Chapter 1: Newsaka 2545: Rumble in the Jungle
Chapter Text
Introduction
Hello, and welcome.
The premise of this story is simple: when it comes to single-player games, some days I want to play a game with a well-written plot, interesting characters, and fun gameplay. Other days, I just want to see evil aliens get blown up. This story is basically the written version of the latter.
The emphasis is on fighting: each chapter will take place in a new setting and involve a different cast, but they will all revolve around a battle, a skirmish, or a firefight of some sort, making this less of a story, and more of a compilation. Because of this, characterization will be non-existent and each chapter will be presented without much context or worldbuilding.
Given the non-systematic approach to this story, update schedule will be more of a “whenever I feel like” sort of deal.
All comments and reviews welcomed; questions are also welcomed but be aware that I may opt to not provide an answer. If a response is provided, it’ll be available in the comments/review sections, as it makes it easier to respond to guest comments.
Title is of course a call-back to the Halo coop mode, Firefight.
Thanks, hope everyone enjoys.
Tien Giang Forest
Osaka Prefecture, Newsaka
6 May 2545
1221J
1LT Danilo Marcos, Alpha Company, 1-27th Rifle Regiment, 2nd Brigade, 25th Rifle Division
Two and a half weeks after the Battle of Hill 937
Tsheej abruptly held up a closed fist, causing Marcos to immediately drop to one knee, fist upright. He waited a moment to see if Tsheej did anything else, but when he remained motionless, Marcos silently swore under his breath as he pumped his fist up and down, before pointing two fingers at his eyes and gestured at the jungle that surrounded them. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his orders were being followed through, only to be met with Private Bantawa’s blank stare of incomprehension. Oh. Right. POGs.
Inhaling sharply, Marcos slowly exhaled before whispering with forced patience, “Get down, head on a swivel. Pass it down the line.”
The look of incomprehension on Bantawa’s face quickly cleared up, however it was almost immediately replaced with terror as the implications of Marcos’s orders hit her. She bobbed her head before hurriedly turning around to spread the word.
Satisfied that the message was finally getting through, however slowly, Marcos turned his attention back to Tsheej, who had yet to move a muscle. Instead, the Hmong man continued to slowly scan the jungle directly in front of him, all the while, his fellow point man looked on nervously.
Slowly reached up to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to himself, Marcos tapped his microphone.
“Sergeant, talk to me: what do you see?” Marcos whispered. Tsheej didn’t so much as twitch in acknowledgement, causing Marcos’s blood pressure to skyrocket – as Tsheej was not someone easily intimidated by the jungle - and he found himself automatically reaching down to his rifle to disable the safety, just in case.
Taking a deep breath to try and calm his growing nerves, Marcos glanced at the rest of the patrol.
“Alright everyone, listen up,” he quietly began. “We got a bit of a situation here, so here’s what we’re going to do. We-“
“CONTACT!” Tsheej abruptly screamed at the top of his lungs as he raised his shotgun-
There was a flash and a single purple needle came flying out from the trees and slammed into Tsheej's face, who immediately toppled over like a puppet whose strings had been cut. And then, all hell broke loose.
“GET DOWN! COVER!!!” Marcos screamed, throwing himself to the ground as a wall of plasma and metal spikes came hurtling his way. Trees, bushes, and other foliage were instantly shredded, as well as anyone who failed to react in time. Even as he hit the ground, Marcos could see the second point man get hit no less than five times before collapsing to the ground in pieces with nary a scream.
“RETURN FIRE!!! CONTACT, DIRECT FRONT, RETURN FIRE!!!” Marcos screamed even as he raised his rifle over his head and blindly sprayed down the jungle with automatic weapons fire. “SUPPRESSING FIRE! GET UP ON THE LINE!”
Spotting movement in the trees, Marcos hastily twisted to the side and pumped half his magazine into the foliage, and was rewarded with a loud bellow of pain.
“ALPHA COMPANY, GET UP HERE!” Marcos screamed. “GET ON THE LINE! SPREAD OUT!”
His rifle clicked empty. Ducking a Needler shot, Marcos hurried reloaded even as his men dashed forward and quickly began assuming defensive positions. With each new arrival, Alpha Company's outgoing fire increased, but it wasn't enough to completely suppress the Covenant.
“UGH!!!”
Marcos violently flinched at the loud cry of pain above him, and he whirled around to see one of his men had taken a Spiker round straight to the chest. Their body armor - which was lighter than the standard issued UNSC body armor as it was designed to be used in very hot and humid jungles - did little to slow the incoming round, and the soldier collapsed, blood gushing from the newly formed hole in their chest.
“MEDIC!” Marcos shrieked. “MAN DOWN, MEDIC!”
Ignoring the wounded man for the moment, Marcos reached down to his belt and pulled out a hand grenade. Arming it, he hurtled the bomb into the trees, yelling, “FRAG OUT!”
The trees rocked as the grenade exploded. It did little to nothing to slow the incoming fire.
“DIMAANO!” Marcos roared into his radio as the battle continued to rage. “DIMAANO! I WANT YOUR SAW ON MY POSITION, NOW!”
Shoving his microphone away from his mouth, Marcos flipped up the front flap of his boonie and brought his rifle up to his eye line. The jungle was in chaos as bullets and plasma and needles snaked through the trees, with the sounds of fighting occasionally punctuated by the muffled thud of grenades exploding. Despite knowing the Covenant would have never initiated an ambush of this magnitude unless the UNSC forces were less than fifteen meters away, Marcos could barely see any targets to aim at, much less shoot at. But such was the nature of jungle warfare, and so he continued to blaze away, shooting at anything that even remotely looked like an enemy.
“LIEUTENANT, SIR! CORPORAL DIMAANO AND PRIVATE PHÚ REPORTING AS ORDERED, SIR!”
Marcos immediately dropped into cover and whirled around.
“Corporal! Set up your SAW, right here!” Marcos commanded, jabbing a finger at the spot he just vacated. “Set up a base of fire and give me suppressing fire! Keep the Covies pinned down!”
“Hooah, sir!”
Dimaano immediately threw himself onto the ground, and extended the bipod to his M739. A split second later, the light machine gun was coughing out bullets at a frantic rate.
“Tight, controlled bursts!” Marcos barked at him. “But spread your fire out! Don't be afraid to share the wealth; make sure everyone gets some!”
Dimaano didn't respond; instead, he fired another extended burst and somewhere downrange, Marcos could almost swear he heard a Brute roar out in pain.
“Private. PRIVATE!” Grabbing a hold of Phú's shoulder, Marcos yanked him to the ground. “Keep low and keep feeding your team lead ammo! ‘Cause if that gun goes down, we all go down! Do you understand me!?”
“Yes, LT!”
“Watch his back, and do not leave this position come hell or high water! Do you understand!?”
“Sir!”
“Good! GO!” Giving Phú a shove, Marcos glanced at the rest of his men. “Hey! Spread out, everybody! Don't clump up! We got all this space… I wanna see some ground between each man! SPREAD OUT! Sergeant Deng!”
“Sir?”
Deng’s voice rose above the chaos, but Marcos couldn't see the man from where he was.
“First Sergeant!” Marcos yelled. “Get the men to spread out! And start pushing our left flank! Extend our line, make sure the Covies can't get away!”
“Roger, sir! Alright you useless asswipes, you heard the man: spread out!”
Flinching as a couple of spikes embedded themselves into the mud right beside him, Marcos emptied the rest of his magazine downrange in retaliation before glancing around. With the last of his men finally getting onto the line and spreading out, the balance of power was slowly tipping in the direction of the UNSC, and if Marcos was any less experienced, he would have almost thought this battle was going well. However, having spent the better part of the last two months attempting to drive the Covenant from his homeworld, Marcos knew that this battle was only just beginning. “RADIO!”
Marcos ducked back down as a handset was shoved in his direction, and he grabbed the device from his RTO and pressed it against the side of his face.
“Cloister, this is Gimlet, do you copy?” he said. “Cloister, this is Gimlet, come in!”
“Gimlet, Cloister,” came the immediate reply. “Sitrep!”
Wincing as a burst of plasma shattered against the canopy directly over his head, Marcos said, “Cloister, this is Gimlet… CONTACT, CONTACT, CONTACT! We've been engaged! We're taking small arms fire three klicks north of checkpoint four, phase line yellow. No idea as to enemy strength, but I think we just ran into that pack of Brutes we were looking for, over!”
“Hm,” Marcos could hear Cloister musing. “That's about where ISR said they would be. This might very well be the first time in this entire campaign Intel got something right.”
Marcos wasn't able to respond right away, as there was a sudden scream and startled, he reflexively yanked out his sidearm and fired a few shots in the direction of where it came from. The retaliatory burst of plasma sent him and his RTO diving to the ground for cover. A split second, there was a muffled explosion, followed by cries of, “MEDIC!”
“Sir, I don't exactly see how that helps me right now!” Marcos barked into the radio.
“Right…” Cloister replied, sounding sheepish. “What do you need, Gimlet?”
“I know my orders are to destroy this holdout of Covies, but I don't think I can do that with the men I currently have, sir!” Marcos responded. “I either need reinforcements, or fire support! Preferably both, over!”
“You'll get both,” Cloister promised. “Alerting QRF; they’ll be at your location in… within one five mikes. As for fire support, interface with call sign ‘Bramble-2,’ on channel seven tad four. That's the battalion's battery of 81mm mortars, over.”
“Copy that! Gimlet, out!” Marcos immediately turned to his RTO. “K.C.! Get this thing switched over to channel seven, tad four!”
“Yes, sir! Sir, channel seven, sir!”
“Bramble-2, this is Gimlet, come in!”
“This is Bramble-2,” the smooth voice of Bramble-2 replied. “Go ahead.”
“Bramble, this is Gimlet: requesting immediate fire support! My location is…”
Marcos reached up to his tactical eyepiece to figure out his exact location, but as soon as he touched it, the screen went blank, and smacking it failed to restore the image.
“f*cking humidity!” Marcos raged. “And f*ck the Airborne and their sh*tty, non-jungle spec equipment! This is the last time I barter with them!”
“Gimlet, you still there, over?”
Marcos reactivated his mic. “Listen, I’m over here three klicks north of checkpoint four, phase line yellow! I’m taking a lot of fire from some Brutes I can't really see, so add fifty from my location and fire when ready!”
There was a long pause, so long, Marcos was about to turn back to K.C. and demand he double check the radio to see if it was still working when Bramble finally replied.
“Gimlet, Bramble: authentic, Alpha Tango.”
“What? f*ck! Uh… I authenticate, Sierra Bravo!”
There was an audible sigh over the radio. “Oh. This is a legitimate call. In that case: Gimlet, what sort of f*cked up coordinates was that? That's not how you call in a fire mission.”
“LOOK OUT! TIMBER, TIMBER!!!”
Marcos jerked and looked down the line in time to see a tree go toppling to the ground, having been cut in half by plasma. The Soldiers nearby scrambled to get out of the way, but one of his men wasn't fast enough, and with a sickening crack, the tree landed right on top of him.
“AHHHHHH!!! MY LEGS!!! HELP ME!”
“MEDIC!”
Something in Marcos abruptly snapped.
“Listen, you little punyeta!” he roared into the radio. “Just because you can sit on your ass in an air conditioned room sipping tea all day, doesn't mean the rest of us can! My men are getting killed out here, so either give me my fire support, OR LET ME TALK TO SOMEONE WHO CAN!”
There was a moment of hesitation.
“Fine,” Bramble finally said. “You'll get your fire mission.”
“Thank you! And, hey! I’m in the jungle, so make sure to use delayed fuses, make sure they can get through the upper canopy!”
“Thanks, Gimlet, but even in my air conditioned room, I think I could have figured that one out; after all, I’m only Colonial Militia. It’s not like I was born here or anything.” Bramble's comment was both sarcastic and cutting. “Standby for shot.”
“Fine! Gimlet, out!”
Marcos tossed the radio back to K.C., not willing to deal with it any longer. He had no time for people's fragile egos. “K.C., monitor that! When he says ‘Shot, over,’ respond with ‘Shot, out!’”
“Yessir!”
Standing up and firing a couple shots downrange, Marcos glanced at the line, only to find Dimaano's SAW had fallen silent.
“Corporal. Corporal! What the hell is going on!? Why aren't you firing!?”
“I’m jammed, sir!” Dimaano yelled back as he racked the changing handle back and forth. “All my mags are full of mud!”
“What!? How!?”
“Ask this putanginang aso here!” Dimaano snarled, gesturing at Private Phú. Marcos whirled around.
“What the hell happened!?”
“I, uh, tripped and fell in a pit earlier,” Phú sheepishly admitted. “All the clips got covered in mud.”
“And you didn't think to tell anyone!?!?”
“I didn't think it mattered!” Phú defensively protested.
“f*ck! Break out all the drums and start cleaning them. Now! Corporal! Take this!”
Reaching behind him, Marcos pulled out his emergency sixty-rounder, and shoved it in Dimaano's direction.
“Slow down your rate of fire even more, ‘cause that's all we got until this pekpek gets his sh*t back in order!” Marcos commanded before grabbing one of the drums and wrenching it open. “Hurry it up, Private!”
Phú nodded, frantically scraping out the mud from between the rounds before turning the crank to restore the spring tension.
Overhead, the sound of whistling could be heard.
“INCOMING!” Dimaano yelped, ducking his head.
“That’s friendly artillery!” Marcos corrected as explosions began ripping through the trees in front of them. “Keep shooting, keep shooting!”
BOOM.
“AGHHH!” Phú screamed as he collapsed, gripping his neck, blood gushing out from between his fingers. “I’m hit! AHHH!”
“Man down! MEDIC!” Marcos screamed, tossing the mag aside and reaching for Phú. “Private, move your hands! Let me see!”
He managed to shove Phú's hands far enough away to see the misshaped piece of metal sticking out from his neck. For a moment, he stared at it, uncomprehending – no Covenant weapon fired projectiles like that – until more shells began exploding directly overhead and Sergeant Deng cried out, “GET DOWN! Alpha Company, TAKE COVER! That's friendly artillery!”
“sh*t…” Marcos gasped as shrapnel pelted the ground around him. “Alpha Company, get down! Radio! K.C., radio! Give me the radio! Private Pramod!”
Marcos grabbed K.C., only to find a piece of shrapnel had torn off half the man's face. Flinching, he shoved the body away and grabbed the radio.
“Bramble, this is Gimlet: check your fire, check your fire!” he roared. “What sort of f*cked up coordinates are you shooting at!? You’re killing more of my men than the Covenant are!”
“We're dropping mortars exactly where you told us to, Gimlet,” Bramble immediately fired back. “It is not our fault that you don't even know your own damn position!”
Marcos snarled.
“Well, check your fire! Add fifty, and fire for effect!” he snapped, tossing the radio away to-
A bone-chilling, animalistic howl split the air, and Marcos immediately felt his blood run cold. He knew that howl - he had nightmares about that howl - despite only hearing it once in his life. The last time he had heard that howl, in the ensuing hour long slaughter that had followed, an entire rifle battalion had been annihilated, leaving behind only five very badly shaken survivors.
It was a Brute Hunting Howl.
“FRAGS!” Marcos screamed at the top of his lungs. “EVERYONE THROW FRAGS! NOW, NOW, NOWNOWNOW!”
Hands outright shaking, he starting yanking grenades off his belt and hurtling them as fast as he could. And he had a lot of them too. Just prior to the start of this patrol, he had ordered each one of his men to carry at least seven fragmentation grenades, because in the tight quarters of the jungle, a hand grenade could prove to be an even more effective weapon than a rifle. His men had complained about the weight, as expected, however Marcos had remained firm. But now, faced with a Brute charge, he wished he had insisted his men bring even more.
“START CHUCKING FRAGS! STOP SHOOTING AND START THROWING!” Marcos shrieked, his breath coming out in short spurts as he threw another two grenades downrange. If he and his men could throw enough grenades… if they could put up a wall of steel… maybe could they could break up the Brutes' charge before it even truly began.
The trees swayed and shook as grenade after grenade exploded, but Marcos knew it wasn't enough as the howling grew louder and louder. Quickly depleting his own stock, Marcos starting pulling frags off Phú's belt to-
BOOOMMM!!!
Marcos was knocked onto his ass as the entire world seemed to overturn. Entire trees were uprooted and a tidal wave of dirt and mud was displaced as an explosion rocked the jungle. For a moment, all Marcos could do was stare stupidly at the grenade in his hand, wondering how such a small device could have created such a massive explosion.
“LOOK! IT’S A DROP POD!”
Marcos’s head snapped up, and he staggered upright to look. Sure enough, nearly two dozen smoking UNSC drop pods had embedded themselves into the ground. There was a loud bang as the door to the nearest pod exploded outwards revealing:
“Those are our guys, those are our guys!” he heard Sergeant Deng yell. “Army Rangers! WOO!!!”
The Rangers launched themselves from their pods, guns blazing. Clad in their jungle-colored, full-body armor and enclosed helmet – commonly referred to as ‘ODST' armor – the Rangers were quick to take control of the battlefield, immediately suppressing the Covenant before systematically advancing to root them out, one by one. The sight invigorated Marcos, but at the same time – if he was being completely honest with himself – filled him with a sense of shame. This was their world after all. Their home. They should be the one driving out the Covenant, not the Rangers.
A glance at his remaining men revealed a similar mood, and Marcos found himself scrambling to his feet, all caution abandoned.
“Alpha Company!” Marcos roared at his men. “WHAT ARE YOU!?”
“25TH RIFLES!” his troops immediately hollered back.
“ALPHA COMPANY, I SAID ‘WHAT ARE WE!?’”
“JUNGLE WARRIORS, HUA!”
“AND WHAT DO WE DO?”
“KILL!”
Marcos hefted his rifle. “Then let’s get to it. Company! ATTACK!”
“HOOAHHHH!!!”
With loud war cries, Marcos and his remaining troops plunged into the jungle. But, their attack proved entirely unnecessary as by the time they reached the Covenant positions, the Rangers were already signaling an all clear.
Upon reaching the clearing where the bulk of the Covie forces had been dug in, Marcos found himself slowly stumbling to a halt as he laid his eyes on his foe for the first time since the firefight began. Efficient as always, the Rangers had already begun laying the Covenant bodies out to check for weapons and intel, allowing Marcos the chance to see firsthand just how badly off the enemy was.
The first thing he noticed was that there were only Brutes lying in the clearing - which made sense: Marcos vaguely remembered reading a report that said due to a lack of supplies, the Brute had started eating their Jackal and Grunt allies, in lieu of actual food. But, despite this supplement, it was clear it wasn't enough.
Having been fighting on the front for a little over two months now, Marcos had had the dubious honor of seeing Brute warriors up close and personal. However, unlike the ones that haunted his every waking hour, these Brutes were emaciated: their armor was ill-fitting and loose on their bodies and their figures were relatively thin and frail, the bulk of their muscles having all but disappeared. Furthermore, their once sleek and thick fur was falling out in clumps, and what did remain was matted and infested with some sort of fungus. Plus, upon closer look, Marcos could see all manner of insects squirming around, though whether they had been there before, or because they had been attracted by the blood leaking from the bullet holes, he had no idea.
Seeing the monsters that haunted his nightmares laid low, Marcos thought he would have felt some sense of glee, or vindication. But instead, right now in this very moment, all he could feel was… tired.
Sliding towards the ground, Marcos managed to find a stump to sit on before he collapsed onto the ground. No one said a word to him, which suited Marcos just fine as it allowed him a moment to just… take it all in.
“Lieutenant? Hey, LT: you alright there? Have you been wounded?”
Marcos dully looked up to see one of the Rangers had detached themselves from their comrades, and was now standing behind him. Then the Ranger's words registered.
“No. I’m fine,” he quietly replied.
Even with the Ranger's visor polarized, Marcos could tell the soldier was giving him a skeptical look, but evidentially they didn't want to argue as they said instead, “LT, is your company commander around?”
Marcos raised an eyebrow. “I’m the company commander.”
“Are you? Then where's the rest of your unit?”
Marcos gestured at the clearing. “You’re looking at it.”
“…Ah, my apologies then,” the Ranger delicately said before unsealing their helmet and removing it, revealing a clean-shaven, dark-skinned man, with close-cropped hair, and golden eyes. “In that case: 1st Lieutenant Abraham Shibere, Item Company, 3rd Battalion, 22nd Ranger Group.”
“1st Lieutenant Danilo Marcos, Alpha Company, 1-27th RR, 2nd Brigade, 25th Rifle Division, Newsaka Colonial Militia,” Marcos tiredly returned.
“Pleasure. So, here's the deal, sir: my guys are trying to get a 9-line up, but we need to know how many transports we need. How many casualties did you guys take?”
Marcos started to do a mental tally, but then realized he had no idea. “I don't know.”
“…okay. How are you fixed on ammo then?”
Marcos shrugged.
“…are you guys being recalled to base or are you expected to continue with your patrol?”
“Not a clue,” Marcos apathetically replied.
Shibere visibly bit back a sigh.
“Lieutenant, I’m not trying to be an asshole here,” his tone said otherwise, “but, uh, you sure you’re in charge? Because you don't really seem to know what’s going on.”
Marcos gave a mirthless chuckle.
“I’m not supposed to be,” he admitted, then paused as it suddenly occurred to him that as company commander, he technically outranked Shibere, but between the two of them, there was no question as to who was more competent. And because of that, he found himself confessing, “Two months ago, I was a buck private fresh out of OSUT. I didn’t even finish: the Army graduated us two weeks early, just so they could have more bodies on the line.”
Shibere didn't say a word; he just stood there and listened. And maybe, that was all it took, because Marcos found that once he started talking, he couldn't stop, and next thing he knew, the words were spilling out of mouth before he could stop them.
“So, now I’m here, and I’m fighting but I don't have a clue as to what I’m doing only, I know I’ve been thrown into the deep end and I’m struggling, you know? Just struggling to keep my head above the water, struggling to keep alive, and struggling to not mess up so badly, I get other people killed, you know? But then, just as I start to think things are going to be alright, I turn around and, and, everybody's dead and… and… I’m the only one left.”
Marcos licked his lips, his throat suddenly feeling tight. “And I just wanna… you know, lay down and curl up into a ball but I can't because there's a war going on and you know, this is my home and… and then the Army comes up to me and tells me I’m in charge and I’m like ‘why? I can barely tie my own shoes in the morning’ and it turns out that in order to backfill the ranks, the Army is pulling in guys from the rear and now I'm like, one of three guys who have an infantry MOS which of course means I’m one of the only guys who ‘knows what they’re doing...’” Even now, weeks after the fact, Marcos had to laugh at that idea. He knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn't help it.
Looking up, he saw Shibere glancing at his men working nearby.
“You saying these guys aren't infantry?” he asked. Marcos snorted.
“Nah.” He pointed at Private Bantawa, who was nearby helping the Rangers gather up the Covie weapons. “She's from battalion; she's our assistant armorer. She’s supposed to be back in the rear fixing our guns but instead, she's up here using them.”
He gestured at Deng, who was barking orders. “Staff Sergeant Deng is a supply sergeant assigned to our Forward Support Company. They made him company first sergeant because he already was an NCO.”
He jerked his head at Phú, who was getting his neck wound treated by one of the Ranger medics. Despite the treatment, Marcos had a feeling he wasn't going to make it. “Private Phú there doesn't even have an MOS: he was halfway through Basic when the Covies invaded. Army graduated him and his class early, immediately sent them here to ‘learn on the job.’ Now look at him; he's probably not even going to make it back to BAS. He's going to die and be buried out here like everybody else.”
Marcos sharply exhaled and reached up to scrub his eyes, stopping when he realized his hands were covered in blood. “God, these Covies are so… sira ulo! I mean, their fleet left three weeks ago. They aren't coming back, so why bother continuing to fight? I mean, seriously… hayop ka! Lumayas ka, lumayas ka!!!”
“Hey! Get back to work, Troopers!”
Marcos’s head snapped up at Shibere's shout, and he looked around wildly to see his ranting had attracted the attention of everyone in the clearing, all of whom had stopped to stare at him as his volume had steadily increased. Shibere’s shout had caused them all to immediately scramble to return to whatever they were doing, as well as give Marcos a chance to recompose himself.
“Hey, LT, I’m really sorry all this has happened to you. And I wish I could help out, I really do,” and Marcos could tell Shibere genuinely meant it too, “but unfortunately, this is the Covenant's fault, and no one else. This is why we need to kill them all.”
Marcos sniffed before slowly nodding his head. “I know. I just… well, once we get reinforcements, I’ll think we'll be okay.”
Shibere grimaced, and Marcos immediately felt his heart sink. “What? What is it?”
“I guess you haven't heard. Well, if you were on patrol, I suppose you couldn't have,” was Shibere’s reply.
“Heard what? What was I supposed to have heard?”
Shibere tsk'ed before saying, with obvious reluctance, “Its… all over the news but… yesterday, at fifteen hundred local time… the colony of Actium was invaded by the Covenant.”
Marcos… just stared. Actium was… well, as bad at geography as he was, even he had heard of Actium. If it was under attack… that was not good, to say the least.
As he attempted to deal with that bomb drop of an update, Shibere continued to speak, sounding like he was a million miles away.
“Information is obviously lacking, but it’s shaping up to be a big one. Bigger than here. Maybe even bigger than Draco III. Because of that, they’re accelerating the withdraw of this colony; the only troop movements Newsaka is going to see is troops being moved off world. Hell, we just got word as we were jumping to reinforce you guys that this was our last op on this planet. The entire 22nd is being redeployed, combat troops and support elements alike. Everyone. They’re not saying where we're going… but I think we can guess…”
Marcos opened his mouth to say… well, anything, really, but the sound of approaching Falcons distracted Shibere, and he quickly turned away to bark out orders to his soldiers.
“But,” Marcos whispered. “This is our home.”
Rough Translations from Tagalog:
“Punyeta”: asshole
“Putanginang aso”: f*cking dog
“Pekpek”: vagin*
“Sira ulo": “stupid” but with an implication of madness or mental retardation
“Hayop ka! Lumayas ka! Lumayas ka!”: You animals! Get out, get the hell out!
All translations taken from the English Wikipedia article titled “Tagalog profanity.” I don’t speak Tagalog, so I can’t verify whether any of it is accurate. I am open to corrections.
General Notes:
Newsaka is a canon colony, but there is no indication there was ever a battle fought there. For the purpose of my stories, the Covenant invade in early 2545, a couple of weeks after they invaded the neighboring colony of Draco III. After two months of ground fighting using a primarily Brute army, and prompted by the victory over Draco III, the Covenant fleet (led by Sangheili) decided to abandon all forces in place and withdraw from the system (as the UNSC no longer had to divide their focus between two colonies.)
Despite this abandonment, the remaining Covenant forces would continue to fight, however the back of their defense would be broken in April during what would be known as the “Battle of Hill 937,” (as depicted in the prologue of my other story, Missing in Action.) After the withdraw of all UNSC Army Airborne forces, local forces would stay behind to mop up the remaining Covenant forces as the UNSC put in a plan to abandon the colony themselves.
The “25th Rifle Division” is a reference to the 25th Infantry “Tropic Lightning” Division which, since 2014, has become the US Army’s defacto “jungle warfare” division. It is not intended to have anything to do with the Soviet formation of the same name.
Chapter 2: Paris IV 2549: The Lone Marine
Chapter Text
Outskirts of Toulouse Petit
Nouvelle Roussillon Region, Paris IV
15 August 2549
Capt River Akweks, Weapons Company, 1/12th Marine Regiment
Four Days after start of Covenant Invasion
There was dirt between her fingers. Just like there was three days ago, when she was tossing the last handful of dirt onto her grandmother’s grave. Her Nana. The one who had taken her in when her parents had been killed by the Covenant so many years ago. The one who had been there to comfort every bruise, scrap, and cut she had received growing up. The one with whom she had a scream match with when she first decided she was joining the Marine Corps. The one who had sat by her bed all night long to sooth her nightmares after she had returned after her first combat tour, sick to her stomach at all the horrors she had seen. The one who had stuck by her side, through thick and thin, always remaining supportive, always showing her love.
The one who was gone, having passed away in her sleep due to old age less than a week ago. In this day and age, with the Covenant approaching from one side and the Insurrectionist advancing from the other, such a peaceful death was almost unheard of. Yet, somehow, that didn't make things any easier for River.
Her Nana was dead. And with it, the last remaining link River had with the civilian world.
In some ways, this made things easier: as a UNSC Marine Corps infantry officer, it was always a balancing act between the mission, and retaining enough of herself to return to her family. But now that her family was gone, she was free to dedicate her life solely to the destruction of humanity's enemies. As a warrior, she should have been happy. But as a person…
“INCOMING!”
River automatically rolled to the right at the telltale sound of an incoming fuel rod cannon blast, only to discover – to her horror - that she had been laying on top of an elevated stretcher. Unable to stop herself, she plummeted straight down to the ground, landing hard against the cold metal floor. Pain exploded from somewhere around her abdomen region, and a shriek of agony was ripped from her lips.
Inhaling violently through her nostrils, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, only for them to come back bloody. Fighting through the pain, River was just barely able to make out the wet bandage dressing the wound on her left side that had been ripped open in the fall. Spying a can of biofoam sitting innocently in its mounting bracket on the wall next to her head, River grabbed it and without regards to the consequences, jammed the tip into her body and pulled the lever.
At once, the sensation of a thousand ants crawling just beneath her skin flooded her veins, but that feeling was quickly followed by a wave of soothing cool. River bit her lip and let out a small groan of relief, reveling in the sensation, as she tried to piece together the sequence of events that resulted in her being here. What was the last thing she remembered? She recalled being granted shore leave in order to return to her home planet of Paris IV, in order to say goodbye to her Nana when…
The Covenant had invaded!
The events came back to her in a flash. A day before she was scheduled to return to her unit, a Covenant fleet had dropped into the system and started attacking. Away from her company, her Marines, and her weapons, instead of fighting, River had opted to try and rescue as many of her childhood neighbors as possible. She had been in a building when… something hit it, causing it to collapse, with her still inside. And that was the last thing she remembered.
Obviously she had survived the building collapse and been rescued from the rubble, but from the sounds of gunfire just outside the door, she was definitely in a ‘out of the frying pan' type of situation. Whatever was going on, she needed to get a handle on it. Now.
Staggering to her feet and ignore the pain that came as a result, River shambled towards the nearest door. As she did, she abruptly realized she was in a vehicle, specifically an M88 “Bison" APC, primarily used by the UNSC Army as a rear echelon support vehicle. Given the multitude of medical equipment and stretchers scattered around, this particular vehicle was probably the ambulance variant.
Tripping over empty medical kits and kicking away bloody bandages, River slammed her hand down on the emergency release, causing the rear ramp to drop open -
- and found herself in the fire. All around her, a fierce battle was raging as UNSC personnel clad in Army fatigues were taking cover behind a series of armored vehicles arranged in a convoy configuration, shooting in the three o'clock direction of the column as a steady barrage of plasma fire came streaking in. River's military mind snapped into overdrive, immediately recognizing that she was stuck in a military convoy that had been ambushed as not only were many of the vehicles nothing more than smoldering wrecks, the very Bison she'd regained conscious in had clearly hit a mine as the front half of the vehicle had been shredded, and its remaining tires set on fire.
Furthermore, it was painfully obvious that whoever was running this convoy had no idea what they were doing, as none of the Soldiers were fighting in any sort of coordinated manner. Just in front of her, three Soldiers were taking cover behind a Warthog troop transport. One of the Soldiers was cowering behind the front tire, while the other two Soldiers were sharing cover behind the rear tires. Occasionally, one of them would lean out and fire their rifles wildly on full auto in the direction of the Covenant before swapping places with the other to reload. However, even as River watched, one of the Soldiers made the amateurish mistake of moving too far out of cover, and before River could shout out a warning…
“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”
Even with the roar of gunfire, River could hear the Soldier scream in pain as they were struck in the lower abdomen by plasma! Without thinking, River darted forward in their direction – grimacing as every step jostled her side - allowing her to hear the other Soldier cry out, “Oh my God! Luke! Hang on, I’m coming!”
The other Soldier promptly tossed their rifle to the side and began attempting to drag the struggling Luke back behind cover, but either they were too weak or Luke was too heavy, or a combination of both, as they couldn't get far. At no point did the third Soldier cowering behind the front tires lift a finger to help out, and as River shuffled by, she could see that was because the Soldier was sitting there with their eyes wide open in shock, rocking back and forth, barely responding to anything happening around them.
Without a word, River threw herself into action. Ignoring the pain in her side, she grabbed Luke by his arm and helped the other Soldier drag him behind the Warthog before casting a critical eye over the man’s wound. River was no corpsman, but she had seen enough battle wounds to know how bad this one was as not only had the plasma burned right through Luke's armor, it had also caused third degree burns to the flesh underneath.
“Hang on, Luke!” the other Soldier was screaming. “You’re gonna be okay!”
