Thread 2 [https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6239230/]
0730 THOMPSON Stand Time, 20 MAR 2549

Team: SPARTAN-III Headhunters VACIVE (A151 Faolan/ B327 Maris)

Classification //EYES-ONLY// ONI DIRECTIVE M-98

As previously covered, VACIVE made entry into the installation within ALLUTION at around 0630. Their movement led to the discovery of several critical factors, particularly regarding the presence of Venezians and a significant alignment between the Peoples Occupation and the United Rebel Front. While such collaboration isn't unprecedented, a PO cell so far from Reach raises several strategic concerns.

Unfortunately, due to a supposed moment of resistance after a brief interrogation, the first Venezian individual encountered by VACIVE was unable to be captured for further questioning. However, before the team could be engaged, they managed to scrape a sensitive console full of information and dossiers, an archive strangely well maintained when compared to other instances.

In that brief moment of interrogation, VACIVE discovered that the Venezians (And by extension, the fleet of civilian vessels surrounding ALLUTION) were mainly there for the purpose of outfitting vessels with slipspace drives. VACIVE resolved to investigate this, but their first priority quickly shifted to navigating the suddenly heightened activity of insurrectionist personnel aboard.

Primary Objectives:
FIND and ELIMINATE Insurrectionist Leadership within ALLUTION(AMENDMENT-Leadership scheduled to arrive at Conference Room B3 have seemingly been replaced by a squad of PMCs. Current and planned leadership locations are now a complete unknown, bar one.)
DESTROY Supply Depots and other materials that would facilitate attacks on UEG holdings.
CAPTURE Venezian representatives. If infeasible, gather data relating to their presence.
SECURE any pertinent intelligence.
UPHOLD the Cole Protocol.

Secondary Objectives:
INVESTIGATE the delivered slipspace drives on Level V-ZNT
INVESTIGATE Control-where a URF HVT by the name of Klagsburn was last known to be located.

Complicating Factors:
Alexa Velacruz-Chaves, an Ops Lieutenant from the UNSC BLAKEWELL, has been awakened. Her potential activities remain a complete unknown.
The charges within the BLAKEWELL have been set, but their status signals are blocked by pervasive jamming. If active, they can be detonated at any time to potentially cause intensive power fluctuations throughout ALLUTION.
Sacks and his team should be within WOUNDWART. The status of their portion of the operation is a complete unknown.
ODST Fireteam SK-2 is hopefully somewhere above in an armored Pelican, ready to act as a QRF if required. A high power, low frequency pulse might be able to alert them even from your current position within ALLUTION. If Fireteam SK-2 is otherwise occupied, this option may not be viable.

>>6270244 (OP)
Only what's necessary...

The shouts started about two corridors away. It wasn't exactly a surprise-the mess you'd left behind was quite noticeable, and the downside of have a large portion of the floor so thoroughly jammed was that alarms and alert signals couldn't get out effectively. The only thing you wondered was why they seemingly beelined for the conference.

You and Maris clear the deadzone, motion tracks lighting up with signs of increasing activity, but nothing near enough for concern. Several new signals pop up on your EWS, unusually high priority and surprisingly partially encrypted. You set your cryptographic subroutines to work, noting the lack of alarms-alerts haven't set in totally yet. There was no movement directly in your direction, but you know this level is writhing with personnel.

Maris breaks the silence, her voice coming in over the comms. "From the console-Slipspace drives are being mounted semi-internally, for speed. Some modifications are or have been already been made but it isn't detailed." She paused for a moment before continuing. "And there's a note on the Blakewell. Mentioning the atomics and the crew. A meeting about it, nine days ago. I could dive for more but-" Another shout echoed through the air from behind, not far now. Two contacts coming in from the rear. No time.

"Copy. Stay focused." You call out, before stepping out, quickly. Slipspace drives, atomics, the prisoners. Too many variables and you weren't much closer to your primary objective-the elimination of Insurrectionist HVTs. You were still proactive, still retained the initiative. For now.

Two green lights blip back to life on the side of your faceplate. Charges still in place.

>Control-A command center, located on this level. Likely located at the command node you picked up as you entered the floor. It was likely on alert, likely going to be guarded substantially and likely going to be an incredibly hard nut to crack physically and electronically. But if you struck swiftly, with total violence of action...you could lock down any outbound alarms, kill important persons and disrupt the marshalling of any security troops. It'd save you some precious minutes...

>V-ZNT-The Slipspace drives were just a level below, in a massive depot alongside potentially other arms and ammunition meant for the insurrection. The rest of the Venezian contingent would also be down there, technicians and potentially more higher ranking, bureaucratic sorts. They wouldn't be ready for you entirely, if you could get down to that level quickly enough. But you'd have to be fast.

>Write in.

Keep in mind. The ability to detonate the charges attached to the Blakewells reactor remains as an opportunity. .

>>6270245
>Control-A command center, located on this level. Likely located at the command node you picked up as you entered the floor. It was likely on alert, likely going to be guarded substantially and likely going to be an incredibly hard nut to crack physically and electronically. But if you struck swiftly, with total violence of action...you could lock down any outbound alarms, kill important persons and disrupt the marshalling of any security troops. It'd save you some precious minutes...
>Blow the charges upon us closing in on the OBJ, say, a hallway or threshold away. Ideally before we are detected, so that they aren't aware that they are seconds away from hard contact.

