Foster
Inheritor
Concorde was, depending on who you asked, either the safest or most dangerous place in occupied space. For those sheltering from the long arm of UNSC law it was an oasis at which they may thrive, surrounded by smugglers, bounty hunters and people who wanted to make a relatively honest living outside of Earth’s colonies. Concorde was independently thriving since the end of the Covenant war and its population would fight tooth and claw to keep it that way. It had established itself a free colony the moment the war had come to and end, its insurrectionist roots having held on for the duration of the fighting. So, landing on the ocean planet baring the UNSC’s, or good forbid ONI’s, insignia was a quick and easy way to have a target painted on your back. Of course, that meant that for a Spartan to set foot on Concorde was just asking for trouble…
Dean Z-013 shuffled slightly on his perch high above Concorde’s busy market district, trying to dispel some of the stiffness that had settled into his joints after hours atop this rain-soaked ledge. The towering warehouse building provided the perfect vantage point for him to observe the speck sized people going about their lives beneath him, all while keeping him concealed from any prying eyes. If by some miracle he was spotted, the M99 Stanchion cradled in his arms and his intimidating MJONIR armour would have him appear like the most well-armed gargoyle in existence, the thought causing the corners of his mouth to curl into a wry smile as it crossed his mind.
The time displayed by Dean’s HUD showed it to be 21:35 by Concorde’s 26 hour clock, the last of the planet’s daylight having vanished over 2 hours ago. Now Concorde was awash with the lights provided by its inhabitants, those illuminating stalls, roads or signs. They came in all colours and intensities, a beautiful urban painting on the dark parchment of night. Although Dean took the time to admire the view he wasn’t fooled. Concorde was a pirate colony though and through. It had more than its fair share of honest workers holding up the infrastructure but the reason this place had made a name for itself was its black market, not its sizeable seafood industry. The foundations on which the city had been built upon consisted of a single massive platform jutting out of the endless sea that engulfed the planet, a truly fitting place for pirates to call their home. And with Concorde’s views about the UNSC on full display it had attracted the attention of others who would rather keep out of the grasp of Earth. The Jackals had been the first to arrive. Natural born miscreants, they were welcomed with open arms by the criminals that had established themselves here. Other species soon followed, Grunts, Brutes, even dishonoured Elites. It had blossomed into a multicultural metropolis, with some covenant style structures even cropping up here and there. If you weren’t with the imperial UNSC you were safe on Concorde, or so these people liked to think.
Dean shouldered his rifle and peered through the scope as he swept it across the market, the streets jumping forward in 10x magnification as he tried to pinpoint his target amongst the sea of faces. Even this late the market was packed to the brim with those haggling at stalls, enduring the endless drizzle from the sky to grab the best deals. A middle-aged man in a slightly worn suit caught Dean’s eye, his thinning hair pressed flat against his head by the rain. Sumeet Khan. The file Dean had been handed by ONI revealed Khan to be a small-time salvager who had recently begun making waves in the criminal underworld. For such a small fish to suddenly be getting so much attention he must have stumbled upon something big. Big enough that there was buzz across the solar system about it. And considering how sloppy he’d been in letting news spread to ONI this quickly he was definitely eager to get it off his hands. That likely meant it was dangerous, a hot product he wasn’t used to dealing in. And when words like ‘relic’ and ‘Forerunner’ had begun cropping up in intercepted transmissions it hadn’t been long before Fireteam Mercury had been called in.
Flanking the man was some obvious hired muscle, a pair of surly looking mercenary types that were helping Khan cut a swathe through the crowds. “I’ve got eyes on the target.” Dean spoke into team COM, his sights never leaving Khan. “Safaa’, Reb, he’s heading towards the docks via the fish market, get on his tail.”
Reb, and their tag along Spartan 4 Safaa’, had been milling around in the market for a while now waiting for Dean’s signal. Spartan Reb Z-004 was one of Fireteam Mercury’s core members and had been since it was established, Dean had no doubt she’d accomplish her mission down there. Safaa’ was a different matter. Mercury had worked along Spartan 4’s before of course, they made up the bulk of the Spartan branch these days, but this was the first time one had been added to Dean’s own fireteam roster. It wasn’t that he doubted her skill or commitment to the mission, but she was an unknown element thrown into the mix of a well -oiled machine. He’d be keeping a close eye on her performance as the situation developed.
The entire reason she’d even been brought on, at least as far as Dean was aware, was that they needed somebody to pass as a civilian down on the ground. Without her MJONIR armour Safaa’ could just about get away with that. Had any of the Spartan 0s tried that stunt they’d be spotted immediately, their superhuman frames making it near impossible for them to blend into a crowd. For all their enhancements and skills there was little any 7ft spartan could do to look like normal person.
