "Ensign, what's the status of the fifty millimetre guns?" the Lieutenant inquired, referring to the ship's complement of forty general purpose turrets. "All guns hot ma'am, mix of HEAT and kinetic penetrator rounds in the magazines, Nelson's doing a fine job scoring hits. Seraphs are being successfully tracked but not all guns are traversing correctly." "Apologies, Lieutenant," the AI responded from his holotank, "but my own CPU functioning is limited by its damage. I will attempt to correct this by transferring some of my functions to the main computer core." The Lieutenant narrowed her eyes. "And order manual fire control teams to their positions, just in case. Olsen, message Admiral Jackson again and repeat the request for assistance." The AI's avatar vanished as she spoke. Another series of impacts shook the ship, dimming the lights and flicking blood from Grunwald's tawny hair into her eyes. She cursed under her breath as she remembered the ODSTs aboard. Two hundred special forces operators, give or take, wanting a VIP delivery to Sydney. And alongside them, nearly three hundred crew, brave and valiant sailors every one, willing to give their lives if necessary to get them there. She quickly told herself that it didn't bother her- that sacrifices like this had become commonplace in a war that was simply about saving as many lives as possible. She allowed herself a snort at her recital of what Navy officers knew better than anyone. But she knew that, eventually, they'd run out of people to sacrifice. And here they were, fending off a Covie attack in Earth's orbit. How long before there were no heroes left? Grimacing, she shook his head and tried to refocus on the current situation. Get your mind right, Grunwald. She quickly glanced around the bridge. It was hers now, she reminded herself, though for how much longer? Several stations stood empty, some inoperable and cracked. Bodies not yet removed were laid out neatly by the bulkhead door. Debris was strewn around the whole compartment, smaller fragments littering the floor and larger panels resting where they had fallen. Several standing crewmen were visibly injured, she noted with distress- Song, the electrical systems officer, had ignored the corpsmen's insistence that he visit the sick bay. It was luck the bridge hadn't been completely taken out, Grunwald thought. It was luck even they'd lasted this long. The cruiser was forced to leave Singapore with less than a quarter of its command staff. The Covenant had caught the Home Fleet napping. Sydney was Earth's keystone. The headquarters of the entire UNSC resided in Bravo-6, or the Hive- a massive fortified complex located above and below ground. Few people knew its actual size. Right now, Bravo-6 was coordinating the defence of the entire planet, from the Home Defence Groups in orbit to the hundreds of Army divisons groundside, as well as all military throughout UNSC space. But if Sydney fell, all of that ground to a halt. Humanity's last bastion would present little more than disorganised resistance, and its colonies would become orphans, spinning alone in the dark, waiting for the Covenant to find them. Humanity would blink out of existence. The thought sickened her. And she would not let it happen. And that's why the satellite was so important. Most of the Covenant's forces were focused on East Africa, for a reason no one could fathom, and had been locked up by the Home Fleet. But Covie ground forces had also landed across North America, Asia, Europe- and Sydney. Of the dozens of satellites transmitting Bravo-6's orders across the world, only one was under attack- the one that served Southeast Asia. It was obvious when she said it like that. The Covenant wanted Sydney first. With Bravo-6 gone, they could burn Earth with no organised resistance. So Absolution- for that was the name of the ship she'd inherited from Lewis- was tasked with delivering ODSTs to Sydney, and guarding its geosynchronous satellite- thirty five thousand kilometres apart- simultaneously. She wondered if more impossible orders had ever been issued. "Montero, how long til we're in position to launch ODSTs?" The navigation officer’s forehead furrowed. "With reactor damage and evasive manoeuvres, eleven minutes at best." "Not good enough," Grunwald said immediately. "Eleven minutes and we'll all be breathing vacuum. Vent primary coolant and pump the reserve. Don't bother with evasive manoeuvres, they'll run rings around this tub either way. Nelson, divert power from the offline MAC to the engines. Push reactors one and three to one hundred and fifteen percent.” "Acknowledged Lieutenant, but be warned this will increase the risk of dangerous power fluctuations." "Then trickle charge the MAC with the excess heat, that should lessen the risk. I want an Archer firing solution