handling,” said an irritable Spartan.
“Computer systems? Are you kidding me? This is highly important classified intel that could change the course of the war. I suggest you, and your team of roughriders, leave this place to my people. You can continue your sweep of the base, report back your findings in a timely manner!”
“Yes, Sir,” Spartan said with a half-hearted salute. It didn’t matter. The officer had already moved away to join her tech team and marines back in the control room.
Spartan moved away, a small group of his Vanguards joined him. They walked slowly, each of them checking the area for any signs that could be of use. He could see the disposition of his platoon on his tactical display and everyone was accounted for.
“Sergeant Morato, any news from the drones?” he asked.
“No. I lost one in the small shaft eighty metres to the west. There’s a breach in the wall and running water, the soil must have worn away and trapped the unit. I have another following one of the most recent tunnels to the north. Sergeant Lovett and his squad are already down there investigating.”
“Good work, Sergeant, how is it looking up there?”
“All good, Sir. My unit has double-checked the tunnels and set up a perimeter with mines and sentry monitors. Nothing is getting near us, without us hearing or seeing it first.”
“Watch yourselves, you know what the Biomechs are like. I don’t want to come back to find you buried under a dozen of them!”
“Understood, Sir,” she replied, trying to hide her laughter.
Spartan continued moving ahead, but altered his direction slightly to follow Sergeant Lovett and 2 nd Squad. He could just make out the lights on their armour as he moved closer to them. From behind, the marines looked almost like machines. The armour was less refined on the back and parts of the power plant and ammunition stores were visible. The most vulnerable part of the armour was the external power plant unit and its exposed pipes and coolant unit. Spartan had pointed this out as a potential risk, during the latest round of armour modifications, but there wasn’t time to produce the perfect equipment. It was simply a case, of making the armour as good as it could be, with the time and resources they had available. Spartan has submitted his suggestions for a custom built model, buts it development and construction would have to wait until after the crisis was over.
He moved closer until to the rear of the group. As he reached within ten metres, two of them turned. For a brief moment, the bright light from their lamps partially blinded him. The internal warnings fired up as the built-in defence package detected armed weapons in his vicinity. For a second, he nearly grabbed for his own weapon controls but he knew what was happening, even if the others didn’t.
“Lower your weapons, it’s me!” he snarled.
The lamps dropped down on their motorised pintle mounts and his eyesight quickly started to adjust.
“Sorry, Sir, didn’t expect to see you,” said an apologetic Private Jones.
Spartan shook his head as he regained his bearings. Working underground certainly had its problems. Luckily the suits built-in blackout visor had eliminated the worst of the effect, his eyesight was already returning to normal.
“Spartan, I can’t reach Sergeant Lovett, they need to stop, now!” said a crackling message from Teresa.
Spartan didn’t even hesitate, he pushed forward to where he could see Sergeant Lovett and grabbed him.
“Stop,” he whispered.
“Sergeant Morato? Sergeant...respond?”
The intercom unit crackled and hissed, but in this position the audio was indecipherable. He tried again but to no avail. Giving a simple hand gesture, the squad and Spartan, plus the small group that had followed him, exited the tunnel and moved back to the periphery of the open hall. No sooner had they exited the tunnel, the audio returned.
“What the hell?” said Sergeant Lovett, his voice loud
“Computer systems? Are you kidding me? This is highly important classified intel that could change the course of the war. I suggest you, and your team of roughriders, leave this place to my people. You can continue your sweep of the base, report back your findings in a timely manner!”
“Yes, Sir,” Spartan said with a half-hearted salute. It didn’t matter. The officer had already moved away to join her tech team and marines back in the control room.
Spartan moved away, a small group of his Vanguards joined him. They walked slowly, each of them checking the area for any signs that could be of use. He could see the disposition of his platoon on his tactical display and everyone was accounted for.
“Sergeant Morato, any news from the drones?” he asked.
“No. I lost one in the small shaft eighty metres to the west. There’s a breach in the wall and running water, the soil must have worn away and trapped the unit. I have another following one of the most recent tunnels to the north. Sergeant Lovett and his squad are already down there investigating.”
“Good work, Sergeant, how is it looking up there?”
“All good, Sir. My unit has double-checked the tunnels and set up a perimeter with mines and sentry monitors. Nothing is getting near us, without us hearing or seeing it first.”
“Watch yourselves, you know what the Biomechs are like. I don’t want to come back to find you buried under a dozen of them!”
“Understood, Sir,” she replied, trying to hide her laughter.
Spartan continued moving ahead, but altered his direction slightly to follow Sergeant Lovett and 2 nd Squad. He could just make out the lights on their armour as he moved closer to them. From behind, the marines looked almost like machines. The armour was less refined on the back and parts of the power plant and ammunition stores were visible. The most vulnerable part of the armour was the external power plant unit and its exposed pipes and coolant unit. Spartan had pointed this out as a potential risk, during the latest round of armour modifications, but there wasn’t time to produce the perfect equipment. It was simply a case, of making the armour as good as it could be, with the time and resources they had available. Spartan has submitted his suggestions for a custom built model, buts it development and construction would have to wait until after the crisis was over.
He moved closer until to the rear of the group. As he reached within ten metres, two of them turned. For a brief moment, the bright light from their lamps partially blinded him. The internal warnings fired up as the built-in defence package detected armed weapons in his vicinity. For a second, he nearly grabbed for his own weapon controls but he knew what was happening, even if the others didn’t.
“Lower your weapons, it’s me!” he snarled.
The lamps dropped down on their motorised pintle mounts and his eyesight quickly started to adjust.
“Sorry, Sir, didn’t expect to see you,” said an apologetic Private Jones.
Spartan shook his head as he regained his bearings. Working underground certainly had its problems. Luckily the suits built-in blackout visor had eliminated the worst of the effect, his eyesight was already returning to normal.
“Spartan, I can’t reach Sergeant Lovett, they need to stop, now!” said a crackling message from Teresa.
Spartan didn’t even hesitate, he pushed forward to where he could see Sergeant Lovett and grabbed him.
“Stop,” he whispered.
“Sergeant Morato? Sergeant...respond?”
The intercom unit crackled and hissed, but in this position the audio was indecipherable. He tried again but to no avail. Giving a simple hand gesture, the squad and Spartan, plus the small group that had followed him, exited the tunnel and moved back to the periphery of the open hall. No sooner had they exited the tunnel, the audio returned.
“What the hell?” said Sergeant Lovett, his voice loud
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