The roar of the Conqueror's Star's engines was a continuous rumble, an appropriate soundtrack to the fury boiling within Julius. The initial reports from Veridian were getting worse and worse. The green tide was overwhelming the defenses, level by level. Time was running out.
"We will arrive in forty minutes, Commander," announced Data. "The first waves of Valkyries can be deployed in thirty."
"It won't be enough," grumbled Raynor, studying the patterns of the Ork assault. "They're too many, too disorganized, which makes them unpredictable. Our Marines will hold, but the losses will be heavy."
Julius felt the cold logic of the situation. His Terran troops were versatile, but designed for conventional warfare, not for containing a brute, quasi-infinite force like the Orks. He needed a heavier hammer. An elite unit capable of striking where it hurt and holding the line against the unthinkable.
He mentally withdrew, the bridge around him seeming to fade as he connected to the System.
"System, it's time to reinforce our numbers. Buy Spartan units. Give me the options."
< Accessing "Halo" archives...>
< Unit: SPARTAN-IV.>
< Description: Cybernetically enhanced elite human soldiers, equipped with latest generation Mjolnir armor. Optimal combination of strength, speed, resilience, and tactical skills.>
< Cost: 10,000 energy units per unit.>
Ten thousand points per Spartan. It was expensive. But the sight of Orks butchering human militiamen made the price trivial.
"Purchase fifty Spartan-IV units. Immediate deployment in the main embarkation bay."
< Consumption of 500,000 energy units.>
< Summoning in progress...>
In the flagship's main hangar, fifty flashes of bluish light illuminated the immense space. When the light dissipated, fifty imposing, silent silhouettes were aligned, motionless. Their Mjolnir armor, with its aggressive curves and deep military green, seemed to absorb the light. They carried no heavy weapons, only their armor and a presence that chilled the blood.
A Spartan stepped forward, his face hidden behind his iconic helmet.
"Spartan Fireteam Osiris online, Commander," announced a synthesized voice, calm and full of authority. "We are operational."
Julius felt a shiver. This was quality facing quantity. Precision facing chaos.
"Welcome, Spartans. Your mission is simple: break the Ork assault. Priority targets: the Nobz and the Warbosses. Use your mobility and firepower to strike at key points. You do not hold the line, you shatter it."
"Understood, Commander," the leader replied. "We are the hammer."
As the Spartans boarded specially modified Dropships, Julius turned to Data and Raynor.
"And we adapt our strategy. The Orks like close combat? We won't give it to them. Data, reassign all available Siege Tanks. I want them in artillery position, pounding their rear and rallying points. No frontal assault. We break them from a distance."
"Energy weapons are less effective because of their gestalt field," Julius added, feverishly remembering his old fan knowledge. "Prioritize ballistic weapons. Configure the Marines' Impalers for explosive and incendiary ammunition. I want every shot to make noise and cause damage."
"The Valkyries," he ordered Raynor. "Total air superiority. No Ork aircraft, no transport, must approach the city. They die in the sky."
The plan was falling into place. A cold, methodical strategy to counter the Orks' disordered fury. The Spartans would be the tip of the spear, striking the leaders. The Terran artillery would be the hammer, crushing the mass. And the Marines, with their new settings, would form a wall of noise and fire.
The Conqueror's Star emerged from warp space above Veridian. The view was apocalyptic. But for the first time, Julius looked at it not with horror, but with icy determination.
"All forces, engage combat," he announced, his voice carried by the ship's speakers. "Let's show these green vermin what war truly means."