Last Sacrifice

1504 HOURS, OCTOBER 20, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDER)\ABOARD UNSC ABSOLUTION (CG-301), EARTH ORBIT, SOL SYSTEM

Her head was slammed hard into the weapons console as the maelstrom of heat and pressure washed over her.

Kathrin Grunwald gingerly lifted herself from the computer panel. Her head span and her ears rang, trapping her in confusion. Even as she recognised this as shock she struggled to remember the cause.

Had they been hit?

She regained her senses slowly- noting the sharp ache of her skull, the ringing in her ears and the acrid stench of plasma and coolant.

Her Navy experience quickly kicked in- there was still air. That was a good sign. There was still gravity- the ship must be at least mostly in one piece.

Grunwald scanned around the bridge, searching for the source of the blast, but thick smoke obscured her vision. As sounds returned to her, muffled and distant, she began to make out the fires sprouting from consoles, licking the low ceiling before being smothered by automated foam.

The ringing abruptly faded and sound flooded her ears. Immediately she became alert and her mind cleared, as if her daze had been flooded out by the noise. Grunwald noted the repetitive clamour of the impact alarm and the babble of shouting voices assailing her senses. The cacophony of voices and klaxons overwhelmed her, and the Lieutenant shook her head, desperately trying to clear it.

So they had been hit.

Grunwald raised her hands to clear her eyes and found wet blood staining her temple. Shrugging it off, she noticed the thinning smoke intermixing with the flashing red warning lights, as the vapour was quickly whisked away by the air filters. Through the rapidly clearing veil, she surveyed the damage wrought on the bridge.

An involuntary gasp escaped her mouth as she saw it- the entire left half of the bridge had been mauled by the blast. Wall plating was torn and fallen, severed coolant pipes and electrical cables were exposed, computer terminals were completely missing, and the bodies of the officers who had crewed them lay nearby. A smoking black crater in the bulkhead marked the spot where the blast had emanated, as medical personnel hurried to remove the dead and wounded.

Her eyes met the body slumped in the command chair. Two titanium reinforcing bars thrust through him, pinning him to the high back of the command chair, splitting his uniform, now crimson instead of white. The figure at the body's side rose and, meeting Grunwald's gaze, shook his head slightly. The voice shouted and, though she did not hear him fully, she knew Captain Lewis was dead. The Lieutenant blinked twice before she managed to distinguish the voice of the tactical officer.

"Lieutenant," the figure repeated. She focused on the voice, and saw Ensign Lambert standing amidst the dead. He spoke with a level voice though she noticed he was still reeling himself from shock. "Lieutenant Grunwald. The captain and XO- are dead."

For a split-second she froze. Panic rose in her usually ice-cool mind. She ignored her desperate surroundings for a moment, and recalled something a friend had taught her to deal with stress. Breathing deeply, she mentally checked off her emotions- she found shock, apprehension, and fear- and mentally boxed them away in the back of her mind. It was all she could to prevent herself from being overwhelmed. As her mind cleared in that instant, she felt slightly more confident. It had worked often. Thank you Miranda Keyes.

"Understood Ensign," she said slowly, watching with anguish as the corpsmen began to remove the captain from his chair. "Take my station on weapons. McArdle, man the sensor station. Nelson, damage report."

A holographic avatar flickered into life in the bridge's centre. Grunwald's eyes widened as she saw the AI, his usually pristine admiral's uniform now torn and charred. She knew that was a bad sign- the artificial intelligence's response to the death of the captain, or the damage to his ship, or both. As the corpsmen removed Lewis's body, she chose to stand in front of the command console rather than take his seat. Not only did she not wish to disrespect the captain, his chair was saturated with a substantial pool of blood.

"Significant damage, Lieutenant. Electrical overload on the bridge, explosive decompression on decks fourteen through seventeen, plasma fires on decks nine and ten. Reactors two and four undergoing emergency shutdown, engine thrust at thirty nine percent. MAC number two is offline and Archer tubes fifty-seven through ninety-two are inoperable. And my AI core has sustained damage."