This is dangerous, but the disruption of C2 has great benefits. I cry at the thought of striking where the enemy is strong, instead of flowing like water from weak point to weak point, but if we don't disrupt them now, every place we want to strike is going to become a hardpoint. We still have Maris's nerve gas grenade, and grenades of our own. We can take one hard fight and still have something left over for any surprises further along the mission.

Alexa has had an hour to do what she can to get clear. 2 minutes, 40 seconds for a cyropod to unseal, she runs to start the sequence on everyone she trusts, then she can get them all done in under 3 minutes. Maybe 5 to 10 minutes to explain what is going on and rally her friends. The slowest part of our movement on the Blakewell was going through the vacuum exposed decks and locked bulkheads, after that movement was quick, probably only a few minutes. I imagine she picks up a few firearms from the dead or gets captured at this point, since the tech we interrogated it would be 20 minutes before people noticed he'd be missing. If she isn't captured, then she probably gets clear and either beelines it for an armoury to get further equipped, or makes her way to the hangers, either way she's likely clear of the worst of the blast from our charges. Waiting any longer is just being sentimental or risking the discovery of our charges.

>>6270245
>Control-A command center, located on this level. Likely located at the command node you picked up as you entered the floor. It was likely on alert, likely going to be guarded substantially and likely going to be an incredibly hard nut to crack physically and electronically. But if you struck swiftly, with total violence of action...you could lock down any outbound alarms, kill important persons and disrupt the marshalling of any security troops. It'd save you some precious minutes...

>>6270276
>>6270390
Set and set. Writing!

>>6270745
Midway through your movement, a new comms channel flares to life. You key in just as the bulk of the transmission is sent out, voice low. Blunt. Panicked.

"We have multiple pods empty on the Blakewell. M-maybe 20, 30...more? Did we have any prisoner movements planned, over?"

The voice flickers in and out, intermittently drowned out by background static. You can't catch the response.

Just as the channel quiets, two figures step into view at the far end of the corridor. Civilians at a glance, but they're armed, rifles and magazine carriers held haphazardly in hand. One male, one female. You step to the side, sliding into an alcove, Maris moving in turn. But the woman's head jerks up.

You know she probably isn't seeing you, but the SMG that's rising towards her definitely gave you away.

You don't hesitate, and neither does Maris, bursts simultaneously snapping out. Two bodies hit the deck, rifles clattering.

You push forward. Practically running now. Motion trackers are alive with signals, layers of movement bleeding from this deck and the one above. Distant thumps and boots in motion. Maintenance corridors are the only consistent way to move now, hastily built over the course of their construction. Every junction feels like a dead end until you find a narrow passage through.

By this point you know news of the dead bodies you left in the conference room have been sent out. The level of traffic through your EWS is more than your ability to parse on the move, and more is becoming encrypted by the second. Frankly, an incredibly swift response for a position so out of the way-security generally bred complacency.

Not in these lot.

The corridor opens up into another causeway. A hard corner is near, signs indicating something past it. You lead the peak.

A wide, fortified door is ajar. A short antechamber beyond that, and immediately a secondary blast door, this one sealed. Inside and just out the first threshold lies a fireteam, Nine. All in familiar armor, like those that guarded the Blakewell's reactor.

CONTROL.

A tall, dark man is arguing with one of the guards. He's also dressed for combat, a rifle of an obscure pattern low in one hand. His voice carries an accent-.

"We have a right to be kept informed. We're of the same cause-we're not responsible for anything happening as of now. I need to speak to Klagsburn."

The guard is firm, impassive, eyes hidden behind a standard pair of combat glasses. His voice was flat and final.

"This area is locked down. No one is allowed past at the moment, don't take it personally. So. Turn around. Now."

You see his hands twitch, clench at his sides.

"Kurvára."[i/] He spits out, turning sharply on his heel. Hungarian? Reach. Peoples Occupation, in the flesh.

No time to find out more, this is someone you're here to kill. Time to get on the job.

You keyed the charges. Half a second, and the lights flickered. Indicators vanished from your HUD.

>>6270745
Midway through your movement, a new comms channel flares to life. You key in just as the bulk of the transmission is sent out, voice low. Blunt. Panicked.

"We have multiple pods empty on the Blakewell. M-maybe 20, 30...more? Did we have any prisoner movements planned, over?"

The voice flickers in and out, intermittently drowned out by background static. You can't catch the response.

Just as the channel quiets, two figures step into view at the far end of the corridor. Civilians at a glance, but they're armed, rifles and magazine carriers held haphazardly in hand. One male, one female. You step to the side, sliding into an alcove, Maris moving in turn. But the woman's head jerks up.

You know she probably isn't seeing you, but the SMG that's rising towards her definitely gave you away.

You don't hesitate, and neither does Maris, bursts simultaneously snapping out. Two bodies hit the deck, rifles clattering.

You push forward. Practically running now. Motion trackers are alive with signals, layers of movement bleeding from this deck and the one above. Distant thumps and boots in motion. Maintenance corridors are the only consistent way to move now, hastily built over the course of their construction. Every junction feels like a dead end until you find a narrow passage through.

By this point you know news of the dead bodies you left in the conference room have been sent out. The level of traffic through your EWS is more than your ability to parse on the move, and more is becoming encrypted by the second. Frankly, an incredibly swift response for a position so out of the way-security generally bred complacency.