as soon as we're in range." "I hope you're not planning on using the MAC, Lieutenant," Nelson replied politely. "Our orders are to preserve the satellite, not vaporise it." Grunwald looked up to reply, but saw Nelson had already faded from view. He was taking damage just as the ship was, ceaselessly being holed by small but abundant plasma fire. The communications officer looked up from her console as another jolt made her brace herself. "Ma'am, Jackson replies that all his forces are tied up," she said. "He can't spare more than he's already given us. Reliant Warrior is already in position with a squadron of Longswords ahead of us. She’s dropping her ODSTs and attempting to defend the satellite." "Understood. Message Death's Head to move ahead at her own speed and do the same. Ask them to do our job for us and save that satellite too if they can." "Aye aye ma'am," Olsen said, then paused. "Death's Head is moving off at full burn. Reply is 'good bye and good luck'." Grunwald muttered under her breath that they'd need it. As more plasma fire raked the ship, a dozen small impacts followed by a large explosion rocked it. She wiped away the blood from her brow, and winced as a finger stroked the long gash by her hairline. The bridge rumbled again as the sounds of an explosion rippled through the cruiser. The last ten minutes had been a hell of tearing explosions. The Covenant fighters swept past in twos and threes, pummelling the Absolution with streams of plasma fire. A single plasma charge slammed into the forward section, blew open an armoured turret and blasted a fifty metre hole in the hull. The bridge lurched sickeningly but everyone kept their positions, Grunwald wincing as she imagined the damage. "Turret four disabled Lieutenant," McArdle announced, reading damage reports. "Directing turrets five and seven to cover the blind spot. Less than ten Seraphs remain targeting the vessel." The young officer ran his hands over his hastily donned uniform, struggling to dislodge the small pieces of debris coating it. Grunwald glanced towards the tactical display, one of two large holotanks directly under the main viewscreen. Above one of the holotanks floated an exact depiction of the Absolution, icons and flashing panels indicating damage taken, enemy craft and other stats. The second tank, the one that held Grunwald's view, showed an expanded representation of the space around the cruiser, a tiny orange shape in space. She watched seven or eight microscopic purple triangles dance around the ship,. Ahead of it, a frigate hovered by a blue-highlighted satellite, a cloud of friendly and Covenant fighters mauling each other around it, while another frigate accelerated towards the fray. "It's not them I'm worried about," Grunwald replied, studying the holographic panel’s readouts and details. "It's what their friends out there will do to us," she said, gesturing to the satellite on the screen, "now that we're damaged goods." She paused for a moment, considering something, then added, "Nelson, prep a Pelican and an EVA repair team. Tell them they've got four minutes to be in the hangar suited and ready for launch." "I'll see what I can do, Lieutenant," the small avatar replied, and disappeared from the pedestal. "Lieutenant," said Montero. "Revised ETA, four minutes to geosynchronous orbit above Sydney, distance fifteen thousand kilometres.” "Good. Lambert, get a missile firing solution on those Seraphs, don't hit the button until my command. Nelson, bring forward 50 millimetre batteries to bear on those Seraphs, open fire the second after they hit." "Very good Lieutenant," the holographic admiral replied cheerily, blinking back into existence. "Munition type?" As he spoke, the Absolution vibrated as the forward turrets turned in unison, training their twin barrels on the enemy fighters. "Your discretion," she replied, knowing he was already running calculations, "but don't so much as scratch that satellite." “Turrets one through twelve trained, targets locked," Nelson chimed. "Ma'am, I have a firing solution," added Lambert. "Not Harpoons," the Lieutenant said quickly, referring to the cruiser's complement of twenty four nuclear antiship missiles. "The EMP will knock out the satellite. Half our remaining forward Archers," Grunwald said, watching Lambert as he operated her own former station with honed skill. "Proximity detonation, five hundred metres, alert the Longswords and Reliant Warrior to put some distance between them and the target location, fire when ready. Hopefully that'll down their shields for our guns to do the rest." "Without KO-ing the satellite too," the tactical officer said tensely. "A bit of faith, please, Ensign. We came all the way out here to get this done. Prow cameras, main screen," Grunwald said, leaning heavily on the