Grunwald nodded. The Seraphs attacking the cruiser would slowly tear holes until they could fly straight through her. She'd seen the UNSC's mightiest vessels brought low by Covenant single ships before, she reminded herself, as she recalled with a shudder the slaughter of Reach- still uncomfortably fresh in her mind.

She cleared her throat, a little nervously. "Kill those fires, vent atmosphere in sections needed, and dispatch damage control teams to the rest," the Lieutenant directed with what could've passed for experience.

"Ensign, what's the status of the fifty millimetre guns?" the Lieutenant inquired, referring to the ship's complement of forty general purpose turrets.

"All guns hot ma'am, mix of high explosive and kinetic penetrator rounds in the magazines, Nelson's doing a fine job scoring hits. Seraphs are being successfully tracked but not all guns are traversing correctly.

"Apologies, Lieutenant," the AI responded from his holotank, but my own CPU functioning is limited by its damage. I will attempt to correct this by transferring some of my functions to the main computer core."

The Lieutenant narrowed her eyes. "And order manual fire control teams to their positions, just in case. Olsen, message Admiral Jackson again and repeat the request for assistance."

The AI's avatar vanished as she spoke. Another series of impacts shook the ship, dimming the lights and flicking blood from Grunwald's tawny hair into her eyes. She cursed under her breath as she remembered the ODSTs aboard. Two hundred special forces operators, give or take, wanting a VIP delivery to Sydney. And alongside them, nearly three hundred crew, brave and valiant sailors every one, willing to give their lives if necessary to get them there. She quickly told herself that it didn't bother her- that sacrifices like this had become commonplace in a war that was simply about saving as many lives as possible. She allowed herself a snort at her recital of what Navy officers knew better than anyone. But she knew that, eventually, they'd run out of people to sacrifice. And here they were, fending off a Covie attack in Earth's orbit. How long before there were no heroes left?

She quickly glanced around the bridge. It was her bridge now, she reminded herself, though for how much longer? Several stations stood empty, some inoperable and cracked. Bodies not yet removed were laid out neatly by the bulkhead door. Debris was strewn around the whole compartment, smaller fragments littering the floor and larger panels resting where they had fallen. Several standing crewmen were visibly injured, she noted with distress- Song, the electrical systems officer, had ignored the corpsmen's insistence that he visit the sick bay.

It was luck the bridge hadn't been completely taken out, Grunwald thought. It was luck even they'd lasted this long. The cruiser was forced to leave Singapore with less than a quarter of its command staff. The Home Fleet had been caught napping.

Sydney was Earth's keystone. The headquarters of the entire UNSC resided in Bravo-6, or the Hive- a massive fortified complex located above and below ground. Few people knew its actual size. Right now, Bravo-6 was coordinating the defence of the entire planet, from the Home Defence Groups in orbit to the hundreds of Army divisons groundside, as well as all military throughout UNSC space. But if Sydney fell, all of that ground to a halt. Humanity's last bastion would present little more than disorganised resistance, and its colonies would become orphans, spinning alone in the dark, waiting for the Covenant to find them. Humanity would blink out of existence.

The thought sickened her. And she would not let it happen.

And that's why the satellite was so important.

Most of the Covenant's forces were focused on East Africa, for a reason no one could fathom, and had been locked up by the Home Fleet. But Covie ground forces had also landed across North America, Asia, Europe- and Sydney. Of the dozens of satellites transmitting Bravo-6's orders across the world, only one was under attack- the one that served Southeast Asia.

It was obvious when she said it like that. The Covenant wanted Sydney first. With Bravo-6 gone, they could burn Earth with no organised resistance.

So Absolution- for that was the name of the ship she'd inherited from Lewis- was tasked with delivering ODSTs to Sydney, and guarding its geosynchronous satellite- thirty five thousand kilometres apart- simultaneously. She wondered if more impossible orders had ever been issued.

"Montero, how long til we're in position to launch ODSTs?"

The navigation officer's forehead furrowed. "With reactor damage and evasive manoeuvres, eleven minutes at best."

