Capt. Write's Story

April 10th, 2550, 23:03:19.

The 5th of November silently cut through slipspace, maintaining its speed as it shot through the galaxy. The bridge was silent, dark, and dusty. Thick clumps of dust floated through the air of the bridge. To save energy, the artificial gravity had been deactivated. In fact, most of the ships devised had been deactivated to conserve power for the engines as they propelled the ship through slipspace. The blast-shield's were lowered to prevent any space debris from breaking the class. Even the ships AI, Samuel had been put into a state of hibernation. The only light in the entire bridge was the lights of a digital clock on the main console. 1:4:20:19:10 read the number. It was the time until the crew was to be woken when they arrived to earth.

Suddenly, the clock's digits spun until they locked in place, and stopped. 1:4:20:00:00 Then suddenly it changed again. 1:4:00:00:00 Once more, the clock spun, and locked in place. 0:00:00:00:00 The bridge suddenly came to life once again. The gears of the blast-shield's turned, and lifted the heavy metal plates off the glass. The control panels lite up, and the low hum of electricity zipped through the ship, and the engines started to hum deeper and deeper as they slowed through the slipspace rift. Finally, the rupture split open and allowed the ship to normal space.

The cryo-deck was frozen solid. The entire room was freezing cold, filled with a total of 20 cryo tubes. Only 19 of the tubes were being used. The deck's lights lit up, and the high pitched hiss of the cryo chambers heating up filled the room. Inside the captains chambers, stood a single cryo tube. Inside the tube was the captain, Andrew Spaar. 'Activating wake up programs.' Stated the ships computer system. Inside the tube, Spaar took a deep breath.

From inside Captain Write's room, her own tube hissed to life. Allowing her to take her first breaths... It was as if, the ship itself started to breath once more.

The Spartan in blue only got a few minutes of relaxation before the Captain of the Ship's order blaired through the comms. At least the ship wasn't destroyed or otherwise disabled while they were having their beauty sleep. Conway stood himself up and stayed there for just a moment as his stomach began calming down. Damn did he hate this. Around that time, he was approached by Alex with technical issues with his helmet.

Dalton took the helmet and turned it around, glancing at the back of it. Ah, there it was. The back of the helmet. He raised his fist and hit the back lightly. "Davidson, I'm no techie. Find someone who is." Dalton ordered, though not in an annoyed or otherwise displeasant tone. Not yet at least. "After we report to the bridge." he then added as he began out the armory, taking his helmet off as he did so. Now he saw nothing with his HUD on, but rather simply, his own eyes. That was good every once in a while.

Shortly after, the third Captain arrived at the bridge with two others who had also arrived. Of course, out of them, he showed the most respect by not only raising his hand to his head in solute, but speaking calmly and professionally. "Sir." he said with his unyielding glance locked on his Captain.

---

"Yes sir." came Samuel's computerized voice in acknowledgement. Nearly instantly, the A.I found the Spartan-II's cryo tube and began the sequence to force it open. In Miranda's room came the hissing of the Cryotube as it began awakening her, finally. The A.I, after making sure the proper programs to intiate the release were running, looked to Spaar.

"Sir, the cryogenic stasis tube for Spartan AP3X, Miranda Write, is online and defrosting as requested."

The coolant gases hissed in the darkness, as several sheets of layered steel withdraw from a strange metal hulk- a cry tube of strange design. This tube was quite different from the rest, it was thicker, tougher. The boys back at ONI had commissioned a tube that could take a direct hit from a tank's main cannon and with a flight guidance system hard-wired. The why was never discussed- ONI was as ever tight-lipped. Gears whir, more metal is disengaged and several hoses pop free with sniks. In the end a pure black cryo tube is revealed, as well as a set of what can only be 50 mm cannons.

Ice cracks, chunks falling away as the seal releases, the containment breached.

A wave of pale slime flows free as the cover lifts free- prepared vents collect the goo as it pours out, preventing a mess. This was another addition- rather than standard grav-couches this pod was filled with a special mixture; one part artificial amniotic fluid, one part impact resistant shielding insulation. It provided air, food and water for the person submerged..and prevented any damage to come from sudden impacts. This pod was special.

The slim pale foot that lifts clear, still dripping slime, is just as special- if not more so. Captain Miranda Write emerged from the goop, a frown already pasted on her face. Today was going to be someone's bad day. She just hadn't figured out who yet.

"Status." she barked, turning her head to spit out a mouth-full of jelly.