unfamiliar command console. "Twenty times magnification." Song complied, and the darkness of space appeared on the main screen. A distant hexagonal object floated in the centre, two sides of it glowing yellow as automated turrets rattled away at the Covenant fighter swarm around it. A frigate accelerated towards the fray, Death’s Head, joining another embattled one closer to the satellite, point-defence guns of both perpetually tracking and firing. The frigate closer to the satellite, Reliant Warrior, fired thrusters as she accelerated away from the battle. Drop pods launched from her underside as stray plasma bolts caused her hull to bubble and glow. A handful of Longswords darted amongst the plasma and shell fire, heavily outnumbered by the tear-shaped Covenant craft. Crippled and destroyed fighters both UNSC and Covenant spun away from the melee in all directions. "Lambert, fire Archers when ready, Nelson, standby to open fire." Lambert's hands whirred at the tactical controls as he complied. He whistled as he stole a glance at the main screen. "And we're headed into that?" Grunwald's nails dug into the sides of the command console. "No choice, Ensign. Nelson, engines to one hundred thirty percent.” “Acknowledged. I am sure you are aware of the limited time the reactors can maintain such an output to the engines." "That's correct," Grunwald replied as she massaged her chin, deep in thought. She went over their orders again in her head one more time. She had to prevent the enemy destroying the communications satellite at the same location- hard enough even with a fully operational cruiser, let alone one already under attack. But simultaneously she had to send two hundred ODSTs in drop pods on a thirty five thousand kilometre trip. The slightest course error from Absolution and the troopers would be breathing vacuum sooner or later, even with maneuvering thrusters. And with the better part of the Fleet either destroyed or in fierce fighting, their chances of survival if they ran into complications- like a squadron of Seraphs- was slim. "Lieutenant!" Grunwald looked up, Song's panicked yells shattering her thoughts. "Massive power surges through the AI core, Nelson and the automatic fire control system are down!" His eyes were wild with dismay as he assessed the damage alerts in front of him. Grunwald stood up and faced him, equally unnerved. She walked a few steps, then stopped and turned around. She raised her hands, helpless. "Well- get them back, now!" Song shook his head, his expression desperate. "It takes hours to reset the system even without all this electrical damage... Sorry ma'am... there's nothing I can do. I'm transferring AI-operated functions to the relevant bridge stations." Grunwald swore in her native language under her breath. Nelson, a tactical advantage even in his damaged state, was off the table. She wondered whether Captain Lewis would’ve made the same decision- taken the same risks. Suddenly she felt great fear at the responsibility she had the misfortune to inherit. "Understood," she said, somewhat hesitantly, as she ignored the nagging sense of failure and reassessed the situation. "Bring manual gunnery control online, and transfer fire command to the bridge station." "Aye aye ma'am," Song replied, closing the AI monitoring window on his console, and following the series of crimson buttons that shut down Nelson's core. A volley of Archers appeared on the main screen, accelerating towards the mass of Seraphs around the satellite. Grunwald saw Lambert watch tensely, waiting to give gunnery control the order to fire. A small cluster of explosions blossomed into fiery life on the screen as the barrage of missiles detonated one by one. The blast was brilliant white even at that distance and with the camera's polarised lens. At once the deep staccato booming of the forward guns resumed and, a few seconds later, wispy clouds peppered the enemy craft. Bursting munitions, she noted with an odd twinge of sadness. "Good effect on target," the weapons officer observed, the information on his console repeated on Grunwald’s command station. "Roughly twenty bandits down, two dozen more seriously damaged. Volley two is locked and ready.” "Not just yet Ensign," she replied. "Instruct gunnery control to mop up the rest." "Ma'am, we're in position, geosynchronous orbit above Sydney, distance thirty five thousand kilometres," Montero reported. “Rotating to aim HEVs... done. Thrusters set to station-keeping, drop pods targeted." "That's one hell of a ride back to Earth, even for the helljumpers," exclaimed Song. "They've done further before," the Lieutenant replied shortly. "Ma'am," her tactical officer piped up. "Captain Gibson reports ready and eager for action." "Good," Grunwald replied. "Olsen, get me Launch Control." He nodded, and there