The battle is turning in our favor. The firefight continued: the damaged Covenant ships against two destroyers and two Jupiter-class ships. The Covenant ships had also taken a beating, and there were four of them as well. But while on our side there were two almost undamaged Jupiter-class ships, the Covenant ships were in much worse condition.
Still with active but unstable shields were the half-carrier, a burnt-out fire ship stripped of weapons and shields, and two cruisers that had taken serious damage.
The most intact cruiser had latched onto the UNSC Apollo, literally docking hulls with it, and showing that at best a fifth of its artillery was working, and in place of the torpedo shaper was a molten crater of armor, compartments, and structures. From the ship, dropships flew toward our flagship, which were attacked by the destroyers that were trading fire with the ship.
The fire ship was blown apart by MAC fire from the Dominion-class, while the UNSC Longinus was trading fire with an immobilized target. Having taken a torpedo and lost its shield (and then taking several hits to the bow), the UNSC Longinus was able to finish off the Covenant ship's reactor, which led to a detonation. Remaining were the carrier (half) and that ship hanging by the UNSC Apollo.
Given the expected level of losses, the result is good. Especially since many ships, not only the enemy's but ours as well, have not been completely destroyed. Important systems are wrecked, the structural frame is compromised, some compartments are burnt out or decompressed, the ship is warped. But at the same time, the wreckage may include entire sections of the ship with still-living crew, who will be searched for and the survivors brought aboard. On our side, judging by the damage, no one from the Covenant is going anywhere anymore. There will be more survivors in our formation, and that is good.
The UNSC Apollo itself is precisely one of those critically damaged, disintegrating ships. The starboard side is a series of molten and torn holes destroyed by internal and external explosions. Mangled along the side where the hangars were, above and partially the lower part; the bow is destroyed and melted; the gun has tilted to the right, into the hull; energy is insufficient. Judging by the screeching, the metal is deforming and soon the hull will tear apart or crumple.
The interior spaces and the port side are somewhat scorched, they are bent, some bulkheads and corridors are crumpled or torn, making them impassable. But when I connected to the ship's systems, the implants showed that forty-three percent of the crew were still alive; most survivors were wounded, but not critically. Half of the compartments are functioning normally, though they have power issues. And the main gun, if turned toward the target, is quite capable of evaporating the Covenant ship; it is ready for use. If turned correctly.
The only problem is that the last Covenant cruiser has docked with the UNSC Apollo and is offloading boarding parties. If not for Yellow, Cuckoldun, and Kitty with squads of soldiers and ODST, we would have been broken already; the Covenant clearly decided to disable the ship by any means. Likely, if the assault is a total failure, they will blow up their own ship and take the UNSC Apollo that way. And there is every chance of that; the soldiers on board are by no means rookies; we'll fight them off. Even Suslikov, no matter how much I've mocked him, is gradually learning. And with the sorcerer's abilities, he is even more dangerous. Plus the defensive systems, including the airlock-firing points. All this significantly increases the survivability of the defenders. The soldiers are holding. That's not the problem.
Currently, the Covenant cruiser's hull is preventing the main gun from being turned to incinerate the opponent. The turret guns of both Jupiter-class ships are pounding the Covenant ship's shield, sniping the target from a safe distance and clearly tracking the escape pods. The damage to the UNSC Longinus cannot be seen behind the shield, but it took a torpedo to the nose, lost a chunk of its side, a gun turret, and one MAC. True, the Covenant ship's lower "dish" needed for plasma torpedo formation was also wrecked, so in a sense, they were at parity in terms of damage. Until the ship added a missile volley to the Covenant's shieldless belly and polished it off with MAC slugs.
It can be noted that the shield allows even a destroyer to survive one torpedo hit. I need to think about increasing capabilities. For example, charged modules tuned only to destabilize torpedoes and not participating in other defense. I need to think about how best to implement this.