“Hey!” River yelled at her. “He's going to need a medic!”
“I am a medic!” the other Soldier retorted, before sheepishly clarifying, “Or, at least, I’m in the Army's Medical Service! I’m a sixty-eight Charlie; a nurse! PFC Shoshana Tal, Forward Surgical Team, 363rd Combat Support Hospital, 29th Medical Brigade!”
River shook her head.
“Stop talking to me, and focus on him!” she snarled. “Break out that man's IFAK and get some biofoam on his wound! Let's get him stabilized first!”
Tal let out a startled yelp, before hurriedly moving to obey River's orders. As she applied the biofoam, River ripped out the med kit from its standard place inside the Warthog and quickly rummaged through it. She found an autoinjector loaded with a pre-drawn dose of what she recognized as pain killers, of which she immediately jammed into Luke’s thigh. Within a few moments, Luke had calmed down enough to allow Tal to cover his wound. As soon as he was stable –
“Captain River Akweks, Weaps Company, 1/12th Marines. No, DON'T SALUTE!” River barked as Tal’s hand automatically started to fly up to her forehead. “What the hell happened here!?”
“I don't know, ma'am!” Tal called back. “We were pulling out of Toulouse Petit with Headquarters and Headquarters Battalion, XI Infantry Corps, when all hell broke loose! Things just started exploding, the vehicle in front of us stopped, and next I know, we’re taking fire from all directions!”
“Who’s in charge here!?”
“Not a clue, ma'am! Luke- I mean, PFC Williams tried the radio a few minutes ago, but I think we’re being jammed because we couldn't get a signal out! Not even static!”
“Who’s your commanding officer?”
“Major Margó Polonskaya, but, uh…”
Tal jerked her thumb at the catatonic Soldier and for the first time, River noticed the golden oak leaf insignia on the woman’s chest.
“Great,” River scoffed.
“INCOMING!”
There was a scream from somewhere towards the rear of the convoy, a split second before a Warthog loaded with ammunition took a direct hit from a fuel rod cannon, causing the vehicle to go up like a thermonuclear bomb. The explosion sent shockwaves up and down the entire convoy, knocking River and Tal off their feet and involuntarily, River let out a gasp of pain, the edges of her vision going dark for a few moments as the movement jostled her wound. Then, the blanket of pain temporarily receded, and River blinked to see Tal’s worried face looming over hers.
“Captain, you’re hurt! You’re wounded! You need immediate medical treatment!”
“No,” River grunted, shoving Tal’s hands away as she attempted to treat her. “I need to get this column moving, before we’re all killed.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, but you can barely stand!”
“I noticed,” River growled as she attempted to sit upright. Then, Tal’s earlier words came stumbling back to her. “Hey, you said you’re a nurse, right?”
“I’m a practical nurse, not a registered one!”
River waved her hands impatiently. “I don’t know the difference, and I don’t really care! But you have access to drugs, yeah? Do you have Rumbledrug?”
“What?”
“Do. You. Have. Rumbledrug. Yes or no?” River agitatedly repeated.
“Yes! But, ma’am, to take Rumbledrug in your current state- “
“Listen to me, Marine!” River snapped as she grabbed Tal by the front of her vest and pulled her closer until they were face to face. “If I don’t get this convoy moving and out of this kill zone in the next few minutes, everybody here is going to die! Do you understand? Now, give it to me.”
Tal didn’t respond; she just reached into one of the pouches on her belt and pulled out a small plastic case, from which she revealed a syringe and a small plastic bottle.
“Give me half a dose, Soldier” River ordered as Tal began to draw from the bottle. “I’m not trying to do anything crazy, I just need enough to remain mobile, at least long enough to unf*ck this convoy.”
Tal reached over and stabbed River in the arm with the syringe, but just as she was about to thumb the plunger, she paused. “Ma’am, I just want to warn you that- “
River grabbed Tal’s hand and jammed down on the plunger herself.
Immediately, River’s body seized up and she just barely remembered to keep breathing as lava surged through her body. The sensation was shocking, excruciating, and exhilarating, all at the same time, and she found herself glad that she was only receiving half a dose because there was no way in hell she would have been able to survive a full one.
“…Captain? Captain, can you hear me?”
Tal’s face swarmed back into view.
“Get these two onto the Warthog, and prepare to move out,” River commanded as she surged to her feet. The pain in her side was gone, or at least masked enough that moving no longer hurt. In fact, River felt reborn, as if her soul had been transferred into a brand new body, one that had never seen injury or wear. “As soon as you hear my call sign – Eagle Actual – get behind the wheel and floor it. I’m moving to the front of the convoy; stand by on my mark to give me covering fire.”
“Wait, Cap- “
“MARK!”
River took off running. She sprinted towards the front of the convoy, running past so many burning Warthogs, Bisons, Wolverines, and other random Army vehicles. As she ran, she caught various snippets of the many Soldiers in the convoy; some were ineffectively firing their weapons at the Covenant, trying to reduce the amount of murderous fire pouring in; some were yelling in their radios, trying to get someone to tell them what to do; while others were just like Polonskaya, just sitting there waiting to die while their comrades fought to defend them.
Who the hell was in charge of this convoy, and what the hell were they doing?
Clearing the top of a hill, River immediately spotted a Wolverine command vehicle – easily identifiable by the several antenna sticking out from the roof - sitting near the front of the convoy, and she angled her feet towards it. As she drew near, she spotted a cluster of a little over half a dozen Soldiers huddled in the half-track’s shadow, and it took her a moment to realize every single one of them was ranked colonel or higher. This had to be Corps headquarters.
She threw herself onto the ground beside them, and it became instantly evident why the convoy was stuck in place: instead of actually getting up and providing guidance to their men, every single field grade and general officer was too preoccupied with yelling into their radios, which meant not only were they leaving their men high and dry, they were also bogging down the radio channels and making it impossible to organize any sort of coordinated defense.
“What the hell is going on here!?” River exclaimed before she could really think about it. Her shout made the assembled group jump, but before anyone of them could recover, River barged on ahead. “Who’s in charge here?”
“Uh, it should be Major General Bekdil, but she was wounded in the initial volley,” one of the officers, some full bird colonel, volunteered.
“Where's the deputy commander?”
“He’s KIA!”
“Then who’s in charge now?”
The assembled officers awkwardly glanced at each other, but no one said a word. Finally, the same colonel from before said, “We’re… trying to figure that out right now. We’ve been trying to reach CENTCOM for guidance, but- “
“Are you f*cking kidding me, we don’t have time for that bullsh*t!” River exploded. “This entire convoy is about to get overrun, and all of you idiots are sitting here with your dicks in your hand! We got to get this column on the move before the Covenant come in and murder us all! You!” She jabbed a finger at who looked like the head medical officer. “You’ve got wounded men and women all along the line! Get them loaded up and ready to move, because we’re not leaving them behind!”
“You!” she jabbed a finger at an officer with an Army Signal Corps insignia. “Clear the airwaves and set up a dedicated channel for the convoy; make sure every vehicle that’s still running can hear me the moment I give the order to move! In the meantime, whichever one of you is the head of engineering, get to the front of the convoy and figure out what the hell is blocking us! Then do whatever you have to: push, crush, or blow up whatever’s in the way, just make sure our route is clear! Who’s the artillery officer here!?”
The Colonel who spoke up earlier awkwardly raised his hand. “That would be me.”
River reached out and grabbed his collar as she leaned out from around the Wolverine. “See that tree line about a two hundred meters away? That’s where most of the Covenant fire is coming from! Call in whatever fire support you can get your hands on, and ripple the sh*t out of those trees!”
“Understood!”
“The rest of you,” she roared, “get your men to stop wasting ammo, and to start concentrating their fire! Tell them to keep an ear out for call sign ‘Eagle Actual,’ and be ready to move out at a moment's notice! We're getting out of here, all of us! Now, go! Now!”
Belatedly, it occurred to River that she didn’t actually have any authority to give these men any orders as not only were they Army officers and she, a Marine, but they also all outranked her by several grades. However, one thing she had learned over the years about her Marines was that because they had been indoctrinated since Boot Camp to follow orders, once they received a direct one – especially when under fire – they had a tendency to automatically obey it, even if it wasn’t coming from a person of authority. River was amused to note that same rule apparently applied to staff officers as high as the corps level, as not a single one of these colonels or generals stopped to ask who this crazy, wounded lady who wasn’t even wearing a uniform was; they moved, without hesitation, to follow her orders.
“This is why if you want to get sh*t done, you send a Marine to do it,” she growled under her breath.
Orders given, there was only one thing left to do: survive long enough for them to get implement. Looking around, she spotted a dead Soldier slumped against the front tire of the Wolverine. Not only was the woman roughly her size, the body also had the dual-silver bar insignia of a captain.
“Sorry, Captain,” River said apologetically as she relieved the corpse of her vest and helmet, “but I kind of need this right now. I’ll make sure to honor your sacrifice by killing as many Split-Lips as I can.”
Securing her newly acquired helmet, she glanced around and spotted an abandoned MA37 rifle lying on the ground. Gathering as many mags as she could off the fallen Soldier, she rose up and mounted her rifle onto the hood of the Wolverine, and started scanning the tree line for targets.
By now, with full-bird colonels and generals running up and down the line, the UNSC’s defense was finally coming together, and Covenant ambush positions were starting to see concentrated gunfire. If River was in charge of the Covie forces, it would have been about this moment when she would have started floating the idea of withdraw. But fortunately, she wasn’t ugly enough to be a Split-Lip because as expected, instead of retreating to fight another day, the Covenant began doubling down on their attack.
The glinting of white armor caught River’s attention, the exact shade matching what she remembered Elite Ultra’s wearing, and she realized there was a good chance she was looking at the enemy commander of the ambush.
“co*cky bastard,” she whispered under breath as she flicked the selector switch to semi. She took a few deep breaths and released them slowly in order to calm herself down long enough to stabilize her aim –
- and then she pulled the trigger.
Bullet casings ricocheted off the windshield before rolling off and onto the ground and downrange, the Elite flinched as their personal shield’s lit up. But rather than seek cover, the Elite looked around wildly before immediately locking eyes with River, and even through irons, she could see the snarl that twisted the Elite’s face as they lift a carbine and –
Radioactive green spikes stared began slamming against the side of the Wolverine with loud thunks, but River didn't so much as flinch, even as one speared the hood right beside her, spraying her with metal splinters. Gritting her teeth, she continued to gently squeeze the trigger, pumping out rounds at a steady rate and watched as the Elite's return fire become more and more erratic as each one of River's bullets slammed home.
And yet, despite all this, the Elite still refused to seek cover, standing upright and firing as if they were on a range somewhere, as opposed to being locked in a deadly gun duel. Under different circ*mstances, River might have even admired the alien's bravery, but as it were, all she wanted was for the stupid Elite to die already.
Of course, River wasn't capable of disabling an Elite Ultra's shields by herself with only an assault rifle, but fortunately she wasn't the only one shooting. Even as she reflexively ducked as a carbine shot passed overhead within a few centimeters of her head, a gunner on a Bison two vehicles behind her abruptly opened up, saturating the Elite's position with .50 cal SLAP rounds. With tracers ricocheting all over the place, River barely managed to catch sight of the Ultra's shields blinking out of existence a split second before the Elite finally decided to seek cover.
“f*ck,” River muttered as she kept her sights trained on the spot the Elite disappeared from. “Peek again, motherf*cker. Go ahead, I know you want to. Come on… do it!”
Her trained eyes spotted movement, a moment before the Ultra raised its head, shields shimmering like a mirage as they attempted to recharge, and River grinned.
“Got you,” she taunted as she began to pick up the slack on her trigger.
“CAPTAIN!”
River was a split second too slow to pull the Soldier who unexpectedly ran up to her to safety. There was a flash of green and the Soldier was sent crashing to the ground, screaming, as they were speared through the shoulder.
“Dammit!” River snarled as she hastily fired off a burst but the Elite, content with the one shot that had connected, had already disappeared from sight.
Swearing violently under her breath, River hurriedly ducked into cover as a fresh wave of plasma saturated her area. Ignoring the acrid smell of ozone filling her nostrils, River hauled the wounded Soldier upright into a seated position and began accessing the damage. Tearing open the man's sleeve, she gave the wound a cursory scan before reaching down to his IFAK to pull out some biofoam. All the while, the Soldier continued to scream his head.
“Oh, God! It hurts! Aghhh!!!” he was saying. “Am I going to die?”
“Calm down!” River snapped. “You’re not going to die; you’re going to be fine! Just don't look at it!”
Ripping open a field dressing and slapping it over the biofoam to keep it in place, she yanked out an autoinjector. “Alright, hold on, here come the painkillers!”
The Soldier tensed as she jabbed him in the leg, but she could tell the moment the drugs kicked in as he immediately relaxed.
“You’re okay!” she told him, and he nodded in agreement, before focusing in on her borrowed rank insignia.
“Hey! You Eagle Actual?” he asked, panting.
“Yeah!”
“Colonel Blazek sent me to find you, ma'am! He said the road is clear!” the Soldier reported, handing River a radio.
“Well, that's good and all, but we're not going anywhere until our fire support comes in!” River yelled back.
Just then, the shriek of rockets filled the air, and River looked up to see half a dozen rockets passing by overhead, headed in the direction of the Covenant. They quickly reached their apex but instead of plummeting to the ground as expected, panels on each of the rockets opened up, and hundreds of grenade-sized bomblets began spraying out. They all hit the ground roughly at the same time a split second before all of them simultaneously exploded.
The results were spectacular, to say the least.
The entire tree line was instantly shredded as if someone had fired a massive shotgun at the ground and virtually all incoming Covenant fire ceased. Surveying the destruction from afar, on one hand, River couldn't help but muse that perhaps the Army had taken her words just a bit too literally as she watched the explosions seem to ripple through the trees; on the other, if this was the type of firepower a full-bird colonel could call in, then she couldn't wait to get promoted.
In the temporary lull that formed following the wake of the explosions, River grabbed her radio. “Eagle Actual to all Victors: push, push, push! Push out of the kill zone! Now!”
Dropping the radio, she yanked the wounded Soldier to his feet and shoved him in the direction of the Wolverine’s steering wheel. “Get in there and drive.”
“But I’m shot!”
“You’re going to be a lot worse if you don't!” River warned as the incoming Covenant fire began to pick up once more as they started to recover from their shock. “You and everybody else in this convoy! DRIVE!”
The half-track's engines roared to life as the vehicle surged forward, quickly followed by the rest of the convoy.
“Come on, let's go, let's go! Hurry it up!” River urged as vehicle after vehicle started limping past her. The honking of a horn caught her attention and she looked up to see PFC Tal pulling up with her Warthog. Without waiting for her to come to a complete stop, River grabbed a hold of the Warthog and tossed herself into the rear, biting back a scream as she felt something tear in her abdomen area.
“Private, drive!” she rasped out as she dropped onto the floor beside Luke's prone body.
“Ma'am, are you alright?” Tal yelled back even as she jammed down on the accelerator.
“You think you can handle the situation from here?” River asked in lieu of a response.
“I think so? Why?”
“Because I think I’m going to pass out now,” River airily told her.
“Wha- wait, Captain -!”
The world went dark.
General Notes
In the Halo Wars games, there is a vehicle called the “M9 ‘Wolverine’ Main Anti-Aircraft Tank” which is a half-track that mounts a multiple launch rocket system that fires short ranged surface-to-air missiles. The closet, real-life equivalent - at least in US service – would probably be the AN/TWQ-1 Avenger mounted on a Humvee.
For the purpose of my stories though, I’m treating the Wolverine as a class of half-tracks that is capable of mounting different weapons for different roles, similar to how half-tracks were used in real life during WW2 by both the Americans and the Germans. For example, the base model Wolverine would just be an APC, but mounting the “M260 multiple launch rocket system” (canon designation) could turn it either into a self-propelled SHORAD battery or a MLRS battery depending on what sort of munitions you load into it.
And, yes, I am aware as to the reasons why the half-track design completely disappeared after WW2, but this exist in canon so I’m using it.
Chapter 3: Draco III 2545: POG Power
Chapter Text
New Albany Metropolitan Area
Lombard Region, Draco III
14 January 2545
MSG Mateo Joshi, HHC, 3rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Airborne Division
Four Days after Start of Covenant Invasion
Master Sergeant Mateo Joshi abruptly woke up.
Slowly raising his head, he quickly took stock of the situation. He was sitting upright in his blast-attenuating seat, crash harness pressed tight against his reserve chute strapped to his chest. The Albatross cargo bay was bathed in the red-green glow of the emergency lights. All around him were the men and women that made up part of HHC of 3/3 ABN in various states of consciousness. Three seats to his left towards the center of the cargo bay, there was a gaping hole. The melted edges of the hole suggested an explosion of a sort, while the fact they were curled inwards suggested the source had been external. All together, these facts could only lead to one obvious conclusion:
They had been shot down.
Unsealing his helmet, Joshi eased his bucket off his head and took a deep breath of unfiltered air, only to immediately start coughing as his nostrils were filled with the acrid scent of molten metal. Something electrical crackled, sending a few sparks flying through the air, which only added to the redolence.
As Joshi worked on bringing his breathing under control, he struggled to remember the sequence of events that led him to this exact moment.
It had started with a bang.
A loud bang echoed through the bay and Joshi reflexively threw out his arms to brace himself as the Albatross's flight abruptly became unstable.
“WE'RE HIT!” he heard the pilot cry out. “Stabilizers are down and my controls are shot! I got no right turn - !”
“INCOMING! Single fuel rod tracking, slice left, now - !”
“ – I have no right, I have no right - !”
“ – no, I said slice LEFT - !”
There had been no time to react.
Staff Sergeant Malinowski was instantly vaporized before she even had a chance to scream as the explosion ripped through the hull behind her. Immediately a cacophony of alarms and bells and alerts began a war to be heard over the hurricane of wind rushing through the hull breach.
“WE'VE BEEN HIT! Engine one is gone, engine three is f*cked, we're going down - !”
“ - Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Echo Six-Three: we've been hit and we're going down, I say again, WE ARE GOING DOWN - ”
The Albatross groaned and strained as the pilots fought their controls in order to regain some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle.
“ – How far away from the DZ are we!? We close enough for our guys to jump? –“
“ – Fifteen klicks -!”
“ – Negative, too far, they’re going down with us, need a good opening to – “
“ – watch that flak, WATCH THAT FLAK – “
There was a loud shriek of metal as the Albatross torqued and without warning, the bolts holding down Major Pivcevic’s seat abruptly gave way. Joshi reflexively reached out to grab him but it was too late as Pivcevic barely had any time to shout before he was ejected through the hull breach, still bound to his seat…
Joshi closed his eyes as he considered Pivcevic’s chances of survival. All things considered, it was actually pretty high; everyone aboard this Albatross was prepared for a parachute drop. Admittedly, a static line jump was very different from a military free fall one, but Pivcevic had been equipped with both his main and reserve chute. Assuming he hadn’t hit anything on his way out… or been hit by Covenant AA… he feasibly could have made it to the ground. But once he hit the deck, his survival would have been measured in minutes unless Joshi and the others could reach him…
Joshi shook his head. No, he couldn’t think about the Major at the moment, he had to think about himself. He had to-
“Alright, listen up everybody!” the pilot screamed as a new whooping alarm sound filled the plane. “We are crashing. I’m gonna try and settle this bird down as gently as I can, but my options are limited. That’s not the bad news. The bad news is, we’re right above bad guy country, so the moment we hit the ground, we’ve got maybe five, ten minutes before Covies are on top of us. Hope you guys are packing some extra heat, because whoever’s still up when this is all over is gonna have to be ready to defend themselves. Good luck!”
The pilot turned to their copilot to say something else, but Joshi was no longer listening. Instead, he was staring apprehensively out of the gaping hole in the wall. Plasma was still streaking through the air, but the Covenant gunners clearly didn’t care about a crippled Albatross falling from the sky, not with an entire armada of them flying overhead.
The engines screamed in protest as the heavy dropship rocketed towards the ground before –
“BRACE FOR IMPACT!”
There was a loud crashing noise and Joshi’s ear were quickly filled with a loud ringing as he violently jostled and recoiled in his seat before…
How long had it been since the crash? It couldn’t have been more than a few moments as Joshi was the only one moving. The fact he was sitting upright was a good sign as it meant the pilots had been able to land the Albatross straight down, but that also meant the Covenant would know there were survivors so they would immediately send a squad to investigate. Joshi had to get up, get out, check for enough survivors so they could establish a perimeter-
”Muuri q’ii?”
Joshi froze as the guttural sound of an alien tongue reached his ears. Automatically, he began reaching for his sidearm.
“Yabda, mejaya qkhep’os ch’anghutkho.”
From outside the Albatross, there was a slight scuffle, then a Grunt Major poked its head into the cargo bay.
Two holes instantly appeared in the floor as Joshi opened fire before his pistol had even fully cleared its holster. The Grunt let out a loud shriek of alarm and disappeared from sight, but not before Joshi clipped it in its shoulder with his third round, spraying the inside of the hull with blood.
“CONTACT!” he yelled, but his shout came out muffled because he was trying to shove his helmet back on at the same time.
“CONTACT!” he yelled again, this time through his helmet’s external speakers. “Enemy outside the bird!”
Ripping his harness off, Joshi awkwardly hurtled himself out of his seat, shedding his excess gear as quickly as he could. Both his parachutes ended up on the ground while he tossed his rucksack back onto his seat. Somehow in the midst of the crash landing, he had lost track of his rifle, but at least he had his sidearm and plenty of ammo.
Scrambling out of the hull breach, he reflexively threw himself forward into a roll as a plasma bolt slammed into the side of the dropship right above his head, throwing sparks in all directions. Emerging upright and leveling his magnum at the offender, he fired three times in rapid succession, and a Grunt was down for the count with two rounds in the chest and one in the head.
Without breaking stride, Joshi pivoted right to target the main body of the Covenant and-
“Stars above!” Joshi angrily swore. That was a lot more than he was expecting.
A quick count reveled he was facing two Elites, four Jackals, and at least nine Grunts. There were also four “Ghosts” which explained where some of the Covenant had come from, but the rest must have been a foot patrol the Albatross had practically landed on top of, in order for them to have gotten here so fast. For a brief moment, Joshi lamented the fact he hadn’t thought to pack any hand grenades; but then again, he was First Sergeant for brigade headquarters company. He wasn’t supposed to get close enough to the enemy to be able to use grenades.
“QKHAN!”
The Elite’s scream jolted the Covenant, sending the assembled group scrambling and causing Joshi to immediately open up. His first round caught a Jackal in the thigh before the alien had a chance to activate its energy shield, while his next three perforated a Grunt who accidentally walked into his line of fire. Another round ricocheted off a different Grunt’s pauldron and into one of the Elites, causing the large creature’s personal shields to flare, catching Joshi’s attention. He fired at the Elite but missed and then the slide on his pistol locked back.
“Loading!” Joshi automatically yelled – though to whom he had no idea - as he thumbed the ejection button while at the same time, yanked a fresh mag off his belt.
Unfortunately, that break in fire – no matter how brief – was more than enough time for the Covenant to get themselves reorganized. Even as Joshi thumbed the slide release, a burst of plasma slammed into the ground right in front of him, showering him in burning soil and causing him to flinch. Throwing himself into the prone, he crawled forward to take cover behind the small mound of dirt that the Albatross had created with its heavy landing as a mixture of plasma and Needler fire began saturating his position, and Joshi found himself breathing rather heavily, like he had just run a marathon.
“Alright,” he said to himself, wincing as a carbine shot punched through his cover, luckily missing his head by a centimeter. “This is fine. I can handle this. Walk in the park.”
Taking one last breath, he abruptly rolled to the side, lifted his head ever so slightly so he could peer down the sights, and returned fire.
Embarrassingly, his first round embedded itself into the ground in front of him, but a slight adjustment of his wrist corrected that mistake. With his remaining eleven rounds, Joshi started shooting at the high priority targets, first shooting at an Elite and failing to penetrate its personal shield - but nevertheless forcing the creature to dive behind one of the Ghosts for more solid cover – before transitioning to one of the Jackals. At this point in the firefight, all the remaining Jackals had activated their point defense gauntlets - which was something the Grunts were quick to take cover behind – but because of that, one of the Jackals was forced to lift its shield off the ground, leaving the alien’s feet exposed.
A single round per shin sent the Jackal crashing to the ground screaming in pain while at the same time, caused the Grunts behind it to go scrambling for cover, causing a temporary lull in the incoming fire and allowing Joshi to scramble upright into a kneel position. Without hesitation, he emptied his mag into the crowd, managing to drop one Grunt and wounding another before his slide locked back again.
This time however, Joshi had been keeping an eye on the ammo counter on his HUD and as soon as he saw he had one round left in the chamber, he had grabbed another mag off his belt so by the time he pulled the trigger, Joshi was already halfway through the motions of reloading. Out of the corner of his eye, Joshi noticed one of the Elites rising up to try and take advantage of Joshi’s seemingly inattentiveness, but instead drawing Joshi's immediate attention.
The Elite’s head snapped back as Joshi’s rounds found their way into the alien’s face. The Elite’s personal shields block the rounds at first, but like all things, they didn't last forever. With a loud pop that was audible even to Joshi on the other side of the battlefield, the Elite’s shields shattered and Joshi quickly moved to draw a bead on the Elite’s head and-
click
“sh*t!” Joshi exclaimed as the words ‘Jam – Dbl Feed’ flash across his HUD. “Malfunction!”
Stripping the mag from his pistol, Joshi frantically attempted to bring his firearm back into battery before the Elite recovered from the barrage, but in his heart he knew he was going to be too late. Even as he racked the slide and cleared the jammed cartridges, he could see the Elite bringing its own weapon to bear and-
BAM.
The Elite’s head snapped back, a round hole between its eyes.
“First Sergeant! Friendlies, approaching from your six!”
Automatically, Joshi looking behind him in time to see half a dozen or more of his soldiers come pouring out from the Albatross, weapons at the ready. Joshi didn’t hesitate.
“CONTACT! ENEMY, DIRECT FRONT, TWENTY METERS!” he screamed. “PARATROOPERS: ENGAGE!”
His troops needed no further promoting – had no need for any prompting, in fact, as many of them had already thrown themselves onto the ground and were unloading on the Covenant like there was no tomorrow.
“Hey! Slow down your rate of fire! Conserve your ammo!” Joshi found himself reminding them.
Someone abruptly threw themselves onto the ground right next to him, and Joshi looked up to see CW2 Snavely, his visor depolarized, allowing him to see the sh*t-eating grin Snavely had on his face.
“Hiya, First Sergeant!” Snavely said, his cheerful greeting standing in stark contrast to the firefight that was raging around them. “It sounded like you could use some help!”
Joshi grinned back, even though he knew Snavely couldn't see his face.
“Hey, Chief!” Joshi replied with just as much cheer. “I just want you to know, if it weren't for our helmets, I would kiss you right now!”
“Hell, say no more First Sergeant! That's all the incentive I need to kill all these guys; as soon as it’s safe to, I’m expecting a good, sloppy, make out session from you, you hear? And there better be tongue, god dammit!”
Joshi couldn't help but let out a wild cackle.
“I’ll start popping some breath mints, make sure I get all prettied up for you!” Joshi retorted, before growing serious. “What's the situation in the bird?”
“Most everybody is up, minus one or two guys who are still out. I got Sergeant First Class Dagwood organizing things inside! Figured I should pop out here with everyone else, see how I could help out,” Snavely replied before adding, “You got a plan, Mateo?”
“We need to take these guys out before more Split-Lips show up,” Joshi said, thinking out loud. “So, Chief, why don't you take four guys, work your way up to the co*ckpit area. I’ll take everyone else, lay down suppressing fire, and on my signal, you get out there and outflank these SOBs. Sound good?”
“Sounds like a plan!” Snavely agreed. “Smithy, D, Mettre, Supdawg! On me! Let’s go, Troopers!”
Moving out of the way, Joshi watched as the five Soldiers darted away.
“First Sergeant! Hey, First Sergeant! Catch!”
Joshi automatically turned and reflexively caught the MA37 rifle someone tossed at him. A quick glance downward as the ammo counter auto-synced with his HUD revealed the rifle wasn't load, but he had ammo.
Looking up as the thrower plopped themselves in the spot Snavely just vacated, Joshi was surprised to realize he didn't recognize them. “Who the hell are you?”
“Warrant Officer Erick Ryobi, No. 113 Heavy Airlift Squadron, UNSC Air Force. I’m the copilot!” the man said, panting heavily. “Reporting for duty!”
“Where's the actual pilot?” Joshi demanded as he loaded the rifle.
“Still out! Your man inside has got it covered though, didn't know what else to do, figured I’d come out here and see if I could help!”
“Well, I appreciate it, sir! Why don't you take two guys, go around to the other side of your bird, and make sure we're not about to take it up the rear!”
“Got it!”
The Airman darted off, and Joshi quickly raised his head to check if Snavely and his men were in position yet. A quick ping on his HUD revealed Snavely was ready.
“Alright, Troopers!” Joshi yelled over his external speakers. “On three, we're gonna lay down some suppressing fire so Chief Snavely and his team can outflank the Covies. Ready? Three, two, one: SUPPRESSING FIRE!”
As one, all of his remaining troops rose up and began unloading on the Covenant patrol. Bullet casings quickly piled on the ground and downrange, one of the Ghost abruptly exploded as the concentrated rifle fire chewed through its light armor. Above it all, Joshi could hear Snavely yelling, “3rd Airborne: ATTACK!”
Leveling his newly acquired rifle, Joshi fired off two shots at an exposed Grunt, nailing the alien in the head and sending the creature sprawling to the ground. He quickly pivoted around for a new target, only to find none of the Covenant were standing anymore. “Section: cease fire, CEASE FIRE! Covies have been neutralized, save your ammo! CEASE FIRE!”
The gunfire slowly petered out. Once he was satisfied no one was going to accidentally cause a friendly fire incident, Joshi tapped his radio. “Chief? Move up, secure the area.”
“Rog. Moving.”
Joshi watched as Snavely and his team swept the field, kicking at the Covenant bodies to make sure they were really dead. One of the Elite groaned; Snavely pulled out his sidearm and casually shot the alien in the back of the head. “Clear.”
“Clear here,” Joshi agreed before tapping his radio. “Area secured. All units, stand down. Sergeant Mettre, set up a perimeter! Warrant Officer Ryobi, can you get your bird open?”
“Uh, one moment First Sergeant… okay, got it! Everyone, stand clear of the ramps.”
There was a hum of electrical generators and all three ramps began simultaneously lowering, exposing the Albatross’s cargo bay to the world while also revealing the pallets of electronic equipment needed to make a function brigade headquarters, as well as the two extended Warthogs and trailer they had been planning on using to haul it all.
“All officers and team leads, assemble on me,” Joshi ordered. He nodded as Snavely joined him and the two of them walked back into the bird and straight up to Dagwood, who was kneeling beside a figure lying on the ground. “Sergeant Dagwood, what's our status? Who'd we lose?”
Dagwood let out a small sigh and gestured at the figure on the floor. “Sergeant Pimmit must have taken some shrapnel to the side when the bird got hit, nicked an artery or something. He, uh, bleed out before we could get to him. Also, I don't know if you saw, but Sergeant Malinowski…”
“Yeah, I saw,” Joshi grimly interrupted. “Anybody else?”
Dagwood shook her head. “Aside from them two, Major Bostjan Pivcevic is missing. I don't know what happened to him.”
“He got ejected from the bird on the way down,” Joshi said. Knowing that the two of them were close friends – both of them coincidentally having hailed from the same hometown – Joshi tried to be as delicate as he could. Given Dagwood's stiffening shoulders, he wasn't sure how successful he was.
“There's a chance he made it. He had his chutes on, after all,” he tried to optimistically tell her, only to trail off at head shake.
“No,” she said sadly, “he wasn't hooked up to the static line and at the speeds in which he was ejected, chances are he wouldn't have even been conscious to pull his chute.”
“That… might not true…”
The three of them looked up as Ryobi joined them.
“Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt,” he said. “But I thought the First Sergeant should know that just before we hit the ground, I saw an open chute in the air.”
Dagwood's head snapped up at that but before she could say anything, Joshi interjected, “You sure it wasn't a jumper from another chalk?”
“It was the only chute in the air, and no other aircraft were passing by at the time,” Ryobi confirmed.
“What color was the chute?” Dagwood impatiently interrupted.
“Uh, white. Why?”
Joshi and Dagwood exchanged a glance.
“Our primary chutes are camo'ed, so we can use them as camouflaged netting in a pinch if need be,” Joshi explained for Ryobi's benefit. “Our reserve chutes are white, for better visibility in search and rescue ops. Thing is, you have to manually open your reserve- “
“Which means you have to be conscious for that,” Dagwood added. “Which means Bostjan is alive.”