Not in these lot.

The corridor opens up into another causeway. A hard corner is near, signs indicating something past it. You lead the peak.

A wide, fortified door is ajar. A short antechamber beyond that, and immediately a secondary blast door, this one sealed. Inside and just out the first threshold lies a fireteam, Nine. All in familiar armor, like those that guarded the Blakewell's reactor.

CONTROL.

A tall, dark man is arguing with one of the guards. He's also dressed for combat, a rifle of an obscure pattern low in one hand. His voice carries an accent-.

"We have a right to be kept informed. We're of the same cause-we're not responsible for anything happening as of now. I need to speak to Klagsburn."

The guard is firm, impassive, eyes hidden behind a standard pair of combat glasses. His voice was flat and final.

"This area is locked down. No one is allowed past at the moment, don't take it personally. So. Turn around. Now."

You see his hands twitch, clench at his sides.

"Kurvára." He spit out the word, turning sharply on his heel. Hungarian? Reach. Peoples Occupation, in the flesh.

No time to find out more, this is someone you're here to kill. Time to get on the job.

You keyed the charges. Half a second, and the lights flickered. Indicators vanished from your HUD.

>>6270798
Another half second, the lights began to dim and surge severely as whatever power systems available tried to keep up with the sudden, unexpected load. You felt the weapon in your hands lighten, and the guards suddenly turned back, the tall man stumbling as he made a step and rose half a foot off of the decking-before coming down suddenly, falling to his knees, gravplates fluctuating.

Then everything went black. Gravplates are still up, running at...50% capacity.


COMBAT ENCOUNTER BEGINS

In total, both you and Maris have 4 frags and flashbangs. She has a singular nerve grenade, loaded with an odorless, colorless gas that will kill on contact.

10 enemies are laid out before you, none of which are clad in environmental suits so far as you can see. They are equipped with armor, something the smaller rounds of your SMGs would have trouble penetrating-but going loud with your standard weapons could alert others of trouble, trouble they'd respond to.

You could utilize the nerve gas, killing everyone who'd try moving through the area. But it could potentially adhere to your armor, acting as a threat to anyone you'd care to interrogate. But it'd be clean, easy quick-at least until you make it inside of the secondary door.

>Signal Maris to throw the nerve grenade. They're already off balance, finish them off and seed the way in to prevent others from following as you attempt to break inside.

>Prep and pop a grenade around the corner. Loud, and nearly as effective-the nerve gas is a potent weapon you aren't inclined to utilize just yet.

>Just clear it, silently with your SMGs. Gives them a chance to fight back, but saves your resources for anything that'll come after.

>Just clear it, loudly. 7.62x51 will help in punching through their armor cleanly, without the surgical precision necessary to hit gaps in armor.

>Write in?

>>6270799
>Prep and pop a grenade around the corner. Loud, and nearly as effective-the nerve gas is a potent weapon you aren't inclined to utilize just yet.
>Clear it loudly.

Think! That door beyond the first threshold is locked, hacking it may not work given that we just cut the power. Ergo, we are going to have to blow our way in with charges, regardless of how quiet we are with the guards, which is noisy. Little chance of taking people alive after that, but if they do survive the breach, we don't want to kill our interrogatees with the nerve agent. Plus, if we ever get injured, we don't want that shit clinging to our armour. Either way, guards will be inbound, the difference of seconds of silence between us making it silently to the doorway or not makes no difference if we have to blow our way in. We are here to disrupt command and control, not data mine, so even interrogating anyone may be too much time wasted.

>>6270818
+1, Clever thinking anon

>>6270993
Thank you.

It's up to you and any late joiners to lead us to victory. I'll be innawoods again for a few days. My advice is don't be too tempted by the prospect of interrogations, just kill everything, dump some cancer into their networks if time permits, smash the radios and computers, and get out.

>>6270818
>>6270993
Set. Roll three individual 2d10.

Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d10)

>>6272300

Rolled 5, 8 = 13 (2d10)

>>6272300

Rolled 8, 9 = 17 (2d10)

>>6272300

>>6272302
>>6272315
>>6272330
Set. Writing.

>>6272670
"Go loud," You whispered, methodically unhooking a grenade from your vest. The full powered rounds from your DMR would thunder through half the floor like percussion through a drumhead, and the suppressor on her MA5K could only do so much. No time for subtlety now.

You slipped the pin off and let it drop into your harness. DMR was already in your offhand, M7S neatly locked to your thigh plate.

The spoon slipped from under your fingers, stopping it just before it could go clattering across the deck. Counted to three, and tossed it, underhand. The bouncing metal skittered against the floor as flashlights flared to life, beams cutting through the dark.

With a sharp flash and low crump, it detonated. The explosion rolled down the corridor and you were moving.

Two PMCs down inside the antechamber. One slumped against the blast door, limbs bent un-naturally. The others were thrown off their feet, blood seeping from scuff armor.

The DMR barked, the report deep and resonant. Two shapes within the antechamber tried and failed to rise in the smokey haze as your rounds punched through them, armor and flesh.

Maris came in close, controlled bursts raking the first cluster of guards nearest, just barely starting to recover. The man from HVT moved to pull a pistol from a holster and was rewarded with a shredded chest.