"Not good enough," Grunwald said immediately. "Eleven minutes and we'll all be breathing vacuum. Vent primary coolant and pump the reserve. Don't bother with evasive manoeuvres, they'll run rings around this tub either way. Nelson, divert power from the offline MAC to the engines. Push reactors one and three to one hundred and fifteen percent."

"Acknowledged Lieutenant, but be warned this will increase the risk of dangerous power fluctuations."

"Then trickle charge the MAC with the excess heat, that should lessen the risk. I want an Archer firing solution as soon as we're in range."

"I hope you're not planning on using the MAC, Lieutenant," Nelson replied politely. "Our orders are to preserve the satellite, not vaporise it."

Grunwald looked up to reply, but saw Nelson had already faded from view. He was taking damage just as the ship was, ceaselessly being holed by small but abundant plasma fire. The communications officer looked up from her console as another jolt made her brace herself.

"Ma'am, Jackson replies that all his forces are tied up," she said. "He can't spare more than he's already given us. Reliant Warrior is already in position with a squadron of Longswords ahead of us. She's dropping her ODSTs and attempting to defend the satellite."

"Understood. Message Death's Head to move ahead at her own speed and do the same. Ask them to do our job for us and save that satellite too if they can."

"Aye aye ma'am," Olsen said, then paused. "Death's Head is moving off at full burn. Reply is 'good bye and good luck'."

Grunwald muttered under her breath that they'd need it. As more plasma fire raked the ship, a dozen small impacts followed by a large explosion rocked it. She wiped away the blood from her brow, and winced as a finger stroked the long gash by her hairline.

The bridge rumbled again as the sounds of an explosion rippled through the cruiser. "Turret four disabled Lieutenant," McArdle announced. "Directing turrets five and seven to cover the blind spot. Less than ten Seraphs remain targeting the vessel." The young officer ran his hands over his hastily donned uniform, struggling to dislodge the small pieces of debris coating it.

Grunwald glanced towards the tactical display, and watched seven or eight tiny holographic purple triangles dance around the representation of UNSC Absolution. Ahead of it, a frigate hovered by a blue-highlighted satellite, a cloud of friendly and Covenant fighters mauling each other around it, while another frigate accelerated towards the fray.

"It's not them I'm worried about," Grunwald replied, studying the holographic panel's readouts and details. "It's what their friends out there will do to us," she said, gesturing to the satellite on the screen, "now that we're damaged goods." She paused for a moment, considering something, then added, "Nelson, prep a Pelican and an EVA repair team. Tell them they've got four minutes to be in the hangar suited and ready for launch."

"I'll see what I can do, Lieutenant," the small avatar replied, and disappeared from the pedestal.

"Lieutenant," said Montero. "Revised ETA, four minutes to geosynchronous orbit above Sydney, distance fifteen thousand kilometres."

"Good. Lambert, get a missile firing solution on those Seraphs, don't hit the button until my command. Nelson, bring forward 50 millimetre batteries to bear on those Seraphs, open fire the second after they hit."

"Very good Lieutenant," the holographic admiral replied cheerily, blinking back into existence. "Munition type?" As he spoke, the Absolution vibrated as the forward turrets turned in unison, training their twin barrels on the enemy fighters.

"Your discretion," she replied, knowing he was already running calculations, "but don't so much as scratch that satellite."

"Turrets one through twelve trained, targets locked," Nelson chimed.

"Ma'am, I have a firing solution," added Lambert.

"Not Harpoons," the Lieutenant said quickly, referring to the cruiser's complement of twenty nuclear antiship missiles. "The EMP will knock out the satellite. Half our remaining forward Archers," Grunwald said, watching Lambert as he operated her own former station with honed skill. "Proximity detonation, five hundred metres, alert the Longswords and Reliant Warrior to put some distance between them and the target location, fire when ready. Hopefully that'll down their shields for our guns to do the rest."

"Without KO-ing the satellite too," the tactical officer said tensely.

"A bit of faith, please, Ensign. We came all the way out here to get this done. Prow cameras, main screen," Grunwald said, leaning heavily on the unfamiliar command console. "Twenty times magnification."

