Helljumpers: Feet First

Prologue: October 20th, 2552, 14:32 Hours, Military Calendar. Aboard the UNSC Maine in low orbit above Earth, Sol System.

Alyssa Stephens could only watch through a viewscreen as the UNSC Maine dodged an incoming plasma torpedo. She swore as the frigate shook from the explosion as the torpedo had collided with the debris of a stalwart class frigate, saving the ship.

“Shite, that was too close”, a voice behind her shouted out in a thick Irish brogue. She couldn’t help but smile as she turned around to face the angry face of Nolan Byrne, one of her squadmates. Beside him was another fellow squadmate, Raymond Ellis as he looked at another screen with a different view.

“What the hell is that freak doing?” He exclaimed, drawing the attention of the rest of Beta 3. The freak in question was Spartan 117, the Master Chief as he soared through the battlefield. The squad watched in awe as a Marathon Heavy Cruiser took a crippling blow from a covenant carrier, further highlighting the Mjolnir clad warrior. They lost sight of him as he passed through an opening in the carrier created by a pair of Longsword Interceptors.

“He’s no freak”, Boris Gorbichev, the squad leader, stated sternly but continued to watch the action unfold. “He’s still human.”

“Can a human do that?” Raymond exclaimed as the spartan came back into view, highlighted by the screen, just before the Carrier exploded in the center, the blast expanding throughout the entire ship.

“I mean, we can toss you out the airlock and find out.” came the response from Abigail (Webby) Fletcher, the squad’s rifle specialist

“Prep the airlock Webby. I’m interested to see how that goes.” Boris said with a half smile, causing everyone except Raymond to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too.” The CQC specialist grumbled to himself.

Dominique Abel, The squad’s medic, came into the launch bay with her tacpad in her hands. “Sir, priority communication from Lord Hood.”

“Send it to my tacpad Dominique.” Boris responded. “Admiral Hood, how can Beta 3 help you today?”

“The Master Chief is being sent down to the surface to find out exactly why the covenant carrier went to the surface.” Came the response from the admiral, “He has orders to attempt to board the carrier by any means necessary. Your squad along with several others will be deployed onto the carrier’s deck to assist him in that mission. Is this understood?”

“Yes sir.” Boris responded, “When will we drop?”

“Twenty minutes. You will be dropped ahead of the others, to secure the landing site.” Lord Hood commanded.

“Understood, sir. We’ll be ready.” Boris responded, with Lord Hood ending the communique.

“Sergeant, what’s our mission?” Alyssa asked, standing alert as Boris had walked a few metres back to have the conversation without the squad hearing anything. But they all knew that something big was about to happen.

Boris walked back over to them, his face serious. “Get prepped, ladies and gentlemen. Lord Hood wants us to land on the last remaining carrier to support the Master Chief in 20 minutes. I want us combat ready and in those pods in 5 minutes. Lets not disappoint him.”

“Don’t you worry Boris, I’m ready to kick some covie ass!” Byrne said excitedly, already grabbing his favorite weapon, the M41 SPNKr Rocket Launcher.

“If I get to see some covenant up close?” came the response from Ellis, his hands on his M45E Tactical Shotgun, “Today will be my lucky day.”

Alyssa smiled as she went over to the SRS99D-S2 AM Sniper Rifle leaning on the bench next to a set of lockers. She grabbed it and examined the scope, making sure that it was clean and functioning properly, then inserted the magazine into the rifle, before cycling the bolt, thus putting a round in the chamber. She grabbed three more magazines and placed them within the ammo pouch she carried on her hip.

Dominique, already settled in her pod with an MA5B Assault Rifle clipped in beside her. “I still don’t know why you haven’t adopted the new gear that the UNSC has provided to us,” she asked, alluding to the fact that Nolan still used the gear that now only appeared on old Stalwart Frigates. Byrne didn’t reply, but rather used an archaic gesture using one finger and directed it at the medic.

“Why you still use that antiquated weapon eludes me, Boris.”, Webby stated curtly, clipping her BR55 Battle Rifle into place.

Boris smiled as he looked at the ancient weapon in his hand, an MP-412 Rex from the late 20th Century. “This beauty has been in my family for nearly six hundred years, and it will be there for another six hundred for damn sure.”

“Somehow, I doubt that” Webby replied, rolling her eyes. “That thing is bloody useless against Elites and Jackals.”

“Maybe so, but against Grunts…” Boris shook the pistol while gesturing to Webby before flipping it in his hands and sliding it into the holster on his right side, “it does well enough, making them scream in agony from a long, painful death.”

Webby deadpanned at Boris. “You Russians sure are a gruesome bunch.”

“My family hasn’t resided in the motherland in over five hundred years you posh british asshole.” He retorted in an exaggerated accent.

They both looked at each other before bursting into fits of laughter, their ‘serious’ expressions vanishing, replaced with comradery. They fistbumped each other before Boris walked towards his pod, ending their daily banter.

Alyssa rolled her eyes as the squad heard every word. The fact that those two did that all the time never ceased to amaze her. Nolan however snorted at their exchange.

“Having another lovers moment, aren’t we, Boris” he teased before Boris glared at him. A common joke that the squad used was calling Boris and Webby lovers since they were quite close as a means of teasing them, annoying the two of them to no length. Nolan laughed as he sat down in his pod and closed the hatch.

“Irish prick,” Boris mumbled before grabbing a M7S submachine gun and standing in front of his pod, hand on the open hatch. He hated the fact that Byrne could just shut his pod hatch and end the conversation as he used an older model of SOEIV. This was common practice within the squad as Boris always waited for the others to close their pods before getting into his own.

Alyssa closed her pod then keyed in Nolan on the radio. “What’s the bet he called you a prick?” she asked, with Nolan chuckling on the other side.

“Lyssa,” he said, calling her by a nickname she hated, “Everyone calls me an Irish prick.”

“Ah, mate,” she smiled, “You underestimate how much people hate your guts.”

“Oh, I probably overestimate that!” Nolan jested, the two of them laughing their heads off.

ALERT. FIVE MINUTES TO DROP. came an announcement over Maine's PA, followed by the wailing klaxon of the drop alarm.

“You know the music, time to dance.” Boris announced.

“You stole that from Buck and you know it.” Webby retorted.

“He owes me a drink, I deserve to say that line once.” Boris responded in turn.

“If we make it through this alive, I’ll buy the whole damn bar,” Raymond said.

“Great, now he’s doing it as well,” Webby complained. “I’m surrounded by thieves.”

The entire squad felt the familiar lurch as their pods were jettisoned from the Paris Class Frigate. Boris had his radio keyed into the command frequency and heard some radio chatter from Alpha 9, namely Buck reminding Romeo to shut his mouth.

“Radiation!” came an Alert from the head of the Op.

“Did the Covenant nuke New Mombasa?” Byrne asked, not being able to see anything.

“The Carrier is transitioning inside the city!” Boris shouted. “We’re too close, we’re getting pulled in!”

That was the last transmission Beta 3 made before the Solemn Penance jumped taking half of New Mombasa with it.