Capt. Write would never be a beauty queen, she had neither the grace nor poise of a model. She was however quite striking a woman- pale skin, a side-effect of wearing Powered Armor for far too much time; her hair was kept short and was a pale strawberry blonde. Her eyes however were most striking- they had no color. They were perfectly blank spheres that seemed to be made of some form of glass or plastic compound.

Miranda Write was blind.

That didn't stop her from scoring perfect on any shooting range she stepped foot on. Perfect vision was just a few wire connections away these days, ONI had set her up with the finest set of Optics...ones no normal blind person would ever be able to afford. All part of the perks, being a Spartan was no joke. She carried several sets of spares, even a few that had various colored irises, these were her work eyes though- plain white.

Her condition was first noticed during the complex medical procedures that went into creating the super-soldiers, and would normally have been grounds for dismissal...yet her high test scores saved her from becoming a ditch-baby. The medical staff made the swap and she adjusted. She was good at that. She proved her worth time and again since that day, showed that even blind she was more than a match for anyone else.

Coughing up a lung-full of fluid she turns to bang on the nearest wall-mounted computer, frustration beginning to rear it's ugly head. "I said STATUS."

She stood nude, dripping goo and waiting for either the AI or the computer to respond- hell, she would even take a message from the bridge...something was wrong, she wouldn't be awake otherwise. She was a 'Last-Resort' option, typically shit had already hit the fan when they popped her cork. Someone was going to explain things...or people would need to learn how to walk with her boots planted in places they would never grow to like.

"She is pissed this morning." John thought hearing a bang on the wall he put his helmet on. John's hand went to his pistol "So how hostile do you think she'll be today?" he asked looking around.

Carl started to practice hand to hand combat with the marines. "umph." One made the sound as the wind was knocked out of him since Carl threw him. "And that is how you get those fucking grunts off your back." she yelled the other marines where nodding while the one on the floor groaned. "Get up Maggot!" Carl yelled at him as he started to roll onto his back. "Yes sir." He said getting up slowly he then hurled on Carl who punched him knocking him out.

Samuel

A.I's didn't ever show signs of fear, at least not due to aggression. Had that not been the case, Samuel'd probably have wetted his circuits due to the sheer boom coming from the nude Spartan's mouth. But oddly, he only heard the second demand, not the first, which is why it took him a minute to respond. There was no holotank immediatey next to Miranda, only one on the desk at the corner of the room, so Samuel worked from there, appearing in a small flash of light.

"Hello, Captain Write." came his virtualized voice. He glanced right at her. "Diagnostics show that the 5th of November is running without any malfuctions, but we have come out of hyperspace just outside of a planet not known by the UNSC's databases." he quickly summed the situation up without digressing on matters unimportant to her, nor elaborating more than he need to. She'd probably prefer the Captain's full rundown over his own.

C-C-Captain Spaar has requested that all Spartan Personnel head to the bridge and is eagerly awaiting your presence." he added with an monotone voice. "Further inquiry can be made there."

Samuel's avatar in Write's room flickered off and he now reappeared at the holotank next to Spaar.

"Captain Spaar, Captain Write shall be here shortly." he relayed. "I would take a preemptive action and think of an explaination for her before she reaches us."

The captain stood over the command station still looking over the massive planet they had discovered. He didn't like this. He didn't like it one bit. That's when the idea struck him. Still ignoring the Spartans behind him Andrew cycles through windows of the command post, until he found the one he wanted. The title of the blue hologram window stated Slipspace Drive Status.

Normally, when a SPD is used the drive holds the slipspace rupture open so a ship can slide through. While in use, it heats up rapidly. But when the destination is about to be reached, the drive starts to slowly collapse the rupture until the ship is free of it. This causes the drive to cool down. But the status of the SPD was far from normal. The drive was still red hot, meaning it was deactivated mid rupture. Meaning that something made the ship stop here. Because the drive was still red hot, it couldnt be used to reopen a rupture.

It was time for Andrew to face the crew. Before turning to face the Spartans, Andrew closed the windows of the station, then turned about to the crew. "Soldiers! Attennntion!" He shouted at the crew in front of him. Because of disuse, his voice cracked as he turned to the men. Even though he had been away from the crew for a little under a month, he still wanted to remind them he was in charge...

Vents opened above the nude Spartan, and released a stream of liquid, scouring away the residual goop that had clung to her body. In moments she was clean, and the vents began to release a blast of warm air- a giant blow-drier. Hair whipping about she stands still, letting her thoughts begin to try to put things together. Minutes later she was still deep in thought as she slipped on her body-suit, the first layer of the Powered Armor system.

