Sent To Protect and Serve Humanity

Chapter 61: Their Finest Hour

Sorry for the late chapter! I've been super busy recently and haven't had time to work on it. Expect some spelling mistakes because I'm too tired to proofread this.

The next chapter should be out by mid-July at the latest.

We're almost done!

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3rd POV

Streaks of brilliant purple and fiery orange would ignite the dark sky, illuminating the wartorn city below it. Explosions would dance above and below the clouds, each impact signaling a piece of the Covenant or Alliance that had been chipped away.

The burning wrecks of countless aircraft dotted the city and the terrain around it. Phantoms, Spirits, Pelicans, Broadswords, it did not matter what their allegiance was when they slammed into Remnant's surface. Those on the ground who were smart, scavenged through the wreckage in an attempt to defend themselves from the Covenant's scattered ground forces or the Grimm clawing their way into the city. Those who weren't scavenging or were within the Alliance's Safe Zones found themselves enthralled in a wicked curiosity about the warships that orchestrated this battle.

From what they could tell, the Alliance's Navy was being quelled by a single Coveneant warship. The capital ships were forced into a defensive posturing in an attempt to preserve life while their escorts continued to harass and annoy the assault carrier, all in hopes of giving the capital ships the perfect punch to break the carrier's shielding.

Yet, while most of their fleet was amongst the fight, a handful had remained on the ground. Tired, broken, and beaten, these warships were forced to be spectators at the end of their war.

Together, the Halberds sat outside the repair zones, using the sidewalks as seats, and stared into the blazing sky.

"Come on, lads..." A tired and exhausted Hastings looked up into the sky, her eyes showing a glint of unbroken determination.

Beside her, Perth and Onwards silently leaned against her shoulders, attempting to find some resemblance of comfort. The Australian tugged at the bandage around his neck before reaching around his sister and adjusting the bandage wrapped around his brother's face.

"There you go, Onnie." Perth forced a smile and coughed.

Onwards put a hand against his brother's own and held it. "I'm fine. Please don't push yourself."

Hastings tried to scoff at her little brother's selflessness, only to end up in a violent cough. Quickly, her brothers turned their attention to their beloved sister and began to slowly pat her back, preferring to use their strength to support their sister rather than themselves. After a couple long and painful seconds of coughing, Wellington would hurry over with a damaged pair of miniature point-defense guns.

"Hey! Drink this!" Wellington quickly knelt down and produced a small flask from her pocket. She would quickly force the English girl's head back and pour the contents of the flask into her mouth. "Three, two, one, and spit!" A brief struggle followed as the Halberd spit out the liquid, and the repair ship stared at her with worried eyes. "Your throat might feel very minty, but it's better than hacking up a lung." She smiled, forcing a small chuckle.

The English girl's head would lower as she gently caressed her throat. The back of her throat began to feel extremely minty as a numb sensation quickly covered her throat. "Ugh..." She attempted to wipe her own mouth of her saliva, only for her Australian brother to do it for her. "Thanks, love. Any idea when we can help?" She asked the repair ship.

Wellington immediately frowned, her tools raising up their destroyed rigging behind her. "Once I reattach your PDs, restock your ammunition, mend the massive holes in your MAC Cannon, find a way to fix your shield generator, and then replace your engines, you can fight. Even with help from Nobel and Proclamation, a rough estimate of a week at the very minimum-" She would be quickly cut off.