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Against All Odds: Extraction

A Digimon/Halo Crossover Fanfiction

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>>INCOMING TRANSMISSION

>>FROM: VICE ADMIRAL GWENYTH HAMILTON, OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE CENTCOM, FORT HOOD, ORION

** >TO: UNITED NATIONS DIMENSIONAL RIFT RECONNAISANCE TASKS GROUP, NORTH AMERCA CENTCOM, FORT BRAGG N. CAROLINA, UNITED STATES, EARTH**

>>SUBJECT: ROGUE AGENT

>>WE ARE REQUESTING ASSISTANCE IN LOCATING AND BRINGING BACK A ROGUE SPECIAL OPERATIONS AGENT. SIERRA-707 WAS REPORTEDLY LAST SEEN IN A FLASH OF LIGHT BEFORE DISAPPEARING, SUGGESTING A POSSIBLE DIMENSIONAL RIFT. AS YOUR GROUP CLAIMS TO BE AN AUTHORITY ON THE SUBJECT, WE ARE REQUESTING A TEAM TO BE SENT IN TO ASSIST IN ASSET RECOVERY OPERATIONS.

>>END TRANSMISSION

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The door had just barely opened for Lieutenant Colonel Hopkins before he had to duck under a low flying office drone, the officer’s stride not breaking as he continued to head to his office. “Morning Colonel!” greeting one of Hopkins’ soldiers, the fresh faced recruit standing ramrod straight as he saluted.

“Morning to you as well Private Williams,” Hopkins replied, returning the salute. “As you were Drifter.” Pleasantries exchanged, the two went their separate ways, with Hopkins finally reaching his office. Unlocking the door, he passed by his Reflex Armor system and full gun rack as he went to his desk, the simple table cluttered with paperwork and pens, as well as a pair of empty coffee mugs. Dropping his day bag next to the desk, Hopkins dropped into his chair sighing as he eyed the stack of forms in his inbox. “God, damn thing grows bigger every fucking day,” he muttered, flicking a button to turn on his computer terminal, his access card already slotted in. Pulling out a folder from the stack, Hopkins flipped it open as he waited for his computer to boot up.

“Personnel transfer? Huh, who wants in this time?” he asked himself as he looked through the file before chuckling.

“Ah, beuno, I caught you in a good mood then.”

“Ronin!” Hopkins cried out, getting out of his seat as the subject of the folder came into his office, grinning. “Glad to see you back home!”

The individual who had just arrived nodded as he set down a pair of mugs full of coffee down next to the gun rack. “Ci, it is good to be home,” Ronin replied just before Hopkins pulled him into a brotherly hug. Letting go, Hopkins backed up so he could look the Voxin in the eye. “First Sergeant Sanchez, reporting in sir,” he added, saluting.

“As you were First Sergeant,” Hopkins chuckled as he grabbed a mug before sitting back down. Moments later, Ronin sat down in one of the chairs opposite him, coffee in hand. “So,” the officer asked, “How was your stay in Antarctica?”

“Cold, even with fur,” the Voxin snorted, his green eyes alarmingly stark against his white fur. “The Mark Four Reflex Armor System’s joints occasionally locked up, and half the time, the power cells simply weren’t warm enough to start up.” Hopkins groaned in annoyance.

“Seriously? Even after the whole VARIA integration fiasco?”

Ronin nodded glumly as a panel on Hopkins’ desk lit up, signaling an incoming call. Hopkins sighed as he looked at his friend in exasperation, his expression pleading. Ronin made a quick gesture to the panel, and the human nodded before tapping it.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hopkins, Second DRIFTR Battalion,” he answered professionally, his formally casual demeanor gone.

A holographic image of an older officer flickered into being above Hopkins’ desk, the two stars gleaming from each of the man’s shoulders. “Hopkins, at ease son,” ordered Major General Young, his hands clasped behind his back. Hopkins relaxed a bit in his chair, looking at his superior in confusion.

“General Young, I wasn’t expecting a call this early sir,” he said, waving a hand over his paperwork. “Otherwise, I’d have cleaned up a little.” Young waved the apology off.

“Don’t worry about it,” the General stated. “I have worse reasons for calling you. Colonel, how familiar are you with UNSC ONI?” Hopkins couldn’t help but growl at the name.

“To be frank sir, they reek of hypocrisy, and they are objectively worse than the CIA, NSA, and the Toshigan Loyalist remnants put together,” he said truthfully. “Only thing I can really compare them to is The Party from 1984. Why do you ask sir?”