“Did you happen to get a vector on that chute, sir?”
Ryobi gestured vaguely north. “Roughly north northeast, maybe five, six klicks out? I think? I was a little distracted at the time. But the other thing you should know: that's the same direction where those ack ack turrets were.”
That caused Joshi to hesitate. On the other hand, Dagwood was hardly fazed.
“That's fine, we're paratroopers after all,” she said, dismissively, “It just means we're going to need to move fast, before the Covies get their grubby claws on him.”
“Sorry, but if you guys are talking about what I think you’re talking about…” Joshi glanced over at Snavely as he held up his hands placatingly. “Look, I hate to be the skeptic here. And, don't get me wrong, I would love to be able to rescue Bostjan as much as a next guy, if only to rub it in his face, but… we're a headquarters and headquarters company. Aside from maybe the First Sergeant here, none of us have a combat arms MOS – everyone else here is part of the Signal Corps which, last I checked, is still classified by the Army as combat support.”
“And yeah, I know we just finished kicking some Covenant ass,” he nodded outside where the Soldiers were busy disarming the Covenant bodies. “But there's a huge difference between defending ourselves, and making an armed incursion into enemy held territory to try and rescue a single man – we're not exactly ODSTs, you know.”
“Coward,” Dagwood immediately spat.
“You’re out of line, Sergeant!” Joshi instantly roared, as Snavely reared up in anger. He glared at her, and waited until she had mumbled a halfhearted apology, before saying in an icy voice, “Your opinion on this matter has been noted.”
As an E-7, Dagwood had been in the Army to know a dismissal when she heard one. She muttered something about going outside to supervise the cleanup, before immediately darting out of the Albatross. Joshi waited until she was out of earshot, before letting out a small sigh as he turned to Snavely.
“Look,” Snavely started to say. “All I’m trying to do- “
Joshi held up his hand and Snavely immediately fell silent.
“Look, Chief,” Joshi began, “I get what you’re saying. And you’re not exactly wrong: we aren't ODSTs. But, here's the thing – and maybe you’re not getting it because you transferred from another airborne division – but we are 3rd Airborne Division. We are the Army's premier airborne division. There's a reason why we're known as ‘The Shock Division,’ and that's because everybody - from the lowest private, all the way up to Major General Anttila – is expected to be able to pick up a rifle and not just fight, but win, at a moment's notice. Our training is better and our standards are higher and you won’t find a division with a better esprit de corps anywhere else in the entire UNSC Army. Being surrounded by all these elite Soldiers means that when sh*t hits the fan, we can trust that we will have each other’s backs, whether that be at the bar, or on the battlefield.”
“So, what that means to me is, if I’ve got a chance to save Major Pivcevic, I’m going to take it because I know, he would do the same thing in my position. But, jingoisms aside, there is actually a practical reason why we need to rescue him.”
“And what’s that, First Sergeant?” Snavely asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“He's brigade S-6.”
Snavely gave him an odd look. “Yes, First Sergeant, I’m aware of that.”
“Then you also know, as communications officer, Pivcevic is in charge of all of the 3rd ABCT’s comms. And that, if the Covenant get their hands on him and are somehow able to break him, then all of our brigade’s communications could be compromised. And if that happens, then this entire operation could be in jeopardy.”
Snavely hesitated. “I… that is a fair point, I’ll admit I didn't quite think about it in that manner...” He fell silent for a moment before sighing. “Well, I still think this isn't the best idea, but as you’ve rightfully pointed out, the success of this operation may very well depend on this. So, what's the plan?”
Joshi nodded. “We gather all the weapons and ammo we've got, including the Covie ones. Pick through our equipment, gather the most essential, destroy everything else. Then, we pile into our two Warthogs and the – what, three? – Ghost that remain… and then we move, hard and fast, to keep the Covies off balance. And then? We don't stop shooting until we accomplish our mission.”
Snavely stared at him before sighing. “You realize, First Sergeant, that we're only armed with small arms? Rifles and pistols? No MGs, no grenades, not even a DMR?”
“Yes, this is true,” Joshi allowed, “but don't forget: the reason why division chose this area for a paradrop is because the bulk of the Covenant forces are eight-five klicks south of us, holding an MLR nearly a thousand kilometers long. What Covenant forces we do face, will also be armed with nothing more than small arms. Plus, they’re be distracted by the rest of the brigade, who, at this very moment, are fighting to capture their h plus one objectives. Allowing us to attack with minimal fuss.”
“So, basically, you’re talking about a mini airborne-type excursion, within an airborne operation?”
“Basically.”
“Hmm,” Snavely hummed. “Well, you’ve convinced me of the necessity of this operation, however I’m not quite sure about this plan. But, then again, it’s not like I’ve got a better idea so… Airborne motherf*ckers. Let’s do this.”
“Airborne,” Joshi affirmed. “Let’s go!”
Very rough Sangheili language translations (no grammar):
“Muuri q’ii?” = They dead?
“Yabda, mejaya qkhep’os ch’anghutkho” = Yabda (personal name of an Unggoy), prepare needler combat
“QKHAN” = Enemy!
Translations taken from the “Sangheili (language)/Silver” article on Halopedia, because it offered more translated words
General Notes:
Draco III is a canon colony that was invaded by the Covenant in January of 2545 (Invasion of Draco III.) Not much is known about the invasion itself, only that in the wake of the UNSC defeat, the Covenant gathered the remaining civilian population and allowed them to be massacred by starving Grunts and Jackals.
For the purpose of my stories, while the general strokes of the battle remain the same, in my stories, this battle lasted a lot longer, lasting a couple of months as opposed to (as implied in canon) a couple of days. Part of this battle would run concurrent with the neighboring Battle of Newsaka, necessitating a division of UNSC forces.
Chapter 4: Actium 2545: JTAC
Chapter Text
This chapter is supposed to tie in directly with chapter 2 of my other story, Missing in Action. Basically, a rehash of the same events, just from a different perspective.
Byzas, Thracia Province, Actium
6 May, 2545
SSgt Dijon "D.J." Jabim, Quebec Company, 5-597th PIR, 3rd ABCT, 222nd ABN
D-Day: H Hour plus Three
“Captain, three minutes.”
D.J. glanced over as Captain Rabinowitz cleared his throat and tapped his microphone. “Actual to all White Knight elements: three minutes until touch down. Men, keep in mind that while we may be landing in a cleared LZ, these Pelicans are slated to take a full load of civilians back up to orbit. So, the moment we touch down, please clear the ramp as if we're landing under fire. Actual, out.”
Lowering his mic, Rabinowitz glanced around the bay. “All of you got that, right? Clear the ramp as soon as you can, so we can get these civilians out of here.”
“Yes, sir!” the Soldiers in the bay recited. For his part though, D.J. gave a thumbs up in acknowledgement before returning to his air drumming.
Maintain a tempo of a hundred and twenty beats per minute on the hi tom, then steadily increase to one eight over the course of the bridge, throw in some cymbals upon reaching the crescendo-
“Yo, D.J.!” Demirci called from the other side of the Pelican. “What are you working on now?”
“My magnum opus, I think!” D.J. yelled back. “I’ve been working on this for a while now, and I think this might be my best piece yet!”
“Don’t you say that for every song you ever write?”
“Well, yeah,” D.J. cheerfully admitted, “but this time I really mean it. I think this is really it!”
“Yeah? No sh*t? What you gonna call it?”
That gave D.J. pause. “Not sure! Have to wait until I hear it in all its entirety before it tells me its name!”
“Hey! You should name it after me!” Demirci suggested.
“Why'd I want to do that?” D.J. yelled back.
“’Cause I’m so f*cking awesome!”
D.J. let out an appreciative laugh as Demirci preened. “That you are, my friend, that you are.”
“One minute.”
“One minute,” Rabinowitz repeated. “Troopers, on your feet! Get ready!”
D.J. unbuckled his harness and climbed to his feet, drums still banging in his head as he grabbed his weapon and double checked he had both his handheld and his manpack radios. Their folded antennae brushed against his face as he turned to face the rear of the Pelican, but having been an Air Force TACP for almost three years now, he was used to the sensation.
“Thirty seconds! Standby, we're opening the ramp!”
With a whirl of electrical motors that was quickly lost to the wind, the Pelican loading ramp slowly lowered, revealing the battlefield for the first time. Having spent the last two or so month fighting in a jungle, the sharp contrast between the white snow and gray concrete buildings took D.J. by surprise, and he found himself rubbing his face to try and get rid of the spots in his eyes.
The Pelican abruptly jerked to a stop, which nearly caused D.J. to lose his footing, before it began plunging straight down like an elevator, its engines screaming at the sudden increase of power. As it descended, the scene outside also began to shift, first revealing the empty stands of a stadium, before the aircraft got low enough for D.J. to see the massive crowd of desperate civilians, all of whom were barely being held back by a line of Byzas police officers and UNSCAF Rock Apes.
“Standby…”
There was a loud thump as the Pelican touched the ground, but Rabinowitz was already springing into action.
“Jackalopes! Follow me!” he roared before charging out of the Pelican like he expected the dropship to get swatted out of the air if it sat on the ground for too long.
Standing at the rear of the chalk, D.J. had to wait until everyone else had moved, but he soon found himself surging forward, thundering down the ramp as fast as he could without slipping. Even before he had fully cleared the path, the line of police officers and airman finally gave way, and a wave of civilians went charging up the ramp to replace the soldiers who had just disembarked.
“Sorry, sorry!” one of the civilians yelled as they ran right into D.J., and would have knocked them both over if D.J. hadn't been able to catch them.
“Whoa there, buddy, take it easy,” D.J. lightly said. “You’re almost home free; don't mess it up by spraining your ankle or something, you know?”
“Yeah! Thank you!” the civilian distractedly replied as they all but threw themselves into the belly of the Pelican. Before D.J. could do anything else, a pair of strong arms grabbed a hold of him and yanked him off the ramp.
“D.J.! Stop messing around!” Xanthus yelled, sounding frazzled as usual. “We got too many birds coming in to land to be wandering around, and we still gotta figure where we need to go! Let's go!”
“Yeah, I’m with you Sergeant!” D.J. amicably replied and allowed himself to be tugged away from the crowd.
He did glance back though as the pulsating thrum of hybrid fusion drives reigniting filled the air, to see the Pelican begin to lurch back into the air - its cargo bay filled with nearly five times as many passengers as it was designed to carry - as the officers on the ground hurriedly shove the unlucky civilians who were unable to board back to a safe distance to await the next flight. Shooting the Pelican a quick two finger salute, D.J. mentally wished the flight the best of luck before turning to catch up with Xanthus.
Xanthus led the way to the players' dugout at the base of the bleachers where the remains of Quebec Company had assembled. Quickly looking for 1st Platoon, D.J. spotted Demirci crouched nearby, using the bipod of his SAW as a sort of crutch to lean on, and jogged over to join him. He jumped as D.J. plopped onto the ground beside him.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Demirci said, sounding disappointed. “And here I was, thinking you had puss*ed out and joined the rest of your Chair Force people in running back to orbit with your tail between your legs.”
“Can't get rid of me that easily, my friend,” D.J. cheerfully returned. “After all, you Army pukes need some serious adult supervision.”
“I thought Ma was our adult supervision.”
Ma looked up from her spot a couple of lengths away. “Like hell am I takin' responsibility for you, motherf*cker. And be glad for that fact ‘cause if you were my kid, I would have aborted you in the first trimester.”
The rest of the platoon burst out laughing as Demirci sputtered indignantly, but D.J. gave them no mind, having already mentally checked out of the conversation. Instead, he was doing what he always did whenever he entered a new battlefield: scanning the skies.
On the way down from orbit, he hadn't been able to see much, but now he had a clear view, he was dismayed to see how busy the skies actually were. Between the already present UNSC rotary craft, the incoming trans-orbital dropships bringing reinforcements in and ferrying civilians out, all the surface-to-air ordnance being launched, random ground-based indirect fire, and of course the Covenant, the sky was filled.
Demirci abruptly threw some snow at him. “Hey, you alright?”
“Man, I hope the 53rd guys had the foresight to set up a forward air control center, because this is going to be one heck of a challenge to coordinate if they didn't,” D.J. distractedly said as he pointed up at the sky.
Demirci gently bumped shoulders with him. “Hey, man: aren't you supposed to be ‘Mister Optimistic all the time?’ Be optimistic.”
D.J. turned to grin at him as he spotted Rabinowitz running up towards them. “Hey, I didn't say it was a bad thing, just that it’ll be a challenge. But, hey, it is what it is and we'll deal.”
He finished his sentence with a sharp whistle and pointed at Rabinowitz, drawing everyone’s attention to the Captain as he joined them.
“Alright Quebec Company, listen up! We got our marching orders,” Rabinowitz announced. “With all of Byzas under siege, the military's main goal is to get as many civilians out of the way to clear our lanes of fire. This stadium we're sitting in right now is part of that effort, being one of the main evacuation zones in this sector of the city. Because of that, the Covenant are pushing hard to break through.”
“I don't know if you guys can hear all that gunfire, what with all the flak and everything, but that's coming from the stadium's defensive perimeter, which as we speak, is getting hammered, hard. There's one section about seven blocks away from that's about to get overrun: we’re going there to reinforce them. All officers, senior NCOs and squad leads, location is being sent to your TACPADs now.”
A chorus of pings suddenly sounded and D.J. glanced at his TACPAD strapped to his forearm.
“Sir,” 1st Platoon's commander suddenly spoke up. “Seven blocks is pretty far; I don't think we're going to make it in time, not on foot, and not as heavily burdened as we are.”
“Which is why we're going to commandeer some wheels. All these people?” Rabinowitz gestured at the civilians still pouring into the stadium, “They can't all have come in on foot or via public transportation. We'll head out to the parking lot first, grab some abandoned vehicles that still run, and move. Any questions? Then, Jackalopes, move it out!”
“You heard the man!” Xanthus roared. “On your feet, Paras! Move!”
D.J. scrambled upright and followed the rest of the company as they ran for the exit. Crowds of civilians were still trying to enter, but upon seeing the horde of heavily armed soldiers dashing towards them, they were quick to move out of the way. A couple of civies cheered, but for the most part, they were quiet, their eyes filled with terror and panic.
Exiting the stadium without any further fanfare, they emerged into the parking lot where, true to prediction, was filled with civilian cars and trucks haphazardly parked all over the place. Some were parked neatly between the lines, while others were just abandoned in place with their engines left running and doors hung open, as if their owners had seen the arriving Pelicans and rushed to the stadium out of a fear they would somehow be left behind.
“Break up into teams of four! Find some wheels, and double time it please!” Rabinowitz ordered and somehow, D.J. found himself grouped up with Demirci, Ma, and Xanthus.
“Find a vehicle that's not hemmed in by anything else,” Xanthus commanded, before jabbing a finger forward. “There! Let's go!”
Ma spoke up before D.J. could. “Really, Sarge, a f*cking minivan? What, we going to a ballet recital or something?”
“Corporal Asfaw, does it really f*cking matter what we use?” Xanthus snapped.
“Look, Sergeant, all I’m saying is, if I’m going to roll into battle, I’m going to look good doing it.”
“Can't believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Ma,” Demirci murmured, before pointing at a pickup truck that just rolled up. “Why don't we take that?”
“A f*cking Sandcat? Really?” Xanthus said skeptically.
Ma, Demirci, and D.J. all turned to him with affronted looks, but Demirci was the first one to open his mouth. “What you got against Sandcats, Sergeant?”
Xanthus shook his head. “It doesn't matter. Fine, let's just go!”
They jogged up to the truck as the owner – some middle-aged looking man – was reaching into his backseat and pulling out his son.
“Excuse me, sir! Are the ships still coming!? Are we still able to make it out!?” the man frantically asked.
“Yes, sir, you’re fine: ships are still coming in, just go to the stadium and wait with everyone else,” Xanthus impatiently commanded. “Citizen, we need your vehicle.”
“Yeah, take it!” the man urged as he hurriedly grabbed his bags. “I don't need it anymore and better you guys, than the Covenant!”
“Daddy, Mister Wolfie!” his son abruptly cried and D.J. looked around to see the kid had dropped a stuffed animal wolf onto the ground. Before the dad could swoop down and grab it – and potentially drop his son – D.J. snagged it off the ground.
“Hey, buddy!” D.J. cheerfully said as he handed the toy back. “Mister Wolfie is safe and sound, see? Just make sure you hold onto him tight when you get onto the ship, okay? Because he's probably just as scared as you are.”
“’m not scared,” the kid insisted, even as he refused to meet D.J.’s eyes. D.J. chuckled.
“Well that's great, buddy, because Mister Wolfie is scared. See how his tail is tucked between his legs?” as he spoke, D.J. made sure to manipulate the stuffed animal so that it looked like the tail was down. “So be sure to give him some extra hugs to make sure he feels safe, okay? You think you can do that?”
The kid seemed to think about it for a second, before nodding.
“My man. Come on kid, give me some love,” D.J. said, extending his hand for a fist bump. The kid quickly returned the gesture. “Ooh, wow kid, take it easy with that power fist you got there!”
“Sergeant! Let's wrap this up, we gotta go!” Xanthus brusquely snapped.
“Yeah, I got it!” D.J. yelled back before turning back to the kid. “Sorry, buddy, gotta go.” To the father, he added, “Good luck out there, sir.”
“You as well, Soldier!” the man replied as he ran off. “Thank you for your service!”
“Matilda, get behind the wheel, you're driving!” Xanthus barked as D.J. rejoined them. “I’ll navigate. D.J., back seat. Leo! You're in the bed!”
“Why I gotta ride in the back?” Demirci immediately complained.
“’Cause you’re a junkyard dog, that’s why,” Ma retorted.
“But, like, a cute one,” D.J. hastily added as he ripped the booster seat out from the truck’s cab and carelessly tossed it to the ground before climbing inside. “Like a Corgi or a Shih Tzu.”
“…I don’t whether I should be insulted or not…”
“Figure it out later,” Xanthus ordered. “You’re in the back because you got the SAW and if we run into trouble, you’re going to have to lay down covering fire for us to get out. Corporal, take this main route and keep going straight until I tell you otherwise. Floor it!”
D.J. barely had enough time to sit down before Ma slammed down on the accelerator, and they took off into the city. Shoving aside food crumbs, random toys, and a few broken crayons, D.J. glanced out the window. The streets were crowded as civilians continued to stream towards the evacuation zone at a steady rate. Most people were on foot, carrying nothing more than the clothes on their backs, leaving the roads cleared for military and emergency use. Despite the palpable sense of fear in the air, things were surprisingly orderly – then again, given how militarized Actium was even before the arrival of the Covenant, perhaps that was to have been expected. That being said, a few people were of course still taking advantage of the lack of law enforcement to loot some of the nearby stories, but even they had curtesy to not get in anyone else's way. All in all, it was clear the evacuation was well underway, yet still, D.J. couldn't help but wish there was something more he could do to help out.
Then he spotted her…
She was standing on the street corner, the train to her white gown billowing in the wind, a bouquet of wilting flowers held tightly in her small hands. Her wedding dress was embroidered with lace and gold, but despite the thinness of the fabric, she didn't seem to notice the cold. The surrounding crowd seemed to pass around her, giving her a wide berth, almost as if no one dared to intrude on her personal space. And though the veil she wore masked her face in shadows, there was no hiding the sad, blue eyes that seemed to pierce a person's soul. D.J. stared at her as the convoy rolled by, struck by a sense of familiarity and kinship even though he knew nothing about this woman, or her situation, only that she was alone and -
“D.J.”
D.J. blinked and glanced at Xanthus, who was looking at him with a look of concern on his face. “You alright?”
“Yeah, Sergeant,” D.J. lied, before patting the seat next to him. “This is a nice truck, you know? Sucks that we can’t bring it with us, you know?”
“I know, right!” Ma replied. “These seats are comfy.”
“You guys only think that ‘cause you’re sittin’ in the cab,” Demirci disgruntledly yelled from outside the vehicle. “Its freezing back here – and Ma’s f*cking driving ain’t helpin! You know, I sooo want to make a joke about women drivers right now!”
“Better not! I have a grenade launcher you know, and it will fit up your ass with the proper amount of force!”
Xanthus let out a loud sigh. “Jesus Christ; what is wrong with you people!?”
“Man, this feels just like a road trip, doesn’t it, Sergeant?” D.J. couldn’t help but muse. “You, the father who just can't get a break, and us the obnoxious children. Yep, just like a road trip alright.”
“You realize we’re driving straight into a warzone, right?”
“You only say it that way because you’ve never been a Jabim family road trip, Sarge.”
“I don’t even know what that means, but it doesn’t matter because we’re almost there. Everybody, weapons up,” Xanthus barked. “Ma, take this next right, and we should be coming up on the MLR- “
FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZ!!!
D.J. instinctively ducked behind Xanthus’ seat as the Sandcat was immediately hit by high velocity plasma fire the moment it turned the corner. Two bolts slammed into the windshield – leaving some nasty burn craters and warping the glass – while a third bolt slammed into the truck’s hood, causing it to pop open. At the same time, Demirci screamed, “CONTACT, FRONT!” and then all D.J. heard was the extended roar of his SAW.
“Get out!” Xanthus roared. “D.J., Demirci, cover up! Ma, get the f*ck out!”
D.J. immediately kicked the door open and climbed onto the running board, using the car door itself for cover. Planting his rifle on top of the doorframe, he yelled, “Ma, keep your head down, I don't wanna to accidentally shoot you in the back of the head. COVERING!”
With that, he started firing.
As sad as it sounded, the familiar pressure of recoil against his shoulder almost felt like coming home. He pulled the trigger as rapidly as he could, his gunfire joining with Demirci's as they attempted to gain some sort of fire superiority over the Covenant. Bright orange tracers from his rifle streaked downrange, flying past blue and green plasma bolts heading in the opposite direction, creating a morbid display of lights and sound. Bullet casings spat out and landed onto the rooftop beside him before rolling down onto the ground below. The noise alone was devastating, but D.J. hardly noticed, so focused he was on laying down fire.
“Reloading!” Demirci warned.
D.J. didn't verbally respond but instead, started panning his rifle left to right as he swept the street with rifle fire, switching from point targeting to general suppression. The incoming fire seemed to falter for half a second, before it rapidly picked up once more and D.J. winced as a purple crystal shattered the window, spraying him with glass. “Mother… truckers!”
“Hey, I’m back up!” Demirci yelled as he resumed firing.
“Got it!”
“D.J.! Demirci! Move!” Xanthus suddenly bellowed and out of the corner of his eye, D.J. finally noticed Ma and Xanthus were cleared of the car.
“D, move! I got you covered!” D.J. volunteered, wincing as a blue plasma bolt lanced over his shoulder, missing his face by several centimeters.
“MOVING!”
The truck's suspension shook as Demirci leapt off the bed, landing on the ground and into a roll as if he had just parachuted out from a plane instead of a stationary vehicle. D.J. fired a few more shots and waited long enough for Demirci to make it into cover before moving to follow suit.
“Fuel rod! Fuel rod! INCOMING!”
D.J. jerked and glanced downrange where a Grunt had emerged with a fuel rod cannon on its shoulder.
“Oh dear…” D.J. commented before he took off in a dead sprint.
There was a flash of green-
D.J. was blown off his feet as the fuel rod projectile slammed into the front of the Sandcat, causing it to erupt into flames! Fragments of melted metal and rubber and glass pelted the area, and D.J. jerked his head out of the way just in time to avoid getting hit in the face by a burning chunk of aluminum. Someone grabbed a hold of him, and D.J. looked up to see Xanthus hovering over him before he was shoved into the small alley the team was taking cover in.
“You’re okay!” Xanthus declared after a very cursory scan. “Catch your breath, Airman, but make it quick!”
Stumbling further into the alley, D.J. nearly ran into Demirci.
“Man, the Covies ain't messing around, huh?” Demirci airily noted as he reloaded.
D.J. snickered, then pointed at the burning wreck that had been their ride a few moments ago. “Hey. Guess the Covies don't like Sandcats either!”
Demirci let out a wild cackle as he leaned around the corner and fired off an extended burst, allowing D.J. the opportunity to both reload and get his bearings.
The current main line of resistance was set up on the edge of a large traffic circle. On the opposite side, Covenant infantry were amassing as they attempted to assault their way through UNSC strongpoints, but a combination of machine gun fire, grenades, and a single Armadillo infantry fighting vehicle held them at bay. At least for the moment. UNSC defenses wouldn't hold forever, especially since D.J. could hear the sound of approaching anti-gravity engines in the distance. That, coupled with the plasma mortars passing by overhead and pounding their rear told him that the Covies were gearing up for an all assault on this position.
“- XANTHUS! SERGEANT XANTHUS!”
D.J. instinctively looked up at Rabinowitz's shout, even though it wasn't his name being yelled. He spotted the Captain taking cover behind the Armadillo and without thinking, he dashed over to join him there.
“- more fire support as these Straight Legs are about to fall back,” Rabinowitz was telling Xanthus as D.J. joined them. “Take over their positions and give me some fire discipline. Move out!”
“Sir!”
“Sergeant Jabim!” Rabinowitz snapped as he turned to D.J. “You hear that? The approaching vehicles? Covies are about to make a renewed push, and we're going to need some fire support if we want to make it through this! FISTers from the 53rd have made a nest up there in that building!” he jabbed his finger at a building on the edge of the traffic circle where, in the third floor, there was a rooftop patio that overlooked the entire area. “Get up there and go help them pull the chain on all the fire support you can get me!”
“Yes, sir!” D.J. yelled.
“Private Demirci: go with him and make sure he makes it intact and in one piece!”
“Roger, sir!”
“Alright, guys, wait for my signal!” he ducked his inside the Armadillo and D.J. could hear him call out, “IFV! Covering fire, now!”
The Armadillo abruptly opened fire, spitting out 40mm and machine gun fire from both their main cannon and coax at the same time. “Move now! GO!”
D.J. needed no further prompting. Tucking his rifle under his arm, he made a beeline for the building, working his way around and over the various sandbags and bodies in his way. Ducking as a burst of plasma splashed against the doorframe just as he reached it, D.J. threw himself into the building, landing heavily on the ground with a loud grunt.
“C'mon, man, GET UP!” Demirci snapped as he yanked D.J. to his feet. “Stairs! On the left!”
D.J. sprinted up the stairs and for the next few seconds, all he could hear was his and Demirci's heavy panting. As they reached the third floor staircase, two yellow dots appeared on his IFF tracker indicating friendlies, and D.J. paused at the exit from the stairwell long enough to cry out, “Friendlies! Approaching from your six!” then emerged onto the balcony.
Two UNSC Soldiers – both wearing the shoulder sleeve insignia of the 53rd Armored Division – were positioned there, taking cover in a small, impromptu, sandbag pillbox. Between the two of them, they had a dismounted manpack radio set up on the ground with the antenna fully extended, a single data pad, and their service rifles, though neither Soldier was shooting. Taking a deep breath and allowing a friendly smile to grace his face, D.J. threw himself into the pillbox beside them before cheerfully calling, “Good morning, everybody! Air Force Staff Sergeant Dijon Jabim, attached to Quebec Company, 5th Battalion of the 597th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 3rd BCT, 222nd Airborne Division. Call me D.J. How y'all doin’ this fine morning?”
The two Soldiers exchanged incredulous looks before one of them replied, completely deadpanned, “Well, let's see: my garrison planet is being invaded by nightmarish monsters intent on wiping out all of humanity from the face of the universe, almost all of my friends with whom I grew up with are either dead or wounded, and my unit has just spent the last few hours getting its ass kicked from one end to the next. How the f*ck do you think we feeling!?”
“Yeah, okay, no, that's fair,” D.J. sheepishly admitted. “Dumb question, hopefully this one is a bit better: you the forward observers?”
“Yeah!”
“Great! Then, what I need from you guys are access codes to the B-Net so I can start vectoring in close air support. You have any idea what sort of aerial assets we got in the AO?”
“No idea! Here, just take this!” the Soldier snapped before shoving the data pad in D.J.’s direction.
Switching it on revealed the data pad was already connected to the local Battle Network. Scrolling through the pad, D.J. discovered it granted him full access to everything, including but not limited to: unit call signs, radio frequencies, authentication codes, and friendly positions. It was everything he needed to do his job, and D.J. quickly started to copy everything to his TACPAD so he could give the pad back.
“Whoa! Where the f*ck are you guys going!?”
Demirci's shout caused D.J. to look up, only to see both 53rd AD Soldiers had gathered up their weapons and moving to vacate the area.
“You guys are our relief, ain't ya?” the Soldier from before sneered. “So, we're pulling out and let you guys take over, like you’re supposed to.”
“You’re not going to stay and fight?” D.J. asked, surprised.
“f*ck you! We've been fighting all morning! Now it’s your f*cking turn!”
And before D.J. or Demirci could say any more, the two Soldiers immediately fled down the stairs.
“Those f*cking… puss*-ass Legs!” Demirci derisively spat in their wake.
“Yes, that too is what I look for when I’m at the club,” D.J. distractedly replied as he began scrolling through the list of available fire support assets in the area of operations; if the FISTers were leaving, then he was going to have to play the role of both JTAC and FO. And right now, with the amount of assets they had… SkyHawk attack aircraft from Theater Command, Vulture gunships from Actium Colonial Militia, Wombat UCAVs from Orbital Defense Command, Sparrowhawk attack choppers from the 53rd AD's heavy combat aviation brigade, even a few Hornet assault VTOLs from the planet's assigned SOCOM section… and those were just the aerial assets! Ground support included 120mm heavy mortars, 160mm siege mortars, six inch SPHs, towed 122mm howitzers, and more.
“Wha- oh, I get it. Still, what the f*ck! f*cking puss*es! What are we gonna do?”
“What we have to,” D.J. roughly replied. “We- oh, snappers!” he exclaimed as a series of new call signs abruptly appeared on his data pad.
“What? What is it?”
“Looks like… 53rd AD's parent unit, the XIV Armored Corps, just released some corps artillery assets for our immediate use: 227mm Wolverine multiple launch rocket artillery.”
“Ain't that a good thing?” Demirci anxiously asked from behind D.J. “More artillery?”
D.J. jabbed an angry finger towards the sky. “You see how busy these skies are, Private? Do you understand how difficult this is, trying to coordinate everything so that our artillery doesn't accidentally shoot down our own birds? Last thing we need is more ordnance flying through the air; we got enough fire support, we need more infantry to man the line!”
Before Demirci could respond, D.J. grabbed his handheld. “White Knight, this is Winged Serpent.”
“Go for White Knight.”
“Sir, FISTers have bugged out. I’m the only left up here, so I’m assuming direct control of all fire support on this sector of the line. Given the difficulty of trying to coordinate everything by myself, I’m hereby declaring the airspace closed directly above our lines; all friendly aircraft must remain at least three thousand meters above sea level, and can strike at no Covenant targets within five klicks of the MLR unless directly called in by a TACP or JFO. All close fire support will instead be provided by ground based artillery and mortars. You copy, White Knight?”
“I copy!” Rabinowitz immediately replied. “Winged Serpent, I’m giving you full authorization to do whatever you have to make sure we get our fire support in a manner that doesn't cause friendly fire. Anyone gives you any problems, direct them to me and I’ll set them straight. In the meantime, we've got Covenant inbound, and we need some immediate fire support. Anything you can do about that, over?”
“Standby. Break, break.”
Shifting his data pad and radios around to form a mini command center, D.J. cracked his knuckles as he considered what he needed to do first.
“D.J.! What do you need me to do?” Demirci worriedly asked from behind him.
“Watch my back. This is going to take all of my concentration,” D.J. distractedly murmured before grabbing a radio. It was time to bring the rain. “Panther-6, this Winged Serpent: fire mission, over…”
General Notes
This was a bit of an experimental chapter, in the sense I tried to write a sort of “Ted Lasso" inspired character, which is why it’s more a dialogue heavy chapter than an action one. It didn't quite work out.
Chapter 5: Kroedis II 2549: First to Fire
Chapter Text
Terminus Launch Complex
Mojave Province, Kroedis II
3 March 2549
CW2 Bianca Sinnott, HHC, 5-559th Air Defense Artillery Regiment, 42nd Air Defense Brigade
WINTER CONTINGENCY DECLARED
H PLUS FIFTEEN
Bianca reflexively ducked as the crippled Banshee shot by overhead trailing smoke and debris. It slammed into the tarmac, cutting a scythe of destruction across their path, one their Warthog would not be able to leap over especially loaded to max cargo capacity and hauling a trailer at the same time.
“WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT!" Cheong screamed into her ear from the passenger seat.
Bianca ignored him as she slammed on the brakes and twisted the steering wheel hard to the left, trying to turn the Warthog parallel to the trench the Banshee had dug. The Warthog turned but as it did, all the weight of the ordnance they were carrying started shifting and their vehicle’s center of gravity correspondingly changed too.