One of the survivors-the ones that aren't trapped in the killbox that is the antechamber-scrambled for cover behind a desk. You snap-fired, punching rounds through the table as he collapsed and screamed, out of sight. Another turned for the blast door, but neither of you even give him a chance to take a step, a short burst from Maris ripping apart the back of a knee as you drilled the back of his skull.

Three left.

A flashlight beam cuts across Maris. Her SPI armor takes an instant too long to compensate. For a moment, she's set against the backdrop, a pure black silhouette.

She sidesteps impossibly fast just as the man begins to fire wildly, tracers lancing the air. Two trigger pulls and he's painting the bulkhead.

The last two rise and rush at you in a staggering charge. Remarkably aggressive, they barely get three steps before you cut them down in tandem.

Smoke hangs in the corridor. Gravplates shiver underfoot, intensifying in consistency as you near the antechamber. You step over a twitching corpse.

A single suppressed pop.

Ten down.

Inside the antechamber, lights flicker back to life in staggered, sluggish pulses. Shouting echoes from behind you. Nothing from beyond the sealed blast door.

Maris slides a magazine into place.

The door was shut tight but the control panel still glowed faintly, active. No motion behind it, but with how many inches of Titanium A was between you and the interior, there could've been a platoon of insurrectionist inside without you detecting it.

"C10," You say, tapping two spots on the door. One at chest height, another low. "Two separate charges. Here. Here."

>>6272774
Overkill, maybe. But you didn't have time for do-overs or grenades thrown through holes too small to crawl through.

Maris was already kneeling, charges in hand. The whine of air recyclers coming back to life was barely audible over the alarm klaxons building in the distance.

You turned back to the corridor, rifle raised.

>Roll for an encounter.

Three 1d12 for reinforcements.

Rolled 8 (1d12)

>>6272777
>777
this update was blessed by Bungie

Rolled 10 (1d12)

>>6272777

Rolled 4 (1d12)

>>6272777
Impossibly blessed trips. The sacred number! Truly we walk the blessed path. The Great Journey is upon us!

Also I'm fine with C10. It is definitely overkill, but we're not here for captives.

Also, also, I'm back.

>>6272858
>>6272877
>>6273282
Copy all. Update'll come in a couple of hours whenever I get home.

Actually, scratch that. Working late.

Update WILL come tonight, come hell or highwater. Thanks for sticking around, things will be smoother next week hopefully.

>>6272858
>>6272877
>>6273282
Sorry for the wait.

The pounding of boots echoed from beyond the corridor, urgent and only somewhat uncoordinated. Somewhere deeper in the installation, a shot rang out and was met immediately by a burst of gunfire. Confusion reigns elsewhere, seems. Not close, but not far enough either.

You sent Maris a yellow light-Step it up[/]-eyes scanning the corridor. She didn't respond, head tilted in a one minded manner at the solid blocks of C10 she was securing to the door, carefully peeling off the strips of plastic that hid grippy adhesive.

Motion tracker was alive. The sound of boots were clearer, nearer. A glance back and Maris was standing, the both of you stepping out of the antechamber in unison. The only spot of protection was the solid doorframe. You curled your body into the space, Maris taking the opposite spot. Minimal exposure, hopefully. As good as your new SPIs were, you didn't figure that it could take the pressure very well straight on.

You shouldered your rifle as a dark mass of shapes turned the far corner, and before you could call for Maris to blow the charges, she did it herself.

The explosion was utterly thunderous, a massive wave of pressure reverberating back and forth and back again. It slammed against your suit, rattling your teeth. Your HUD fuzzed out for half a second as your vision swam. You blinked, once, twice and get your rifle back up, clarity returning. Maris was already moving, somehow, arm cocked and then a blur as a frag grenade arced from her hand down the corridor, toward the staggered silhouettes moving sluggishly through the smoke.

Neither of you waited for the results, pivoting back into the antechamber as the grenade went off and the screams began.

What was once a blast door and a good few METERS of reinforced structure around it was simply gone, obliterated, the titanium shredded away, the edges of the hole crack, peeled and glowing somewhat from the heat of the explosive. Shrapnel scoured the surrounding bulkheads, but the shaped charge did it's work well, focusing all of its hellish energies into the room beyond.

Your boots crunched on brittle and marred deck plating into the command center. It was bigger than expected, solid, organized in a manner you immediately recognized as matching old CMA SOPs. Heavy partitions, control terminals stack in tiers. Adhoc, but very very well organized. Emergency lights spread amber light everywhere.

A figure-no a few staggered at you, or the door behind you, tilting their arms up from their waists. You cut them down without hesitation. Most were slumped across their consoles or crumpled on the deck, blood leaking eyes, ears, noses, mouths. Shrapnel imbedded horribly deep. A woman was on her hands and knees, convulsing as blood dripped from blood-foamed lips. You stepped over her.

>>6274273
Properly formatted.

The pounding of boots echoed from beyond the corridor, urgent and only somewhat uncoordinated. Somewhere deeper in the installation, a shot rang out and was met immediately by a burst of gunfire. Confusion reigns elsewhere, seems. Not close, but not far enough either.

You sent Maris a yellow light- Step it up -eyes scanning the corridor. She didn't respond, head tilted in a one minded manner at the solid blocks of C10 she was securing to the door, carefully peeling off the strips of plastic that hid grippy adhesive.