Another holographic panel showed up over his desk while Young explained. “Two hours ago, we received a transmission from one of our outposts in that particular U-Stream,” he said. “ONI wants our help in tracking someone down, and I’m certain it’s not the Chief.”

“Are you joking? Even we’re not that stupid enough to try and chase down a legend,” Hopkins replied, looking at the transcript. “And this has been verified authentic?”

“We screened it four times. It checks out,” Young said. “Now, officially, I cannot authorize a large scale deployment of Drifter forces to go after one spook. I can, however, send in a pair of specialists with support in to assess and monitor the situation.”

“So you want to send in the Coyote?” Hopkins asked, glancing at his armor. “I thought we agreed that sending in the Coyote during peacetime was a bad idea.”

“Hopkins, I’m sure that even you aren’t that psychotic,” Young commented. “What with all the therapy you went through.” Hopkins sighed.

“Still sir, why send in the Coyote?”

“ONI isn’t giving us all the details. I have a hunch that the Coyote can convince them to at least give up some data before shit hits the fan. Also, it’ll do you some good, get some fresh air for a change. That’s an order.”

“Yes sir. When do you want us to Drift out?” Hopkins asked as he glanced at his collection of clocks next to his office door.

“Ten hundred your time,” Young ordered. “Try not to cause a mess like you did in New York please.”

“One time! I drive one light mech, and accidentally shoot the Chrysler Building, and everyone thinks I’m Satan!” Hopkins groaned as Young smirked. “We’ll be ready to deploy then sir, you can count on it. Hopkins out,” he said, ending the transmission as Young nodded. “So, Ro, you ready to go chat with a bunch of psychotic, paranoid assholes?”

Ronin shrugged as he stood up. “Not really, but someone needs to make sure you don’t do anything stupid sir,” he replied simply, sipping his coffee. Hopkins chuckled in agreement.

“Yeah yeah, just get down in the armory and suited up, I want a list of troops we can use for asset recovery by the time I arrive.”

“I’d recommend fire teams Theta and Iota,” Ronin said as Hopkins stood up from his desk, the human taking his uniform top off, revealing a matte black undersuit laced with artificial muscle bundles. “Also, I would suggest that, since this an asset recovery, that we focus primarily on nonlethal munitions.”

“I’ll authorize Arc and Void rounds, maybe a couple of the laser weapons, but since this is ONI we’re dealing with, I want to be prepared,” Hopkins stated as finally stood out of his uniform before walking over to the armor. “Also, I’m going to need you armed with SLAP rounds, just in case things go south.”

Ronin nodded in understanding. “Understood. Prepare for long range tactical recon then?” Hopkins nodded as he began attaching armor segments to the undersuit. “Then I shall see you again in the armory with the fire teams.”

Ronin quickly walked out, leaving Hopkins to continue putting on the armor. The bulky, yet slim chest plate snapped smoothly in place a few minutes later, the officer quickly snapping on his shoulder pauldrons and right vambrace before focusing his attention to his left forearm.

Attached to his arm was the armored bulk of his Mark Seven Temporal Manipulation Device. The TMD was attached to all active Drifters, and it was half the reason why the DRIFTR Tasks Group was so feared in combat. After all, not many could block a singularity that opened up right next to their faces. Flicking his wrist, the slim under-slung controls flew into his hand, the worn contours comforting to the human soldier. Testing the control very quickly, Hopkins smiled at the faint blue glow coming from his weapon’s indicator light before flipping it back into its safe position. Satisfied, he grabbed his old helmet and clipped it to his armored belt. Moving back to his desk, Hopkins removed his access card, the terminal instantly going into lockdown until he either reinserted the card, or the IT team came in to wipe the drives clean after he died.

Flipping it between his fingers, Hopkins took one last look around his office as he grabbed a few weapons from the rack before leaving, making sure to turn the lights off in his office.

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“Coyote on deck!”

Everyone in the armory snapped to attention as a lone figure entered the armory. Ronin glanced over to the armored soldier and nodded. “Sir.”

“First Sergeant,” Coyote replied curtly, looking at the Voxin. “The teams ready?”

“Not yet sir, Private Desserich is still getting fitted for the communications equipment,” the Drifter said as he and Coyote walked over to an ammunition bin, where the human quickly grabbed a few pre-filled magazines for his modified M8 A/5 assault rifle, the necks of the top bullets painted an iridescent purple.

“Well, tell the techs to hurry the hell up, I still have a briefing to go through, shitty as it is,” Coyote complained before grabbing a few magazines for his pistol. “What about you though, you got the SLAP rounds?”