was a pause as the communications officer opened the channel. "Lieutenant Colonel Gibson, you are authorised for launch, you may drop when ready." "Acknowledged Bridge," was the reply, from a voice Grunwald recognised. "Alpha Company has begun dropping now, Charlie Company to follow afterwards." Gibson hadn't bothered to ask why it was her, and not Lewis, issuing the order. Then again, she thought, the old trooper had probably guessed. "How long will it take for your men to launch?" "We're prepped and ready for launch currently, so as fast as the tubes will allow. Roughly thirty five minutes in total for both Companies. I'm remaining onboard with the HQ Company as per the original plan." "Understood. Delta Company is deploying from Death's Head as we speak and Bravo have already dropped from Reliant Warrior. I'll keep you updated with any further developments. Bridge out." Grunwald relaxed her shoulders, suddenly aware of how tense she had become. She had been really shaken by the loss of Nelson. He was still there, in the ship's system somewhere, but without him operational, Absolution would be much less efficient as a fighting machine. Everything would be harder and slower now, from targeting to navigating. She knew her crew were good enough to cope- she just didn't know if she was. The Lieutenant stared at the tactical display. She watched with intrigue as the small avatar representing the Absolution released a steady flow of tiny holographic pods, each with callouts displaying the occupant's name, rank and vital statistics. She wondered if these men and women would save Sydney, if they made it there. Or if they had a better chance of making it back to Earth alive than her own crew. That she didn't know the answer for certain weighed heavily on her mind. "Ma'am?" the tactical officer broke her reverie. "All Seraphs eliminated." The Lieutenant turned, and nodded curtly in reply. "Guns all operational with the exception of turret number four," Lambert said, taking the opportunity to update her, his eyes running back and forth across his terminal. "Nine thousand rounds of fifty millimetre left, about three thousand airburst, two thousand kinetic penetrator, four thousand high explosive. Sixty two percent overall, some guns individually down to thirty percent." "Acknowledged," she replied, not surprised by their ammunition expenditure. "Kozlov, is that Pelican ready?" The flight officer smirked. "Only just, ma'am." "Get them spaceborne. Tell them they have seven minutes exactly out there; whatever they can do in that time will have to be enough." "Aye aye ma'am," he replied. Nelson's pre-recorded voice announcement floated over the tannoy: "Attention, aircraft moving on the flight deck". "Olsen, instruct Reliant Warrior and Death's Head to put Pelicans on combat search and rescue if they have flight crew prepped. Keep it low key, no more than two birds per ship." "Aye ma'am," the communications officer replied. "You thinking some of those Longsword crews are alive?" She relaxed her expression, lines half-smoothing on her face. "I have no idea, but we can at least try. McArdle, keep an eye out for anything unusual. There's more Covenant out there, and they'll try to ambush us while we're stationary and surrounded by this debris. We stay at Combat Alert Alpha two." "Aye aye ma'am," the officer said, intently adjusting holographic controls at his fingers. Silence returned to the bridge, and the young Lieutenant returned her gaze to the viewscreen. Grunwald was truly exhausted both mentally and physically. A hundred separate tactical considerations occupied her fatigued mind. She was an officer, but she had never had to lead before, and it was truly overwhelming. She worried if her ship would hold up. She worried about making errors, about failing and what that would mean for Earth. She worried about her crew, too, equally tired and distracted. Most of all she thought of Earth, of the millions of innocent people there, of her family. Grunwald had seen worlds burn before, had fought and failed to save millions from a brutal death. She knew, though she refused to acknowledge it mentally, that it had felt like this every time. The palpable feeling that this might be Humanity's last gasp oppressed her. She suppressed an army of traitorous thoughts jostling to cloud her judgement, and took a small draught of water. Its icy coolness brought a fresh wave of clarity to her She was being a stupid bitch, she told herself. None of it mattered. She had a ship to command, a crew to lead and a mission to achieve. Everything after that was irrelevant. Grunwald turned back to the holographic display, studying it intently. She wondered if it would ever display Earth again, and what state it would be in if it did.
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