Motion tracker was alive. The sound of boots were clearer, nearer. A glance back and Maris was standing, the both of you stepping out of the antechamber in unison. The only spot of protection was the solid doorframe. You curled your body into the space, Maris taking the opposite spot. Minimal exposure, hopefully. As good as your new SPIs were, you didn't figure that it could take the pressure very well straight on.

You shouldered your rifle as a dark mass of shapes turned the far corner, and before you could call for Maris to blow the charges, she did it herself.

The explosion was utterly thunderous, a massive wave of pressure reverberating back and forth and back again. It slammed against your suit, rattling your teeth. Your HUD fuzzed out for half a second as your vision swam. You blinked, once, twice and get your rifle back up, clarity returning. Maris was already moving, somehow, arm cocked and then a blur as a frag grenade arced from her hand down the corridor, toward the staggered silhouettes moving sluggishly through the smoke.

Neither of you waited for the results, pivoting back into the antechamber as the grenade went off and the screams began.

What was once a blast door and a good few METERS of reinforced structure around it was simply gone, obliterated, the titanium shredded away, the edges of the hole crack, peeled and glowing somewhat from the heat of the explosive. Shrapnel scoured the surrounding bulkheads, but the shaped charge did it's work well, focusing all of its hellish energies into the room beyond.

Your boots crunched on brittle and marred deck plating into the command center. It was bigger than expected, solid, organized in a manner you immediately recognized as matching old CMA SOPs. Heavy partitions, control terminals stack in tiers. Adhoc, but very very well organized. Emergency lights spread amber light everywhere.

A figure-no a few staggered at you, or the door behind you, tilting their arms up from their waists. You cut them down without hesitation. Most were slumped across their consoles or crumpled on the deck, blood leaking eyes, ears, noses, mouths. Shrapnel imbedded horribly deep. A woman was on her hands and knees, convulsing as blood dripped from blood-foamed lips. You stepped over her.

>>6274278
Maris moved carefully through the consoles, giving quick controlled pairs into anyone still moving, so much as a twitch. You conserve your ammo, beelining for the central station. High back, reinforced grey metal. A man was spread across it, built like a boulder. 6 foot 5, bald, a wild graying beard. Blood trailed from an ear, mouth mumming nothing. Eyes rolled, still breathing. Potentially Klagsburn.

You motion to Maris to pull him off and secure him, alive. She yanks him off as if he weighed nothing as you stepped up to the terminal. Still functional, a corner spreading cracks like spiderwebs from a errant fragment of shrapnel. Your gauntlets spread over the keys, closing damage reports and structural warnings as the near band comms blinked from all over the installation.

You blinked, and opened a window you just closed. A list of numbers and letters you'd initially looked over had recognizable IDENT codes. AT-0278 was at the top of the list. You'd listened to them send a request hours ago. It was sitting adjacent another series of numbers, ones that you quickly recognized as Slipspace routing codes. Not an end state but the exact routes and launch positions one would have to take. Scouring your mind, you figured that it was heading for the inner colonies-maybe... Epsilon Eridani? Reach.

You scanned the rest of the coded vessels. Routes set to Sol, or near it. Random notes detailing fitment schedules-for those slipspace drives. Intended departure was in 36 hours.

But not all of the ships were going to the same place. As a matter of fact, no more than three ships were following the same route.

Another file opened. Access logs for Level 6 and another for Sublevel 6A. Only URF personnel and Venezian techs, numbers, names-there were 7 Venezians down there, the last one entering just 27 minutes ago, none exiting. PO operatives were Explicitly denied entry. Strangely, there was a reason listed.

Unauthorized observation of materials in transit deemed unacceptable.

Pale vapor began to whip around your boots and you turned. Vents near the breached doorframe were letting loose the gas. Something from the climate systems, coolant maybe. Air filters noted nothing toxic.

Gunshots erupted again, nearby, a momentary roar of a firefight subsiding into nothing.

>>6274280
>Continue to investigate the terminal. You'd been at the computer for a bare minute and a half, and already much of the information you've gotten has been invaluable. However, the noise and heat you've brought on to you practically guaranteed that there were shooters inbound. Getting Maris to prep for a quick exit or a quick and hard firefight would be useful.

>Cut it off. Burn the room, Kill Klagsburn and get out, fast. No time to draw whatever you can from the terminal, or listen on long range communication channels. You have to assume that there was a sizeable enemy force bearing down, one you wouldn't want to fight-the standard URF riffraff was one thing but the soldiers from the regional PMC were good enough to bring you a slight amount of pause.

>Write in.

>>6274283
>Cut it off. Burn the room, Kill Klagsburn and get out, fast. No time to draw whatever you can from the terminal, or listen on long range communication channels. You have to assume that there was a sizeable enemy force bearing down, one you wouldn't want to fight-the standard URF riffraff was one thing but the soldiers from the regional PMC were good enough to bring you a slight amount of pause.

>>6274283
>Continue to investigate the terminal. You'd been at the computer for a bare minute and a half, and already much of the information you've gotten has been invaluable. However, the noise and heat you've brought on to you practically guaranteed that there were shooters inbound. Getting Maris to prep for a quick exit or a quick and hard firefight would be useful.


I'm greedy tonight

>>6274283
PO vs the rest, huh? I intended to go over what we'd learned so far, plus our initial briefing to try and put together what is going on, but felt too burnt out to put in the effort. Still, their plans don't seem quite the same as the others, that's for sure. Maybe aggressive action, rather than population absorption/support building? We can certainly make a good guess as to what materials the Venezians didn't want seen.