Ronin nodded. “Extended mags as well, along with a few other tools,” he commented, drawing a look from his friend. Giving the taller Drifter a quick once over, Coyote chuckled.

“A few? Ro, you look you’re planning to bring the whole armory with you,” he retorted as he finally finished prepping himself. “I mean, hell, a UV designator on your rifle? And are those high-ex rounds you’re taking for Joaquin?”

“Halo ‘verse has shielding. Bigger bullet, more shield drain, SPARTANs die faster,” Ronin deadpanned as Coyote rolled his eyes as a Drifter jogged into the armory, a heavy pack with a multitude of antennae sticking out the top of it.

“Sir!” the Drifter cried out, snapping to attention. “Private Desserich reporting sir!” Coyote chuckled as he returned her salute.

“At ease private,” he told her. “Fall in with your team, we’ll be out on the next bird in five.” Desserich nodded eagerly as she bounded off to her team, the tips of the antennae bobbing in time with her hurried steps. “When did she come in?”

“Three months ago sir, she took part in a two month outpost deployment,” Ronin told his commander as the human slipped on his helmet, the carbon black visor reflecting nothing. “She’s a good linguist, from what her supervising sergeant said in his report.”

“Antarctica was boring for you wasn’t it?” Coyote deadpanned as the two of them walked out of the armory, quickly walking out onto an expansive airstrip where fighters and transport craft were being prepped and launched. Ronin huffed as they all clambered aboard a modified V-22 Osprey, the turbo-prop engines replaced with a pair of high-powered ion vector thrust boosters.

“I simply saw the need to make sure that the battalion was doing well sir, and paperwork waits for no one,” the sniper retorted as they went and hooked up into their seats, Coyote slipping a disc into a slot by his chair.

“Yeah, have to agree with you there,” Coyote commented as the boarding ramp closed up, leaving him stuck in an aircraft with one Voxin marksman and ten rowdy and assorted Drifters. “Drifters, atten-SHUN!” In an instant, their heads snapped to look at him as Coyote tapped at command module on his arm, linking himself with the Osprey’s internal holo-display. “Okay, listen up. Earlier today, DRIFTCOM received a transmission from UNSC ONICOM in one of the more out-there time-streams, requesting assistance in asset recovery. The asset is a Spartan-707. We don’t know the full story yet, but for the moment, our focus will be on nonlethal capture first. If all else fails, First Sergeant Sanchez, Sergeant Holmes, and Specialist McShane will be our best bet for bringing the Spartan down. Any questions?”

A recruit from the back of the troop bay spoke up. “Sir, if this is an asset recovery, why us? Wouldn’t ONI have a team like Fireteam Osiris to grab the bloody wanker?” she asked dryly. Coyote chuckled as Ronin cut in.

“Ordinarily, yes,” the senior NCO stated. “However, ONI believes the Spartan got sucked into a rift, and asked for the experts.” The Osprey rumbled, the craft moving onto the tarmac proper so that it could take off.

“Sir, will we have support this mission?” Sergeant Clarence ‘Devil Dog’ York asked, his Mk. IV Reflex armor limiting his bored flexing. Coyote nodded.

“We will have limited Cardinal and Mako air support,” Ronin said, “Along with supply drops from the local outpost.”

“Alright, one last thing,” Coyote said as the engines started spooling up. “We will be inserting inside hostile territory. ONI may have asked for this mission, but I don’t trust them. With that in mind, if and when they ask for the TMDs, refuse. We are not a part of their chain of command, and we do not work for them. Am I clear?”

“SIR YES SIR!” The Drifters barked as the Osprey went up into the air, causing Coyote to grab onto a support strut. Ronin laughed at his friend.

“Scared sir?” the Voxin asked. Coyote huffed as he glanced at the ten Drifters under his command.

“Terrified,” he deadpanned. “Lot of kids on this op.” Ronin shrugged as smiled at the armored human across from him.

“You’ll do fine sir, and they will too,” said the First Sergeant. “We do this by the book, and we all come home without a care in the world.”

Coyote nodded as the pilot spoke up. “Brace for rift transit on my mark. Three. Two. One. Hang on!”

Outside, the DV-22G Osprey flew into a momentary rip in space, the edges of the anomaly tinged blue. The moment the craft went through, the singularity collapsed, severing the tie between universes.

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Okay, so this is the rewrite of “Against All Odds: Extraction.” I’ll be going through this entire fic, amongst others that I have across several sites, and correcting mistakes and simply adding more content that will, hopefully, flesh out both the story and the universes that my characters go through. I ask that you please take the time to read, review, and leave constructive comments wherever appropriate, if only to help me make this better than ever!