The ship jolted and the hull groaned again under the stress. The UNSC Apollo will be lost, for certain now. If only the reactor could be shut down... we could carry away, if not the UNSC Apollo, then the piece with the gun on one of the free modules. And evacuate the crew completely. But I don't really see how to do that when the nearest compartments are being flooded with heat from the reactor breaches. The technical zone is not suitable for human survival at all, even in an exoskeleton. And the control centers are either destroyed or it's currently possible only to boil there, literally.
"Attention. Uncontrolled reactor meltdown in progress. Abandon ship. Stabilization attempt ruled out. Immediate evacuation, no exceptions. Get the f*** out," a recording of my voice broadcasts from the ceiling while the avatar, clearing the way for the others, moves toward the exit amidst the scarlet lamps of the emergency lighting.
I have one idiotic little idea, but I need to move the Covenant cruiser from its current position. If a hole is punched in the technical compartment, it might be possible to get into the reactor's technical zone and assess the damage. Or maybe not. First, the obstacle that is firing back must be removed. It understands that if the ship breaks distance, the gun will turn and the ship is finished. It's finished either way; the remaining forces aren't blowing it apart only because a close explosion would guaranteed destroy the UNSC Apollo as well. They are giving a chance to the crew, who are quickly retreating to the pods and hangars on the port side through mangled corridors, amidst sparking wiring and flickering lights.
The avatar, with a group of soldiers and the Vice Admiral, is walking at a fast pace through the corridors of the ship, which is shuddering, the metal groaning, but holding for now, though the hull is already noticeably warped. After another hit, the light in the corridors changed to emergency red, and the remains of the liquid shield finally ceased to hold. With a clatter, the bolts holding the floor grate left their slots, showing how much the hull had bent. And the silence is broken only by the hissing of gas from a breach.
"Ventilation is shutting down," reported a technician walking with us, "everyone in masks? Good."
"Good thing there's pressure," added the second; both survivors were picked up along the way. It's a bit dark for them here, so they're sticking with the soldiers; we have night vision. And the Vice Admiral has her own helmet with all the equipment.
"I'd cut it open," I reminded the technicians of my presence, "almost there, evacuation deck thirty-seven-A."
Well yes, I'm the one going first, checking doors and for the presence of the enemy. The avatar, seeing a closed pressure door, calmly turned right, glancing into a technical tunnel. Narrow, one person wide, with only emergency lighting.
"Clear, let's go."
You can't swing a hammer in the tunnel, but we met no one. And, importantly, we came out in the right compartment. Three transition nodes are located along the wall; a red line with the inscription: 37-A crosses the transition. We are here. The soldiers immediately fanned out, looking around.
"Power line is gone," said one of the soldiers, looking at a hole in the wall, "okay, what about the pods? Empty, empty. But this one is still in place, though is it intact? Over here, there's a pod here!"
We went to look. Around were the bodies of humans and Covenant; in two airlocks the outer door was closed, and through the transparent polymer it was visible—the pod was gone; on the other side was only space. The third was in place, but inside were roasted bodies and melted equipment; plasma grenades had gotten inside. The Vice Admiral looked at me.
"Can you revive it?"
I went inside, entering the elongated fifteen-seat pod, along the walls of which were seats with restraints; in them were riddled and charred bodies. The pilot had been shot in the back.
"We'll try; the console is intact, just a bit covered in bodily fluids. I've turned on worse. The main thing is to fly far enough away; the starter engines," I looked, "are alive. Yes, I can revive it. Five to seven minutes."
"Do it," the woman ordered, "hold the defense; this is our way out of here."
The avatar left the hammer on the floor and went to the cockpit, stepping over the dead. The darkness doesn't bother me; the lamps on the ceiling are burnt out from the plasma heat. I carefully laid the pilot's body on the floor and sat in his seat sideways, ignoring the bullet holes and the blood on the panel. So, let's see. For now, it's not all that bad; we'll be able to start. Oxygen supplies are not damaged. However, controllability will be zero; we'll have to drift, but that's not a problem; the ships are nearby. Which is what I said:
"Electronics are partially burnt out. Life support is damaged; controls are dead. I can seal the pod and launch on the explosive bolts. But after that, we'll be drifting. What's the plan?"