>Cut it off. Burn the room, Kill Klagsburn and get out, fast. No time to draw whatever you can from the terminal, or listen on long range communication channels. You have to assume that there was a sizeable enemy force bearing down, one you wouldn't want to fight-the standard URF riffraff was one thing but the soldiers from the regional PMC were good enough to bring you a slight amount of pause.

We're here for a reason: disrupt the enemy. We've done that, and seemingly caused infighting to erupt too. Displacing without being seen would likely only worsen the conflict. Then there'd be no spooky Spartans to pin the blame on, only escaped prisoners or treachery form within.

I'll admit to also being tempted by the prospect of learning more, but frankly, killing the leaders and destroying the war materiel they need to enact their plans is as good as learning about their plans before executing their dismantlement. It is only the Venezians that we definitely need to risk a confrontation over interrogating. I will however offer a possible counter to my rationale, in that now would be the ideal time to use the nerve gas grenade. Using it defensively, into an onrushing crowd nets us the desired mass casualties we'd hope for from a use of such an asset, while avoids us having to move through the same gas. I want to save it for what I perceive as the more important conflicts ahead, but it is reasonable to presuppose that enemies (combatants or not) on the V-ZNT level or other chambers that could be exposed to space will be equipped with hermetically sealed suits or other PPE. So saving it for later may not actually be ideal.

If the vote to stay on the terminal wins, I suggest someone write-in an order for Maris to use the gas nade, flung far, so that we don't have to traverse through it and can move laterally to other halls. Naturally you can count me in for such a vote.

Away from ho e at the moment, gonna give the vote another hour and a half before locking. Writing will begin at 2000 hours, zulu time.

Going to try to be a lot more consistent with my update schedule, dropping them hopefully once a day at 1800 zulu or around there. Thanks for reading, as always.

>>6274440
>>6274531
>>6274576
Wreck and burn is the gameplan. Writing.

>>6274440
>>6274531
>>6274576
Wreck and burn is the gameplan. Writing.

You stood there, amidst the wreckage, glass, metal, blood, still twitching limbs, half entertaining the idea of digging in deeper. Your EWS was still working away at that encryption but the main bulk of communications had abruptly ceased, as you'd expected. Sifting through terminal logs or packet trails could reconstruct what was sent, what was intended.

No. Not pertinent. Not the task.

"We're not taking him." You said, flatly.

Maris didn't hesitate. She didn't waste rounds, either.

You turned around. Layered under many of the terminals and imbedded messily into some walls were server banks. Hardened and reinforced, certainly CMA pattern. Quality, but nothing that'd survive C8. Your satchel held two bricks of C8, scored into neat cubes that allowed subdivision. Not enough to totally wreck a server, reducing motherboards to dust, but enough to do solid damage. You handed Maris a brick and began.

Both of you cleared the space as economically as possible, back and forth, a cube for each sitting over where you surmised the power supply and the main bulk of the drives to be in each.

You finished first and barked at Maris to cover the hall, stepping back towards the primary terminal. Just as you reached it though, a flare of sound spat in your ears, the frequency reading low-band. You EWS couldn't even figure the direction. But it was encrypted, in a frequency you had codes for. It bled out, barely legible, cutting in and out and drowned in a sea of static. Just a few words and letters.

"V----N V--ION --SP-N-- COM-- W----RT LIVE --D"

And it was over. You continued, slapping the last cube neatly on the terminal, eyes driving back towards the entryway and Maris standing offset of it, her rifle barely visible through the growing cloud of coolant.

LIVE. The only thing to come through clearly, but it was enough for context. It was the word used for when a team was decisively compromised on a position. It could only be used in two contexts.

WOUNDART is LIVE.

Something exploded a level or two overhead and gunfire started again, this time without abating.

Minutes were ticking by. Had to exit.

>Hunt for the HVTs. Your task was still hunter, killer. Leaders would be coordinating, putting down fires and stifling whatever hotspots were flaring up. It'd be a mess, wading through the chaos, but it could be the perfect storm to single out and execute. And coordination required communication, something you'd be able to triangulate.

>V-ZNT. The URF and other insurrectionist elements are too spread out, too inundated with unrelated and likely high strung 'collateral. You knew where ALL of the Venezians were and so far as you could tell activity coming from below was minimal. You'd only have to find a way down.

>Write in.

>>6274767
>Hunt for the HVTs. Your task was still hunter, killer. Leaders would be coordinating, putting down fires and stifling whatever hotspots were flaring up. It'd be a mess, wading through the chaos, but it could be the perfect storm to single out and execute. And coordination required communication, something you'd be able to triangulate.

>>6274767
So, I'll spaghetti some thoughts. I'm conflicted and kinda regret my decision not to fight from here. If we're gonna go after the leaders now, beginning to piece together the greater picture from the start would have helped. Going after the slip space drives and the Venezians while they undefended is also logical, but it means extracting with a captive is a no-go, since we still have work to do afterwards. Still, by not revealing ourselves, we likely worsen the tensions between the innies, since even with the SMU compromised they still might blame each other for the internal situation inside Allution, whereas giving them Spartans to focus on will sharpen them up. Chaos begets chaos, so going after the HVTs now may render them into a state of permanent clumsiness, but again, tensions will probably persist even if we don't. Assuming their trust amongst each other is really that low and they aren't just shooting at Alexa and co upstairs.