“Holy sh*t!” Makinen yelped from the Warthog’s bed as the vehicle’s right two tires began lifting off the ground. “Chief! WATCH OUT! You’re about to flip the ‘Hog!!!”
“Shut it, both of you! I know what I’m doing!” Bianca snapped as she twisted the steering wheel in the opposite direction, forcing the ‘Hog’s wheels back onto the ground but in doing so, she threw all of the vehicle’s weight beyond its center of gravity, causing the heavy utility vehicle to start tipping far more pronouncedly in the new direction.
“AHHHHHH!!!!!”
Her men’s screams were starting to get on Bianca’s nerves and thus it was with a little more force than necessary, she yanked on the e-brake while spinning the steering wheel hard over to the left. The motion threw the Warthog back onto the ground and caused it to once again lean to the left but Bianca immediately released the e-brake and jerked the wheel left and right, trying to compensate for the swaying all the while she continued to accelerate forward. The Warthog continued to violently oscillate side to side before eventually settling back down on all four tires.
“Chief! Where the HELL did you learn how to drive!?!?” Cheong screeched at the top of his lungs.
“It worked, didn’t it!” Bianca yelled back as she jammed down on the accelerator and brought the Warthog back to full speed.
“Not the point!”
“Corporal, shut up and keep an eye out for any more low flyers! Private, you still alive back there!?”
“Chief, I think I’m gonna be sick…”
“Hang in there! We’re almost back at the Battery!” Bianca grabbed the radio. “Alpha Battery, this is the Chief: I’ve got your ammo resupply. Inbound, your location, thirty seconds. Gerson better have that Cyclops fired up and ready to go the moment I arrive, over!”
Looking forward, Bianca could see Alpha Battery’s position rapidly approaching. Equipped with two M71 “Scythe” AA turrets and a single M95 “Lance” SAM turret, they had been assigned a defensive position near the battalion headquarters tent. Just behind them, the massive hull of the “Crown Jewel” - the civilian interstellar cruise liner the colonial government had commandeered to use as an evacuation ship – sat on the tarmac, connected to the main terminal building via five separate gangways and jetways. Even though she couldn’t see inside, Bianca knew all five were fully loaded with civilians desperately looking for a way off this doomed colony. All the while, a joint force of UNSC Navy and Colonial Militia worked on holding a defensive perimeter inside and around the entire spaceport, doing their best to hold back the Covenant advance long enough for all of the civilians to escape.
“Chief! We’ve got high attitude Seraphs passing by overhead!” Makinen warned as Bianca pulled alongside Alpha Battery.
“We gotta get this battery back online! Everybody, out! Start unloading!” she barked.
There was a loud hiss of hydraulics, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps, as Corporal Gerson walked up with a HRUNTING Mark III [B] “Cyclops” exoskeleton. Bianca immediately waved at him, then gestured wildly at the flatbed trailer they had been hauling, upon which two fully loaded Lance pods had been lying.
“Hurry up and get those straps undone, Private!” Bianca yelled at Makinen as he quickly worked to release their tension. “Cut ‘em if you have to!”
“Got it!” Makinen yelled as he pulled out his puukko and began sawing the ratchet tie-down straps apart. The sharp knife easily cut the nylon fabric, and Makinen hurriedly moved them out of the way to allow Gerson to walk up, slide his Cyclops’ forked hands under one of the Lance pods, and lift it cleanly off the trailer.
In the meantime, Bianca had run to the back of the Warthog to begin unloading the boxes of ammo stacked there. Cutting through the straps holding them down, she grabbed a hold of a can of 20mm cannon shells but before she could yank it off the ‘Hog, Cheong intercepted her.
“Chief!” he yelled as he politely but firmly shoved her away. “You’re pregnant! We got this!”
“I’m only three months pregnant, jackass! I’m not an invalid!” Bianca snarled but Cheong had already grabbed two boxes and was hauling ass towards the nearest Scythe.
Growling under her breath, Bianca defiantly worked on cutting the rest of the straps holding the boxes down, but Sergeant Darvish intercepted her before she could do much more.
“Chief! You’re needed in the Battalion HQ!” she yelled.
“See, now that’s a reason to pull me away!”
“…what?”
“Never mind!” Bianca yelled as she shoved one of the boxes towards her. “Take this!”
Grabbing her rifle, Bianca started sprinting towards the command tent, but a loud siren split the air and she reflexively ducked, glancing over her shoulder as she did. Gerson had just finished reloading the Lance, but as he was moving the Cyclops out of the way, the SAM turret had activated, spinning around before locking onto an aerial target. The Lance let out another earsplitting siren as two plastic caps were spat out – one from the front and one from the rear – before a missile was launched, followed rapidly by a second one. The missiles rocketed through the air, tracking a Covenant Vampire that was locked in a dogfight with a UNSC fighter over the spaceport. Distracted by the dual, the Covenant pilot failed to react as the two missiles slammed into the lower hull.
There was a blue flash as the Vampire exploded, sending debris scattering all over the place, and maybe a few hours ago Alpha Battery’s crew would have cheered, but at this point they had shot down so many Covenant fighters to seemingly no effect, the small victory was barely even noticed by the ground crew.
The shrieking of incoming Banshees was being met by the roar of the Scythe turrets activating as Bianca ducked into the command tent. Inside, there wasn’t much to see as command tents were pretty much the same no matter where they were: a large number of screens and radios lined the walls while in the center of the tent sat a large holoprojector depicting the tactical composition of military forces at both the spaceport and the surrounding area. As was standard, friendly forces were marked in blue, while Covenant forces were in red. A quick glance at the projector showed a depressingly small amount of blue.
“Where’s Battalion Commander!?” Bianca demanded to know as a quick scan revealed no sign of the man.
“Lieutenant Colonel Sheidan is in the terminal, ma’am! Naval Infantry is getting pushed hard by the Covenant, requested we send troops in to take over crowd control while they deployed all available forces to hold the Covenant off!” one of the technicians reported.
Bianca gestured at the technician’s station, and the Soldier obligingly moved aside to allow her access. When setting up the tent a few hours ago, one of the first things the IT guys had done was tap into the spaceport's network, allowing the military full access to the facility’s security cameras. It was those cameras Bianca was looking at now. She rapidly scrolled through the feeds; most of the cameras showed crowds of civilians rushing towards the Crown Jewel, hoping to get onboard before the Covenant caught up to them, however she stumbled across one camera still pointed at the north entrance, where the Covenant were mounting their main assault, trying to gain access to the main terminal building.
Holding them at bay were elements of the UNSC Navy's Naval Infantry force. Fighting was fierce, and bodies were stacking up on both sides. But while the Covenant attackers consisted only of light infantry supported by Ghosts, unfortunately, the defenders weren't that much better off; despite the word ‘infantry' in their title, in reality, Naval Infantry weren't all that much better equipped than a standard colonial militia military police battalion for a conventional fight.
“Our defenses aren't going to hold much longer,” Bianca whispered in horror.
“Chief?”
Bianca ignored the tech as she finally spotted her commander on one of the cameras. “Colonel Sheidan, this is Chief Sinnott.”
On screen, she watched as Sheidan raise his hand to his ear. “Sitrep, Chief!”
“I just came back from the main armory: we have completely emptied that building out, sir. I’ve got Heinrich doing an ammo sweep of the secondary warehouses, but as of right now, whatever the Batteries have on hand is it; once they run out, we'll be out of ammo.”
“Any chance the garrison at Cronos can send us a resupply?”
Bianca abandoned the station and hurried over to the tac display. “Negative, sir, Covies have recaptured I-6, and Charlie Battery is barely holding onto the parkway: we are officially cut off from Cronos, I say again, we're on our own.”
Sheidan let out a string of curses, and Bianca found herself anxiously rubbing her belly. “Only reason we haven't been overrun yet is because Cronos is holding the main Covenant force at bay. If that town falls, Chief, we're going to be in trouble. We need to start reinforcing our defenses. Have Charlie fall back to the spaceport, switch Bravo's Scythe turrets from air targets to providing indirect fire for the perimeter, and tell Alpha they’re going to need to pick up the slack!”
“Understood! Sir, how much longer before we're finished with loading the civilians?”
“We still got about three thousand souls in this terminal!”
“Then we're gonna have to load all military personnel,” Bianca muttered. “Are we gonna have enough room on that ship?”
“I’ve been reliably informed that Crown Jewel is designed to comfortably carry seven thousand people, but it can carry twice that amount and a half if we really push it! Last I heard from the crew, we had about eleven thousand civilians already boarded - we'll make room!”
“Copy that, sir! Chief out,” she lowered her radio and barked out loud, “Comms! Send a message to Charlie Battery, tell them to immediately abandon the parkway and assume defensive positions on the southern perimeter! Send another message to Bravo and have them switch their Scythe turrets from anti-air mode to indirect fire mode; I want one gun supporting the south, one supporting the west! Runner!”
A Soldier immediately appeared by her side. “Chief?”
“Go find Doc Dasgupta, tell them to begin preliminary evacuation procedures: all civilian volunteers and the critically wounded are to immediately board the ship.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
“As for the rest of you!” Bianca yelled at the room at large. “Arm yourselves!”
At once the tent exploded into activity as the Soldiers immediately moved to execute their orders. For her part, Bianca walked over to the tac display showing Cronos's situation in real time; a single blue spot defiantly standing out among a sea of red.
“Come on, Cronos,” Bianca muttered. “Hold out for just a bit longer.”
Immediately Bianca felt guilty as her own words hit her; did she really just wish for an entire garrison of Soldiers to sacrifice themselves in order for her to live? Yet, at the same time, in the fifteen hours since the Covenant made landfall, this was the fourth time Kroedis's defenders had lost control of I-6. Part of the reason why her air defense battalion was so low on ammo was because they had expended so much ordnance trying to keep an evacuation route open for the citizens of Cronos. And now that they were finally loading the last evacuation ship in the entire Mojave Province… surely the Cronos garrison had to have known they weren't making it out alive?
Somehow, that rationale did not assuage her guilt in the least bit.
Abruptly, Bianca realized she had started stroking her belly again.
“Sorry kiddo,” she whispered to her belly, even though it was far too early in her pregnancy for her fetus to even be considered a viable baby. “Should have waited a bit more before having you. I promised you a happy life and a safe home; with the way things are looking, I don't think either are possible anymore.”
“Chief!”
Bianca automatically moved her hands away from her belly as Cheong burst into the tent.
“Relay from Sergeant Heinrich,” he breathlessly announced. “He's completed his ammo sweep and picked up some small arms ammo, but no other ordnance. Whatever we've got on hand now… that's it!”
Bianca grimly nodded. “Alright. Have him distribute whatever he's got as best as he can. In the meantime, let’s get all the Cyclops operators to start flipping the empty ammo trailers, see if we can't turn them into a barricade of- “
“Attention all UNSC call signs, this is Blue Dragon broadcasting in the clear across all military channels!”
Bianca sharply looked up as the call cut across the radio. “Blue Dragon" was the call sign for the Cronos garrison, whereas “broadcasting in the clear" meant they were speaking on the radio without any encryption, which was dangerous as that meant the Covenant would also be listening in. They would only do that if…
“All call signs: Starburst. I say again, Starburst.”
Bianca inhaled sharply while everything in the background seemed to shrink before her very eyes as the implication of what was just announced hit her. “Starburst" was the current code word for when a friendly unit was about to be overrun, and needed all available aircraft to come in and nominally rescue them, but in practice against the Covenant, it just meant expend all ordnance on said position as a last act of defiance against the enemy.
A quick glance at the tac display revealed all available fighters in the AO were already en route as the last blue spot representing Cronos was washed away by a tidal wave of red.
Bianca immediately grabbed her radio. “Colonel - !”
“Yeah, I heard it too!” Sheidan interrupted, sounding like he was out of breath. “Prepare yourself, Chief, cause this spaceport is about to get hammered! I’m going to see if I can't speed things up in here. You- “
Sheidan continued to bark out orders, but Bianca was distracted by the sound of frantic shouting from outside the tent. Without thinking, she started for the entrance when it abruptly swung open and Makinen came stumbling into the tent, yelling, “Chief! Covenant dropships on the horizon!”
“What!?” she exclaimed and hurried outside to see for herself. Sure enough, on the horizon approaching from the south were over a dozen Covenant ‘Spirit' dropships. “AIR ASSAULT! Covenant are trying to bypass our perimeter! Alpha Battery, open fire on those dropships!”
The Scythe turrets immediately opened fire. The brrrrttt of their 20mm rotary cannons filled the air as they peppered the Spirits with a mixture of tracers and armored-piercing shells, causing the ships to break formation as they attempted to evade. Moments later, a siren shattered the air a split second before Alpha's Lance turret fired a full spread of ASGM-7 missiles. As the projectiles rocketed towards the dropships, the Spirits started shooting back with their plasma cannons in an attempt to knock them out of the sky.
“TAKE COVER!” Bianca screamed at her men as the sky lit up with explosions. Throwing herself down behind a nearby Warthog, she held her breath as the first missile was destroyed by plasma, followed quickly by the second, but then –
There was a brilliant flash of light as the missiles began to strike home. The lead Spirit simply disappeared in a messy explosions as two missiles slammed into the ship's power reactor, causing it to instantly go critical. The explosions was so intense, there wasn't even any debris as everything was consumed by the blast. The second Spirit managed to avoid taking a direct hit, but the missile still passed close enough to trigger its proximity fuze. The warhead exploded, and a piece of shrapnel ripped open the Spirit's portside troop compartment door, and even from this distance, Bianca could see a number of Covenant warriors get ejected from their seats and go plummeting the full three hundred meters to the ground below. Needless to say, they didn’t get back up.
The rest of the dropships were able to dodge the rest of the missiles, save for the very last Spirit in the formation. As it attempted to bank right then rapidly climb, the ASGM screamed towards the lower hull and exploded against the ship’s anti-gravity drives, causing them to immediately flare out. As smoke and flames shot out from the engines, the Spirit seemed to hang in the air for a moment before, with a loud groan of metal, began plummeting out of the sky…
… and straight for the Lance turret.
“Oh, fuc… INCOMING!” Bianca screamed. “GET OUT OF THE WAY, GET OUT OF THE WAY!”
The Soldiers of Alpha Battery immediately scattered as the crippled dropship loomed overhead. Bianca couldn’t help but cover her mouth in shock as the Spirit slammed into the ground - one of the troop compartments immediately erupting into flames – before skidding across the tarmac and straight into the Lance turret, taking out the entire base and sending its rocket pods crashing to the ground. The impact seemed to cause the entire planet to shake while the loud shriek of metal being ripped apart filled the air, reminding Bianca very much of a dying whale.
“Oh, god…” she whispered as fire and secondary explosions continued to consume the Spirit. With their SAM turret down, Alpha Battery was left with their two Scythe turrets which, while powerful in their own right, simply lacked the range and destructive capabilities of the ASGM-7s. So far, the main reason why the Crown Jewel hadn’t been destroyed on the ground was because of the SAM turrets had been keeping the Banshees and Seraphs at bay. With one gone, trying to defend the airspace above the spaceport would be-
“CHIEF! We still got enemy inside!” Cheong yelled as he ran up to her position.
With a start, Bianca realized he was right: only one troop compartment had been destroyed in the crash. With the way the Spirit has crash landed – almost straight down – the chances of Covenant forces having survived in the other compartment was all but guaranteed.
“Cheong, Makinen! Take cover and get ready!” Bianca commanded as she unslung her rifle from her shoulder and leveled it at the Spirit, Cheong and Makinen taking up position behind the Warthog alongside her.
Nervously chewing on her lip, Bianca tried to bring her breath under control as she waited for the Covies to emerge.
BANG.
The sound of the metal compartment doors dropping open echoed across the tarmac.
“FIRE!”
The first Elite off the ship was immediately cut to pieces by three MA37 assault rifles. The 7.62mm rounds instantly disabled the alien’s shields and chewed right through the creature’s armor, causing the alien to toppled forward and land face down in a pool of its own blood. Meanwhile, the other Covenant warriors attempted to jump clear of the wreckage, and Bianca quickly pivoted right, firing two quick bursts at a Grunt Major, blowing its head clean off.
“Chief! Jackal on the left!”
“Got it!”
Leaning around the Warthog tire, Bianca blazed away at the Jackal, hoping to nail the alien before it could activate its arm shield. A quick burst took out the alien’s foot, sending the creature to its knees. Quickly switching over to semi, Bianca hurriedly pumped three more rounds into the Jackal’s chest, permanently putting it down.
FWOOZ!
Bianca flinched as a plasma bolt slammed into the tire beside her, and she reflexively fired off a retaliatory burst in the direction it came from, only for her rounds to get blocks by a glowing red energy shield.
“Christ…!” Bianca swore, diving into cover as the Jackal returned fire. Plasma pelted the opposite side of the Warthog and she grunted as both Cheong and Makinen landed on the ground beside her, both trying to avoid getting hit. “We’re pinned down!”
“Chief! I might be able to make a run for the command tent! I do that, I might be able to draw the Jackal’s fire, let you take him out!” Cheong volunteered.
“We might have to do just that! Hang on!”
Bianca peaked around the Warthog to see where the Jackal was, only to feel her heart stop as she realized the Jackal was pointing their weapon straight at her. But before the alien could pull the trigger, a green metal claw reached around the crashed Spirit and seized the Jackal around the waist.
“…!!!”
The Jackal let out a soundless scream as they were lifted straight up into the air, revealing Gerson piloting his Cyclops. Inside the co*ckpit, Bianca could see Gerson thumbing a button, and the Cyclops’ claw tightened in response. She couldn’t help but wince as there a sickening crack of bones breaking, and the Jackal went limp, its point defense guard winking out of existence at the same time.
“Don’t worry, Chief, I got you covered!” Gerson exclaimed through the Cyclops’ external speakers, before he drew his arm back and hurtled the Jackal’s body at the remaining Covenant Grunts, knocking them down like they were bowling pins.
“Troops in the open!” Bianca screamed. “Take them out!”
Gunfire immediately rang out, and the surviving Covenant soldiers were quickly eliminated. Standing up, Bianca glanced around. The entire tarmac had been thrown into chaos by the Covenant’s air assault and while the dropships had all been either shot down or driven away by the anti-air fire, she had no idea how many Covenant infantry had made it to the ground.
“Corporal Cheong, secure that crash site! Corporal Gerson! See if you can’t get that Lance back online!” Bianca barked as she dashed back into the command tent. “Somebody give me a sitrep! What’s happening!?”
“Chief! Emergency message from Charlie Battery: they never made it to the spaceport, Covies cut them off before they could get here!” a technician yelled.
“Ma’am! Perimeter guard has eyes on Covenant armored vehicles coming down I-6! They think it’s the same guys that took out Cronos!”
“Breach, breach! Chief, we’re getting reports Covenant infantry is inside the terminal!”
Bianca immediately grabbed her radio. “Colonel Sheidan, Chief Sinnott. Come in!”
Over the radio, she could hear the sound of gunfire as Sheidan replied, “Chief, give me a sitrep!”
“Sir, Covies managed to land about a platoon’s worth of infantry between the command tent and our defensive perimeter. We can probably drive them off, but we’ve got Covie tanks approaching from the west, Charlie Battery is completely cut off, Alpha just lost their SAM, and I haven’t gotten an update from Bravo! What’s your situation?”
“Covies landed a force right on top of us. Current strength unknown, but we’re trying to keep them away from the civilians! Hey! Watch that gun on the right!”
As Sheidan spoke, Bianca hurriedly lowered her radio. “Someone give me a ping on the Colonel’s location!”
A video feed showing Sheidan’s location appeared on the main screen, as well as a 2D digital map with a single yellow dot marking his location. Bianca silently swore; according to the map, Sheidan was on the complete opposite side of the terminal.
“Sir, you might want to consider breaking contact! You’re on the opposite side of the terminal; it’ll take you at least twenty minutes to reach the loading bay at a dead sprint unless…” Bianca zoomed in on the map and snapped her fingers. “Sir, you’re actually not too far from the tram. We’ll get Heinrich to route the tram to your location – “
“No, negative, the tram’s gone! That’s the first thing the Covies took out!”
“Then you’re going to need double time it, sir.”
“We’ll never make it, not with the Split-Lips on our tail, and not before the main Covenant force overruns the perimeter. And if the Crown Jewel is still sitting on the runway when they get here…” there was a long stretch of silence, and Bianca could almost hear Sheidan thinking. “How many people we got on board, and how many people do we have left?”
Automatically, video feeds of the jetways and the inside of the ship appeared on her screen. “We’ve got roughly eleven point five thousand people on board, but almost twenty-five hundred people still in the terminal.”
Sheidan let out a low sigh. “Alright. That’s it. Call it in.”
“Sir!?”
“We’re not going to be able to hold out much longer. We’re not going to be able to get everyone out, and now it’s time to think about who we can save. It’s time to pull the plug, Chief. Begin final evacuation procedures; have the perimeter guard hold their positions, but everyone else gets out. Including you, Chief.”
“Sir, we’re not going to just abandon you and the rest of the civilians. If we – “
“Chief Warrant Officer Sinnott, listen to me! We’ve still got over two thousand people left on the ground, but if you try and wait to save them, you put eleven thousand other people at risk. The math simply does not add up,” Sheidan snapped. “When you enlisted all those years ago, you swore to protect and defend all of humanity. Right now, you are being called to fulfill that oath. Save who you can. Get out, while you still can. That is. A direct order.”
The radio line went dead, leaving Bianca to blankly stare at her screen. Slowly exhaling, she glanced at a nearby technician. “Open a comm. All UNSC channels.”
“You’re live, Chief.”
Bianca cleared her throat then grabbed the mic. “Sheldrake to all call signs, broadcasting in the clear across all UNSC military channels: Starburst. I say again, Starburst.”
There was a moment of silence. Then-
“This is FLEETCOM: confirm Starburst, over.”
Bianca slowly pushed the talk button. “Starburst confirmed.”
“Sheldrake, we copy Starburst confirmed. All available aircraft en route to your last transmission location, time to target, seven minutes. FLEETCOM, out.”
Bianca closed her eyes. So. It was done then.
It took her a moment to realize everyone in the tent was staring at her, and she took a deep breath before, reluctantly, she gritted out, “Begin final evacuation procedures. Perimeter guard is to hold their positions. All Batteries, switch turrets to auto targeting. Destroy all non-essential gear, and wipe all data, then fall back to the ship. Alert Crown Jewel’s crew, have them start to taxi from the main terminal. And then – “ For a moment, the words seemed to catch in her throat, and it took all of her effort to force them out. “Terminate the loading. Sound alert, then disconnect all gang and jetways.”
Her troops immediately sprung into action, but Bianca couldn’t bear to watch them work. Instead, she turned to the security feeds showing the inside of the jetways, which were still packed with civilians trying to get onboard. On screen, a loud shrill of an alarm sounded, before the jetways began to move. The motion caused everyone inside to stumble, and initially, all the civilians looked confused as to what was happening. Then, someone realized the jetways were beginning to disconnect from the cruise liner and everyone instantly began to panic.
The entire crowd immediately surged forward even as the gap between the passageway and the ship continued to widen. The guards who had been stationed at the ship’s entrance in order to control traffic at first tried to hold everyone back, but then realizing the futility of it all, quickly abandoned their positions and jumped onboard. Behind them, the civilians did everything they could to make sure they weren’t the ones left behind. The ones closest began leaping from the passageway to the ship’s entrance, but as the gap grew to be too large for even the fittest of adults to jump, people began looking to save who they could; Bianca watched as several parents pushed their way forward through the crowd and physically toss their children in an attempt to save their lives.
Finally, the gap was too large for people to accomplish even that, and hundreds of civilians were left crying and begging and screaming to not be left behind.
The screens abruptly went blank and Bianca dully looked up to see Cheong standing near the entrance, power cord in hand, having ripped it out from the generator.
“Chief, we gotta go,” he gently urged.
Her eyes wet with unshed tears, Bianca sharply inhaled, then slowly exhaled. She nodded, unable to speak.
Looking relieved, Cheong grabbed Bianca by the arm and led her out of the tent. Pausing by the entrance, he pulled out two thermite grenades and cautiously offered one to Bianca. Nodding in understanding, Bianca took it and thumbed the activation button.
“Fire in the hole,” she called out, before tossing the grenade into the tent.
Flames immediately shot out of the base of the grenade, ignite the flammable items inside. Very quickly, the entire tent and all remaining equipment inside was set ablaze, and Bianca knew it wouldn’t be long before there would be nothing left but slag and ashes for the Covenant to capture. Without another word, she and Cheong immediately took off running for the ship, dashing up the loading bay ramp, normally used to load cargo, but today was being used to load all surviving military personal.
Two of the ship’s crew were waiting at the top of the ramp. As soon as Bianca cleared the threshold, they immediately began to raise the ramp and seal all hatches. Before the airlock could fully close all the way, Bianca glanced across the tarmac. There, in the distance, she could see dozens and dozens of plasma mortars flying through the air and landing among what was left of their defensive perimeter, and she knew it would only be a matter of seconds before Covenant vehicles were cutting across the open lot. There was nothing left they could do.
“Ma’am?” one of the crew members said as the airlock closed and sealed. “We’re about to take off. We’re going to put you and the rest of the military on the observation deck, at least until we can figure out how to organize everyone. If you could follow me?”
Bianca mutely followed the crew member as the dull thrum of hybrid fusion drives igniting filled the air. The ship began to rattle and shake as she walked onto the observation deck and, looking out the windows, Bianca could see the booster pods had ignited, launching the Crown Jewel up into the air. The cruise liner ascended towards the upper atmosphere, with the spaceport rapidly shrinking beneath them.
There was a host of duties Bianca needed to attend to, but at the moment, she found she had no interest. Instead, she keyed her radio. “Colonel? Can you hear me?”
At first, there was nothing but static. But then, “Go, Chief!”
“Sir, we’ve achieved lift off. And we’re making our ascent towards the upper atmosphere.” Bianca hesitated, unsure of what else to say. Whether she should apologize or… something.
“That’s good! That’s really good! I’m glad to hear that!” Sheidan replied in the void, sounding genuinely sincere. “You saved a lot of lives today, Bianca!”
Bianca found she didn’t know what to say in response to that, so instead, she stammered out, “What’s… how’s… what’s your status, sir?”
Immediately, she felt ridiculous; obviously Sheidan’s status was that he was about die. But at the same time, she needed to say something. Fortunately, Sheidan didn’t seem to mind as he replied, “Split-Lips are trying to break contact. They know with the ship gone, we’re minutes away from leveling this entire area. But we’re not letting them get away! These bastards are the ones who started this mess; it’s only right they stick around until the end.”
“Chief! High altitude bombers sighted, en route to the spaceport!”
Bianca turned at the shout. As part of the cruise liner experience, the observation deck was equipped with long range tower viewer binoculars, the idea being tourist would be able to watch the colony shrink as the cruise ship broke through the atmosphere. Walking over to the stand, the Soldier quickly moved aside to allow Bianca a chance to look. Sure enough, she spotted a flight of Shortsword bombers flying through the clouds in the direction of the spaceport. “Sir, you’ve got bombers en route to your location. Is there… is there anything you want to say?”
Sheidan let out a slow sigh. “Yeah. This is Lieutenant Colonel Mahoud Ali Sheidan, 1-559 Air Defense Artillery Regiment, 42nd Air Defense Brigade of the Kroedis II Colonial Milita. Ash-hadu an la ilaha illa Allah, Wa ash-hadu anna Muhammadan Rasulu-Allah. I bear witness that there is no God but God-“
A series of orange flashes abruptly appeared on the colony’s surface. Concurrently, Sheidan’s transmission abruptly cut off, and was replaced with nothing but static.
Choking back tears, Bianca tapped her microphone. “Colonel? You still there?”
Only static greeted her and she very quietly and reluctantly lowered her radio.
It was all over.
General Notes
If I’ve done my research correctly (and I really hope I did because otherwise, this is going to be really awkward,) the passage Sheidan is reciting at the end is an Islamic oath known as “Shahada” or “Shahadah” and it’s basically an affirmation by Muslims confirmed their belief in the “oneness of God and the acceptance of Muhammad as God’s messenger” (English Wikipedia article “Shahada.”) It is one of the Five Pillars of Islam, and is intended to be (among other times) one of the first things a Muslim baby hears when they are born, and the last words a Muslim utters before death.
Full translation to English is (as per Islamic Relief’s UK website): “I bear witness that there is no God but God, and Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah.”
Full disclosure: I’m not a Muslim, and I have no association with Islam. Having been born and raised in the United States which is predominately Christian, I thought it would be interesting to try and depict a faith I’m not familiar with.
Chapter 6: Paris IV 2549: When the Levee Breaks
Chapter Text
La Fayette
Nouvelle Roussillon Region, Paris IV
18 August 2549
SGT Isiah Cooper, 606th Engineer Dive Detachment
Seven Days after start of Covenant Invasion
The waves gently rocked his body back and forth, and for a moment, Cooper let himself believe he was back home on his boat, taking a well-deserved nap on the deck underneath the sun after an eventful day of freediving.
“ – Sergeant, are you receiving me!? GET UP!!!”
Cooper wrenched his eyes open, only to see water lapping against the visor of his HAZOP-class Mjolnir helmet.
“Oh, f*ck,” he groaned.
“Coop!? That you!? C’mon, get the f*ck up!” Cooper felt himself get rolled onto his back and Mikey appeared over him, his face partially obscured by his own HAZOP helmet.
“Mickey?” Cooper groaned. “What the hell happened?”
“No time to explain! GET UP, DIVER! This place is about to be crawling with Covies!”
That got Cooper’s attention and with a strained grunt, he rolled back onto his front and pushed himself upright.
“C’mon, c’mon! Let’s go!”
Mikey took off towards the nearest building, splashing through the knee-high water without any regard to noise he was making, and Cooper quickly followed in his wake. The entire area surrounding them was flooded, and Cooper could feel the current against the back of his legs as more water continued to pour in. “Mikey? What happened to the levee?”
“What levee?” Mikey called back over his shoulder.
“You know, the one we were supposed to be prepping for demo?”
“Yeah, I know, I was being facetious! Well, we don’t need to be worried about that anymore. The Covies, in their infinite wisdom, decided to take it out for us!”
“What!?!? Why the hell would they do that? I mean, I know we were going to blow it because it would have slowed the advance of their ground forces by days, but the Covies had to have known that! Any competent commander would have gone out of their way to make sure that levee remained intact!”
“That’s your problem, boss!” Mikey yelled back. “You assumed the Covies are competent! But, to be fair, I don’t think they did it on purpose: I didn’t see it, but there was a flash from the sky, and next thing I know, half the levee is just gone! Had to have been some sort of anti-ship weapon – like a plasma torpedo or something – that missed its target by, like, a thousand klicks or something and hit the surface of the planet instead!”
“Oh, that’s just great,” Coop muttered under his breath. “Where’s the rest of the detachment?”
Mikey shook his head. “We’re the only ones that made it!”
Cooper grimaced but truth be told, he wasn’t entirely surprised. “What about our tactical support? 5th Amphibious Division? The levee’s destruction was supposed to be in support of their operations! Did they make it? They still around?”
“Dunno! I’m not the one equipped with the hardened uplink module!”
Instinctively, Cooper reached up to touch the side of his helmet, his finger coming into contact with the box-like communication’s device mounted onto the side of helmet directly over his right ear. Fortunately it was still intact, having survived the explosion and the subsequent collapse of whatever remained of the levee.
“Computer, access the BNet. I need a tactical map of the area,” Cooper barked at his HUD. “Bring up the Blue Force tracker!”
At once his HUD was flooded with a tactical map of the area, complete with blue dots representing friendly forces.
“Oh, thank god!” he exclaimed. “Looks like the lead elements of the 5th are on their way here; they’re only twelve klicks out. Best thing we can do is just wait for them to arrive.”
“No, wait, sh*t!” Cooper suddenly realized his HUD was showing the ‘no connection’ symbol. “I’m actually off the network! Computer, reconnect me to BNet!”
At once, the words appeared on his HUD: ‘Unable to connect. Jamming device detected. Attempting to auto-reconnect: 7 minutes.’
“sh*t, we're being jammed, man, including long range comms! My information is at least seven minutes old! I don't have any up to date info on the 5th's current position!”
“What? How are being jammed?? That would mean the Covenant are right- WAH!!!”
Cooper's head snapped up just in time to see a Covenant Skirmisher appear out of nowhere and tackle Mikey, knocking them both into the water.
“Ambush!” he screamed, yanking his rifle off the magnetic clamps on his back but as he was bring it to bear, the rifle was abruptly knocked out of hands and he whirled around only to be confronted with a second Skirmisher.
Cooper barely had time to process what he was seeing before he was immediately forced to defend himself. He ducked as the Skirmisher swung a cutlass at his neck; the energy blade instead passed over his head, skimming along the top of his helmet and leaving a nasty burn mark. In retaliation, Cooper lashed out, driving his covered knuckles into the Skirmisher's chest plate and forcing the alien to stumble backwards. Having bought himself a few seconds worth of time, Cooper yanked the dive knife from his left forearm sheath and held it up in a ready stance.