Parangosky didn't think long:
"Do it. It's unknown how long the ship will hold and if we'll find more pods. Time is limited."
"Understood, working."
While I'm trying to restore what I can, the soldiers are dragging out the bodies of their colleagues roasted by the grenade. The Vice Admiral calmly sat in one of the free seats where the belt hadn't melted and asked:
"How is Tomoko?"
I, continuing to tinker with the panel, replied:
"Retreating to the hangars. Damaged, but not fatally; the gun control panel was burnt to a crisp. The soldiers have organized an evacuation, stuffing as many as they can into Pelicans and Longswords. Unfortunately, while this cruiser is stuck to us, both of ours and the destroyers are being cautious. But they're giving us time to evacuate. If you remove the Covenant cruiser, I'll try something. But no guarantees."
The woman nodded.
"Good. Then the operation is almost complete. Describe your plan."
That's how it is. Although the UNSC Apollo will have to be destroyed, only one gun of this type will remain. And I have the blueprints. And with the experiments Jacob and I did regarding multidimensional heat sinks, maybe even in the format of a combat satellite, we'll recreate the gun itself. Who knew that element zero would turn out to be multidimensional... But that's not relevant here and now. In general, the gun should be taken if possible; it will come in handy. We'll fix it, as long as it isn't destroyed. Aha, it worked; the control panel lit up, showing data from the sensors. The avatar turned to the soldiers.
"Get in, I'm finished. Put on your masks; it'll be useful. Won't hurt. Regarding the plan, I want to try to stall the reactor and remove the main battery of this ship. If the cooling system is still working and only the hull is smashed, we'll punch a hole into the reactor's technical zone. Maybe it'll work, maybe not."
The Vice Admiral understood the thought.
"Good. Is there a link to the captains?"
I nodded.
"I can relay through The Possessed."
"Then order the UNSC Longinus to attack the base of the UNSC Apollo's gun. There shouldn't be any soldiers there anymore. It will be more reliable than shooting at the reactor. They'll shoot off a chunk of the hull. More reliable that way, agreed?"
A couple of models and the avatar nodded.
"Accepted, that really is faster. The order will be relayed."
There is logic in this too. The Covenant could trigger self-destruction at any minute. And it's easier to tear the gun off with the meat; then there's a chance it will fly far enough away on its own. The chance that the Covenant won't trigger self-destruction, that the reactor can be stalled and then the weapon detached, isn't very high. There are more chances to tear it off and restore it. It's just that I was still trying to give a chance to the crew; there are still survivors inside besides us and The Possessed with the squad.
"Order relayed. Hold on."
Because a second later the ship jolted, a screeching sound echoed, and gravity cut out. The cracking of metal was replaced by the outright scream of tearing titanium and the roar of decompression. The soldiers who were guarding the entrance fell.
"Into the pod! Move-move-move! Khaela, launch!" the sergeant shouted.
So, the first step—seal the pod. The pod's pressure doors closed. The ones in the Zone 37-A room didn't, but that doesn't matter anymore. Power is on; engine thrust is there. Jettison the dock hatches. With a bang, the armor plate in front of the pod's nose flew off, opening a view of space.
"Launching. Hold onto the air!" and we were jerked forward, leaving the bowels of the dying ship.
The pod hissed as it left the dock, blowing bodies and equipment out through the open compartment door. Behind us was the dark mass of the UNSC Apollo's hull, shuddering from hits in absolute silence. Above it, already stripped of shields, badly beaten, and partially turned inside out, was the Covenant cruiser, looking more like a sieve. But the glow of atmospheric shields was there; some guns continued to fire; it was resisting.