Skin tight black material, resembling a form of rubber or something similar, it hugged her like a glove. Rated as stab-proof and resistant to both heat and cold, this garment was key to survival in harsh environments. It also acted as a connection point for the various bits of armor- forming a link between metal and flesh. Being that she was unsure on the time-line she had, already five minutes had elapsed since awakening, she would wait and put on her armor afterward.

Passing her cryo tube she presses a button on it's side, syncing it's systems with her location- should events lead to her needing to get off-ship in a hurry the pod would follow, bringing her gear with it. Oh, the perks of being her rank.

Stepping out of her room she takes a moment to re-synch her optics, letting her 'eyes' get used to things again. Ready, and more steady she takes off at a brisk jog towards the command area, the activity would get her blood flowing, would do her some good. Rounding corners, and passing personnel in the passageways she nodded greetings and forced small smiles- the troops respected her, it would not do to be rude to them.

In no time at all she found herself outside the door to the bridge, and she paused..what if this was the last calm moment she had before a monumental shit-storm? Taking a deep breath she shakes away the thought and presses the opening key, allowing the doors to slide open and her to enter.

"There had better be a good reason my beauty sleep got interrupted, because that sure doesn't look like home." she called out, stepping closer to the viewing screen. "Do I need to get my Spartans ready?"

Andrew turned away from the Spartans and walked with his fellow captain. He thought for a moment before replying. "Negative. We aren't going anywhere near this planet. From what we know, the Covenant don't have the ability to build planets, and i can tell you for sure this planet wasn't made by God..." With a sigh the captain looked at Samuel, clearing his throat before asking:

"Sam, as soon as that Slip space drive is active, fire it up. We need to get out of hear as soo-" Andrew was cut off suddenly by the sound of cracking metal. The ship vibrated and shook hard for a long moment, like an earthquake. After a moment the shaking stopped, and Andrew turned to the Spartans to see if they were alright.

"Is everyone alright? Sam, what on gods earth wa-" Again, the captain was cut short by the high pitched blare of the emergency siren.

Across the ship sirens blared and hollered, alerting the crew. Over the intercom came an announcement: WARNING: Hull breach. Repeat, hull breach. Sectors A-3 through A-5, evacuate, evacuate, evacuate. Initializing lock down.

"requesting permission to assist in evacuation?" John said drawing his pistol in case they had been fired upon he doubted it but wanted to be safe.

Carl had just got into her drop pod and was doing a routine systems check when the hull had breached in the wall across the room she hit the button to seal the pod. She then turned the comms system in the pod on "Can anyone hear me I'm trapped in sector A-4 in a ODST drop pod I have about fifteen minutes before the hole in the hull is decompressed." the computer flashed a warning the computer saying "Carbon monoxide level at 10% and rising connecting to command." Carl appeared on the viewing screen in a small box in the corner "Running out of air captain I have to launch to the surface below or else the pod will be ripped out by the vacuum!" Carl said knowing the pod would be ripped out of the ship or at least ripped off it's mounting and tossed across the cabin "Captain Sparr I need orders to launch Or I'm gonna suffocate in here!" Carl said before the screen went to static the pod ripping form it's mounting causing a power surge that fried most of the systems.

She blinked, taking in Andrew's words. As he turned to address the AI she excused herself, moving to leave the bridge. About half to the door the ship shook- things fell, scattering about from shelves and cubby holes, her lightning fast reflexes allowed her to dip under a sailing coffee mug and avoid taking hot drink to the face. Eyes wide she turns to scan a nearby computer screen, what she saw filled her veins with adrenaline- something had hit the ship. Here came the shit, the fan was ready. Without pause she races from the cabin, dodging people as she makes a bee-line for her pod, she was going to need her armor.

Ducking into her room she slides into the black pod, and hits the seal. In moments the hatch closes and the automated systems kick online. A grinding sound fills the air, as well as a strange spraying sound, harsh chemical scents begin to waft from the odd black pod, lights flashing within. Something was moving within, the light bringing forth a vague impression every now and then, one could almost see arms, a set of hydraulic presses, a drill...

Within the pod was something rivaling a mad science experiment, Capt. Write was floating in more fluid, a darker shade however...due to a mixture of spilled blood. Her armor was not like the rest of the Spartans, hers was quite special...unique you could say. Her disability had granted ONI a chance to push the limits of human optical performance, it let them see just how good they could improve upon human limitations. Her armor was the results.