The alien took one look at Cooper's knife and let out a rasping noise; it took Cooper longer than he cared to admit to realize the Skirmisher was laughing.
“Laugh it up, motherf*cker,” Cooper snarled. “We'll see who's still laughing when this blade here is buried up to its hilt in your f*cking heart.”
And with that, he attacked, hoping to catch the Skirmisher off guard. Feinting left, Cooper instead launched forward, trying to skewer his opponent in the chest but unfortunately the alien was ready for him. With a slight swing of its cutlass, Cooper's blade was easily deflected to the side and he forced to abort his lunge and snap his head back to avoid taking a backhand to face. That was immediately followed by a twist of his body as the Skirmisher decided it was its turn to try and stab Cooper in the chest.
Grabbing the alien's extended arm by the wrist with his free hand and keeping it locked in place, Cooper slashed at the Skirmisher’s neck, who deftly blocked the blow with the cutlass. There was a splash of water as the Skirmisher snapped its leg up to try and knee Cooper in the stomach, forcing him to release the alien's arm in order to dodge the blow. In a hasty attempt to maintain control of the fight, Cooper thrust his knife forward, angling for the alien's face, but the Skirmisher easily spotted the sloppy move and grabbed Cooper's hand, stopping the knife from going any further.
Shoving his palm against the pummel, Cooper pressed forward with both hands, and the blade began to inch closer to the Skirmisher’s face. That is until the Skirmisher dropped its cutlass to use its both claws to hold the knife in place. For the next few seconds, the two of them stood there, awkwardly wrestling for control of the knife.
The stalemate was broken when the Skirmisher unexpectedly head-butted Cooper. The move took Cooper completely by surprise; after all, he was the one wearing a fully enclosed armored helmet, not the Skirmisher. But while the maneuver caused little to no injury to him, because he had been taken so off-guard, Cooper was unable to react in time to the follow up punch the Skirmisher delivered to his chest. The blow caused him to stumble backwards, and he quickly raised his hands to protect himself as the Skirmisher lunged towards him, but clearly the alien forgot to take into account the water that was up to their waist, so instead of landing on Cooper and ripping him to shreds, the Skirmisher did a sort of awkward stumble. Unfortunately, Cooper was still trying to recover and was unable to take advantage of the Skirmisher’s mistake.
For the next few moments, the two fighters just stared at each other, as they waited for the other to make a move. For his part, Cooper was marveling over the fact he was still alive; Skirmishers were stronger, heavier, and had a much longer reach than most humans and in a hand to hand fight, that was usually what mattered more than skill. But as Cooper stood there, breathing heavily, it suddenly occurred to him that all of those advantages only applied when Skirmishers were fighting on land, and not in meter high water.
And suddenly, Cooper realized he’d been fighting wrong.
He immediately threw himself into action. The Skirmisher automatically tensed as Cooper lunged forward, but instead of charging the alien, Cooper dove into the water instead, submerging himself. Having spent the vast majority of his life in or around water, the sensation of being undersea comforted him in ways being on land never did – that was part of the reason why he'd join the Army as an engineer diver.
He swam straight for the Skirmisher, taking advantage of the rushing current to gain even more speed. On the surface, the Skirmisher was frantic: having lost sight of Cooper due to the murkiness of the water, the alien had pulled out its plasma pistol and was randomly firing into the liquid, hoping to get a lucky shot. However, as dangerous as plasma was, it wasn't hot enough to penetrate further than a few millimeters into the surface, leaving Cooper entirely unscathed. He slammed into the Skirmisher's legs, taking them out and knocking the creature into the water.
At once the Skirmisher panicked, wildly flailing around like a house cat that had accidentally jumped into a hot tub. Ignoring the splashing limbs, Cooper grabbed the Skirmisher by the shoulder and stabbed it in the chest, slipping his blade between the alien's ribs and into the chest cavity where the heart would have been in a human. A burst of bubbles erupted from the Skirmisher as it involuntarily let out a gasp of pain, and the water surrounding them started to turn purple as blood gushed from the wound. The Skirmisher's thrashing became even more pronounced.
Wrapping his arms around its waist, Cooper inverted and dove towards the seabed, punching the Skirmisher's stomach a few times for good measure before holding both of them in place at the bottom of the flood. The Skirmisher's struggles begin to weaken as a combination of blood loss and lack of oxygen took its toll, before – abruptly - it went limp, a final bubble escaping from its mouth. Shoving the body away, Cooper scrambled to his feet. The water level was still rising, but he was able to stand on his feet and look around with his head above the water. There were no more threats but at the same time, no Mikey.
“Mikey! What's your status?” he barked over TEAMCOM.
“COOP! HELP!”
Jumping at the cry, Cooper frantically looked around before he heard the sound of splashing from around the corner. Diving into the water once more, he swam in the direction of the noise, surfacing a few meters away from where Mikey was struggling to avoid getting stabbed again by his Skirmisher opponent.
“COOPER! HELP!”
“Hang on, Mikey!” Cooper yelled back as he drew his sidearm, but with the two locked in hand to hand combat, he held his fire as there was too much of a risk of friendly fire. Gritting his teeth, Cooper waded forward -
- then launched himself at the fighters. He slammed into them both, knocking everyone into the water. The Skirmisher immediately attempted to retaliate, throwing a roundhouse punch at Cooper's face, but with its fist considerably slowed by the mass of the water, Cooper was easily able to duck under the blow. Grabbing the Skirmisher and pulling it into a bear hug, Cooper jammed the muzzle of his pistol under the alien's jaw and pulled the trigger.
A blast of bubbles emerged from his magnum. At the same time, his HUD let out a shrill of alarm as the words ‘Jam – FTE/FTF' flashed across his visor and a purple cloud began to form around him. The Skirmisher lifelessly started to float to the surface; Cooper let it go, abandoning the corpse in favor of grabbing Mikey.
“Mikey! How bad is it!?” he asked over the sounds of Mikey's pain filled cries.
“I dunno,” was his strained reply. “f*cker sliced up my stomach. Can't see though.”
“We gotta get you out of here. Hang on!”
Dragging Mikey along as he waded through the water, Cooper stopped in front of a restaurant of sorts. The water was lapping against the front window; slipping out his knife, he jabbed the glass hard enough to crack it and allowed the water pressure to do the rest. The window shattered, and Cooper rode the tidal wave into the store.
“Come on, let's get up to the roof,” Cooper commanded. “Be easier to see that way.”
“You’re the one who's carrying me!”
Half dragging half carrying, Cooper managed to get Mikey all the way to the top of the stairs where they emerged onto an open rooftop dining area.
“Gawwwwwwwwd dammit,” Mikey groaned as Cooper laid him down on one of the tables. Pulling off his chest rig and removing his lightweight armor, Cooper pulled out his knife once more and carefully cut open Mikey's wetsuit. It took all of his self discipline to avoid visibly reacting.
“How bad is it?” Mikey asked through gritted teeth.
“Well, you’re not winning any beauty contests anytime soon, that's for sure. Oh, wait, you’re talking your injuries…” Cooper tried to joke, but even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained.
The problem was, while Cooper wasn't a medic, even he could tell Mikey was in bad shape. His upper torso was covered in claw and bite marks, but the biggest cause for concern was the stab wound in his lower gut. Doubly so because unlike plasma swords, energy cutlasses were not hot enough to cauterize, meaning aside from the stab itself, blood was slowly but surely oozing out from Mikey's abdomen.
“Let's just get you patched up, man,” Cooper said instead. “IFAK.”
Yanking the pouch off Mikey's belt and ripping it open, Cooper hurriedly yanked out the can of biofoam inside.
“This is going to hurt,” he warned.
“Just f*cking- AGHHHHH!!!”
Cooper winced at Mikey's cries of pain, and tried to apply the biofoam as quickly as he could. The hole filled as the foam expanded, stopping the bleeding, but it was only a temporary solution. Chucking the now empty can away, Cooper pulled out the medical stapler and pinched the skin shut, before wrapping the entire area with a few bandages. As he worked, he could tell the exact moment the biofoam's pain killers kicked in as Mikey's breathing became less strained, and he began talking once more.
“Tell it to me straight, Coop,” he breathlessly said. “How bad is it?”
“How the f*ck should I know, do I look like a f*cking medic?” Cooper snapped before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm down. “I didn't exactly pass human anatomy with flying colors, you know. This being high school, I was more concerned about Rachel Turnbull’s anatomy then anyone else's, you know what I mean?”
“We had a Rachael Turnbull at my high school,” Mikey mused. “Her parents were über-religious, which naturally meant she was the biggest whor* in school; five credits and she'd give you a blowj*b behind the cafeteria dumpsters. God, I kinda wish she was here right now: I could use the distraction.”
“You and me both, brother,” Cooper replied as he helped Mikey off the table, and gentle propped him against the parapet. “We gotta get you out of here. Can you walk?”
“I think the bigger question is: can I swim? And I think the answer to that is: hell na.”
“Probably best you don't expose that wound to water too,” Cooper said, thinking about all the contamination in the water, including two dead Skirmishers. “We need to…”
Cooper trailed off as he realized the buzzing noise he'd been hearing wasn't coming from his head, but from down the street. He poked his head above the parapet to see what it was, only to immediately duck back down again. “Holy sh*t! We got an entire swarm of Covenant Drones coming down the street right now!”
“What!? How!? There weren't supposed to be Covenant this close!”
“You got me!” Cooper retorted as he carefully poked his head over the parapet and watched as the Drones began settling on the buildings surrounding them, including one large group that landed on the three story building directly across the street from them. As he watched, the group climbed straight up the side of the wall, dragging something behind them, and it took him a moment to realize it was a set of plasma cannons, which the Drones began assembling on the rooftop.
“What are they doing?” Mikey whispered from beside him.
“Looks like… they’re setting up ambush positions. But for who? We're the only ones here.”
Mikey frantically began tugging on his leg.
“5th Amphibious Division is on their way here, and they don't know the Covies are already occupying this town!” he hissed.
Cooper inhaled sharply. “f*ck. And with comms down, we got no way of warning them. But wait! They should be coming in their Hippo AAVs. That should be enough to help them survive.”
Mikey shook his head. “Brother, those Hippos are designed to float, which means they don't exactly have a sh*t-ton of armor. Those plasma cannons will rip them open like tin cans. We gotta do something, man.”
“Like what? There's only two of us and no offense man, but you can't even stand!”
Thud.
Cooper immediately whirled around at the noise, only to see a Drone had landed on the rooftop behind them. At the first, the Drone didn't even notice them, too busy staring at the bloody bandages and empty biofoam can Cooper had carelessly left lying in the open. Then the Drone looked up and froze. For a moment, the two sides just stared at each other. Then the Drone let out an ear piercing shriek.
“CONTACT!” Cooper screamed, snapping his magnum up, only to immediately remember he had never gotten around to clearing the jam. He hastily yanked back on the slide as the Drone raised its Needler-
Mikey's rifle coughed three times and the Drone seemed to explode, the gunshots echoing up and down the street. At once, the shrill cry of more Drones began to fill the air.
“Oh f*ck, we're in the sh*t now!” Cooper screamed as he rose to his full height. “Plasma cannon, direct front!”
“Coop! My underbarrel! Take it!”
Cooper deftly caught the rifle and grenade launcher combo Mikey tossed at him. Flicking the trigger guard safety off, he aimed and fired.
Thunk.
It was a lucky shot; the 40mm grenade slammed into one of the cannon's power cell, causing it to explode and setting off a chain reaction which took out both plasma cannons and half the Drones positioned there. The surviving half took off into the air and began diving down on them.
“Contact! Covenant coming from above!” Cooper screamed as he switched over to the rifle and began shooting.
Descending from the sky like a group of paratroopers, the Drones had Cooper and Mikey caught out in the open with no cover and no place to hid. Conversely, it left the Drones equally exposed and, as it turned out, two feet planted on a flat, leveled surface provided for a much more stable firing platform than a set of waving wings.
Cooper's first shot was a perfect headshot that lancing through the lead Drone's forehead and sending the oversized insect crashing to the water below. He pivoted and cut another Drone in half with two quick bursts. Realizing the danger they were in, the remaining Drones broke off their attack and tried to scatter, but Cooper was quick to empty the rest of his magazine into the crowd, sending bodies and body parts into the drink below.
“Loading!” he warned as he slapped the bolt release, wincing as a burst of plasma shot over his shoulder.
“Contact, three o'clock, down the street!” Mikey yelled, popping a few shots downrange with Cooper's handgun. “Put a forty Mike Mike in that room: it full of f*cking bugs!”
Hurriedly stuffing a grenade into the launcher, Cooper tucked the weapon under his shoulder, took aim, and fired.
“Damn!” Mikey whistles appreciatively as the grenade soared through the open window and exploded inside. “That was beautiful! When’d you get so good with that f*cking thing!?”
“I work better under pressure! Makes me feel like I’m back underwater!” Cooper yelled back. “I need another grenade!”
A volley of purple crystals shattered against the parapet, showering him with dust and debris. Tracing the fire back to its source, Cooper returned fire and watched as the Drone stagger backwards, its vomit-inducing guts spilling out from its abdomen.
“More contacts! Coming from down the street! I count a dozen; where the hell are these f*ckers coming from!?”
“I don't know, all I know is we can't keep this up forever! We're gonna run out of ammo before we run out of bad guys to shoot at!” Cooper yelled back as he reloaded. “f*ck! Where's a skyscraper-sized can of bug spray when you need it!?”
“I dunno about bug spray, but I still got them charges we were gonna use on that levee!”
“What? Where!?”
“Back with the rest of my sh*t!”
Cooper glanced at where a pile of discarded medical supplies, a cut up chest rig, a dead Drone, and a bag with C-12 explosive charges peeking out from the top all innocently laid out in the open. He didn't hesitate. Shoving the rifle back into Mikey's arms, he yelled, “Cover me!” and took off running.
Immediately a mixture of plasma and Needler fire began saturating his position. Skipping from side to side, by some miracle, Cooper managed to avoid getting hit long enough for him to grab the bag and rush back into cover.
“I don't know with the jamming, if a remote detonation is possible!” Cooper warned. “I’m going to rig up a timed fuze, turn this bitch into a satchel charge!”
“Make it fast,” Mikey pleaded, his voice strained, and Cooper knew it was taking Mikey all of his strength just to stand up and shoot.
Tearing open a waterproofed pocket, Cooper pulled out a delayed fuze and a push detonator. Jabbing the contraption into the first block of C-12 he got his hands on, he wired everything together and immediately armed it.
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” he screamed, throwing the entire fifteen kilogram satchel charge as far away as possible.
“Coop! BEHIND YOU!”
There was a green flash of light and then-
Pain.
That's all Cooper felt as he came back into his body, only to find he was lying on his side, staring up at the sky while Mikey fired on the Drones emerging from the stairwell right behind them. There were too many of them and Cooper knew he had to get up and help, but he couldn't move. Couldn't even feel anything below his neck.
Oh god, was he still going to be able to dive after all this was over?
No, focus! Mikey! He needed to help Mikey! He needed-
There was another flash of green –
> UNEXPECTED HALT X [KIA]
> END RECORD VIEW [2549.8.15.8:47:12 L]
> REPLAY VIDEO? Y/N…
XXX
Brigadier General Raquel Turnbull-Oliver – deputy commanding general of the 5th Amphibious Division - sighed as she hit ‘no' and allowed the video player to close. There was no doubt about it: if not for the actions of these divers, the battle could have been so much worse.
According to the after-action report submitted by her men, while the divers hadn't been able to kill the entirety of the Covenant force occupying the town of La Fayette, the amount of noise they had generated had been enough to warn her vanguard that they were about to enter a combat zone, forcing them to adapt a more cautious approach instead of charging headlong into town in a misguided attempt to reinforce it before the Covenant had a chance to exploit the levee's destruction. That in turn had changed what could have been a costly ambush, into a… well, not quite victory, but there was no doubt casualties would have been much higher.
And that alone meant, as far as Raquel was concerned, Sergeants Cooper and Galloway were heroes, who deserved to be honored for their sacrifice.
Normally, such a nomination would have to be submitted by the men's commanding officer. But, seeing as how the entirety of the 606th Engineer Dive Detachment had been killed in what was becoming known as the Battle of La Fayette, coupled with the fact the detachment had been temporarily assigned to the 5th AmpDiv and had been reporting directly to her, meant that the responsibility of seeing that these men were properly honored now fell on her shoulders. It was, in many ways, quite humbling.
The question that confronted her now was, what medal should be awarded to these men that would truly reflect their sacrifice? She knew what her preference would be, but she also knew what the Army's guidelines were, having filled out far too many of these forms over the course of her career. And she knew the Army would more than likely disagree with her assessment.
At the same time, these men were dead, so what medal they were awarded with wouldn't matter to them. But, then again, it would matter a great deal to their families. And if Raquel could provide some measure of comfort to the poor mothers and fathers and wives and husbands and children and siblings of those who’d paid the ultimate sacrifice, wasn't it worth it? Furthermore, this had already produced a veritable mountain of dead heroes. What was two more added to the stack?
Mind made up, Raquel pulled her computer closer to her and pulled open a document.
‘Medal of Honor Recommendations for ______’
Raquel carefully began typing.
‘Sergeant Michael Galloway’
‘Sergeant Isiah Cooper’
‘For valorous actions…’
General Notes
This is a weird chapter: I started writing this with the idea of depicting underwater combat, only to get halfway and remember I know nothing about underwater combat. I didn't feel like abandoning it, so I just rolled with whatever I had.
Don't asked about the Turnbull name. The name means nothing to me it was just that as I writing, it occurred to me there are a lot of variations of the name “Rachel,” and for some reason, my brain thought it would be funny to have multiple characters all with the same name, just spelled differently. I might have also been mildly influenced by the TV Tropes article “One-Steve Limit,” which I had coincidentally read in the midst of writing this (for unrelated reasons.)
In real life, the US Army actually does have combat divers. Aside from the various Ranger and Special Forces (aka, Green Berets) operators who can and do go to school to become dive qualified, there actually is an MOS for divers within the engineering branch: 12D – Diver. Part of their duties include, among other things: underwater construction, inspection, salvage, welding and cutting, and of course, demolition.
Chapter 7: Reach 2552: A Corpsman's Story
Chapter Text
I wrote this chapter back in 2021. It was originally intended to be the first chapter of a novelization of Halo: Combat Evolved, only from the perspective of a foot soldier as opposed to Master Chief like it was in the game, or from an officer's perspective like it was in the official novel. Hence why this chapter is so long.
Ultimately, I decided to abandon the idea because really, if I’m going to write a novelization of an official game, I should probably use a canon character instead of an OC. Plus, novelizations of this game have been done time and time again in fanfiction and I don't think there's anything I could have added that hasn't already been said.
Of course, it seemed like a shame to just throw this chapter away which is why I’m including it here.
Asźod Ship Breaking Yards
Esposz, Reach
30 August 2552
HM2 Yohannes Riesz, Naval Medical Detachment, RCT-12
The sky was on fire.
In many ways, it was absolutely gorgeous. The blending of colors, the way the fiery reds and bright oranges of explosions blended in with the natural purple hue of the evening sky. The way the dark gray smoke clouds lazily billowed their way into the upper atmosphere. The shiny hulls of aircraft as they flew in and out of the clouds. The multi-colored tracers that seemed to briefly illuminate the mountains on the horizon.
If it weren’t for the fact that the world was literally burning, it really would have been one beautiful sight. As it were though, it was taking just all of Riesz’s self-discipline to remain focused on his task at hand.
TINKTINKTINK!!!
Riesz flinched as several spiker rounds embedded themselves in the metal wall nearby, but he refused to allow himself to get distracted. Hurriedly removing the nozzle from the Marine’s chest, he hurtled the empty can of biofoam to the side and pulled out a bandage from a pouch on his belt. He tried to rip open the sterile packaging, but with the way his hands were shaking, it was all but impossible.
“Come on! Come on!” he snarled as he unsheathed his bayonet and readied himself to just cut the damn thing open.
CRACK!
BANGBANGBANG!
Both bayonet and bandage went flying out of his hands as Riesz violently twisted to avoid taking a spiker round directly to the face. This time however, the spiker fire was responded with automatic rifle fire, and Riesz looked up in time to see the Brute that had fired the initial shots toppling over backwards, back down the staircase from whence it came, bleeding from multiple holes that had magically appeared in its chest.
A hand landed on Riesz’s shoulder and began insistently tugging at him.
“DOC! WE GOTTA GO!” the Army trooper that had decided to make herself his personal bodyguard yelled into his ear. She hadn’t actually introduced herself, but her IFF tags had designated her as one ‘A. Waldron, CPL.’ “COME ON, DOC!”
“I’m almost done here!” Riesz yelled back as he yanked his shoulder free. “I just need a minute!”
“DOC, WE AIN’T GOT A MINUTE! WE’RE ABOUT TO GET OVERRUN!”
“Then you go!”
“DOC, YOU KNOW I CAN’T DO THAT!” Waldron insisted. “I gotta – OH sh*t, GET DOWN!”
Riesz was shoved hard to the ground as gunfire erupted over his head. Bullet casings began showering him, and he hastily threw himself over his patient to try and protect them from the hailstorm as Waldron emptied her magazine at the Brutes that were trying to force their way up the stairs.
“COME ON YOU DAMN APES!” Waldron was screaming. “YOU WANT SOME OF THIS!? COME AND – gurk!”
“God!” Riesz blanched as a metal spike sprouted from Waldron’s neck. The impact of the spiker round caused her to spin as she collapsed, and she landed hard on her side, blood squirting out from between her fingers as she reflexively grabbed her wound. Raw panic and fear flooded her eyes as she stared at Riesz, her breath coming out in gasps and croaks as her body attempted to force air through a respiratory tract that had just collapsed.
Riesz had no time to even begin to try and figure out how he was going to treat a wound that bad as his hands had his sidearm out of his chest holster and pointed downrange before he could even consciously register what was going on. He took a brief second to actually aim at the Brute Minor that was just beginning to reach the top of the stairs before opening fire.
Riesz’s aim was atrocious even under the best of circ*mstances, but taking fire with two patients bleeding to death right beside him only made things that much worse. He wasn’t even sure where half his bullets ended up whereas the few that did end up impacting near the Brute only ricocheted off the metal walls and handrail. Still, the gunfire was enough to cause the Brute to flinch and start to retreat back down the stairs so Riesz kept shooting.
Just as Riesz felt the slide on his pistol locking back, thick red blood abruptly coated the top of the staircase as he somehow and very accidentally managed to remove the Brute’s scalp with his last round. Automatically thumbing the mag release button, Riesz reached down to his belt to reload only to suddenly remember that had been his last mag. “Oh, crap!”
Dropping the now very expensive paperweight, he frantically looked around for another weapon only for his eyes to be immediately drawn to the red-colored cylindrical object hooked to Waldron’s body armor: a white phosphorus incendiary grenade.
Seizing the grenade, he thumbed the activation button, drew his arm back, and heaved the grenade as hard as he could. “WILLY PETE!”
The grenade bounced off the ceiling, landed on the top step, and exploded, throwing white, snow-like particles in all directions that sizzled the moment they touched something, setting fire to everything else and causing a huge cloud of smoke to instantly form. Riesz wasn’t sure how good Covenant armor was at protecting them from fire, but hopefully the white phosphorus would keep them back long enough for him to get the f*ck out of here with his patients.
“CORPORAL! COME ON, WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE!” Riesz started to yell, only to stop short upon seeing the unnatural stillness that had settled over Waldron, and the diluted, glazed over eyes that stared at nothing in particular. Riesz sharply inhaled, but all he could manage was a simple, “f*ck.”
For a moment, all he could do was just kneel there, staring at the body, but without warning, the entire building abruptly and violently shook, driving Riesz out of his stupor. He checked his first patient, and was relieved to find that at least he was still alive, abet, barely.
“Come on, Gunny, we gotta go!” Riesz urged to the unconscious man, grabbing him by back the back of his vest and began dragging him backwards. After a moment of thought though, Riesz snagged Waldron’s abandoned rifle, slinging it onto his back, before resuming his journey. He only glanced back one time, to stare regretfully at Waldron’s body lying abandoned in a pool of her own blood, but in his heart, Riesz knew there wasn’t anything else he could do for her: she was dead, and he was out of time.
Dragging his patient down the corridor as fast as he could, Riesz called forth a map of the area onto his HUD, trying desperately to figure out where the hell he was supposed to go. He and a small team of surviving UNSC service members had been falling back to the Asźod Ship Breaking Yards where supposedly a rally point for all remaining soldiers left on Reach could be extracted. However, during the course of their retreat, Gunnery Sergeant Kenzari had been hit and at Riesz’s urging, his two other Marine comrades had taken off towards the rendezvous in order to try and find a stretcher they could use. Unfortunately, Riesz had been too busy to notice what direction they had gone, and he was startled to realize he didn’t actually know where the rally point was, having just been following the Marines' lead.
“Goddammit, Yohannes,” Riesz breathlessly snarled under his breath, berating himself. “This is basic soldiering one oh one: all members of the unit should know where the f*ck they’re going in case they get separated!”
He glanced over his shoulder just in case his comrades magically appeared around the corner but there was no one there, and he just couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. He hadn’t seen neither hide nor hair of them since they had taken off… what, ten minutes ago? and he wasn’t sure why that was. There could have been a number of explanations. Perhaps they had been sidetracked. Perhaps a surviving officer had gotten a hold of them. Maybe they were pinned down. Maybe they were dead.
Or maybe they had taken off while the going was good, leaving him and his patient here to die.
That last thought, Riesz immediately discarded. While he didn’t know anything about that one Marine, Private Riley, he and Private First Class Dubbo had been fighting together alongside the remains of RCT-12 for the last week or so. And while that didn’t necessarily make them the best of friends, Riesz had gotten to know Dubbo well enough to know the Australian would never abandon a comrade in need. Not if he could do anything about it.
“Look: HUMAN!”
“KILL IT!”
“Ahh!” Riesz yelped as two Grunts abruptly appeared out of nowhere and started shooting with barely any warning. “Gunny- NO!”
Riesz reflexively dropped his patient as a plasma bolt splattered into the metal plating right beside him. Immediately realizing his mistake, Riesz reached out to grab a hold of him once more, but the plasma fire was beginning to pick up as the Grunts advanced on his position, and Riesz realized there was no way for him to both drag his patient and find cover at the same time. “Dammit! Gunny, stay right there, I’ll be right back!”
With that, Riesz practically scrambled away on his hands and knees, diving for cover behind a nearby metal column. The column was barely wide enough to cover his entire body, but Riesz didn’t exactly have time to complain. Drawing his rifle, he took a deep breath. “Alright you- ahh!”
Riesz’s war cry was immediately cut off as a plasma bolt slammed into the column just above his head, showering his helmet with sparks and bits of molten plasma, and forcing him back to cover at the same time. He curled unto himself, trying to make himself as small of a target as possible as plasma kept him pinned in place, unable to return fire or even run away. “Not good, not good!”
Nearly to the point of hyperventilating, Riesz tried to figure out a way out of this situation. He had to figure out a way to distract the Grunts so that he was no longer pinned down. Once he got out of cover, he could then close the distance, kill both aliens, after which, he would be able to get the hell out of here, hopefully with his patient in tow.
At the thought of his patient, Riesz recklessly glanced around the column to check on his status, only to watch in horror as Kenzari was struck in the side of the head by a stray bolt of plasma. The superheated material immediately incinerated the Marine’s face, burning through both skin and metal alike and turning the poor man’s head into a lump of charred flesh. He collapsed, with what was left of his helmet hitting the deck with a final thump.
At that, there was a break in the incoming fire, and Riesz could see the two Grunts glancing at other. One of them clearly made an “oops” motion, before both aliens started laughing. At that, Riesz saw red.
“YOU f*ckING SON OF A BITCH!” he screeched at the top of his lungs as he whirled around his cover and opened fire. He didn’t even bother aiming, he just started shooting from the hip. “GIVE ME A f*ckING CHANCE, YOU f*ckIN- YOU MOTHERf*ckIN- GAHHHH!!!!”
The two Grunts let out identical squeals of fear as they scattered, diving for whatever cover was available. Riesz had to admit, a small part of him couldn’t help but feel a primal sense of joy at the obvious terror the two Grunts were displaying. However, the vast majority of his brain was too focused on making sure both aliens died, and died hard.
“YOU f*ckS COME TO MY WORLD AND KILL MY PEOPLE AND YOU f*ckERS THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH IT!?!? YOU GODDAMN, MOTHERf*ckING, sh*t-EATING, SON OF A f*ckING whor*- “
click.
The mute sound of his rifle’s firing pin landing on an empty chamber cut through Riesz’s tirade and he glanced down to see his rifle’s ammo counter flashing a red “zero” at him. “Uh oh!”
Riesz tossed his rifle to the side and hurtled himself to the ground as the two Grunts emerged from cover, leaving their plasma pistols at him and-
“DOC, STAY DOWN!”
Riesz instinctively wrapped his head with his arms as three automatic weapons opened up behind him. The barrage probably lasted all of three seconds but for Riesz, it felt like a lifetime.
“CLEAR!” he heard someone yell. “Riley, check those Grunts and make sure they’re permanently down. Dubbo, grab the Doc. We don’t have time to waste, so let’s move Marines!”
Riesz couldn't stop himself from flinching as a pair of hands grabbed a hold of him.
“Doc! You alright, mate?” someone yelled into his ear with a distinctively Australian accent. Riesz slowly turned his head, only to come face to face with Private First Class Chips Dubbo, one of the two Marines he had sent away earlier to find a stretcher.
At that, Riesz found his anger returning to him with full force and without thinking, he released it on the first person he saw.
“YOU!” he roared, leaping to his feet. “WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!?!? YOU PRICK! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”
He jabbed a trembling finger in the direction of Kenzari’s body.
At that, the worried expression on Dubbo’s face instantly transformed into one of sheer devastation, the sight of which caused Riesz’s anger to vanish like snow in a desert, leaving him feeling immensely guilty for his rash words. But before he could even begin to find the right words to apologize, a harsh voice grabbed everyone’s attention.
“Doc, enough! This is no one’s fault but the Covenant’s; there’s no sense in blaming each other!”
Riesz winced and turned to the speaker, some sort of Marine staff sergeant he had never seen before, though his IFF tags identified him as “M. Mobuto, SSgt.”
“I need everyone to focus up here,” Mobuto insisted. “Call sign ‘Noble’ is minutes away with the tier one asset in tow, but we have yet to recapture the LZ. We need to rally whatever’s left of the security force, kick the Brutes out so our birds can land, and then we can all get off this rock, got it?”
“Aye, Staff Sergeant.”
“Good. Riley!” Riesz glanced over his shoulder to see the other Marine he had sent away for the stretcher, Private Riley, standing over the torn up corpses of the Grunts. “Grab the Gunnery Sergeant's tags and whatever ammo he had left. Dubbo, break down that stretcher, looks like we’re not going to need it. Doc, is it just you?”
Riesz flinched as he thought about Waldron, and found he could only nod. Fortunately, Mobuto seemed to understand as all he asked next was, “You got a weapon?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Riesz started to say as he swooped down to retrieve the MA37 assault rifle he had salvaged from Waldron, only to find that at some point, the weapon had taken a hit from a plasma bolt and had been reduced to nothing more than a lump of melted plastic and metal. “Uh… never mind.”
“Take this then,” Mobuto ordered as he pulled out an M6E pistol from his drop leg holster and offered it to him. “If we get a chance, we'll get you a proper weapon, but in the meantime, keep your head down and stay behind us. Check?”
“Check.”
“Alright, let's move it out Marines!”
Mobuto immediately took off down the corridor, with Dubbo and Riley following closely on his heels. Riesz didn’t. Instead, he took one last look around the room, at all the blood splatters and bullets casings that littered the floor, as well as the bodies of both Waldron and Kensari.
“You Covenant bastards have a lot to answer for,” he growled before taking off.
The sounds of gunfire began filling Riesz’s ears once more as he chased after his comrades. The cacophony only started to grow the further they advanced into the complex until –
“FRAG OUT!”
Riesz automatically ducked at the call as they rounded the corner and found themselves in some sort of factory area filled with giant vats and catwalks. Directly in front of them and crouched behind a set of makeshift barricades were two Marines shooting down at targets unseen. As they approached, one of the Marines whirled around and leveled his rifle at them, but quickly withdrew once he realized who they were.
“Staff Sergeant!” the man called out, relief to evident in his voice.
“Corporal!” Mobuto began as he and the others ducked into cover beside them. “What's the situation?”