And while the Dominion-class was carefully burning the cruiser, the UNSC Longinus wasn't visible from here, but the result was noticeable. Another shot from the ship pierced the UNSC Apollo's hull right through, leaving a gaping hole in the intact port side. Another flash, and a second hole. The ship continued to spin around its axis, and the gun began to tear off with the meat, flashes, and metal turning inside out with technical zones and compartments; bodies and debris, liquids, gases, and equipment scattered. What was left.
A few more shots and the gun was finally torn off and, with about two hundred meters of hull, began to drift separately, rotating. And after that, both ships continued to disembowel the last still-functioning Covenant ship with full force. And the pod continued to move away by inertia at a speed of about three hundred kilometers per hour, which wasn't felt here at all.
"So, we're alive," said one of the soldiers.
"Will I have to pay child support?" the sergeant clarified.
I pointed the camera on my tail to hear the details.
"And that's what you were worried about?" the Vice Admiral clarified incredulously to the victim of someone else's attention.
"It was a joke, ma'am! I didn't look my age; they asked who I ran away from. Well, I..."
Everything is clear with you lot. While the others laugh
I, barely embarrassed by the presence of the superiors, who in their armor do not particularly differ from them in appearance (likely, that is the intent), continued to monitor the situation.
Finally, the Covies' ship exploded in a blue flash, the blast engulfing and pushing aside the cannon and the hull frame of the UNSC Apollo. The explosion triggered a chain reaction, and the UNSC Apollo—or rather, its reactor—detonated right after the ship. A flash of white light incinerated the rear part of the cruiser; in the end, only barely recognizable scrap metal remained of the ship.
I, however, was interested in the cannon. At first glance, it had not sustained serious damage. Yes, it had been thrown back by the explosion, but one of the Slipspace Drive Modules was already flying toward the cannon to intercept it.
"How is the cannon?" the Vice Admiral asked, approaching the Avatar and peering over her shoulder at the instruments.
I shifted slightly, giving her a view.
"There doesn't appear to be any serious damage. I'll be able to say for sure when I see it. By the way, I grabbed your tablet. Do you need it? We're waiting for evacuation anyway."
The woman reached out her hand under the understanding gazes of the soldiers. It is, after all, a bit tense to be in the same pod with such high-ranking brass. Especially when the jokes are flat.
***
A little earlier.
The beep of the alarm system, the screech of metal, sparks, and the stomping of numerous boots of the crew urgently abandoning the ship. The cannon compartment was left behind; we had mined all the consoles with Plasma Grenades so that no one could use the cannon without replacing them.
"Move it, move it!"
The tunnel ahead curves about twenty degrees around the axis and ten degrees upward. Quite a large group of us had gathered here. Soldiers, technicians—more than two dozen people in total. From the ceiling, my own voice was broadcasting, reminding everyone of the evacuation. So the squads were quickly abandoning their positions, sector by sector, locking them behind them and moving toward the pods. Even now, as soon as the squad ran out, a technician approached a console on the wall, entering a lockout code. While there is power, this can be done. The system takes priority even over life support, because an explosion or decompression will spread if the airlock isn't locked down.
The ship shuddered significantly once more, a screeching sound rang out, causing everyone to fall. The voice from the ceiling vanished.
"One second," I requested, connecting to the console.
"What's going on? We need to run!" a soldier started to say, but one of the technicians stopped him.
"What is it, Tomoko?"
The Possessed, pretending to work with her only hand, reported:
"We're losing equipment. The system is executing the Cole Protocol, so survival is going to get significantly harder in the near future. We can stop locking the doors; it takes too long."
"Then move it!" the military man ordered, and we ran further.
