Smash and Grab
Lucy aimed down the scope on her rifle, scrutinizing the ramshackle operations base the Covenant forces had established. It consisted of little more than a few hastily set up communication pylons, which were doubling as makeshift perimeter markers, fencing in an assortment of vehicles. Sitting near the periphery of the collection of Ghosts, Wraiths, and Prowlers, Lucy spotted her objective. A huddled group of grounded Banshees. She angled her rifle up to stare at the Covenant corvette hovering above the base. It was just one of the three such ships attached to the de-facto flagship that was the CCS-class cruiser.
“So.” Tom whispered. “How do we do this?”
“Quietly.” she said. “But I’m not overly concerned with ground forces. It’s that corvette that worries me. There’s no way we’ll be able to get passed it once we’re airborne. It’ll shoot us out of the air like flies.”
“Agreed.” Tom said. “But our options and assets are limited. And every moment we delay more of Rhodes is turned into molten slag.”
“So what do you propose?”
He paused and thought for a moment. “Crash and grab.” he finally answered. “Quick and silent. Hopefully we can grab a pair of banshees and bug out before they even know what happened.”
Lucy considered it for a moment. “Assuming we manage it... it’s still a long way from here to that CCS... and there’s no guarantee they won’t just shoot us down once we get there.”
“No.” he agreed. “But what are our alternatives? We need to act now, before it destroys any more of the planet or decides to bug out itself.”
Lucy paused to think herself. “What we need…” she mused. “...is a distraction. Something to draw its focus away from us. That’s our ticket in.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
Lucy knew there was only one thing heavy enough to draw its attention completely. And she hated that she had to be the one to suggest it. “I have an idea.” she said. “But I’m going to need to make a call first.”
The hulking mass of the UNSC frigate Jovian came into view as it broke the lower cloud cover of the atmosphere. Tom watched as it angled down and over them, sailing off to engage the CCS cruiser. A retrofitted Charon class, it had recently been retrofitted with a limited integrated form of energy shielding. It still had no hope of defeating the cruiser, but it didn’t need to. It only needed to harass it long enough to get its attention. Wanzay hadn’t exactly been warm to the idea. Wasting UNSC assets wasn’t something one did casually, especially not something as large as a frigate, but he’d eventually seen the cold logic of the plan. ONI really wanted this Prophet. And they were ready to sacrifice a frigate if needed to get to them.
Tom turned his attention back to the ground, as he slipped shadow like between dormant Wraiths. Dodging from one to the next as silently as he could. He checked his NAV marker. Forty meters to the Banshees. Another marker pinged behind an adjacent Prowler. Lucy was nearly in position. The plan she had made was sound. It achieved multiple different objectives at once. And he knew she hated that fact. Trading lives for time.
Her status light pinged green. She was ready. He winked a green light back and as one they moved forward across the open field. The pens holding the Banshees were a good thirty meters apart from the other vehicles. An easy kill zone if ever there was one.
At times like these he missed his old SPI armour. It may not have possessed shielding, but it had been a whole lot stealthier than MJOLNIR power armour was proving to be. The two were twenty meters from their goal when a Brute roar went up, and bolts of plasma started lashing towards them.
“Hoof it!” he yelled. Tom launched forward and dashed for the safety of the next pen. His shields flared but held as he reached the protective carapaces of the Banshees. Lucy had been less lucky. She appeared next to him, her armour sparking and a stray spiker shot jutting out of her left arm. There was no time to ask if she was okay. They needed to move, not talk. He instead offered a quick double orange blip through his helmet, asking if she was still combat capable. A green blip answered him. That would have to suffice.
“Two Banshees to our left.” he said. “You take the first one. I’ll get the second.” Another green blip answered him. Lucy ran the few meters to the Banshee and ducked inside. Tom legged it to the one sitting beside it. He started playing with the controls and revving it to life. It had been a while since he’d run the simulation for this. Longer still since he’d actually done it for real. But muscle memory did the heavy lifting for him as the Banshee rose into the air. He quickly turned and gunned it in the direction of the carrier.
The compartment was cramped and tight to move around in. The Covenant had certainly not designed these things for comfort. He checked his radar and was comforted to find Lucy trailing right behind him. Plasma fire and sharp needles flew into the sky around them. They didn’t even attempt to dodge, instead simply pushing the vehicles as fast as they would go.
A stray sniper shot struck the propulsion unit at the end of his right wing tip, and the engine promptly exploded. The Banshee banked hard to the right as the other engine tried to compensate for its lost brother. The vehicle began to lose altitude as Tom attempted to correct its pitch.
“You able to keep going?” Lucy asked concernedly.
”I can keep up.” he said as Lucy overtook him. A warning light lit up on the console as the corvette turned its long-range cannons towards them. They were nearly out of its effective weapon range, but not quite. A series of plasma lances launched as the ship unleashed a whole scale broadside at them. The majority of the shots were aimed at Tom’s flagging Banshee.
A quick bit of mental math told him he didn’t have the speed to outpace them. And with one engine guttered out he couldn’t manoeuvre out of the way either. There was only one thing for it.
“Lucy. I need a ride.”
“Acknowledged.” she said. Her Banshee slowed and dropped beneath his. The plasma lances were getting close, fast. A green dot flashed in his visor. Lucy was in position. He bailed out. Tom’s feet collided with the bow of her Banshee. He activated the magnetic locks on his soles to anchor himself. No sooner had he planted himself then did Lucy bank the vehicle upside down in a barrel roll manoeuvre. Powerful G-forces began ripping at him, working in tandem with the wind, trying to dislodge him from his perch. But despite the strain being plied on him, the magnetic clamps held.
A loud roar and wave of heat washed over his armour as his own banshee was enveloped by multiple plasma lances. As the spin continued he started losing his sense of orientation. Tom could no longer say which way he was facing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see two plasma lances trailing them, desperately trying to match the banshees tight turn. Pain lanced through him as the forces pulling on him bled through the dampeners in his armour. He somehow managed to lower himself and plant his hands against the bulbous bow. “Lucy!” he seethed through gritted teeth.
The Banshee made a hard pull up. The dampeners in his suit were being pushed to their breaking point. Then in an instant the strain vanished as the vehicle righted itself and began cruising normally. It took Tom a moment to register the dual explosions behind them. Lucy had kept them in a stern chase long enough for the magnetic fields coalescing the plasma to unspool. The plasma thus freed had promptly dissipated itself as fast as possible.
A moment of silence passed. “Sorry.” Lucy said. “It was the only thing I could do.”
Tom shook his head. Partly in rejection of her apology, partly to shake off the nausea settling on him. “No need for apologies.” he said. “That was some great piloting back there.” A green light flashed in his helmet. He sighed to himself. It would seem that some old habits died hard.
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