“We got Covies all over the LZ! They keep landing in Phantoms and we don’t have any way to stop them! My squad and I have been trying to make our way towards the landing pads, but the Covies just keep getting in our way! We ran into these guys ‘bout five minutes ago; we tried to outflank them, but they got more guys than we do!”
As the Corporal gave his report, Riesz cautiously glanced over the barricade at the ground below. Facing off against the Marines were maybe a handful of Jackals and Grunts, as well as two Elite Majors. All of the Covenant were currently taking cover behind a number of steel columns and pieces of machinery, but even as Riesz watched, a Grunt abruptly charged out of cover and began moving up.
“The Covies are moving up!” Reisz warned as he leveled his sidearm and began taking aim.
“DOC, GET DOWN!”
Riesz's bullet pinged off the ceiling as he was roughly knocked to the ground. He could feel the heat from the plasma bolt as it passed within centimeters of his unprotected face and he knew if he hadn’t been knocked over, he would taken that round straight to the head.
“Doc, you gotta stay down!” Riley was yelling, even as Dubbo hastily began returning fire. “You’re the corpsman! You go down, we all go down! Leave the fighting to us grunts!”
“Not going to argue with that!” Riesz yelled back and Riley nodded, before climbing off him and joining Dubbo and the other Marine as all three of them attempted to regain fire superiority.
With nothing else to do, Riesz turned back to Mobuto and the Corporal in time to hear Mobuto asking, “What's the word on call sign Noble?”
“Last I heard, Noble had just made it past the Commonwealth, and were on their way towards Warehouse Three!” the Corporal yelled back. “From there, I think they were headed to Platform Delta where they’re supposed to get extracted by some birds from the Autumn!”
“Do they still have the package?”
Whatever the Corporal was about to say was immediately cut off when someone very abruptly screamed, “CORPSMAN!”
Riesz perked up and immediately spotted the source of the cry. Sitting on another catwalk ten meters away had been another two Marines laying down fire. Now one of the Marines was laying on the deck, writhing in pain, while the other was looking around frantically for help. Riesz turned to Mobuto.
“Sergeant, request permission to- “
“Wait for us to lay down some suppressing fire!” Mobuto interrupted. “Dubbo, Riley: go with the Doc and give him a hand. Corporal Goddard, Private Mendoza: standby to give covering fire on my mark!”
Riesz hastily holstered his sidearm in order to have his hands free while he ran.
“COVERING FIRE!”
An orchestra of noises flooded Riesz's ears as three MA5B rifles opened up on the Covenant below. Above the roar of gunfire, Riesz could just barely make out Mobuto screaming, “Go, Doc, go!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Before he could be consciously aware of what he was doing, Riesz was on his feet and charging towards his next patient. He could hear the sound of an Elite screaming out orders in the distance, as well as the sound of bullets ricocheting followed by the retort of plasma fire, but Riesz ignored it all and instead focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
“CORPSMAN!”
Riesz threw himself to the ground next to the screaming Marines, his kneepads banging hard against the metal plating. He was already unslinging his medkit from his back even as he called out, “Where's he hit!?”
The unwounded Marine, B. Hosky, PFC according to his tags, looked up with a relieved look on his face.
“Doc! It’s Miller – “ as if that name meant anything to Riesz – “he got hit in the stomach! f*cking plasma burned right through his plating and… Christ, he's f*cked up!”
“Give me room!”
Not waiting for Hosky to react, Riesz roughly shoved the man aside and began a quick visual evaluation of his patient. Male, nineteen to twenty years of age, plasma shot to the lower belly. Was screaming in pain a moment ago, but was now unconscious. Concerning.
“Hey! You give this man any painkillers!?” Riesz demanded, even as he worked on cutting the melted composite material away from the rest of the chest plate so he could remove the armor without taking any of the damaged tissue with it.
“No!” Hosky yelled back but Riesz hardly noticed as he scanning the wound with a critical eye. Third degree thermal burns surrounded by second degree burns partially as a result of the melting armor… no external bleeding…
Removing Miller's backpack, Riesz shoved it under his knees in order to try and elevate his legs a bit before reaching into his medkit and digging out a triangle bandage. Ripping open the packet with his teeth, Riesz carefully eased Miller up so he could wrap the sterile cloth around his abdomen, loosely tying it together so it didn’t fall off. Activating his helmet mounted flashlight, he hurriedly leaned over to check Miller's airways.
Miller seemed to be breathing alright, so Riesz quickly checked his heart rate. Deciding it was safe to give him some painkillers, Riesz pulled out his case of medication and grabbed his autoinjector and inserted a pre-drawn dose. Jabbing Miller in the leg, he tossed the injector away before pulling out a permanent marker and very visibly making a note onto the back of Miller's hand, just in case another corpsman came by.
“Hey!” Riesz yelled, grabbing Hosky by his pant leg to get attention. “Where's the casualty collection point!?”
Hosky gave him a funny look. “Are you kidding? We got Covies all over the damn place, and not enough men! We don’t have a CCP!”
“Well, this guy is a priority! He needs to be evacuated!”
“The only way left off this damn rock is on the Pillar of Autumn and the only way on there is if we can clear these landing pads for our birds to land!”
Riesz growled under his breath. “I’m not leaving him here!”
“I didn’t say that, but we need to figure out a way to bring him with us!”
“Dubbo!” Riesz immediately snapped. “I need that stretcher!”
Dubbo stopped shooting for a moment. “What?”
“The stretcher!” Riesz snapped, pointing at the collapsible stretcher Dubbo was carrying on his back. “I need it!”
“Got it! Oye! Riley! Cover me, I’m helpin' the Doc!”
“I got your cover, right here baby! RAAHHHH!” Riley roared as he fired another burst downrange.
Dubbo ducked and dashed over to Riesz. Riesz didn’t even wait for him to bend over, he just reached up and started tugging the stretcher off Dubbo's back. With practiced ease, he extended it and locked it in place. ”Dubbo, grab his legs! You! Hosky! Grab him by the shoulders! I’ll support his center. I’m going to yell ‘three, two, one, lift’ and then we put him on that stretcher! Got it?”
“Yeah, let’s do this!” Hosky impatiently yelled, replying on behalf of both Marines.
Riesz flinched as a plasma bolt splattered against the wall nearby but quickly recovered. Shoving his arms under Miller so that the man's back was resting on his forearms, he braced himself. “Alright. Three, two, one, LIFT!”
All three men began lifting at the same time, doing their best to avoid jarring Miller. Together, they were able to get him onto the stretcher.
“Alright, Dubbo and Hosky, you’re my stretcher bearers!” Riesz commanded as he grabbed Miller's abandoned rifle. “Riley, you’re our security!”
“I don’t know where you think you’re going, Doc, but we still got a ton of bad guys between us and that platform!” Riley warned as he ducked to reload.
Riesz poked his head around their cover and swore. From where he was kneeling he could see the corpses of at least one Elite and maybe three Grunts, but that still left nearly six other aliens they needed to deal with. Not an easy prospect even on the best of days, but when bearing a stretcher? Impossible.
“We gotta kill these guys before we go anywhere,” Riesz declared.
“What do you think we've been trying to do, you damn swabbie!?” Hosky snarled as he pulled out a grenade and armed it. “Frag out!”
Riesz waited for the explosion before hastily standing up and pumping a few rounds in the Covenant's direction. None of them landed anywhere near where the Covenant were, and he was forced to duck as a barrage of plasma came flying back his way.
“Doc, what did I just say about leaving the fighting to us grunts?” Riley groaned as Riesz hit the ground.
“Well, it didn’t look like you jarheads were doing anything!” Riesz shot back as he reloaded.
“Goddammit, we need more firepower!” Hosky complained. “Anyone got anymore grenades?”
“Here, mate, take ‘em” Dubbo yelled.
“What we need is for Noble to get their asses over here!” Riley snarled. “Where the hell are they!?”
In lieu of a response, Riesz grabbed his radio. “Snake 1-7, this Angel 3-1 Mike, come in.”
“Go ahead 3-1,” Mobuto immediately replied.
“1-7, I got a priority casualty, need medivac. What's the ETA on call sign Noble, over?”
“ETA: momentarily!”
“AIIIEEEEEEE!!!”
The sound of Covenant Grunts screaming immediately had all assembled UNSC forces bring their weapons to bear, in case the Grunts were beginning a charge. They weren't, however it took Riesz's exhausted mind several long moments to process what he was seeing.
Two heavily armored figures had seemingly just appeared among the Covenant formation. Both were wearing what almost looked like heavily modified ODST armor, however one had a reddish tint to their armor and was covered in a wide assortment of ordnance and weapons, while the other was clad almost entirely in gray. Both figures were attacking the Covenant with a speed and gusto that left Riesz struggling to catch up. And then, before he even really had time to blink, all Covenant soldiers were dead and the two figures were sprinting for the exit. As they took off, Riesz happened to notice the gray one had some sort of glowing blue cylinder attached to their lower back.
Astonished and unable to process what he had just seen, all Riesz could do was exclaim, “What the heck was that!?”
He happened to glance over at Dubbo as he said that, only to see the wide grin that threatened to split the Marine's face in half.
“Crikey, Doc: those were Spartans!” Dubbo cheered and at once, Riesz understood. He, like everyone else, had of course heard about Spartans and their legendary feats. But Riesz had never seen one in person and it was one thing to read about what the Spartans might have done, but it was another thing entirely to actually see them in action for himself.
“That was Noble!” Mobuto roared as he ran past them with Goddard and Mendoza in tow as they trailed after the Spartans. “They're headed for Platform D! Come on Marines, they’re going to need some backup! MOVE!”
“But… they’re Spartans,” Riesz overhead Riley protesting. “They don’t need backup, especially from the likes of us.”
“No, but they’re the only chance we've got at getting off this planet,” Riesz pointed out. “Come on!”
That spurred them into action. Riesz anxiously double checked his patient to make sure he was still alright before Dubbo and Hosky grabbed the stretcher and together, all four of them took off, trying to catch up with everyone else. Fortunately, it proved frighteningly easy to stick to the right path as it appeared that the Spartans were as skilled fighters as the stories and propaganda claimed: all Riesz and his companions had to do was keep following the trail of destruction and corpses the two fighting machines had left in their wake until –
“ -rigged the mass driver up top. We lose that, the Autumn will have no covering fire. She'll never make it to orbit.”
Riesz blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change in lighting only to find they had emerged out onto an open landing platform. He looked around to see the two Spartans talking to some Marine butterbar, who was giving them a quick rundown of the situation.
“Noble to Keys,” Riesz heard someone say over the open channel on his radio, and it took him a moment to realize it was one of the Spartans. He had to admit, he was slightly disappointed: he had honestly expected the Spartan's voice to be, well, deeper than what it actually was. “We're at the pad.”
“Copy, Noble,” someone else replied. Probably a high ranking officer like a captain or an admiral, if Riesz had to guess just based on the authoritative way the man spoke. “My Pelican’s ready. Clear an LZ and I’ll met you there.”
“Will do, sir.” With that, Riesz watched as the Spartan in red turn to the one in gray. Realizing that the two warriors were probably about to discuss something personal and or classified, Riesz force himself to turn his attention to the Lieutenant instead, even though he desperately wanted to know more about what the Spartans were talking about.
“Lieutenant!” Riesz cried out, catching the man's attention.
“Whoa, who the hell are you and where did you come from!?” the Lieutenant immediately exclaimed.
“HM2 Riesz, Navy Medical Detachment, RCT-12,” Riesz hurriedly rattled off. “Sir, I got a priority wounded that needs evacuating! He needs ‘on' that Pelican!”
“ISR is picking up on the approach of multiple Phantoms, so he's not going anywhere until we clear the pad!” the Lieutenant warned. “Stash him in the building over there under the observation post, then be on the alert, Doc! We're going to be needing you!”
“Aye, Lieutenant!”
Riesz glanced at the building in question. Mobuto was already in the observation post with a couple other Marines, getting ready for the coming onslaught. Meanwhile, scattered around the landing platform were a handful of Marines moving ammo and setting up machine guns, getting ready to defend themselves. There weren’t nearly as many as Riesz had hoped to see.
“Come on, Doc!” he heard Hosky impatiently yelling behind him. “We got to get ready!”
“Yeah, yeah: I’m going!”
Riesz led the way into the building, the doors automatically sliding open for him. Inside, he was surprised to see two Marines already there. One was sitting on the ground while the other was kneeling beside him, tending to him. The kneeling Marine automatically looked up at the sound of the door opening and immediately brightened upon laying eyes upon Riesz.
“Doc!” the Marine exclaimed. “I need you to check my buddy!”
And before Riesz could protest, the Marine seized his arm and dragged him over to the other man.
“A Jackal kicked him into the wall,” the man was explaining as Riesz dropped down to a crouch. “Unfortunately, Cruz wasn’t wearing a helmet, so he hit his head pretty hard. I think he's got a concussion!”
“Any other corpsman take a look at him yet?” Riesz distractedly asked as he pulled out a pen light and began shining it into Cruz's eyes, seeing his reaction. Definitely a concussion.
“Nah, I think you’re the only corpsman around.”
That caught Riesz's attention. “What?”
“You’re the only medic around,” the other man repeated and Riesz found himself inhaling sharply. That… wasn’t good.
“Doc, where do you want us to put Miller?”
Riesz glanced over his shoulder at Dubbo and Hosky still holding the stretcher.
“Move that shelf and put him by the wall,” Riesz absentmindedly commanded as he frantically worked over what he had just been told and what that meant for him. If he really was the only corpsman on this landing pad, that meant he would be responsible for any and all wounded moving forward. Against the Covenant? That was going to be a lot of work for one man. Riesz was going to need some help. And a lot of medical supplies.
“Anyone go through TCCC or CLS?” he asked.
The first Marine raised his hand. “Um, I did TCCC. I didn’t pass, but…”
“Good enough,” Riesz decided with a sigh. “Alright, Dubbo, Riley, and Hosky, you guys are going to be my stretcher bearers. I want you guys outside and scattered around the pad. Anyone gets hit, you bring them here to me. Riley, while you’re out there, go find the Skipper and let him know I’m setting up a CCP right here in this room. You,” he turned back to the first Marine, “What's your name?”
“Lance Corporal Stravos.”
“Corporal, you’re going to be my assistant, as well as my security. You watch my back as I work; any Covies walk through these doors, you give ‘em two to the chest and one to the head, got it?”
“You got it, Doc!”
The sound of a massive cannon going off caused everyone in the room to jump.
“That'll be the mass driver!” Dubbo declared. “We got hostiles!”
“Alright, let’s get moving!” Riesz urged.
“Wait!” he yelled as a thought occurred to him. “IFAKs! Give them to me!”
All the Marines hastily removed their individual first aid kits and tossed them over to Riesz.
“We got incoming Phantoms!” Hosky reported from where he was standing by the door, looking outside. “Better get ready for the rush, Doc!”
Riesz jerked his head in acknowledgement as the other men dashed outside, leaving him alone with his patients. He took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t really work.
“Corporal, start emptying these IFAKs and organizing their contents so I got easy access to them,” Riesz ordered as he turned to deal with the patients he had now. Doing so, he happened to spot a number of medkits mounted on the walls. “And grab those medkits, we're going to need them.”
“HERE THEY COME!”
The sound of gunfire immediately followed that shout, causing Riesz to flinch.
“Here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself before turning to Cruz. “You! Sit down and let me see your head while I still have a chance!”
Ripping open a bandage, Riesz began wrapping it around Cruz's head as the fighting began to break out in earnest outside. There weren’t any windows in this room, so he could only begin to guess as to how bad it was.
“We're going to be okay, right Doc?” he heard Stravos nervously ask him.
“We got a couple of Spartans backing us up,” Riesz reported, realizing if Stravos had been inside this entire time, he wouldn’t have seen them.
It worked. Stravos visibly brightened.
“Spartans? Tell you aren't kidding!” Stravos exclaimed, relief evident in his voice and posture. “Are they as good as the stories say?”
“Guess we're about to find out!”
Cruz finally situated, Riesz turned his attention to Miller, quickly checking over his vitals in an effort to distract himself from the battle outside, but it wasn’t easy. All Riesz could think about was if they were going to make it or not, and who their first casualty was going to be.
The gunfire continued to grow in pitch, and the platform began shaking from explosions; more than likely, a result of Phantoms or Spirits firing their plasma cannons at the defenders on the ground as they approached. Above it all, the roar of the mass driver continued to ring out, reassuring Riesz that they at least had some fire support, however limited. Unfortunately, aside from that, Riesz’s quick scan of the pad had revealed previous little else.
Inevitably, Riesz's thoughts drifted to that of the Spartans. On one hand, Riesz was thrilled to have them around and the realization there were two of them filled him with so much hope he thought he just might burst. On the other hand though, the more rational side of his mind was doing it’s best to temper his enthusiasm. Riesz was old enough to understand when it came to the war, it was to be expected that any news piece would contain the usual propaganda, only amplified by a factor of ten in order to ‘maintain morale.’ So, all the stories about Spartans he had read and heard, he had figured had to be taken with a boulder of salt.
Of course, his brief interaction with them a few minutes ago did prove to him there was at least some truth to the stories he had heard. But, at the same time, a single, thirty second firefight wasn’t exactly enough to reveal all of their capabilities. Maybe they were like cheetahs in the sense they were fast, but couldn’t sustain it. Or they were all bark but no bite. Who could say, really?
“Corpsman!”
Riesz's sidearm was halfway out of its holster before he registered who was doing the shouting. The door hissed open, revealing Hosky supporting a wounded Marine.
“Put him right here! Where's he hit!?” Riesz barked.
“Plasma bolt to the upper thigh!” Hosky reported as he eased the groaning Marine to the floor. “Minor shrapnel wounds to the face!”
“Got it!” Riesz yelled as he turned to address the more serious of the wounds, the plasma wound to the leg. Pulling out a pair of scissors, he began cutting away the pants leg. “How you feeling, Marine?”
“f*ck! This f*cking hurts like a son of a bitch!” his patient groaned.
“I know, I’m going to get you fixed up. Corporal, I need a triangle bandage!”
The cloth was roughly shoved into his hand and Riesz hurriedly wrapped it around the Marine's wound. “Biofoam! And prep an autoinjector with one pre-set dose of ketamine!”
Taking the can, Riesz sprayed a bit of foam onto his fingertips and began liberally applying them to his patient's face.
“Am I good to go, Doc?” his patient demanded to know, his eyes glued on the door.
“Not a good idea to go back there with that leg of yours!” Riesz warned.
“I don’t think we have a choice!”
The entire building shook as something exploded nearby and Riesz realized the man was right. They didn’t have enough men to allow anyone else out of the fight.
“Alright, you’re good to go!” he barked as he jammed the autoinjector into the man's arm.
“Thanks, Doc!” the man hobbled to the door, only to nearly get knocked over as Dubbo and Riley came charging into the room bearing a heavily wounded man between them.
“Doc! Turner took some shrapnel to the chest! Got blood everywhere!” Dubbo yelled.
“sh*t! Put him right here!” Riesz bark and immediately began checking the man over. “Dubbo, help me remove his chest plate. Stravos, get a PVC and a bag of plasma set up and ready to roll. Riley, get the f*ck out of here, you’re in the way!”
Removing Turner's chest plate, Riesz barely hesitated as blood began gushing out from the wound. “Dubbo, start applying some biofoam here and here! Stravos, give me the IV then get me a chest seal and an OPA. One of those ‘J' shaped devices!” he added as he began searching Turner's arm for a vein. Find one, he jabbed the IV into it and opened up the valve, watching as plasma began draining down the tube. “Alright, Dubbo, that's good! I’m going to apply this chest seal, then I’m going to need you to help open his mouth so I get can the OPA in. Stravos, need an oximeter on his finger yesterday!”
“CORPSMAN!”
Hosky came barging in with another man in tow.
“LT's been hit! Shrapnel damn near took his f*cking left off!” he warned and Riesz glanced at the man and immediately spotted the man's left leg, which was barely being held together by a few strands of flesh. Blood was gushing everywhere.
“Slap a TQ on that sh*t to stop the bleeding, then begin applying all the biofoam you got! Stravos, need that bag valve mask!” Riesz barked. “Hey, Hosky! Mark the exact time you put that tourniquet on! Dubbo, get back outside!”
Moving into the spot Dubbo just vacated, Riesz wrapped the mask around Turner's face and strapped it down so it didn’t fall off. “No, Hosky, put that higher up or it isn’t going to work! Stravos, give me a reading on Turner's BPM! I need – “
“Corpsman!”
Riesz jerked his head up as Riley barraged into the room, bring with him another Marine who was screaming his head off.
“What'd we got!?” Riesz yelled to be heard over the man's cries of pain.
“Dunno! He just started hugging his stomach and screaming about how it hurts!”
“Stravos, get another bag of plasma into Turner! Riley, let me take a look!”
Riesz hurriedly looked over the newcomer. To his surprise, he couldn’t immediately spot any wounds on the man. “Marine, what is wrong with you?”
“It hurts!” the man hollered. “Doc, make it stop!”
“What? What hurts!?” Riesz demanded. “No! Hosky, double that amount otherwise it’s not going to hold! Stravos, check Cruz and make sure he's still awake cause if he falls asleep with a concussion, there's no guarantee he'll wake up! Marine, talk to me! I can’t fix you if I don’t know what’s broken!”
“My stomach! It hurts! I can’t take it!” the Marine screamed and Riesz hurriedly shoved a hand under the man's armor, only to find nothing out of the ordinary.
“Dude, there's nothing wrong with you, get out of here!”
“You gotta give me some morphine, Doc!” the man insisted.
“Corpsmen haven't carried morphine in centuries, dude, and meds are for people with gunshot wounds!” Riesz snapped at him. “Riley, get this guy out of here!”
“Angel 3-1 Mike, this is Able 1-1, come in, over.”
Hearing Dubbo's distinct accent over the radio, Riesz keyed his mic. “Go for 3-1 Mike!”
“3-1, I gotta critically wounded out here, I need a stretcher, over!”
“Copy! What's your position?” Riesz demanded even as he snapped at Hosky to get his attention.
“North side!”
“Copy. Hosky, Dubbo needs a stretcher, north side!”
“I’m on it!”
Hosky dashed out of the room and Riesz took his place by the Lieutenant's side.
“LT, can you hear me?” Riesz as he checked his BPM. The LT's head rolled towards him, but he didn’t say a word. “Stravos, prep an IV and get some fluids into the LT. How's Turner looking?”
“I don’t really know, Doc, I’m not exactly trained for this,” Stravos admitted.
“Switch!”
Riesz took Stravos's place over Turner. Even though the biofoam was in place over his chest, Turner's blood pressure was dropping and he couldn’t figure out why. “Stravos, as soon as you’re done with the LT, I’m going to need – “
“Doc, where do you want him!?”
Riesz jerked as Dubbo and Hosky charged into the room bearing a loaded stretcher.
“Over there!” Riesz snapped as he dashed over to the newcomer. He absentmindedly noted that it was the first Marine he had treated for a leg wound when the firefight first began.
“CORPSMAN! I NEED A CORPSMAN OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!”
“Hell,” Riesz swore as a call for a corpsman came over the radio. “Hosky, get out there and figure out what’s up. “Dubbo, what’s wrong with this guy?”
“Got pinged in the neck by shrapnel!”
Riesz glanced down at his patient, only to immediately notice something wrong. Touching his fingers against the Marine’s neck, he waited, then snarled. “Dubbo, I can’t do anything for this guy, he’s gone. Take him outside.”
“What?” Dubbo exclaimed.
“He’s a KIA! Get him out, now!” Riesz snapped he turned his attention back to Turner.
“Bloody hell!”
“Doc, DOC!” Stravos yelled as he slapped Riesz on the arm. “Cruz just broke out in convulsions! I think he's having a seizure!”
“What!?”
“Doc!” Riley roared as he came crashing into the room, dragging Mendoza with him. “Mendoza’s been hit! Spiker round to the right shoulder!”
“Corpsman! We need a corpsman here in the observation tower!”
Riesz inhaled sharply as he started to feel like he was being pulled in multiple directions. There was just too many wounded Marines trickling in, and not enough medical personnel to deal with them all. And based on all fighting taking place outside, it was only going to get worse. There was only one thing Riesz could do at this point.
“Stravos! We’re beginning triage!” Riesz barked as he took a look around the room and reluctantly began categorizing all of his patients. He always hated to do this; he had enlisted as a corpsman because he had always wanted to save lives, not take them. To have to look at someone and make a conscious decision to stop treating them, knowing that doing so was to condemn them to death was… difficult, to say the least.
Unfortunately, the one thing that had been beaten into his head during ‘A’ School was that, as a corpsman participating in the worst war humanity had seen since the beginning of time, he simply couldn’t save everyone. And that trying to do so could and would cause more fatalities in the long run as trying to treat soldiers that couldn’t be save meant soldiers with light injuries were being neglected.
No, at this point, Riesz had no choice: he was going to have to sacrifice a few lives in order to save that much more.
“Stravos, stop all treatment on Turner and take him outside. He’s expectant,” Riesz commanded. Ignoring the slight waver in his own voice, he turned his attention to Mendoza and began categorizing his wound. Spiker round to the right shoulder where the arm connected with the torso. Delayed.
“What? What are you talking about? We can still help him!” Stravos demanded to know and Riesz felt a surge of anger over the fact Stravos was apparently determined to make this that much harder.
“Don’t f*cking question me, Lance Corporal! Turner’s not going to make it and we can’t waste any more time or effort on him, not with everyone else streaming in! Take him outside, NOW!”
Stravos notably hesitated, and Riesz was just about ready to kick him out of his CCP when Stravos finally said in a meek voice, “Aye, Doc.”
“Riley!” Riesz snapped and gestured at Mendoza’s wound. “Leave the spike in, but stuff the area around it with biofoam to prevent any of the blood from leaking out. Then wrap it up tight with this bandage; goal now is to get as many Marines back into the fight, we’ll worry about actually fixing it later.”
Without waiting for a response, Riesz dashed over to Cruz to try and figure what was going on. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stravos lifting Turner in a bridal carry with a very somber look on his face, and he felt a twinge of guilt which he immediately suppressed. He could feel guilty later: at the moment, he simply couldn’t afford to.
Just as he threw himself onto the ground next to Cruz, Cruz abruptly went still, much to Riesz’s alarm. Reaching out, he placed his fingers around Cruz's neck to feel for a heartbeat, only to realize he couldn’t find one. “Hell. Hey, Riley! Cruz has gone into cardiac arrest! I need your help!”
“I’m still working on Mendoza!” Riley yelled back.
“sh*t!” Riesz grabbed his radio. “Able 1-1 or Ester 2-4, I need one of you back at the CCP right now! Hey! Anyone copy?”
Without waiting for response, Riesz moved to remove Cruz's armor as fast as possible so he could have unimpeded access to Cruz's chest. Behind him, he heard the doors hissing open, and he distractedly glanced up, expecting to see either Dubbo or Hosky standing there, bearing another patient.
It was neither. Instead, a slightly wounded Covenant Brute Minor stood with its back to the doorway. The Brute glanced over its shoulder, looking mildly confused at the scene that had been abruptly revealed.
“Oh god... contact, CONTACT!” Riesz roared as he whipped out his sidearm and started shooting at the same time the Brute did.
The room erupted into chaos as Marines, both wounded and not, scrambled for cover as the Brute sprayed the room down with Spiker fire. Riesz felt himself screaming in pain as a hot metal spike skimmed along his neck, leaving a shallow cut. At the same time, a single spike punched right through Cruz's newly exposed chest, causing blood to immediately begin spilling out however there wasn’t anything Riesz could do at the moment.
“Shoot ‘im, shoot ‘im, shoot ‘im!” Riesz desperately screamed at the top of his lungs, even as Riley hefted his rifle and started to do just that.
Frantically ejecting his empty magazine and shoving a fresh one in, Riesz racked the slide and resumed shooting as fast as he could, even as the Brute began backing out of the room. Unfortunately for the Brute, it was too late: one last burst from Riley’s rifle caught the Brute in the face, blowing the alien’s brains out the back of their head, painting the doorway in red. The ground visibly shook as the nearly five hundred and fifty kilogram alien hit the deck, before the doors quietly slid shut, cutting the view off from the rest of the room.
Wheezing from all the adrenaline now running through his veins, Riesz at least still had the presence of mind to reload before shoving his sidearm back into its holster.
“Marines, sound off!” he hoarsely yelled. “Who’s still alive?”
“Riley!” Riley yelled as he fumbled with trembling hands to reload. “f*ck! This! sh*t!”
“Mendoza?”
“Still alive, but I still got a spike in my arm,” he groaned.
“Riley, see if you can’t deal with that,” Riesz commanded. “LT?”
The LT waved from where he had dove on top of Miller to try and protect him from the fire.
“Mendoza, if you can stand, watch the damn door. Riley! I need a can of biofoam!” Riesz barked as went to work on Cruz, trying to stem some of the bleeding. A small part of him wondered if it was even worth it: he hadn’t even had a chance to address Cruz's cardiac arrest and now the man had been shot? It wasn’t looking good for him.
As Riesz went to work, the door abruptly hissed open once more, and he felt his heartrate spike as he grabbed his sidearm. This time, however, it was actually Hosky, who looked around the room with an astonished look on his face at the bodies lying on the floor and all the spikes sticking out from the walls.
“What the… what happened!?”
“What happened? We got jumped! What happened to you!? I thought you guys were supposed to be holding the Covenant back?” Riesz demanded to know. “Hell, didn’t you have two Spartans to help? How the hell did this happen?”
Hosky hesitated, still looking shocked. “It’s… hard to explain. But the area is clear and we’ve got Pelicans incoming for an extract. Staff Sergeant Mobuto says to start getting the wounded ready to move.”
Riesz sighed as he reached out and grabbed Cruz’s tags. Cruz had been shot close enough to the heart that it didn’t matter what Riesz did: Cruz was gone. “Riley.”
Riley jumped and looked up. “Yeah, Doc?”
“Grab the other end of the stretcher. You and I will carry Miller out. Mendoza, can you walk?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Grab the Lieutenant. Hosky, help him. Let’s hurry it up guys. The sooner the wounded get to an actual medical facility, the better chance they’ll have at surviving.”
Without another word, Riesz bent over and grabbed the front of the stretcher. He waited until Riley had grabbed the other end, before heading for the door. Walking outside, he nearly tripped over Stravos’s body. Riesz stopped to look. Stravos had been shot right through the left eye, probably as he was laying Turner down. The bolt had passed through the left hemisphere of the brain, passed through the longitudinal fissure, and exited out the other side. Death was… near instantaneous.
Riesz stood there for a moment as he waited for the grief to hit, only to find he felt… nothing. Too much had occurred today for him to really be able to process and at this point, he was just done. He just…
“PELICAN INBOUND!” someone yelled, snapping Riesz out of his funk. Tapping into whatever fuel reserves he had left, Riesz stepped over Stravos’ body and headed outside where...
…woah.
Riesz found himself stopping once more, this time for a far different reason. He had been thinking that the fact that a single Brute had managed to break through the defenses and engage Riesz and his CCP directly didn’t exactly bode well for the so-called fighting prowess of the Spartans. Now, however, looking at the aftermath of the battle, Riesz had to wonder how the Covenant hadn’t broken through earlier.
There were Covenant bodies everywhere. Almost every surface imaginable had some sort of alien corpse or blood stain or entrails strewn over it. And it wasn’t just the lesser aliens like Grunts and Jackals; from where Riesz was standing, he could see nearly twenty of the larger aliens. And those were the only ones that were intact. By a conservative estimate, there were probably body parts for another ten or eleven Elites and Brutes. It was… astonishing, almost, in a rather morbid way.
Standing in the midst of all this carnage, was the gray Spartan. The Spartan itself didn’t look injured, and instead, just stood there reloading their entire arsenal of weapons.
“Doc!”
Riesz jumped and looked around wildly at the shout, only to see Sergeant Mobuto standing nearby, waving at him.
“Come on, Doc, we got a Pelican inbound!” Riesz heard him shout and point towards the sky where two Pelicans were, one holding position and providing security, while the other was headed directly for the landing pad. “Let’s get everybody on board before it’s too late!”
Riesz nodded and sprinted for the pad, reaching it just as the Pelican landed and began lowering its ramp. At once, four figures came charging out: a Navy captain based on the rank insignia he was wearing on his service uniform, and three Naval Infantry guards. Without waiting for permission, Riesz just charged onboard, quickly finding a spot on the deck to put the stretcher down. Behind him, he could hear the Captain approaching the gray Spartan and start to say something, but Riesz was too distracted trying to get his patients strapped in to pay any heed.
He only looked up when he heard the Captain abruptly yell out: “Cruiser, adjusting heading for theAutumn! Noble Four, I need fire on that cruiser or we'renotgetting out of here! Do you copy?"
“You’ll have your window, sir,” Riesz heard a gruff voice reply, and as the Captain, the gray Spartan, and the guards rushed up the Pelican ramp, he took that as his cue to find a seat and quickly strap himself in.
