"Reassigned?" Valkyrie asked tonelessly. The channel crackeed a little as the comms technician tried to get a fix on the single long-range radio the firebase had.<br/><br/>"<<em>Firebase Romeo is stable enough to reallocate . . .  assets to a new area. The . . .  contact with encircled forces in delta sector. Covvie armor is . . . area. As soon as possible. How copy?</em>>"<br/><br/>"Stable? This area isn't stable. We're still reeling from that plasma bombardment." She responded matter-of-factly. "Ammunition is a constant concern and the base is hemorrhaging manpower. It's only going to get worse as the covenant throw more at this strongpoint. Over."<br/><br/>The voice on the other end didn't respond for a moment. "<<em>Petty officer, I'd change the orders if I could. I'm just the damned messenger.</em>>"<br/><br/>"...Affirmative. Out." The spartan killed the line and stepped away from the radio array, pondering the situation. More than what the Marines were like now, she wondered what would happen to morale, as her departure would not go unnoticed. Being killed in another routinely dangerous mission was a secondary concern... though perhaps not being around dozens of troopers if she did bite the dust was preferable. She opened a private channel with Wilkins. "Staff Sergeant. I'm being reassigned to the battle in the city."<br/><br/>"<<em>Damned unfortunate, ma'am. Any last requests?</em>>"<br/><br/>Valkyrie shook her head at the half-joke. She removed the mag from her rifle to check the load, then the ammo in her pouches. "My normal loadout and a three-day pack. I can grab the ammo myself."<br/><br/>"<<em>Alrighty then! I'll get the falcon pilots to give you a lift to the OP. And I'll be damned if I take no as an answer.</em>>"<br/><br/>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Two Falcons would head out from the base just before dawn, like any other combat air patrol. By the time they deviated from typical flight patterns and alerted covenant banshees, they had already made their delivery and departed the LZ. At the Spartan's request, the crew periodically threw out the cylindrical canisters of weapons and supplies that would keep the fight going for the stranded forces.<br/><br/>Valkyrie checked her equipment. An M19 launcher, MA-5K with illuminator and holographic sight, M6D sidearm, a dozen grenades and plenty of magazines. Her rucksack had several reloads for the launcher in airtight packs, countless rifle magazines, three days of high-energy foods, several liters of water, electrolyte powder and a water purifier... along with the mission-dependent equipment, like the pair of lotus mines, C-7 canisters and suppressors. It was a heavy load for anybody but a Spartan, so she would have to avoid fights until she could reconnect with local forces.<br/><br/>The pilots had commented there might be other S-2s in the area. She needed to get their attention, discreetly. Valkyrie prepared a text burst, standard UNSC encryption and giving a very slight signature.<br/><br/><div class="codeheader">Code: <a class="codeoperation" href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">S102. Coordinates?</code></pre><br/>Even if covenant intercepted the message, it was useless for forces who weren't familiar with their callsigns. But considering the time it could take for a response, Valkyrie would have to do some digging herself. She locked a suppressor onto her rifle and proceeded through the ruins, hugging the shadows.