Gunmetal grey, the outer sheath was a polymer mesh of carbon fibers and titanium plating, it's simplistic design belied a far more complex inner structure. What one could only see was small pores in the armor's surface were actual millions of tiny optics, forming a perfect 360˚ view at all times. Various parts have added armor, shown in a dull brown color, mainly the knees, chest and shoulders. As an additional bonus extra slots and pouches have been secured to the armor's chest, hips and the like, allowing Capt. Write to carry a substantial amount of ammo and gear into the field.

The helmet of the armor stands out most of all, angular..all sharp edges and quite unlike your standard set of power armor. Being that she has no need for a visor or other head based optical slots her armor's helmet can afford extra padding..making her suit far more durable than one would expect- the sharp angle also adding to it's avoidance of projectiles, the hard angles adding to the armor's toughness and causing a bullet to 'curve' along the angle rather than impact against it.

Emerging from the pod, she stands a moment, letting her systems power up to full. HUD systems load to max, her shield projecting silently. She was ready for whatever might be coming aboard...or wherever she may have to go. Resting a hand on one of her armor's built in sheaths she removes the nine inch combat blade and reaches for her standard weapon- the highly illegal yet oh-so-lovely augmented M45 TS, with a shortened barrel and extended ammo tube, a viscous close-range weapon. She was ready, and someone..or something was about to regret that.

They were going down.

It was no longer a question on IF there were going to crash, but if there would be any walking away from the wreckage. Orbital crash-landings were never good, if the atmosphere didn't burn them up the sudden impact would leave them shattered piles of flesh and bone. This one was going to be messy. With the power down there would be no shields to dissipate the heat, things would begin to heat-up quite fast. In moments the hull would be blazing, the internal temperature would start to rise as well, the air would simply begin to boil...those onboard would be cooked like hunks of meat. The crash-landing itself would scatter wreckage across a few square miles of area, there would be nothing but chunks of hot metal to salvage.

Capt. Write didn't believe in going down with the ship.

"All hands, move to the nearest escape pod. This is Captain Write, I am authorizing an immediate evacuation of this ship. Spaar seems to think this bucket of bolts can handle atmo-burn and an impact that will make a crater the size of Ohio...I have my doubts. I repeat, move to a pod and scuttle. Synch locators on my pod, I will secure a landing zone." Write spoke into her helmet's internal mic, sending a ship-wide broadcast that her Spartans would catch over the wireless. Her hands moved to a nearby keypad, rapidly tapping out the needed codes to allow the escape pods to be launched. Her final key-stroke queuing up her Pod's locator beacon for the rest to link to.

Her mass moved, twisting and ducking into her pod, as a section of steel swings in, coming lose from it's mooring along the ceiling. It passed her by, missing by scant inches, embedding into the opposite wall. Things were shaking loose quickly, maybe the heat and impact wouldn't be needed to kill them...the flying debris may be enough. The pod's seal hisses, sealing her in, while the interior fills with fluid once again- this time clouded with particles, small silver spheres. These would react with heat, enlarging and cushioning her form. They would serve as coolant and impact bracers.

A quick hand move, pressing a selection of glyphs on the interior surface...activates the pod's jettison sequence. Instantly a section of flooring below irises open, and a set of hydraulic arms extend, lowering the black pod into the deck. With a snik the hole seals tight again, as a second portion opens lower..sliding the pod into an area much like that of a gun barrel, a count-down beginning to tick by...

Choi raced through the halls like a track-star, unfazed that he carried nearly eighty pounds of equipment on him. The halls rattled and shook, pieces falling from the ceiling. It was getting bad. He rounded a corner and skidded to a stop at the beeping from his wrist-mounted PDA. The order to evacuate was just given, and the lead drop-pod just signaled it's locator. Here Michael thought he was just on his way to report to his CO for orders, but apparently he had to get off this ship. Like...... now. Choi felt something strange. At first, it was just like he was leaning a little too far forward, then a lot too far. As he nearly tumbled and fought to regain balance, he could feel that gravity was changing. Things started sliding past him, and soon he began sliding down the gradually steepening metal floor. The AGG was apparently fighting against the gravitational pull of the planet for control, and was losing. Choi was now in full tumble, bouncing and kicking off walls and doorways while slamming into others as he fell towards his goal. The door at the end of the hall led to the starboard side "Helljumper's Lounge".