Song complied, and the darkness of space appeared on the main screen. A distant hexagonal object floated in the centre, two sides of it glowing yellow as automated turrets rattled away at the Covenant fighter swarm around it. There had to be dozens. A frigate accelerated towards the fray, Death's Head, joining another embattled one closer to the satellite, point-defence guns of both perpetually tracking and firing. The frigate closer to the satellite, Reliant Warrior, fired thrusters as she accelerated away from the battle. Drop pods launched from her underside as stray plasma bolts caused her hull to bubble and glow. A handful of Longswords darted amongst the plasma and shell fire, heavily outnumbered by the tear-shaped Covenant craft. Crippled and destroyed fighters both UNSC and Covenant spun away from the melee in all directions.

"Lambert, fire Archers when ready, Nelson, standby to open fire."

Lambert's hands whirred at the tactical controls as he complied. He whistled as he stole a glance at the main screen. "And we're headed into that?"

Grunwald's nails dug into the sides of the command console. "No choice, Ensign. Nelson, engines to one hundred thirty percent."

"Acknowledged. I am sure you are aware of the limited time the reactors can maintain such an output to the engines."

"That's correct," Grunwald replied as she massaged her chin, deep in thought. She went over their orders again in her head one more time. She had to prevent the enemy destroying the communications satellite at the same location- hard enough even with a fully operational cruiser, let alone one already under attack. But simultaneously she had to send two hundred ODSTs in drop pods on a thirty five thousand kilometre trip. The slightest course error from Absolution and the troopers would be breathing vacuum sooner or later, even with maneuvering thrusters. And with the better part of the Fleet either destroyed or in fierce fighting, their chances of survival if they ran into complications- like a squadron of Seraphs- was slim.

"Lieutenant!" Grunwald looked up, Song's panicked yells shattering her thoughts. "Massive power surges through the AI core, Nelson and the automatic fire control system are down!" His eyes were wild with dismay as he assessed the damage alerts in front of him.

Grunwald stood up and faced him, equally unnerved. She walked a few steps, then stopped and turned around. She raised her hands, helpless. "Well- get them back, now!"

Song shook his head, his expression desperate. "It takes hours to reset the system even without all this electrical damage... Sorry ma'am... there's nothing I can do. I'm transferring AI-operated functions to the relevant bridge stations."

Grunwald swore in her native language under her breath. Nelson, a tactical advantage even in his damaged state, was off the table. She wondered whether Captain Lewis would've made the same decision- taken the same risks. Suddenly she felt great fear at the responsibility she had the misfortune to inherit.

"Understood," she said, somewhat hesitantly, as she ignored the nagging sense of failure and reassessed the situation. "Bring manual gunnery control online, and transfer fire command to the bridge station."

"Aye aye ma'am," Song replied, closing the AI monitoring window on his console, and following the series of crimson buttons that shut down Nelson's core.

A volley of Archers appeared on the main screen, accelerating towards the mass of Seraphs around the satellite. Grunwald saw Lambert watch tensely, waiting to give gunnery control the order to fire.

A small cluster of explosions blossomed into fiery life on the screen as the barrage of missiles detonated one by one. The blast was brilliant white even at that distance and with the camera's polarised lens. At once the deep staccato booming of the forward guns resumed and, a few seconds later, wispy clouds peppered the enemy craft. He chose bursting munitions, she noted with an odd twinge of sadness.

"Good effect on target," the weapons officer observed, the information on his console repeated on Grunwald's command station. "Roughly twenty bandits down, two dozen more seriously damaged. Volley two is locked and ready."

"Not just yet Ensign," she replied. "Instruct gunnery control to mop up the rest."

"Ma'am, we're in position, geosynchronous orbit above Sydney, distance thirty five thousand kilometres," Montero reported. "Rotating to aim HEVs... done. Thrusters set to station-keeping, drop pods targeted."

"That's one hell of a ride back to Earth, even for the helljumpers," exclaimed Song.

"They've done further before," the Lieutenant replied shortly.

"Ma'am," her tactical officer piped up. "Captain Gibson reports ready and eager for action."

"Good," Grunwald replied. "Olsen, get me Launch Control." There was a pause as the communications officer opened the channel.

"Lieutenant Colonel Gibson, you are authorised for launch, you may drop when ready."