The final members of Fireteam Mercury, Charlotte and Paige, were already at the docks, holed up in the van they’d be using to extract Khan out of the market district. Once they had him they’d book it to the courier ship waiting nearby, with a pilot already there to keep the engine hot. Their intel placed Khan’s meeting tonight at the docks so the plan was for these two to intercept him before he could make it there. The Jackal pirates Khan was meant to be meeting would be very upset when their prize never showed up, but by that point Mercury would be off-world and out of their claws. Provided everything went as planned.
Dean Z-013 shuffled slightly on his perch high above Concorde’s busy market district, trying to dispel some of the stiffness that had settled into his joints after hours atop this rain-soaked ledge. The towering warehouse building provided the perfect vantage point for him to observe the speck sized people going about their lives beneath him, all while keeping him concealed from any prying eyes. If by some miracle he was spotted, the M99 Stanchion cradled in his arms and his intimidating MJONIR armour would have him appear like the most well-armed gargoyle in existence, the thought causing the corners of his mouth to curl into a wry smile as it crossed his mind.
The time displayed by Dean’s HUD showed it to be 21:35 by Concorde’s 26 hour clock, the last of the planet’s daylight having vanished over 2 hours ago. Now Concorde was awash with the lights provided by its inhabitants, those illuminating stalls, roads or signs. They came in all colours and intensities, a beautiful urban painting on the dark parchment of night. Although Dean took the time to admire the view he wasn’t fooled. Concorde was a pirate colony though and through. It had more than its fair share of honest workers holding up the infrastructure but the reason this place had made a name for itself was its black market, not its sizeable seafood industry. The foundations on which the city had been built upon consisted of a single massive platform jutting out of the endless sea that engulfed the planet, a truly fitting place for pirates to call their home. And with Concorde’s views about the UNSC on full display it had attracted the attention of others who would rather keep out of the grasp of Earth. The Jackals had been the first to arrive. Natural born miscreants, they were welcomed with open arms by the criminals that had established themselves here. Other species soon followed, Grunts, Brutes, even dishonoured Elites. It had blossomed into a multicultural metropolis, with some covenant style structures even cropping up here and there. If you weren’t with the imperial UNSC you were safe on Concorde, or so these people liked to think.
Dean shouldered his rifle and peered through the scope as he swept it across the market, the streets jumping forward in 10x magnification as he tried to pinpoint his target amongst the sea of faces. Even this late the market was packed to the brim with those haggling at stalls, enduring the endless drizzle from the sky to grab the best deals. A middle-aged man in a slightly worn suit caught Dean’s eye, his thinning hair pressed flat against his head by the rain. Sumeet Khan. The file Dean had been handed by ONI revealed Khan to be a small-time salvager who had recently begun making waves in the criminal underworld. For such a small fish to suddenly be getting so much attention he must have stumbled upon something big. Big enough that there was buzz across the solar system about it. And considering how sloppy he’d been in letting news spread to ONI this quickly he was definitely eager to get it off his hands. That likely meant it was dangerous, a hot product he wasn’t used to dealing in. And when words like ‘relic’ and ‘Forerunner’ had begun cropping up in intercepted transmissions it hadn’t been long before Fireteam Mercury had been called in.
Flanking the man was some obvious hired muscle, a pair of surly looking mercenary types that were helping Khan cut a swathe through the crowds. “I’ve got eyes on the target.” Dean spoke into team COM, his sights never leaving Khan. “Safaa’, Reb, he’s heading towards the docks via the fish market, get on his tail.”
Reb, and their tag along Spartan 4 Safaa’, had been milling around in the market for a while now waiting for Dean’s signal. Spartan Reb Z-004 was one of Fireteam Mercury’s core members and had been since it was established, Dean had no doubt she’d accomplish her mission down there. Safaa’ was a different matter. Mercury had worked along Spartan 4’s before of course, they made up the bulk of the Spartan branch these days, but this was the first time one had been added to Dean’s own fireteam roster. It wasn’t that he doubted her skill or commitment to the mission, but she was an unknown element thrown into the mix of a well -oiled machine. He’d be keeping a close eye on her performance as the situation developed.
The entire reason she’d even been brought on, at least as far as Dean was aware, was that they needed somebody to pass as a civilian down on the ground. Without her MJONIR armour Safaa’ could just about get away with that. Had any of the Spartan 0s tried that stunt they’d be spotted immediately, their superhuman frames making it near impossible for them to blend into a crowd. For all their enhancements and skills there was little any 7ft spartan could do to look like normal person.
The final members of Fireteam Mercury, Charlotte and Paige, were already at the docks, holed up in the van they’d be using to extract Khan out of the market district. Once they had him they’d book it to the courier ship waiting nearby, with a pilot already there to keep the engine hot. Their intel placed Khan’s meeting tonight at the docks so the plan was for these two to intercept him before he could make it there. The Jackal pirates Khan was meant to be meeting would be very upset when their prize never showed up, but by that point Mercury would be off-world and out of their claws. Provided everything went as planned.