Ultimately, I say going after the drives and Venezians is the better option, the prospect of striking a practically undefended objective is too good. Moreover, the chaos and relative distance means that not only is the obj lightly defended, but it might mean we have time to interrogate or at least crack any on-site electronic assets unimpeded. That should adequately fulfill our intelligence gathering needs in lieu of a captive. From there we can hopefully return to a worsened situation upstairs.

Without slipspace drives, all of the innie plans are for naught. Even if we were to fail and suffer an ignominious death, they'd be trapped on this rock with dwindling supplies, ripe for a follow up by succeeding efforts, or just a SHIVA from the prowler.

>V-ZNT. The URF and other insurrectionist elements are too spread out, too inundated with unrelated and likely high strung 'collateral. You knew where ALL of the Venezians were and so far as you could tell activity coming from below was minimal. You'd only have to find a way down.

>>6274795
>>6274815
Set. Writing.

You gave the room one last sweep and moved for the entryway, tapping Maris once on the shoulder. She followed without a word.

Advancing into the corridor, ears pricked at the rhythmic but inconsistent bursts of fire throughout the facility, the hallway lights surged to life, and contacts lit up your motion tracker.

A squad. 6 strong, PMCs scuffed armor, two in civilians bearing URF insignia. One was limping, blood trailing behind his left boot.

A simple step back into the veil of coolant enveloped you entirely, crouching low to ensure weapons and uncamouflaged elements were properly concealed. They wouldn't find you unless they stepped right into you.

They approached in a practiced wedge, heads swiveling. Boots stepped lightly despite the urgency-an attempt at stealth, you realized. One of the URF men-a scruffy looking man with a five o'clock shadow-stopped near enough that you were able to see the sweat trickling down the ridge of his nose.

Their expressions twisted the moment they laid eyes on the devastation. Grimaces, low mutters. A low whistle from one of the PMCs, cut short by a sharp word passed along the chain before they surged inside, weapons leading, voices raised in challenge.

VAVICE moved the moment the last one slipped through the mist. Halfway down the corridor, Maris thumbed the detonator.

The charges went off in a relentless staccato rhythm, light but repeated gusts of overpressure sending the coolant rolling and wheeling down the hallway. A straggler appeared just ahead, eyes wide just before a .197 ball round burst through his t-box, right under the brim of his lopsided helmet.

The fight was definitely above. The gunfire on this level had stopped long ago, the bodies you were coming across evidence enough for the nature of the understanding. Peoples Occupation arm bands and tattoos, stained in blood and standing out from pale flesh. Your EWS was receiving fewer and fewer signals before it entirely blanked out. Wideband jamming, less comprehensive than whatever you'd encountered before but enough to suppress communications and not much else. Either deployed by the URF to restrict communications, or the PO.

>Head for a main (or THE main) lift. Power was still intermittent, the lights on in lieu of things like climate control, as evident by the rising ambient temperature outside of your armor. The lifts could be down, but main ladders and others ways of decent could be available. And if they were active, they'd be busy.

>Find a vent, make your way to that borehole-turned-airshaft. It wasn't guaranteed that entry into V-ZNT would be possible through that way, however-something told you that the lower level might be locked down in a way that'd make it difficult to sneak in the same way. Being forced to come back the same way or descend a further level to find another way through would be costly, timewise.

>Write in.

This took a while to pound out. a bit of a perfectionist, sorry : )

>>6275221
Hmm, so the PMC is working with the URF, and they just fought their way through a bunch of PO. "Klagsburn", if it was indeed him, was friendly with the PO, but had his guards reject the PO guy at the door, either out of paranoia, or because they weren't as friendly as Taubes and co thought. They have a disagreement over their little project. PO kept out of level 6 because of observation of materials.

My guess? The materials in question are either nukes, or something super spooky like covie slipspace drives from the Venezians. The nukes could come from the Blakewell, or any of the looted UEG facilities in-system. Covenant slipspace drives could explain the "Venezia is three weeks away" thing from the Taubes interrogation.

I don't have an explanation for how they refit multiple non-FTL going vessels in under a month, the timeline is evading my smooth brain. Another explanation is if the innies had knowledge of the coordinates of a Forerunner world or facility, since slipspace topography affects travel speed, and going over the timelines of slipspace journeys we know of in canon, moving to a Forerunner location coincides with much faster travel than is typical. So, they could go from wherever to said location, then onto their final destination to shave off some of the travel time, but that is a pretty wacky, if plausible solution.

Regarding the civilians, again, my smooth brain is not keeping up with each innie faction's agenda. I think they are important somehow, to what is going on, since Walle highlighted them during the briefing, and the innies evidently care about them, or some of them do, at least. My current theory has the disagreement between innie factions being about whether to use the drives to facilitate terrorism or evacuate the civvies, and also possibly about whether to let them go anywhere (spread propaganda of the benevolent innie saviours) or specifically to forcibly populate innie worlds against their will, maybe. Would explain the routes to Sol and Reach, either spread propaganda and rejuvenate the flagging PO on Reach, or sneak in nukes somehow, and commit a massive blow against the heart of the UEG.

IDENT code AT-0278 makes a reappearance. I regret that it, or the other one I advocated for didn't win the vote, but c'est la vie.