He slammed back-first into the sealed door, but the pain was forgotten in an instant the moment he saw the large, steel section of the ceiling come unhinged at the far end of the hall. The massive and undoubtedly heavy sheet of metal smashed and clanged it's way towards him. Slamming his hand on the door release, Choi swung like a gymnast from the door frame and felt the rush of the wind coming from the object which threatened to end his life. He grasped onto the edge of one of the steel beams which reinforced the ceiling of the lounge, and by dropping down to the one below him, slowly lowered himself towards one of the pods. He leaped, grasping on to the edge and flinging his body into the open pod. Instinct replaced thought as he strapped himself in and initiated the drop sequence. His fingers rapidly tapped against the keypad as the large door hissed and sealed shut, it's glass window being covered by a thick blast shield. He could feel himself being lowered into launch-ready position. The light above him flicked on green, and that was his cue. His fist slammed the release, and he was jettisoned into the Great Nowhere of the stars.

The roar of the thrusters was loud, almost deafening, and the G's as they directed his pod towards the locator beacon like a homing missile was enough to make most men lose their lunch. Choi just closed his eyes and took deep, steady breathes. His mind drifted away into a meditative state. There was really nothing he could do now, and soon all the noises, motions, and even the feel of his combat gear in the cramped pod just faded away. Outside, his pod was glowing white hot as flames seared up the sides. The atmosphere was not going to be kind. Internal alarms sounded as the temperature rose steadily. However the only thing that brought Choi back to reality was when his pod made contact with a rock formation, skipping off it's surface and spiraling through the air. The side of the drop pod had caved in, smacking him in the side of the head and leaving a visible dent in his helmet. Choi's mind swam as he could feel blood trickling down his cheek. Finally the nightmarish ride ended with him crashing to a halt, and losing consciousness on impact.

His eyes glazed open for only a moment, taking in the surface of the alien world and blurred bits of movement outside his pod before the darkness once again enveloped him. His last conscious thought was going back to something his Drill Instructor had said many years ago.

"Jumping feet first into hell isn't your job......


Making sure it's crowded when you get there is....."

The flight crew had its hands full, trying to control the ship as best they could as it came to the planet. Andrew gripped onto the station to keep himself steady as the AGG and the planets gravity struggled for control. Again came a tremor of rattling from entering the atmosphere. From what Andrew could see from the bridge, they were about 30 miles above the planet, meaning they had cleared through the Exosphere, and with that new rattle meant the ship was entering the Mesosphere. At that very moment, there trejectory was perfect, and if they continued they would go into the planet at a perfect 22% angle.

But, anything that can go wrong will go wrong. The calm before the storm had passed. In the Exosphere, there is practically no wind. It is to high up for planetary winds to effect it, but strong enough that solar winds couldn't penetrate it. But when they started to enter the Mesosphere, there is so much turbulence its nearly impossible to navigate with out some sort of engine. Even though the 5th of November carried 4 nuclear propulsion engines... They were all offline. They were a dead weight, and not a very aerodynamic weight.

Suddenly, the entire ship started to tilt forward, with the aft starting to point down at the ground, they were in a free fall nosedive...

They were going down. They weren't just 'hit' or 'grazed', but this giant piece of man-made machinery was going to leave its mark on the surface of whatever planet was beneath them, and they would be casualties if they didn't get the fuck outta dodge. Some people might hit a bump in at this point, because Dalton wasn't given a single order, he was given two. While Spaar ordered anyone and everyone to buckle up, Write told them to abandon ship, and quite frankly, he felt she had the better mind at the moment. Nothing against the captain, who probably hated seeing his ship go down, but Dalton wouldn't die with it, if he could help that.

Because he himself had no opinion on what they should do, he said nothing, but nodded. His rank, Captain like the other two figures on this ship, was... dull compared to the others. Technically, he was about the third most powerful person on the ship, with Write and Spaar outranking him....somehow. Dalton was thrown on this ship for some reason, and because he didn't care to argue with a religious man and a blind brute, he didn't have any problem with this, and as of yet, he hasn't heard any 'stupid' orders from his superiors. As such, he started out towards the nearest escape pod with the intent of getting out of here alive.

The ship rumbled again, this time much more violently before suddenly, Dalton found himself climbing up an arced hallway. "Down" began feeling harder to keep up with, and unfortunately, he started falling at the same time a rupture in the area beneath him appeared. The aged Spartan, knowing exactly what this meant, clutched his fists as viciously, he was sucked out of the ship.

Well fuck.