We successfully encountered several Covenant groups along the way, but no one spared the grenades. So the squad barely slowed down. There were dead along the way as well, from both sides. Others had already passed through here before us and cleared the area. When we reached the hull side, we ran toward the evacuation zones. I had to listen to many interesting and not particularly polite things about myself. Why? The first five evacuation zones were empty. Instead of pods, there were only doors with windows and a view of space. The people, those we had picked up, began to get nervous.
"If someone hadn't been digging around in every terminal along the way, we might have made it!"
At this remark, I only snorted.
"I can buy flowers for the grave of your choice when we get out."
A technician jumped up, grabbing the Possessed by the collar of her jacket.
"What did you say, you little scavenging bitch? Put on ears and a tail, gave it to the command staff, and, kha..."
When the patient folded, I took a step back and added a boot to the face.
"What is someone like you doing on the UNSC Apollo? A weak, useless nonentity. We're alive, and you're having a tantrum."
The man stood up, wiping blood from his face.
"I'm a professional with two decades of experience. Grades, tests, service without a single reprimand. All of it to be part of something important. And you? Do you have anything at all besides a pretty face?"
"You're wrong, kid. Tomoko is for us," one of the soldiers countered the man.
But he had already lost it.
"For us, ha! Put on ears and a tail. I know why that's done. To give it 'under the tail' to rich daddies who like being the masters of a 'pet.' And the figure too. Go on, hit me again, bitch. You don't like it, but you can't do anything else?"
I just rolled my eyes.
"For the record, we have less than ten minutes before the reactor explodes. And then we all die. Do you really need this right now?"
"And don't you shut us up!" a soldier supported him, "animals weren't given the floor."
What a bunch of morons. Found the time and place, felt a bit of power.
"Right! This doll doesn't belong with us!"
"Throw this mattress out!"
"Let her go wherever she wants!"
The man nodded. Somehow it turned out that the squad stopped, and about two-thirds gathered and were supporting specifically the speaker. And the support fired him up. He looked at the bored Avatar and got even angrier.
"Nothing to say, then? Means you agree that besides your ass and the ability to lick..."
A burst of automatic fire rang out over the crowd. It was a Marine sergeant from the lead squad. The very one that had been clearing the way for us and had now returned to find out why their charges were delayed.
"What kind of fucking circus have you set up here? Move it, to the hangars, we'll take a Pelican."
Someone tried to object:
"This doll..."
The sergeant walked up and punched the technician in the jaw. He fell, looking at the man in surprise. The crowd went silent. The sergeant looked everyone over and said loudly, shouting over the beep of the alarm:
"She's the least of your problems! Yes, a girl from intelligence. Yes, ONI is always digging around and creating shit, and then we all have to clean it up. Maybe she specifically really does everything you said," the sergeant leaned in and growled into the man's face: "I don't give a shit!!! As long as it doesn't violate regulations, who f**s who doesn't f**ing concern me! But I'm going to tell you a scary secret now: no one has ever died from someone liking to be treated like an animal. But people die from reactor explosions! And they die from radiation, you degenerates! Move it, damn it, whoever doesn't make it will be rowing through space with their hands! Any questions? Then move it!"
I don't have questions, but I do have a desire to break several arrogant faces. Optionally to death. No, seriously! They don't act up like this toward Drack; he challenges those who act up to a sparring match, and the XO discharges them for unsuitability. The idiots ran out of steam quickly. They are frankly afraid of the Yalorae. They've even gotten used to the Batarians. But the tailed Possessed—those who don't know about Khaela perceive her quite ambiguously.
I hear this attitude, thanks to Ajax, much more often than I would like. There are all sorts of rumors. Why is she on board? A doll for the ONI officers, practically a mutant. An animal, a non-human. And the size and type of sexual deviations attributed to the Possessed depend only on the imagination. However, they don't say it to my face; everyone has seen the claws that can cut through metal.
And never mind the vulgar jokes and blunt propositions. Soldiers are simple people—no means no. Sometimes with a "piss off," they understand anyway. But individuals like these... It's envy, isn't it? He's probably thinking about how he would act in my place. And they don't care about arguments; they're ready to vent their negativity even in a moment like this.