“Bridge, this is the Captain,” the Captain called into his radio. “We have the Package. Returning to theAutumn, over."
“Copy that.”
Riesz let out a mute sigh of relief. They were finally getting out of here.
FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZ!
“Look out, look out!” the Pelican pilots began screaming and Riesz felt his heart leap to his throat as he looked out the co*ckpit window in time to see the Pelican that had been providing security burst into flames as it was struck several times by plasma cannon fire. As the Pelican cartwheeled towards the ground, a single Covenant Phantom flew by overhead, and for a moment Riesz was convinced he was toast, and that everything he had just done in the last thirty minutes was for nothing.
But the Phantom didn’t fire. Instead, it flew towards the main facility, coming to a halt over the mass driver –
“Oh, sh*t!” Riesz yelped as he realized where the Covenant were going. “Come on, we gotta get out of here!”
Distracted as everyone was, he didn’t think anyone actually heard him, but then he heard one of the Sailors standing by the ramp scream out, “Lieutenant! Get on board! We gotta get the hell out of here!”
Riesz watched as the gray Spartan stare at them, a DMR in their arms.
“Negative,” the Spartan finally said, and to Riesz’s horror, added, “I have the gun.Good luck, sir."
The Navy Captain seemed to hesitate for a moment before replying, “...Good luck to you, Spartan."
With a simple gesture of his head, the Pelican began pulling away, leaving the Spartan alone on the platform.
“Wait, we’re not just going to leave them there, are we!?” Riesz couldn’t help but exclaim as the Captain walked towards the co*ckpit.
“I’m afraid we don’t have a choice, son,” the Captain gravelly replied. “Those are Elite Zealots up there; only a Spartan has the skills to fight their way to that gun and clear us a path. Pilots, get us to the Autumn!”
“Aye, sir!”
The Pelican took off towards a UNSC Navy cruiser that was sitting docked on the ground nearby. As they got closer, a shadow fell over the entire area, and Riesz glanced up to see an entire CCS-class battlecruiser approaching them, and he nervously swallowed.
“Cruiser, moving into position. I need it dead!" Riesz heard the Captain call out into his radio. At once, there was a brilliant flash, followed by a loud retort. "Mass driver won't crack those shields! Steady, Spartan!"
“Captain Keyes, incoming Phantoms and Banshees!” one of the pilots called out in warning as a number of Covenant aircraft began emerging from the bowels of the battlecruiser.
“Stay the course, Ensign,” Keyes barked. “Those ships aren’t here for us.”
Riesz nearly scoffed at that. They were on a Pelican; it wasn’t like they could do anything to any of those aircraft. It wouldn’t take but a second for any of the Covenant birds to shoot them down. But much to Riesz’s surprise, what Keyes predicted proved to be true: almost as one, all of the Covenant aircraft completely ignored them, and instead seemed to be more concerned about the mass driver the Spartan was now manning.
The reason why for the indifference was revealed to Riesz a moment later when a bright light filled the sky, and Riesz glanced skyward to see the CCS battlecruiser was beginning to charge its ventral energy projector.
“f*ck me dead, mate,” Riesz heard someone say, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Dubbo staring at the same thing he was, and he couldn’t help but nodded his head in agreement.
Fortunately, it would seem that Keyes was made of sterner stuff than Riesz was because instead of panicking, he yelled out instead, “Firenow, Lieutenant! Hit her in the gut!"
There was a brilliant flash of light and at once, a massive explosion ripped through the underside of the battlecruiser! Riesz didn’t even know who the first person was to start cheering, but he found himself joining along as Keyes yelled out, "Good guns, Spartan! All stations: brace for cast-off."
Another shadow began to envelope the Pelican, but this time it was only the ceiling of the Autumn’s hangar bay as the Pelican flew in and began landing. Outside, Riesz could hear the mighty roar of R7 thrust couplings, and the entire Pillar of Autumn began to shake as she struggling to take off. Over the chaos, Riesz managed to hear Keyes send one last message:
“This is the Pillar of Autumn. We’re away. And the Package is with us.”
As the Pelican touched down and secured itself to the hangar bay deck, Riesz unclipped his chin strap and removed his helmet. They had made it.
He had survived.
Now they could go home.
General Notes
- This chapter is set in the level, Pillar of Autumn, which is the tenth campaign level of Halo: Reach. While much of the dialogue, especially the ones that Keyes says, is taken word for word from the game, the specific setting isn’t actually based on any particular section of the level, and really just a blend of places.
- For the purpose of this story, Noble Six is male and wearing their default armor.
Chapter 8: Earth 2552: Dive
Chapter Text
New Mombasa, Kenya
Africa, Earth
20 October 2552
1602J
1stSgt Chislon Godwin, Company A, 103rd Shock Troop Battalion, 65th Division
Operation: BUMRUSH
The purple hull of the Covenant assault carrier stretched out below him, standing out like a cancerous sore or a malicious blight. With any luck though, within a few hours, that ship would either be lying on the ground in pieces, or ideally in the UNSC's hands, along with the Prophet of Regret himself, finally giving Humanity an edge in this never ending war. From there, it would just be a matter of leveraging their ill-gotten gains at which point, maybe this war could finally end. All they had to do was get on board that damn ship and kill everyone inside. Fortunately for humanity as a whole, the UNSC'S best warriors were on the case: Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. When all else failed, they wouldn't.
“We're locked on target!” Godwin barked to his troops. “ODSTs! It’s time we give these alien scum something to really regret!”
“OORAH!” came the cry from over a hundred elite and battle hardened Marines.
“One minute out,” Godwin announced, glancing at his HUD, only to see Alpha-Nine pulling away from the formation. “What the… where the hell are you going, Buck?”
He reached for his radio to ask, but his attention was abruptly drawn by the stream of energy suddenly flickering across the carrier's hull, and his eyes snapped towards his readouts and the warning flashing across the screen. “Oh my god… RADIATION ALERT!”
Without warning, a Slipspace window opened just forward of the carrier's bow, the rupture tearing through the surrounding area and cratering the ground.
“Holy sh*t! Did the Covies just set off a nuke!?!?” someone screamed.
“No! That's a Slipspace rupture! That carrier is about to jump from inside the city! Troopers! Pop- “
Before Godwin had a chance to finish his sentence, Regret's carrier launched itself into the rupture, and the Slipspace window abruptly collapsed upon itself…
…before exploding, sending a shockwave rippling through the air.
“EMP!” Godwin frantically screamed, as all the screens in his pod flashed red a moment before they shut down. “Stabilize, stabilize and pop chutes now!”
He had no idea how many of his troopers managed to hear him as he grabbed his emergency release and yanked on it, hard. His chute was ejected from the top of his pod, but without the retrograde rockets working, he was still falling way too fast. Glancing downwards, he could see his trajectory had him heading straight for the Indian Ocean, with the carrier no longer there to catch him.
“Oh sh*t, oh sh*t, OH sh*t!”
Godwin braced himself but just before he hit, something popped out of the water, breaking the surface tension. It didn't change the outcome though: his pod still slammed into the sea, he still felt his body lurching towards the roof as the pod came to an abrupt stop but his body didn't, he still felt the sharp blow to his head, and all the lights still disappeared as he sank… sank…
Sank.
XXX
First Sergeant Chislon Godwin woke up to the soft chirping of an alarm. With great reluctance, he forced his eyes open and looked around. He was sitting inside his pod, still held in place in his seat by his crash harness. There was no power; all his screens were black, and the lights were off. Outside of his pod and being held back by the thick armored glass of his hatch was a literal ocean of water, complete with seaweed sticking out from the seabed, colorful fishes and other marine life swimming by, and even a couple of bottom feeders that had latch themselves onto his pod windows. For a moment, Godwin thought he was at the aquarium with his nephews.
“Ah, hell,” he hissed as he began to recall the sequence of events that led him to his current situation. Operation: BUMRUSH, the carrier, the Slipspace rupture…
The EMP. Oh god, the EMP. It would have disabled everyone's pod. Orbital drops were dangerous enough as it were, but without power, without their arresting rockets, it was a suicide ride. How many of his Marines had died upon impact with the surface? How many of his Marines had been killed while they had been vulnerable and helpless? How many of his Marines had had their lives ended with having a chance to fight back? Without firing a single shot? Against a foe they couldn't even see?
How many of his men were still alive!?
Godwin inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down before he could spiral down all the way into the pit of despair. He had to focus; he had to accept the fact that for now, there wasn't anything he could do for his Marines. For now, he had to focus on his own situation, and figure out a way out of here. He needed more information before he could make a move and the best place to start was probably by figuring out where that alarm was coming from.
Unbuckling his harness, he reached over to his TACPAD to reset his HUD. Fortunately both devices were designed to be resistant to EMPs, so both immediately came to life. He waited as his HUD booted up, only to instantly be confront with the red flashing words, ‘Warning: Oxygen Low.’ For a few moments, he just stared, almost uncomprehending.
By default, he would have been drawing his air from the pod's oxygen tanks. As part of their survival packages, M8823 Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles were equipped with roughly two hours’ worth of oxygen. Assuming he had been unconscious that entire time, he would have been to extend that to maybe four, four and a half hours. Once that source had been depleted however, his armor's built in oxygen tanks would have kicked in, providing him with half an hour’s worth of O2, maybe more if, again, he was unconscious for that entire time. For him to be running low on oxygen, that would have meant… he'd been sitting at the bottom of the Indian Ocean for almost five hours.
How was that even possible!? There were supposed to be protocols in place for situations like this! This was not the first time a pod had missed the drop zone by a significant amount - nor will it be the last - which is why every unit that conducted an orbital drop had a platoon’s worth of combat search and rescue on standby, ready to deploy in the event of an emergency. Five hours was a long time, especially on Earth which had so many underwater sensors remaining from when the planet was the only celestial body humanity was occupying… somebody should have found him by now. Maybe they wouldn't have had the chance to extract him, but at least they should have attempted to make contact with him, or left some indication that they had been present, and the only reason why Godwin could think of why this hadn't happened yet was if everybody on the surface was… dead, or otherwise incapacitated.
Oh god! What if he was the only one left on this planet? What if no one else was around to come and rescue him, leaving him confined to this watery grave? What if-
Godwin inhaled sharply and forced himself to calm down. He was an ODST and a company first sergeant, goddammit, not some Boot fresh out of SOI. He needed to get a hold of himself, especially if oxygen was running low. Him hyperventilating would only cause him to run out that much faster. Checking his readouts, he could tell that him being awake was already using up his limited supply faster than his computer had predicted; initially it had indicated he had ten minutes of air left. But now it had just finished recalculating and as he watched in dull terror, the numbers on his clock started ticking down to… just under three minutes…
Numbness spread across his body as he stared at the number. Three minutes. Under three minutes. That was not enough time to do anything. Even if he knew his exact circ*mstances, it would probably take him exactly three minutes just to get out of his damn pod because of the water pressure. And once he was out, he would have to swim to the surface and who knew how deep under the water he was? Then he would have to figure out how far away from shore he was, determine whether it was under Covenant control or not as that would dictate how much time he would have to spend underwater, all of which would require oxygen. Oxygen he didn't have.
Godwin took a deep breath and let it out slowly as his situation began to sink in. There was no other way to look at it: he was doomed. He had regained conscious long enough to understand he was going to die, and then he was going to choke to death on the carbon monoxide his own body was generating. Honestly, it would have been more merciful if he had just remained knocked out. He could have peacefully drifted away into the endless void of death. Instead, he got to spend the last minutes of his life, sitting in his grave, counting down to the exact moment the devil came to collect his due, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Resigned, he felt himself settling further into his seat, eyes glued on the clock. He supposed in many ways, he shouldn't complain. After all, death had eluded him for so long. He’d been a Marine for ten years now, all of which was spent with the ODSTs, which made him an outlier among the armed forces. He had participated in just about every major UNSC campaign in that time: Miridem, Actium, Skopje, Paris IV, Ariel, Reach, and now Earth. In that time, he had seen countless of Marines – good Marines; young Marines – come and go, all taken long before their time. And many of them had not gone quietly. Or peacefully. At least he knew his death would be painless.
At the same time, it just didn't seem fair. He was a warrior, a Marine, an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper. He was supposed to die on the battlefield, fighting, surrounded by the corpses of his enemy. Not being put down like an old dog that nobody wanted anymore with all his magazines still fully loaded. Trapped in a watery grave. Alone. All because of a damn glitch.
It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And the worst thing was, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do except watch the clock run down and stare out his window at the fishes swimming around the big, black metal object that seemed to be headed his way -
His brain immediately came to a screeching halt as he did a quick double take. Was he starting to hallucinate due to a lack of oxygen? What the heck was that?
PING.
A slow smile began to creep across his face as the iconic noise of a sonar array reached his pod.
Maybe he wasn't going to die today after all…
xxx
“You’re lucky we happen to be passing by close enough to pick up on your transponder,” Godwin's self-appointed guide was saying as she led him through the narrow corridors of the submarine towards the bridge – or as she referred to it: the ‘control room.’ She had introduced herself as ‘Corpsman Maggie,’ though whether that was her first or her last name hadn't been made clear. “Normally at these depths, individual IFF tags aren't strong enough to penetrate all this water, so the signal doesn't really go anywhere. However, as it so happened, you landed near an underwater relay – old tech, probably installed back in the twenty-second century by the former US Navy – which was just barely able to relay your signal out far enough for us to pick up on. Otherwise, we would have sailed right past you, and never known you were there.”
Godwin absentmindedly nodded as he let her words wash over him. At first he had been verbally responding, but then he quickly realized Maggie was the type of person who just enjoyed talking, even if no one was listening, so he had fallen silent, more worried about trying to keep track of where he was going.
This was the first time in his entire life he had been on a submarine and while, intellectually speaking, he had known even nuclear powered military attack submarines were notorious for being cramped, he hadn't truly comprehended just how bad they actually were until he was in one. He wasn't claustrophobic – a candidate couldn't be an ODST if they were, due to the enclosed helmets they wore as well as their iconic drop pods – but… Godwin was pretty sure he had fought in some underground tunnels that were wider than this.
“Corpsman,” Godwin interrupted when he realized that at some point, Maggie had switched subjects and was now harping on about… whales? Whatever it was, it didn't seem important. “Are you sure this ship hasn't picked up on any other IFF transponders? Or any other pods of any kind?”
“Boat.”
“Sorry?”
“We're a boat, not a ship. And to answer your question, Sarge,” Maggie gave a negligent shrug. “Maybe they have, maybe they haven't. I wouldn't know, I’m just the corpsman. It’s not like they tell me much. The Captain thinks I talk too much, can you believe that? He's worried that if he tells me something, I’ll immediately start babbling about it to anyone that'll listen, but honestly, it’s like, who would I tell? We're about a hundred meters under the water; there's no one here but us and the fishes. Speaking of fishes –“
“What about the surface?” Godwin desperately asked before Maggie could go on another tangent. “Do we know anything about how the attack is going? Have we driven the Covenant off? Any word from the Home Fleet?”
Maggie shook her head. “Again, Captain'll be the one to ask these questions to; he'll know. I’m just the corpsman.”
Godwin eyed her carefully as he followed her down the corridor.
“How long have you been down here?” he couldn't help but blurt out, and not just because of how eccentric she seemed. Appearance wise, Maggie appeared to be in her late thirties, early forties, which was astonishingly old for someone who was just an E-3. And she wasn't alone either; in fact, based on the other crewmembers he had seen so far, it was Godwin – at the age of twenty-nine – who was the outlier.
“Oh, long enough,” Maggie freely admitted. “We don't get too many new recruits; submarine service ain't as prestigious as it may have been in the past. Young ‘uns nowadays rather be on spaceships or firing them laser guns. Plus, if you think about it, not even the Covies have the power to boil an entire ocean away, so when a colony gets glassed, usually submarine crews are the only humans left alive, condemned to die of starvation because ain't nobody coming back for the likes of us. Here's the control room, Sarge.”
Feeling like he was suffering from whiplash from the speed at which Maggie changed subjects, Godwin took a moment to center himself before marching inside.
The control room of the submarine didn't match any other bridge Godwin had seen before. Unlike a bridge on a spaceship - which was usually covered in screens and holographic displays - most of the controls in this sub were physical, with gauges, dials, and all sorts of buttons and switches covering the walls, most of which Godwin couldn’t even begin to guess as to what they were for. Near the bow of the boat, there were two ‘steering wheels’ being manned by two enlisted service members, both of which were being monitored by a single senior noncommissioned officer. All in all, it sort of reminded him of pictures he had seen of old world German U-boats from World War One and Two, just far more modernized.
That being said, some similarities remained, mostly notably, the tactical display table that sat in the middle of the room. Two crewmembers leaned over it. One was wearing a work uniform similar to what Godwin had seen UNSC Navy members wear and looked like the chief of the boat. The other man was wearing a non-regulation blue sweater, a baseball cap with a picture of a seahorse, and he had an unlit wooden pipe he was chewing on. If not for the golden oak cluster insignia on the man's lapel, Godwin would have dismissed the man as just another crew member. As it were though, he immediately snapped to attention and fired off a salute. “Sir. First Sergeant Chislon Godwin, Alpha Company, 103rd Shock Troops Battalion, 65th Division, reporting for duty, sir.”
The officer slowly raised his head and carefully regarded Godwin, before returning the salute. Godwin immediately assumed an ‘at ease’ position; despite the casualness of the man's uniform, he could tell this officer was far more somber than Corpsman Maggie had been.
“At ease, First Sergeant,” the officer said, his pipe bobbing up and down between his teeth as he spoke, and Godwin took the opportunity to remove his helmet. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Osiris, captain of this boat. Welcome aboard the SS Seahorse.”
“Thank you, sir. Sir, I appreciate the pickup, however I’ve got to ask: did you, by chance, happen to pick up on the signal or position of any other drop pods in the area?”
Osiris raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m afraid not, First Sergeant. Why, were you expecting somebody else?”
“The rest of my company, sir,” Godwin stated.
“An entire company of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers get dunked into the drink? That must have been one hell of a misdrop.”
“Not a misdrop, sir,” Godwin admitted. “An EMP went off as we were dropping towards our target. All my pods lost power, and we were unable to recover in time before our target moved.”
Osiris exchanged a grimace with his Chief; no doubt both men were thinking of how messy that would have been. “My sympathies, First Sergeant, but I don't think I need to tell you the chances of a drop pod surviving a fall from orbit without any power- “
“Is slim to nothing,” Godwin finished. “Yes, sir, I understand that, however, I survived. And if I survived, there's a chance some of my men would have too. Which is why I'm requesting you temporarily divert your course and conduct a general sweep of the area.”
Before Godwin had even finished talking, Osiris was already shaking his head. “First Sergeant, while I understand and respect your desire to recover and discover the fate of your men, what you’re asking is simply impossible. Our rescuing of you was already a miracle in of itself; even if we could divert, it would be a fool's errand.”
“Sir, with all due respect, I don't think you understand -"
“No, First Sergeant,” Osiris immediately interrupted, “I do believe it’s you who doesn't understand: if your drop pod had landed even five more meters further off our course, we would have never found you. That's how slim the chance was. Furthermore, we're not in the area on a pleasure cruise or just because we can, we're here because we're executing our own time sensitive operation. We're already slightly behind schedule because we diverted for you. Any more diversions, and we run the risk of failure.”
“And I can appreciate that, sir,” Godwin retorted, doing his best to bite down on his irritation. “But all I’m asking for is fifteen minutes. Sir.”
Osiris slowly reached up and removed the pipe from his mouth as he studied Godwin.
“What's the last thing you remember, First Sergeant?” he abruptly asked. “Just before you hit the drink?”
Godwin stamped down on his initial response and considered the question, as well as the reasoning behind it. “Operation: BUMRUSH. My company and I were dropping towards the Prophet of Regret's assault carrier, with the intention of making our way inside and capturing the son of a bitch. Before we could land though, the carrier made a Slipspace jump from inside the city, hence the EMP. With respect, sir, how is this relevant?”
“That's what I was thinking when you said EMP,” Osiris replied with a nod. “And you've been unconscious this entire time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which means you’ve not been kept up to date as to the on-goings of the invasion. Allow me to give you a brief, First Sergeant: that carrier jumped out of the city five hours ago. Specifically, it was exactly four hours and forty-seven minutes ago.”
Godwin found himself dumbly nodding at that. Because of his oxygen supply issues, the length of time he had spent unconscious did not come as a complete surprise to him. However, it was one thing to intellectually know something; it was another to have actual confirmation. How much had he missed?
“Something you need to know, First Sergeant: that EMP didn’t just knock your pods out of your sky, it knocked a hell of a lot more. Most notably, it damaged the Mombasa space tether, causing it to eventually collapse. Right on top of our defenses.”
Godwin let out an involuntary hiss. All that metal falling on a city the UNSC had been pumping reinforcements into all morning? A city that was already choke full of civilians? Casualties would have been… astronomical.
“You can imagine what that did to our defenses,” Osiris continued as if he didn’t notice Godwin's reaction. “Local forces have been pulled back to reorganize, leaving Mombasa all but in control of the Covenant. Yes, we are still getting reports of scattered fighting taking place in the occupied zone, including some very confusing reports about some sort of infighting taking place between the Brutes and the Elites, but as of right now, the Covenant have effectively won the first stage of the Battle of Mombasa.”
“Which leads us to this moment, and why the Seahorse is on her way to the city: Operation: RED SEA.” Osiris glanced up at Godwin. “You said your first name is ‘Chislon,’ yes? That's from the Bible, is it not? Are you a religious man, First Sergeant?”
Godwin shook his head. “With respect to the ones who are, but I’ve been fighting against the Covenant for more ten years now, Commander. Ten years and across seven different planetary systems. In all that time, I have yet to see a single shred of evidence God exists. Ours, or there's.”
“Are you at least familiar with the Bible stories? Specifically that of Moses and the Red Sea?”
Godwin considered the question. “Isn't that the one about the Jews and the Pharaoh?”
Osiris gave a small shrug. “If the stories are to be believed, then supposedly some chap named Moses managed to part the Red Sea, allowing the Israelites to flee from Ancient Egypt in an event known as the ‘Exodus.’ Now, for all our technological prowess, we can't exactly part the ocean, but…”
“You’re on a rescue and extraction mission,” Godwin finished as he suddenly realized the point to where Osiris was leading to. Osiris nodded.
“Some high ranking UEG politician was supposedly on their way to Cairo Station in orbit for some sort of award ceremony. But, for one reason or another, they never made it before the Covenant arrived in system and they ended taking shelter here, in Mombasa. Yes,” Osiris added before Godwin could interrupt, “I am aware of just how far apart Cairo and Mombasa are. No, I don't understand it either, but that's politicians for you.”
Turning to the tactical display, Osiris gestured for Godwin to join him. A map of Mombasa and the surrounding area immediately appeared. “Agreed extraction point is here,” Osiris pointed at the map with his pipe, “at Ras Kilindini in the Quays, along the western shoreline of Old Mombasa. In order to get there, we need to make our way from the Indian Ocean, into the Kilindini Harbour and hug the coast until we arrive at the point. We'll then surface, verify the HRP and their security team are at the rendezvous, and send a shore party to extract them. Once HRPs are onboard, we'll retrace our course back to the Indian Ocean where we'll be home free.”
“Our biggest concern are the Covenant combat air patrols. They can't touch us when we're underwater but if we're on the surface or close enough to it – which we will be once we're in the Harbour – Covenant don't even have to score a direct hit, they just need to make it so we can't submerge without running the risk of sinking or worse, imploding. At the moment, most of the CAP is over the city proper, but the longer we dally, the further out their patrols go, which is why we can't divert to go looking for your men. Sure, we could do it and maybe rescue some of them, but if those HRPs get captured or killed, then we stand to lose a lot more than a company of ODSTs.”
At this, Osiris looked up at the Godwin with an expectant look on his face, and Godwin resisted the urge to snap at him.
“I understand, Commander,” Godwin gritted out instead. “I don't like it, but don’t forget, sir, I have been in positions like this before, so I understand what's at stake here. My only question, sir, is why you bothered to even tell me all this. Unless I resorted to violence, I would have had no way to force you to do what I wanted.”
“Because we could probably use your help,” Osiris admitted. “In case you hadn't notice, almost all of my crew have spent their entire military service in the submarine force. None of us have seen combat against the Covenant, and outside of our annual weapon qualifications which most of us had found some way to skip – obviously in hindsight, that was a bad idea – we barely know how to shoot a rifle straight. Now if everything goes to plan, we shouldn't run into any Covenant patrols, ground or air. But if something does go wrong, while we can handle the air patrols… our shore party would be a lot better off if it was being led by a combat experienced ODST.”
Sticking his pipe back into his mouth, Osiris stood up straight and looked Godwin directly in the eye.
“Just sayin',” he drily concluded.
xxx
At Godwin's signal, Crewman Corvus cut the motor, allowing their small RHIB to float the rest of the way to the docks. Between the rain, the crashing of waves, and the crackling of fire, there was probably enough ambient noise they didn't have to worry about their motors being overheard. That being said, Godwin preferred not to take the risk. Instead, he calmly waited until their boat gently bumped into the seawall, and Crewman Obunga threw out a line, securing the boat. Their extraction vessel secured, Godwin leapt ashore.
Yanking his M7S submachine gun off his back, he quickly swept the area.
“Clear,” he announced over TEAMCOM. “Corvus, stay with the boat. Obunga and Joubert, with me.”
There was a whisper of acknowledgments, and a few moments later, Godwin was joined on land by two other crewmembers from the Seahorse. Out of the corner his eye, Godwin studied them. According to Commander Osiris, the three men who made up the rest of the shore party were the most qualified out of everyone on the submarine, which wasn't exactly saying much; Godwin had his doubts these men would even be able to pass Marine Corps boot camp, much less ODST selection. But, they at least knew when to shut up and listen, following Godwin's every order without question or complaints, something even his ODSTs had trouble with sometimes. As an added bonus, they were very quiet.
“Where are they?” Obunga asked, and even with his audio receptors on full, Godwin stained to hear him.
“No idea,” Godwin bluntly replied. “Standby.” He tapped his radio. “Shore Party to Seahorse, over.”
“This is Seahorse, go ahead,” Osiris immediately replied.
“Seahorse, we’ve successfully made it ashore without detection, but there's no sign of the HRP or her team. Are we in the right place, over?”
As he spoke, Godwin glanced over his shoulder out towards the Harbour. Even with his VISR, he could just barely make out the sight of the Seahorse's sail sticking out from the water where she was waiting. If he tried hard enough, he could maybe see Osiris, standing on top of the sail in the bridge co*ckpit.
“Shore Party, standby one moment, we're double checking… Confirmed, you are in the right position. We're still picking up on the HRP's confirmation signal, over.”
“Where's the signal originating from?”
“A spot exactly one hundred meters due east of your current position.”
A navpoint abruptly appeared on Godwin's HUD, and he suppressed a sigh of annoyance. “Rog, I got a fix. Seahorse, Shore Party is going to advance and take a look around, see if we can't discover any clues, over.”
“Understood. Be careful.”
“Will do. Shore Party, out.”
Lowering his radio, Godwin motioned to his men to spread out and follow him. Fortunately, every member of the shore party was equipped with shooting glasses that had a night vision setting which, while not as good as his helmet's VISR, allowed them to see his hand gestures.
They quickly dashed across the open terrain towards a series of warehouses. Approaching the one the navpoint was centered over, Godwin gestured for his men to look around the sides while he glanced inside. Inside, the warehouse was empty, both of objects and living creatures. Retreating outside once more, Godwin was greeted by his men, both of whom indicated the area was clear. Suppressing an aggravated sigh, Godwin gestured for his men to gather.
“Where the hell are they?” Obunga irritably demanded to know before Godwin could say a word.
“No idea,” Godwin admitted. “I don't even see their beacon anywhere, do you?”
“Maybe they threw it onto the roof,” Joubert suggested.
“Why the hell would they do that? And why would they signal they were ready for pickup, and then just not be here?” Obunga hissed.
“Could be a number of reasons,” Godwin calmly said even though internally, he was seething as much as Obunga was. “Could have been they signaled for pickup, but then a Covenant patrol wandered into the area, forcing them to leave before they could disable the beacon.”
“In that case, maybe they’re not too far. Should we- “
Obunga was immediately cut off by the sound of a gunshot splitting the air. A quick glance at his men showed it wasn't either of them and he hurriedly raised his weapon as more gunfire continued to ring out, before there was a pause and he could hear what almost sounded like shouting, though he couldn’t make out any words. Then all hell immediately seemed to break loose as plasma fire split the air at the same a slow alarm began to go off.
“Is that them!?” Obunga frantically asked as he nervously drummed his fingers against his rifle.
“Stay alert,” was all Godwin could say as he grabbed his radio. “Golden Arch, this is Seahorse, we’re at the RV do you copy, over? … Golden Arch, this is Seahorse, do you copy, over? Damn. Seahorse, Shore Party, be advised we're hearing sounds of small arms fire coming from further inside the dockyard; mixture of automatic weapons and plasma fire, over.”
“Is it the HRP or someone else?”
“Unable to positively confirm at this time.”
“Contact front!”
Godwin snapped up his SMG as three humanoid figures emerged from around the corner and immediately began to run towards them. “Hailstorm!”
“Hurricane!” the lead figure yelled as they slid into the ground beside him. “Special Agent Matthews, UEG Security Service! God, it’s good to see you!”
“Likewise, sir!” Godwin yelled back as the gunfire continued to grow in intensity. “What the situation!?”
“We got compromised by a random Covenant foot patrol! We tried to give them the loop around, but needless to say, it didn’t work! Two of my agents stayed behind to hold them off while Agent Burr and I got the Principal to safety!”
“Which one is the Principal!?”
“Her!” Matthews yelled, pointing at the only female of the group, and Godwin immediately turned to her.
“Ma’am, I’m First Sergeant Godwin, UNSC Marine Corps! What's your name and rank?” Godwin demanded to know.
“Doctor Ruth Charet! I’m the Interior Minister for the Unified Earth Government!” the woman frantically replied.
“Good! When you were seven years old, you rescued a puppy from the woods! What did you name it!?”
“Sally Ride, because I had just done a presentation on her in class! But it turns out, it wasn't a dog but a bear cub so I wasn't allowed to keep it!” the woman yelled back. “Are you done confirming my identity, Soldier!? Can we get out of here now!?”
“CONTACT REAR!”
Godwin whirled around, his weapon rising as about a dozen's worth of inhuman figures whipped around the same corner Doctor Charet and her team had emerged from moments ago. Godwin didn't hesitate and immediately pulled the trigger, sending a burst of 5mm rounds downrange. The lead Jackal took the burst straight to the head and crashed facedown onto the pavement. Godwin immediately pivoted, blasting a Grunt in the chest before it could draw its weapon.
CRACK!
Godwin reflexively flinched as a Spiker round flew over his shoulder and he instantly rotated and returned fire at the Brute who fired the shot. “Concentrated fire on that Brute!”
The Brute was immediately shredded as four other rifles and SMGs hit it. The death of that Brute immediately caused the other one in the patrol to become enraged, but before the alien could do anything more than scream out its rage, Godwin yanked a grenade off his belted and hurtled it. “FRAG OUT!”
The grenade landed at the Brute’s feet and exploded, knocking the creature to the ground.
“We got to get out of here!” Godwin screamed as the sound of more Covenant reinforcements – including armored vehicles – could be heard in the near distance. “Agent Matthews, get your Principal out of here! Go a hundred meters due west, there’s a small rubber boat lashed to the seawall. Obunga, go with them!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Joubert, COVERING FIRE!!!”
A burst of plasma slammed into the ground beside him. Godwin threw himself to the ground and rolled to the side, his SMG blazing away at the same time. Through VISR, he could see the Grunt collapse, gripping its own neck as blood shot out from the bullet hole like a fountain, and he turned to engage another target, only for his HUD to let put a shrill of an alarm. “Reloading!”
He popped his empty magazine out and tossed it the ground before driving another one into place as the Covenant patrol tried to get organized. A Grunt ran up with its arm drawn back, ready to throw a grenade; Godwin hurriedly raised his SMG and fired twice. Both rounds found their way into the Grunt's forehead, and the diminutive alien dropped to the ground, the active plasma grenade landing on its head. A split second later, the grenade exploded, taking much of the corpse with it.
“Joubert! Center peel! Pull!”
Godwin hosed down the area as Joubert scrambled to his feet and ran back towards the sea, pausing only long enough to slap Godwin on the shoulder. Maintaining his fire for a full second, Godwin surged to his feet and followed in Joubert's wake, yelling into the radio as he did.
“Seahorse, this is Shore Party, we have the HRP in hand but we have been compromised! We're falling back under fire to the sub right now; multiple contacts on our heels and audible confirmation of incoming armored vehicles!”
“Understood!” came Osiris' rushed reply. “We're prepping the sub for a crash dive! Abandon all nonessential equipment and get below as quick as you can!”