"Acknowledged Bridge," was the reply, from a voice Grunwald recognised. "Alpha Company has begun dropping now, Charlie Company to follow afterwards." Gibson hadn't bothered to ask why it was her, and not Lewis, issuing the order. Then again, she thought, the old trooper had probably guessed.

"How long will it take for your men to launch?"

"We're prepped and ready for launch currently, so as fast as the tubes will allow. Roughly thirty five minutes in total for both Companies. I'm remaining onboard with the HQ Company as per the original plan."

"Understood. Delta Company is deploying from Death's Head as we speak and Bravo have already dropped from Reliant Warrior. I'll keep you updated with any further developments. Bridge out."

Grunwald relaxed her shoulders, suddenly aware of how tense she had become. She had been really shaken by the loss of Nelson. He was still there, in the ship's system somewhere, but without him operational, Absolution would be much less efficient as a fighting machine. Everything would be harder and slower now, from targeting to navigating. She knew her crew were good enough to cope- she just didn't know if she was.

The Lieutenant stared at the tactical display, a large holotank directly under the viewscreen. She watched with intrigue as the small avatar representing the Absolution released a steady flow of tiny holographic pods, each with callouts displaying the occupant's name, rank and vital statistics. She wondered if these men and women would save Sydney, if they made it there. Or if they had a better chance of making it back to Earth alive than her own crew. That she didn't know the answer for certain weighed heavily on her mind.

"Ma'am?" the tactical officer broke her reverie. "All Seraphs eliminated." The Lieutenant turned, and nodded curtly in reply. "Guns all operational with the exception of turret number four," Lambert said, taking the opportunity to update her. "Nine thousand rounds of fifty millimetre left, about three thousand airburst, two thousand kinetic penetrator, four thousand high explosive. Sixty two percent overall, some guns individually down to thirty percent."

"Acknowledged," she replied, not surprised by their ammunition expenditure. "Kozlov, is that Pelican ready?"

"The flight officer smirked. "Only just, ma'am."

"Get them spaceborne. Tell them they have seven minutes exactly out there; whatever they can do in that time will have to be enough."

"Aye aye ma'am," he replied.

"Olsen, instruct Reliant Warrior and Death's Head to put Pelicans on combat search and rescue if they have flight crew prepped. Keep it low key, no more than two birds per ship."

"Aye ma'am," the communications officer replied. "You thinking some of those Longsword crews are alive?"

She relaxed her expression, lines half-smoothing on her face. "I have no idea Ensign, but we can at least try. McArdle, keep an eye out for anything unusual. There's more Covenant out there, and they'll try to ambush us while we're stationary and surrounded by this debris. We stay at Combat Alert Alpha Two."

"Aye aye ma'am," the officer said, intently adjusting holographic controls at his fingers.

The Lieutenant returned her gaze to the viewscreen and the holographic display. Wondering if they'd ever show Earth again, wondering what state it would be in if it did.

It was ten minutes before anyone spoke again.

"Alert!" came the announcement from the ship's sensor officer. "Impulse signature detected, heading zero zero six point one four... distance twenty three thousand kilometres. Signature matches Covenant corvette class!"

Grunwald leapt back to the command station immediately, her hands balled into fists. "Prow cameras on screen, maximum magnification. Get me a MAC solution, right now."

""I'll do my best ma'am, but if the drop pods' course is altered even a fraction of a degree-"

"Just do it Ensign. What's the MAC's status?"

"MAC number one fully charged," he answered distractedly, biting his lip and intently operating the tactical display. "I can give you one shot on full power."

"Make it one at fifty percent, prepare another right after. Fire the second you have a lock."

"Ma'am, the frigates have our targeting data, requesting orders," the communications officer said.

"Neither of them have full charges," the Lieutenant growled as the read the tactical display. "Tell them to get a solution but hold fire until I say otherwise. Lambert can make the shot."

The ship vibrated as the tactical officer operated the massive ship's thrusters, pointing the MAC precisely at the target, fifteen thousand miles away- without nudging the course of the drop pods even slightly. Five centimetres here would mean thousands of kilometres for them on Earth. There was silence on the bridge as he worked- even a ship AI would be challenged.