Fortunately, there were those who could organize the idiots. Right, problems. I ran to the console and shouted to the sergeant:
"We need to speed up! They're going to start bombing now! The ship is definitely finished!"
The pod with the Avatar and the Vice Admiral had launched. Need to speed up.
"Move it, you sons of bitches, if you want to live!" the sergeant roared. I wonder if he's just like that naturally, or if he has clearance? I'll find out later.
We gave up on everything and just ran. It's a good thing gravity is generated by plates in the floor, otherwise we'd be floating already. The terrain is already very rugged, but regardless of the tilt, the floor is always horizontal.
Oops!
"Everyone hold on!"
The hull shuddered from an impact; the screech of tearing plating began to be felt physically. And the gravity cut out.
"Move it! Move it!"
Grabbing each other, stumbling and falling, we continued to run to the sound of magnetic clamps on our boots.
"Impact!"
Another hit. No one cares anymore how I know this. If we don't reach the hangars, everyone dies. A crack ran across the ceiling. Across the floor too. And the electricity went out.
In such an organized crowd, we burst into the hangar. The hangar itself is a hundred by fifty by thirty meter hall for loading and unloading vehicles, weapons, and GA-TL1 Longsword interceptors. We, however, ended up in the side section where the Marine D77 Pelicans are stationed and serviced. And five machines were in place. Not in perfect condition, but still. It's transport. The Avatar, not even trying to feign exhaustion, announced:
"Everyone who yelled at me can go to hell. Who else knows how to pilot besides me?"
"And you can handle it, with only one hand?" the same technician asked mockingly, while the crew inspected the equipment, which was secured on racks. And quite intact.
No, seriously. Can we just shoot him?
"To handle you, my legs would be enough," the ship shuddered, a quiet but persistent hissing rang out—decompression—"it's time for us to go, boys and girls. All aboard! You can throw this one out, I don't mind!"
The sergeant, who had done a good job as an orator and shooter, sat down as the co-pilot. He saw that I was quite briskly managing the machine, guiding it out of the open hangar door, past the drifting cannon with a piece of the hull, past the Covenant ship being rocked by explosions, and said:
"Don't you mind them. People are nervous, and you look... Well, you know how. In moments like these, a person looks for the source of all their problems."
I shrugged.
"It took a wild effort not to shoot him. Just because I can understand them doesn't mean I'm going to love them. Savages, much more so than all those he hates."
The sergeant snorted, looking into the distance through the windshield.
"Then we would have had a fight between two groups on a falling-apart ship. Would that have been better?"
My Possessed sighed, showing her irritation.
"And where do they get such nervous ones. You! You said you don't like ONI. Do you also think I got here through the bedroom?"
He smirked, showing a mustache like Danford Whitcomb's. Everything is clear with you; the soldiers simply adore the Admiral.
"Nah, by the elder's patronage. I've seen her; you can't make a 'through the bedroom' claim to someone like that if you want to keep your teeth. She's strong, your girl. Where are you taking us, anyway? The ship isn't that way."
He had noticed that I had turned the D77 Pelican toward the cannon.
"Need to assess the state of the equipment. The ships aren't going anywhere for the next couple of hours anyway. Need to finish breaking what's still intact, take off the crew, whoever survived, and grab the gun. Catch the survivors; there are plenty of pods out there."
The man chuckled.
"I won't ask how you know all this. Just more proof that you're not here just to kiss the superiors' asses. And I'm not asking how you knew exactly when a shell would hit the ship, either. They were tearing the guns off, right?" he raised a hand, "don't answer, I'm not cleared to know. Neither are those in the back. Thanks, anyway. For the fact that no one is sitting there with a broken neck right now. I don't think anyone else will say it to you."
I smiled, this time hiding the snarl.
"You're welcome. Now, to work. Need to assess the equipment."
***
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