>Head for a main (or THE main) lift. Power was still intermittent, the lights on in lieu of things like climate control, as evident by the rising ambient temperature outside of your armor. The lifts could be down, but main ladders and others ways of decent could be available. And if they were active, they'd be busy.

We're in a hurry, we want to get there before the in-fighting above resolves. Running into people on ladders and such just means we run into small numbers of people while isolated in a tight space. Bad for them, not necessarily for us. If we get caught, and a response mobilized, the main lift is literally the perfect place to toss the nerve gas grenade.

>>6275400
Not to discredit any of your theories, just want to note something I'm doing with this quest and my next one after this. Distances are a lot farther and also kind of made the fuck up. There isn't a universe map for Halo and a lot of the throwaway systems like the ones I'm using don't coincide with real star systems and the ones that do also don't make sense. (Harvest is the farthest human colony at 12lys, but Reach is an inner colony at 10? Combine that with the fact that the Covenant have drives that can get you 900 lightyesrs in a day and the war should've been over a lot sooner than what we got but I digress).

Just understand that in my 'head canon' a lot of systems are much farther away from each other. I also default to around 2.5ly per day for military drives, speed that up a bit for a Prowler and you get the numbers for the distance between Thompson and the Orso(Venezian) systems.

It's just a way I'm trying to correct some of the plot holes and inconsistencies present throughout the lore regarding Slipspace and all that. Thanks for reading : )

>>6275221
>Head for a main (or THE main) lift. Power was still intermittent, the lights on in lieu of things like climate control, as evident by the rising ambient temperature outside of your armor. The lifts could be down, but main ladders and others ways of decent could be available. And if they were active, they'd be busy.

>>6275425
Fair enough, makes sense.

>>6275400
>>6275595
Set. Writing.

>>6275766
The conduits hum faintly and in pulses overhead, coinciding with the flickering and dimming of the lights. The Blakewell had been providing more support than you could've ever hoped, from the way even the gravplates underfoot were acting-patchy, a light footfall here and heavy one another couple of steps. Either in the past month ALLUTION had undergone some intensive expansion or the sudden cut off had damaged infrastructure somewhere, somehow.

Voices. A wide, oddly slopping chamber opens up, terminating in a grey-white wall dominated by a industrial lift platform. Thick cables suspend overhead, a mechanical freight system built for moving tons of equipment, now seemingly inert in its track.

Bare support struts and conduit sleeves run through the walls and ceiling, the latter shivering as something went off a level above, showering dust and debris upon the combatants milling around the chamber.

Somewhere between 15-20 individuals were clustered around the lift mechanism and along the flanks, covering the 4 hallways leading in. Most were in dusty jackets, irregulars, several of those arguing amongst each other in hushed tones. 4 in similar gear were laid out near the lift, on their faces, arms thoroughly secured with zip ties. One was stone still, a still widening pool of blood spreading around his head.

Near the rear flank, standing silently, were the PMCs, their white armor standing out. Across the backplate of one, facing away, were the words JINSHI in stark black lettering. All equipped with helmets with built in filters and faceplates-for a moment you figured they were in sealed BDUs before spotting a sliver of bare flesh between a gloved hand and vambrace.

The URF members constantly shoot glances at them as you move into place, but clearly give them space, opting not to approach.

A technician squatted low at the base of the lift near frantically works on a imbedded junction box.

Every single one has a weapon out. Not raised, but a lot of fingers on triggers, voices snapping at each other in petulant and worried tones.

Another loud crash from above silences the room, glances going upwards or towards the restrained group. It was simple enough to assume who they were.

>>6275816
>Wait. Depending on your luck, they might get the lift working and depart on their own, or leave a small guard. If you're lucky, you'd be able to descend just after they went up-it wasn't exactly as if you NEEDED the lift, only a means to descend.

>Slip through. Even from here, you can spy a hatch near the lift. A fast movement across and you both could rip it from its fastenings and descend before they could react. But if you were spotted slipping between the masses of them...

>Create a distraction? Either you or Maris could loop around to another corridor, fire off a few shots or something similar, and loop back. Again hoping that the majority move to respond or are otherwise displaced enough for the two of you to capitalize.

>Attack. No time for games, just wipe them out. You'd have the relative element of surprise, but if your initial hammer blow isn't enough to shatter their bulk, you're in for a fight or a quick withdrawal.

>Write in.

>>6275817
>Create a distraction? Either you or Maris could loop around to another corridor, fire off a few shots or something similar, and loop back. Again hoping that the majority move to respond or are otherwise displaced enough for the two of you to capitalize.

>>6275817
>Create a distraction? Either you or Maris could loop around to another corridor, fire off a few shots or something similar, and loop back. Again hoping that the majority move to respond or are otherwise displaced enough for the two of you to capitalize.

Worth a try before anything else.

>>6275817
>Create a distraction? Either you or Maris could loop around to another corridor, fire off a few shots or something similar, and loop back. Again hoping that the majority move to respond or are otherwise displaced enough for the two of you to capitalize.

>>6275822
>>6276282
>>6276297
Roll three individual 1d20 please

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>6276583

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>6276583

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>6276583

>>6276584
>>6276664
>>6277495
Set. Minor failure. Update will come tomorrow.

>>6277712
Fero....Live...Live!

>>6279231
I believe in him!

Sorry. Very soon, don't worry.

And just after I said I'd update regularly lol. Long story short, the QM curse struck a bit. Soon.

>>6279436
He is risen!