The sleek Covenant vessel swung into view on the display as the cruiser turned to face it. An audible beep signalled a lock.

Lambert reacted instantly. The alert barely sounded twice before a reverberating whump shook the ship, causing the lights to dim and the ventilation fans to slow. The thousand-ton slug of solid metal left a blinding white streak as it was spat out of Absolution's prow.

"Detecting a spike in beta radiation Lieutenant," McArdle warned, just as the corvette's sides began to glow angrily on the screen. "They're charging plasma weapons!"

"Track those torpedoes and prepare countermeasures."

"MAC impact in four... three... two... " Grunwald gripped her fist viciously, and glared at the enemy warship as it rose to meet them.

The slug smashed squarely into the corvette's blunt nose like a lightning bolt. It travelled the length of the craft, emerging again a nanosecond later from its rear, carrying with it a massive plume of the ship's vaporised innards.

The corvette listed lazily for a few seconds, before two internal explosions, a second apart, shattered the craft into a million shards of metal.

"That's a kill," Lambert announced jovially. "Not detecting any secondaries, got them all."

A skull-penetrating klaxon rang through the bridge. "Proximity alarm," confirmed McArdle. "Seven plasma torpedoes, small calibre, inbound trajectory, all for us. Three thousand kilometres and closing-"

"Launch dust capsules, now." Grunwald cut him off, and with a single tap of the command console addressed the ship. "All hands, brace for impact, brace for impact!"

"Impact in three... two... one..."

The cruiser lurched to port as something impacted the starboard bow, automated thrusters straining to keep the massive vessel under control.

"Lambert, report!" Grunwald yelled.

"One impact Lieutenant," the tactical officer replied breathlessly. "Starboard side, decks fifteen, sixteen and seventeen. Crew quarters and mess hall, hull breaches sealed, no casualties. Titanium dust successfully detonated six of the torpedoes prematurely."

Grunwald sighed explosively, leaning on the command console. "Outstanding work ladies and gents. Montero, resume station-keeping, McArdle, resume long range scans. Lambert, charge the MAC, slow as you like. Olsen, tell Reliant Warrior and Death's Head to get a full charge and hold it. There's more Covenant out there and we may not be able to spare so much energy as we can while stationary here."

"And no one could've missed that firefight," McArdle noted. Grunwald merely nodded, and returned to the tactical display. The only sounds on the bridge now were the familiar low hum of the air circulation system and the distant pulsating of the reactors. The Lieutenant leaned over the holograms, examining the three ships' vital details and occasionally tapping an area of space.

The crew returned their eyes to their consoles, some still visibly relieved. Lambert chuckled. "Effective anti-plasma countermeasures when Humanity is on its knees. Still, twenty five years too late is better than never."

"I know what you mean Ensign," the Lieutenant replied. "But just remember exactly why it is we know fine metal dust can detonate plasma torpedoes."

Lambert nodded slightly. It was the sacrifice at Sigma Octanus IV, where a refit station and its crew sacrificed themselves to protect the fleet, that led to the chance discovery. Since then, ONI had gone into overdrive producing cheap, rudimentary countermeasures- essentially rocket-launched capsules that burst at a programmable distance, scattering metal dust and detonating the plasma round. They were basic and needed a lot of refinement, but they clearly worked. It was just a shame that advancements like that had come so late in the war.

"Ma'am," McArdle called, a note of uncertainty in his voice. "Got something on RADAR, wasn't there before. Can't get a positive identification, but it's moving, towards us."

"Any friendlies in that area that we know of?" she replied.

"Negative, and it's not broadcasting IFF. I'm trying to guess what it is but it's difficult at this range and with this debris. If Nelson were here he-"

"Ensign, what about telescopes," Grunwald interrupted with a trace of impatience.

"I've tried, too much interference from the titanium dust and wreckage in the immediate area. Should be able to get a better look when it's nearer-"

"How long, Ensign?" she asked finally.

"Assuming it is hostile and continues at present course and speed," he finished, "it'll be in weapons range in eight minutes."