“Wilco! Out!”
Godwin lowered his radio, only for movement to catch his attention: two Skirmishers had appeared from one of the warehouses on the right, and were running full tilt straight at Joubert, who was too distracted firing at the other Covenant soldiers to notice their approach. “Joubert! Get down!”
Godwin opened fire, firing right over Joubert's head and hitting the lead Skirmisher in the chest. As the alien fell, the second Skirmisher diverted, causing Godwin's second burst to miss, but before he had a chance to readjust, the Skirmisher was hit by more fire from another SMG. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Obunga and Burr were busy helping Charet onto the RHIB while Matthews was trying to help by adding to the covering fire.
“First Sergeant!” he screamed. “I need another SMG mag!”
Ripping one out from his pouch, Godwin hurtled it at Matthews, screaming, “Take it and fall back!”
“Yes, Top!”
Godwin turned back to the Covenant and kept shooting. There was no shortage of targets as Covenant soldiers were pouring into the area; by the looks of it, every single foot patrol within a hundred meter radius of the dockyard was surging here. How or why there were this many troops in the area of operations, Godwin had no idea, but as his SMG coughed out round after round, he couldn’t help but curse his bad luck; this entire day had just been one sh*tshow after another.
“First Sergeant! Fall back!”
“Bounding!”
Lifting his fire, he paused long enough to slap Joubert on the shoulder before dashing back to the boat; Matthews, Barr, and Obunga were all ready and waiting for him while Corvus had the motor primed and ready to go. “Covering fire! Joubert, pull!”
Joubert surged to his feet and turned to run towards the boat, but as he did –
“Hurghh!!!”
- there was a flash of green as he was struck in the back by a plasma bolt.
“Eddie!” Obunga screamed out and started to climb back onto the docks, but Godwin grabbed him by the back of his vest and threw him back into the boat.
“He’s dead!” he screamed, having seen far too many injuries in the past to know. “Corvus, get us back to the sub, now!”
There was no question or argument; Corvus launched the RHIB into the water at top speeds. Streams of plasma bolts chased after them like tracers rounds from a heavy machine gun, and Godwin could hear the sizzling of steam as the bolts struck the water around them, instantly boiling the liquid. With the boat bouncing up and down as it sped across the harbour, Godwin could barely keep himself stable as he raised his SMG and returned fire.
There was a crunch as Corvus drove the RHIB up onto the Seahorse’s upper hull and right up to her sail.
“Get inside, now!” Godwin screamed as a series of plasma bolts struck the hull of the sub. He spotted a muzzle flash and fired at it as Matthews and Barr grabbed Charet and hustled her through the open door on the side of the sail, Obunga following closely behind.
Godwin shoved the RHIB away from the sub and turned to follow, but there was a loud noise that sounded like an underwater explosion, and he turned around to see two objects – noticeable by the violent bubble trails they left in their wake – speeding away from Seahorse’s bow. Thirty meters away from the boat, they abruptly breached the surface, revealing themselves to be a pair of missiles as their rocket boosters ignited and they took off towards the dockyard. A split second later, the entire shoreline erupted into flames as the missiles plummeted right back down to the ground and exploded among the warehouses, setting them ablaze.
“Torpedo tube launched ASGM-9 anti-air missiles!” Corvus screamed in response to Godwin’s unvoiced question. “Well, mostly! Thank god for dual-purpose warheads, huh? Come on, Sergeant, we gotta get below! Holy- INCOMING!”
Godwin glanced over his shoulder to see plasma mortars headed their direction, and he hurriedly threw himself into the submarine as Corvus sealed the door behind them. Dashing down the corridor, he found himself inside the control room once more, but unlike the first time he was in here, the room was now a hotbed of activity as crewmembers yelled out pieces of relevant information as they monitored the situation on shore.
“All watertight hatches and doors secured, Captain!” someone yelled.
“Alright, listen up people, it’s roughly three klicks to open water, we’re going to be riding on the surface that entire time, and we're surrounded by hostiles! I want everybody's eyes glued on their screens!” Osiris barked in a steady voice. “COB, take us underway, all engines ahead, full!”
“All engines ahead, full, aye sir!”
Godwin stumbled as he felt the Seahorse begin to accelerate under his feet. At the same time, he could feel the rumbling of explosions bouncing against the hull, and he quickly glanced over the shoulder of a crewmember at their screen to see the Seahorse was rapidly cutting through the Harbour as plasma mortars saturated the water around them.
“Corpsman, why aren't we diving yet!?” Godwin asked, spotting Maggie standing nearby.
“Water is too shallow! We'd have to slow down otherwise we run the risk of scraping our hull against the seabed! Cap rather make a run for the ocean on the surface then risk puncturing a hole in our hull!”
“Captain Osiris does know the Covenant are lobbing mortars at us, right?”
“But they’re shooting in the dark; they don't know where we are,” Maggie pointed out. “Like playing darts in the dark while being blindfolded.”
“But they only need to get lucky once,” Osiris abruptly interjected, causing Godwin to twitch; he didn't realize Osiris could hear them with all the yelling going on. “First Sergeant: where’s Seaman Joubert?”
Godwin shook his head. “Didn't make it, sir!”
Osiris grunted and immediately turned his attention back to his crew.
“Captain, are we going to be safe?” Charet abruptly interrupted.
“Of course we will, Doctor Charet, so why don’t you take a seat someplace and enjoy the ride?” Osiris blandly replied. “Maggie! Get these civilians out of my control room and down below!”
“Righto, Cap! Doctor, if you would please follow me?”
Charet and her surviving security team disappeared from the control room, while Corvus and Obunga had long since returned to their battle stations onboard the submarine, leaving Godwin as the only outsider still on the bridge. He glanced around, but no one was demanding he leave and truth be told, he really wanted to know what was going on as he had spent far too many space battles blind and deaf to the outgoings of the fight, so he stayed where he was.
“Sir, we’re taking plasma fire all across our hull!” someone was saying.
“Our hull is rated for a crush depth of over five hundred meters, so we’ll be fine against small arms, its crew served weapons I’m concerned about. Give me an update about those mortars!”
“Mortar fire has increased, sir: we're counting fire from at least three different batteries. They’re also starting to land closer; Covies have either a spotter drone in the air or a forward observer on the shore, but we can't find either!”
“Weaps, any chance we can return fire?”
“Negative, sir, our sensors aren't calibrated for counter-battery and all surveillance and aerial assets in the area we might normally have been able to tap into have been wrecked; we got no point of origin, we'd be shooting blind!”
Osiris opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was drowned out by the loud scream of an incoming mortar, and then several things happened simultaneously. There was a loud shriek of metal as something detonated just on the other side of the portside hull, causing the hull to visibly buckle and the entire submarine to shake. The shrill of alarms and cries of fear followed as a number of screens went blank before automatically rebooted.
“Helm, left full rudder!” Osiris roared and Godwin grabbed a nearby console for support as the sub made a sharp turn and two more explosions ripped through the water, though each subsequent one just a bit further than the last. “Shift your rudder!”
“Shift my rudder, aye sir!”
“What the hell just happened!?” Godwin couldn't help but exclaim as the sub righted itself.
“Covies almost had our number!” a nearby crewman yelled, sweat pouring down their neck. “Our sail got clipped by a plasma mortar that detonated within three meters of our portside hull! Fortunately they messed up their correction and walked their mortars away from our position, otherwise we'd be chatting with Davy Jones right now!”
“Damage report!” Osiris was saying at the same time.
“Minor damage to the uppermost sail! Restoration drones already on station and I’ve got sounding and security sweeping the rest of the boat, but so far, it looks like we got lucky and hull integrity was not compromised! But I would not recommend we try that again!”
“Agreed,” Osiris grunted. “COB, give me a sounding and distance to open waters.”
“Sounding, four two meters, distance, two point three klicks from open waters!”
“Still too shallow. We need to increase speed. All engines ahead, flank!”
“All engines ahead, flank, aye sir!”
“Sitrep on those mortars?”
“Mortars have… they've stopped firing, sir! I don't understand but all guns have ceased! Did they run out of ammo?”
Godwin's head snapped up at that, and he opened his mouth to shout out a warning-
“Air contacts! Sir, I just picked up multiple Bandits on long range radar! We’re tracking incoming Bandits coming from the north, the east, northeast, north-north east… we’ve basically got incoming from all f*cking direction, sir!”
“Calm yourself, Sailor, or you’re going to be finding yourself manning another position. Give me a distance and bearing of the closest Bandits.”
“Nearest Bandit is forty-five klicks away and closing fast! Approaching from the northeast bearing zero three four!”
“Distance to open waters?”
“One point five klicks, sir!”
“We need just a little bit more time,” Godwin heard Osiris murmur. “Weaps! Make all torpedo tubes ready with more ASGMs and standby all VLSs. Give me a firing solution on all closest aerial targets, one missile per aircraft; I don’t care if they hit or not, but hopefully it’ll at least force them to evade and slow them down!”
“Aye, Captain! All tubes and VLSs ready in all respects! Acquiring firing solution… firing solution acquired!”
“Release all batteries! Fire, FIRE!”
“Aye, sir! Engaging kill tracks starting from those closest to the boat. Torpedo tubes one… three… four… and two, all away! Engaging with vertical launch system! Tubes three… six… nine… and twelve, away! Tubes one… four… seven… and ten, away!”
As the weapons officer continued to confirm launches, Godwin glanced at the exterior bow cameras where the Seahorse was spamming ASGMs from all twelve of her vertical launch tubes. As soon as the rounds were cleared of the sub, they rocketed off, each missile heading in a separate direction independently of each other.
“- and eleven, away! Sir, all missiles are away!” the weapons officer cried.
“COB, distance to open waters?”
“Nine hundred meters and dropping, sir!”
Godwin nervously glanced towards the submarine roof where he could hear the water rushing over the hull just above their heads, showing just how fast they were moving through the water. But were they moving fast enough?
“Radar, give me a status update on those birds.”
“All missiles are locked on and tracking their targets. Initial missile impact in five sec- it's gone! Lead missile just blew up! Kill Track 1-Alpha just shot it out of the sky! Kill Track 1-Alpha is now thirty klicks away and closing! Bearing- oh, sh*t, they just fired! Vampire, vampire, vampire! Two plasma torpedoes, bearing zero three four! Locking onto our positions and closing fast!”
“Distance to open waters?”
“Four hundred meters- wait! We just cleared the continental shelf! Sounding, ninety meters and dropping away!”
“Sir, Vampires are thirty second to impact!”
“COB, emergency crash dive! Follow the continental slope all the way down to the ocean floor! Dive, dive, DIVE!”
Klaxon alarms blared over Godwin's head as the submarine very abruptly pitched forward, the bow slipping under the water with the rest of the boat quickly following. Godwin hurriedly wrapped his arms around a nearby support strut as the deck started sloping forward, going from a five degree angle to ten degrees to fifteen degrees to twenty-five degrees. At the same time, the depth readings on a nearby screen continued to tick downwards: five meters. Ten meters. Twenty meters. All the while, all sorts of ominous creaking and groaning filled the corridors as Seahorse struggled to maintain integrity.
“Plasma torpedo impact in five… four…”
“All hands, brace for shock!”
There was a loud rumble overhead and Godwin could feel the moment the shockwave caught up to them as the entire submarine shook, but all in all, it was nowhere near as violent as the earlier near miss with the plasma mortar. Yet, the Seahorse continued to dive at a steady pace.
“Why are we still diving!?” he couldn't help but ask. “Covies don't have any weapons that could hit us directly this far underwater, do they?”
“They don't have to!” Osiris yelled back, his voice strained as he fought to remain upright. “All they have to do is generate a large enough explosion, displace enough water, and the increased overpressure against our hull could rip us apart! We need to go- “
“Sir, we’re picking up on a new contact! Massive tonnage!” the sensor technician suddenly yelled.
“What does that me- “
“RADIATION SPIKE! My God, how are we picking this up through all this water!? We're reading nine hundred röntgens from the new contact and climbing fast!”
A cold wave of terror immediately shot down Godwin's spine.
“THAT'S A PLASMA LANCE! COVIES ARE ABOUT TO FIRE A PLASMA LANCE!” he started screaming. “EVADE! EVADE!”
“Thirty-five degrees starboard!” Osiris roared.
Without warning, the entire world seemed to disappear in a flash of white light as all noise was drowned out by a chorus of ringing. Later, Godwin would be forced to admit he had to have been imagining all of this because between the water and the metal hull there was no way he could have seen what he thought he saw, but for a brief moment, he could have sworn he saw the plasma lance slicing through the Indian Ocean as the Covenant made one last attempt to take out the sub and her entire crew…
And then, just as quickly as it began, it was over. But that didn't necessarily mean they were out of danger.
“COB, zero bubble, engines all stop,” Osiris barked, looking remarkably unruffled for someone who nearly just got atomized. “Everybody else, shut it down! Go silent!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Godwin could see the crew exchanging dubious looks.
“Sir, that ship is still above us,” someone noted. “Are you sure we shouldn't be booking it from the area? Don't the Covies have us dialed in?”
“I have no idea,” Osiris freely admitted. “I have no idea if they were firing blindly into the water, or if they have an exact lock onto our position. First Sergeant?”
Godwin shook his head. Ship to ship combat was hardly his area of expertise, much less submarine warfare.
“Therefore, in the absence of solid confirmation, we'll resort to what we do best,” Osiris continued. “We disappear. Go silent.”
“Aye, sir,” the crew replied and pretty soon, all noise from the ship disappeared. And then they waited.
And waited.
The minutes ticked by and Godwin strained his ears, trying to hear something – anything – besides the beating of his heart. Eventually, Osiris spoke up.
“Radar? Sonar? Anything?” he quietly asked.
The crewmen shook their heads.
“Hydrophone?”
Godwin glanced at the technician pressing their headset against their ears.
“Nothing, sir,” they finally said after a few moments of listening. “I think we're in the clear.”
“Good,” Osiris said as he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow and as he did, Godwin could see his hands trembling. “COB, set heading to one one zero, engines at half speed.”
“Get us the f*ck out of here.”
General Notes
- Maritime navies, or “Wet Navies” exist in canon, making an appearance in several official Halo media, most notably in Halo 3 where, canonically, two maritime supercarriers participated in the Battle of Mombasa. Both are visible outside the boundaries of the multiplayer map “Longshore,” which is set along the shores of Old Mombasa.
- on that note, submarines also exist in canon, with one – the SS Murrill – making an appearance in the Halo 5: Guardian multiplayer map “Fathom,” though unlike the attack submarine that appears in this story, that one appears to be a submersible, or mini-sub
- Doctor Ruth Charet is a canon character. In the post-Covenant War era, she gets elected as the President of the Unified Earth Government. I assume this means she was already a high ranking politician before the war ended, but what position she held is unknown; “Interior Minister” is a position I made up for this chapter, and not a canonical political position of the UEG.
- UEG Security Service is not a canon service; they’re intended to be the UEG equivalent to the United States Secret Service, who also protect certain members of POTUS’s cabinet. “Security Service” seems to be the more common name for international equivalents to the USSS; there’s also a US agency that has a similar role to the Secret Service called the “Diplomatic Security Service” or DSS.
- in canon, there exists both an “ASGM-7” and “ASGM-10” missile; both are anti-air/anti-ship missiles and seem to do the same thing, so I’m assuming the number at the end is merely indicative of the launch platform, with the “ASGM-7” designed for surface-to-air batteries while the “ASGM-10” is the air-to-air/space-to-space designation, as it is the main missile used by GA-TL1 Longswords. For the purpose of this story, I’ve introduced the “ASGM-9,” which is the underwater launched version.
Chapter 9: Newsaka 2545: Kings of Battle
Chapter Text
Seven Pines
Osaka Prefecture, Newsaka
28 February 2545
PV2 Pieter Andresen, 7-319 FAR, DIVARTY, 31st CAV
Battle of Seven Pines
“All units, WATCH OUT! Covies are attempting a breakout! All cavalry troopers, stand your ground! Do not let the Baby Kongs break through! All division artillery, we need immediate final protective fire all across our line! …Divarty? Division Artillery, respond, dammit!”
xxx
“Turn left here and follow the Lieutenant to our new firing position!”
Pieter spun the wheel, switching from high gear to low gear as Lieutenant Tofte's Warthog turned off the road and onto a muddy field. The entire cab shook as they drove across the rough terrain, but fortunately the Kodiak's powerful engine ensured they didn't get stuck, even though they only had wheels instead of tracks.
Cutting through the mud, Tofte led 2nd Platoon of Sierra Battery out into the middle of the field before his Warthog pulled to the side and he began waving at the howitzers, gesturing at where he wanted the self-propelled artillery pieces to position themselves.
“Okay! Pull up here Andresen, this is our new firing position! Get the gun ready!” Sergeant Oleneva commanded from the passenger's seat.
Engaging the air brakes, Pieter reached for the gun controls before the Kodiak even had a chance to settle.
“Extending the outriggers!” he warned as he thumbed the buttons and the entire Kodiak began to level out as the support struts embedded themselves into the ground. A green light appeared on the dash, signaling the vehicle was now locked in place. “Unlocking the main gun!”
“sh*t, that's a lot of fire mission requests,” he heard Oleneva mutter beside him from where she had fired up the cab's main computer and, stealing a glance over her shoulder, he could see the system queuing up enough ‘messages to observer’ to fill the entire screen. Their fire direction control team had clearly been hard at work, processing all the requests for support, even while they had been maneuvering into position. “Let's hurry it up, Private, so we can get back into the war!”
“I can only go as fast as the Kodiak allows me to, Sergeant!” Pieter snapped. There was a loud clunk and another green light appeared on the dash, showing their howitzer was now in battery. “Gun ready!”
“Finally! First mission! Target number Echo Bravo one one three seven, three rounds HEPD, charge four hotel! Deflection three three two zero point eight, quadrant three seven point zero niner! Standby for adjust!”
“Deflection three three two zero point eight, quadrant three seven point zero niner!” Pieter repeated as he plugged the numbers into the gun computer and he could feel their 152mm howitzer automatically rotate and rise to the indicated position. “Three rounds HEPD, charge four hotel! Gun set!”
Oleneva immediately leaned over to double check the screen. “Verified! Gun ready! Standby…”
Pieter flipped up the plastic safety covering the front of his joystick and planted his fingers on the trigger.
“Adjustment round, shot one - FIRE!”
Pieter squeezed the trigger. Instantly, the entire Kodiak jumped as a forty-seven kilogram hunk of metal was ejected from the muzzle of their fifty-two calibre barrel at speeds upwards of seven hundred meters per second. The flash from the muzzle immediately lit up the surrounding area so much, for half a second, Pieter almost thought someone had dropped a flare on their location. Even from inside the Kodiak’s armored cab, the noise was shocking and Pieter knew someone on the receiving end was about to have a really bad day.
Assuming they scored a direct hit, of course.
“Save that as target concentration alpha!” Oleneva commanded as their howitzer reset. “Second fire mission! Target number Sierra Tango two zero three niner; infantry in the open! ICM in effect, three round burst, charge two lima! Deflection… two three three two! Quadrant three seven point one four!”
“Deflection two three three two! Quadrant three seven point one four! ICM in effect, three round burst, charge two lima!” Pieter echoed under his breath as he glanced at the screen depicting a cluster round being rammed into the breech while a second shell was dropped onto the ramming tray in preparation for rapid fire. “Gun set!”
“Verified! FIRE!”
This time Pieter squeezed and held down the trigger. The Kodiak shook once more but as the barrel recoiled then returned to its original position, the breech automatically opened and before the smoke could fully exit, the second shell was already being rammed in, followed by two cylindrical propellant charges. At the exact same time, a mechanical arm removed a third shell from its blast protection case and dropped it onto the ramming tray. A split second later, the shell was fired, allowing the third and final shell to loaded, before being fired in turn. The entire process took less than nine seconds.
“Shots one, two, and three, away!” Pieter reported as he released the trigger, allowing the safety to automatically engage.
A buzzer unexpectedly sounded in the cab and Pieter reflexively glanced towards the roof.
“Warning buzzer! Last fire mission before we need to relocate!” Oleneva noted. “Adjustment for target concentration alpha! New deflection: three three seven zero point zero, quadrant three five point five! Three rounds HEPD, charge four hotel. All rounds, fire for effect!”
“Gun set!”
“Verified! Fire for effect!”
“Target concentration alpha: shot one!” Pieter warned as he pulled the trigger. “Shot two! Shot three! Rounds complete!”
“That’s it! Displace! Stow the gun, I’ve got the outriggers!” Oleneva offered, shoving her data pad away and reaching for the controls. At the same time, Pieter heard Tofte announcing over the radio, “FDC to all Guns: that is a displace, I say again, we are displacing! End all fire missions, stow your guns and indicate when ready, over!”
Pieter didn’t bother responding and instead, yanked on the lever that would cause their howitzer to automatically stow. He could hear the barrel cranking downwards as it lowered into a horizontal position before there was a loud clank as it latched onto the travel lock, and a green light appeared on his dashboard indicated the barrel was secured and the Kodiak was ready to move out.
“Gun stowed,” he reported.
“Riggers in! Get ready to move.” Oleneva grabbed her radio. “FDC, this is Gun-2: we’re ready to displace on your signal.”
“Copy. Guns 1 and 2 are ready, Gun-3, you’re holding us up!”
Pieter glanced out the driver’s side window to see Gun-3 – which had been positioned just off to their left – finally and fully retract their outriggers.
“Sorry about that, FDC: last fire mission required two adjustments,” Pieter heard Gun-3’s gun chief apologetically say over the radio. “Gun-3 ready!”
“Copy! FDC to all Guns: we’re Oscar Mike! Move it out!”
Pieter immediately shifted into gear, hearing the hiss of the air brakes releasing.
“Hang on, wait for Gun-1!” Oleneva warned. “Rasmus is pulling out first, we'll follow him.”
Pieter grunted and watched as Sergeant Rasmus's Kodiak peel out of the field, following in Tofte's wake. Spinning the steering wheel, Pieter maneuvered to follow and the platoon quickly abandoned the muddy patch. Glancing at the rear view camera as they drove away, Pieter half expected their former firing position to be immediately obliterated by a Covenant mortar strike, but nothing happened.
“Covies didn't have us zeroed yet!” he exclaimed.
“I know that, but we don't want to stay in the same position for too long otherwise, the Covies would have found us,” Oleneva impatiently explained. “Shoot ‘n scoot; that's the name of the game. Now shut up and focus on driving!”
Pieter did just that, following the convoy as they sped down the road. All around him, he could hear the dull thunder of guns as other Kodiaks from the rest of the battalion engaged Covenant targets from their own firing positions. In the distance, the horizon was lit up from all the explosions; he took a moment to count them. In less than thirty seconds, he counted upwards of twelve flashes, which was a crazy rate of fire and an indication of just how much ordnance 7th Battalion was sending downrange.
And things were only starting to pick up…
“We got any idea how the battle is going?” Pieter asked.
“Nope,” Oleneva calmly replied, popping the ‘p.’ “And I don't really care either. We're Redlegs; our job ain't to hold the line, it’s to bring the rain. Long as we're doing that, that's all I care about.”
“I thought you had a brother who was a Bison commander. Aren't you the least bit curious as to how he's doing?”
Oleneva didn't immediately respond and for a moment, Pieter wasn't sure if she had heard him. He was about to repeat the question when she finally admitted, “I had a brother. He was killed in action three days ago.”
Pieter's head snapped in her direction. “sh*t! I didn't know that! f*ck, Sergeant, I’m sorry to hear that. Why didn't you say anything?”
“Why the f*ck would I?” Oleneva brusquely snapped. “It’s got nothing to do with our job. So let's f*cking do it. Turn here!”
Pieter jerked and spun the wheel, following the platoon into what might have been a parking lot ages ago, but had since been retaken by nature.
“Pull up next to Gun-1 and get ready!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Pieter impatiently retorted, but Oleneva was no longer paying attention, her eyes glued to her data pad, leaving Pieter to set up the Kodiak himself.
He reflexively looked up at what he thought was the sound of jet engines flying by overhead, but it was either too dark or the planes were flying too high for him to spot. Whatever. As long as they didn't stay in the area, Pieter didn't have to worry about accidentally hitting them with his howitzer.
“Hey!” Oleneva barked, effectively drawing Pieter's attention onto her. “What type of smoke do we got? Regular smoke or -"
“We got Willy Pete!” Pieter yelled back.
“Right! Fire mission! Target number Delta November one two five three; maneuver unit needs smoke cover! Two rounds Willy Pete, charge two lima! Set shell smoke fuze time three zero point three! Deflection two five niner four, quadrant four five point one five!”
“Smoke fuze three zero point three, two rounds, charge two lima,” Pieter muttered, checking the cameras as a pearl white shell was shoved into the breech. “Deflection two four niner five- “
“Niner four!” Oleneva angrily snapped. “Deflection two five niner four! f*cking pay attention!”
“I am f*cking paying attention!” Pieter snapped back, just as irritably. “That's just a lot of f*cking numbers getting thrown out at the same time!”
Pieter jerked his head to the side as Oleneva smacked him alongside his helmet. “Those f*cking numbers matter, you dumbass! You understand you were about to lob a f*cking shell an entire f*cking grid off!? You can't f*ck around with six inchers! Especially when we're dealing with white phosphorus!”
Pieter opened his mouth to retort-
“COUNTER-BATTERY!” Tofte suddenly screamed over the radio. “Covenant battery of mortar Wraiths located at grid: Charlie Romeo five niner three two five, six six two one zero! Altitude, one five zero zero; direction four seven five zero! All guns, check fire on current missions and fire for effect on new target!”
Pieter and Oleneva exchanged a startled glance, their argument instantly abandoned in light of the new threat.
“Counter-battery!” Oleneva yelled. “Prep two Krasnopol shells while I figure out distance, deflection, and quadrant to target!”
“I’m on it!” Pieter promised. He hastily turned back to his controls and slammed his hands down on the ‘unload’ button, watching as the Kodiak go through the entire loading process, just in reverse: the grabber arm seizing hold of the smoke shell as it popped out of the breech, maneuvering it back its protective ammo case on the side of the vehicle, before grabbing a ‘Krasnopol’ smart submunition artillery projectile used in the anti-armor role and loading it into the breech. “Setting targeting profile to search for Covenant mortar Wraiths!”
“Alright, got it!” Oleneva triumphantly yelled. “Charge three hotel! Deflection three one eight eight! Quadrant four five point zero two!”
“Charge three hotel, deflection three one eight eight, quadrant four five point zero two!” Pieter repeated. “Gun set!”
“Verified! Gun ready! Shot one: fire!”
Pieter slammed down on the trigger, and the entire Kodiak shook once more.
“Shot two: FIRE!”
Pieter pulled the trigger once more, sending the second Krasnopol down range, and waited in anticipation. Even though he wasn’t there to see it, he still remembered from training what the two rounds would do: exiting the muzzle at speeds in excess of eight hundred and thirty meters per minute, the Krasnopols would overfly the target area, at which point, the entire shell would essentially disintegrate, ejecting two submunitions. Once cleared of the shell’s remains, winglets would deploy and cause the submunitions to begin to spin, slowing the shell’s descent like a parachute and giving the on-board sensors a chance to scan the ground below for a target. Anything within a 32000 square meter area that fit the computer’s target profile – in this case, mortar Wraiths – the submunitions would fire an explosively formed projectile capable of penetrating up to a hundred and forty millimeters of armor straight down through the target’s roof, disabling or outright destroying it.
Considering the entire platoon just fired two rounds apiece at the same target, those Wraiths were toast.
“Hell yeah! There ain’t no kill like overkill!” Pieter triumphantly crowed.
“Hey! There’s no time to celebrate, we still got a long battle ahead of us!” Oleneva snapped. “Switch back to target number Delta November one two five three! And try and get the deflection right this time, yeah!?”
“Right! Need the numbers again!”
“Two rounds Willy Pete, charge two lima! Fuze time three zero point three! Deflection two five niner four, quadrant four five point one five!”
“Deflection two five niner four, quadrant four five point one five,” Pieter repeated under his breath as he jammed the numbers into the system. “Gun ready!”
“Verified! Gun ready! Shot one: FIRE!”
CLUNK.
Pieter pulled the trigger but this time instead of firing, the entire system let out a shrill of an alarm.
“f*ck- MISFIRE!” he yelled, yanking his screen towards him and immediately running a diagnostic. “We have a misfire!”
“What? What happened!?”
“One of the goddamn limas split!” Pieter angrily spat, ripping off his crash harness and kicking the driver door open, exposing the cab to all the thunderous noise outside. “Gotta do a manual reset!”
“Hey! HEY! Take your f*cking rifle with you!”
Pieter poked his head back into the cab and just barely managed to catch the MA37 rifle Oleneva hurtled at him before it smacked him in the face. She gestured at her headset. “I’m on TEAMCOM! Let me know when we’re set!”
With his hearing going in and out because of the other howitzers going off around him, Pieter tossed her a thumbs up and sprinted for the rear of the vehicle, pausing only long enough to grab the ramrod from its bracket mount on the side of the vehicle. Stabbing the rammer into the ground, he clambered onto the Kodiak's rear stabilizer, grabbed the breech block with both hands and yanked it open. Immediately, a rush of black propellant came out and began dumping onto the ground.
“Andresen! What happened!?”
Pieter jumped, not having heard Lieutenant Tofte's approach.
“We had a misfire, sir!” he yelled back. “One of the limas split!”
“Move!”
Pieter stepped aside and watched as Tofte plunged his hand into the breech and yanked out the half intact propellant charge, tossing it to the ground.
“Get the swabber!” he barked and Pieter automatically grabbed the rammer. “No, not the f*ckin'… the damn swabber! Leave the rammer though!”
Swearing to himself, Pieter ditched the rammer and run around the Kodiak to get the swabber and bucket. Sprinting back, he rounded the corner in time to hear Tofte yell, “Wipe down the breech block! Get as much of the propellant off as possible! Gotta make sure it doesn't go off too next time you fire!”
Pieter worked frantically, quickly scrubbing away at the breech block screw and breech itself. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Tofte returning with two fresh propellant charges in hand.
“Alright, that's good enough! Hit the shell! Make sure it’s still in place!”
Working as fast as he could, Pieter grabbed the rammer and slid it up the barrel until he hit the bottom of the shell still sitting it inside. Giving it a couple of taps to verifying it wasn't moving, he yelled, “Shell in place!”
“Charge two lima?”
“Yeah!”
“Move!”
Withdrawing the rammer, he nervously waited as Tofte shoved two propellant charges up the barrel behind the shell. Without prompting, Pieter immediately released the breech block, allowing it to automatically close.
“Oleneva, Tofte: gun set!”
“Copy. Clear breech. Engaging in three… two…”
Pieter hastily slapped his hands over his ears.
“… one… shot one: FIRING!”
A loud ringing immediately filled Pieter's ears as the entire Kodiak jumped from the recoil. The breech automatically popped open as the barrel reset, allowing a small cloud of smoke to exit, and Pieter leapt forward to reload the gun but fortunately the Kodiak's auto-loader kicked in and began reloading the howitzer at a far faster rate than Pieter would have been able to achieve.
“Shot two: fire!”
The howitzer fired once more, but Tofte was already grabbing Pieter and pulling him close so he could yell at him.
“Clean up here!” he barked. “And get ready to displace!”
“Yes, sir!”
Pieter hastily gathered the Kodiak's tools and moved to put them away, but as he did, he happened to glance up at the sky and something caught his eye. At first he thought it was a smudge on his night vision glasses, but as he continued to stare, he abruptly noticed the purple haze characteristic of an anti-gravity engine covering the bottom half of the object and he felt his blood run cold.
“COVENANT SPOTTER DRONE!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Rammer and swabber immediately hit the ground as Pieter grabbed his rifle and started shooting. Tracers streaked right past the drone, missing it by millimeters as Pieter frantically attempted to shoot the UAV down, though how long the Covenant drone had been hovering there, unseen, he had no idea. Maybe it was already too late.
“Covenant Spotter Drone, two o'clock over our position, four hundred meters! Take it out!” Tofte was screaming over the radio, before adding his fire to Pieter's.
RATATATA!
The sound of an M247 general purpose machine gun split the air, and Pieter glanced over at his Kodiak to see the RWS mounted machine gun on the roof of the cab had come to life, spitting out bullets and tracers and adding to the hailstorm of rounds being directed at the drone. Under such relentless fire, it didn't take long before there was a blue spark, and the drone began spiraling towards the ground, self-destructing in a violent blue flash a few meters before it landed.
“Oh, god, we gotta get out of here!” Tofte yelled. “Covies have got this spot zeroed! All guns: displace, immediately! Private Andresen! Get the hell out of here!”
Without waiting for a response, Tofte took off running for his Warthog, and Pieter moved to follow suit, running for the cab of his Kodiak. All throughout the clearing, the rest of the self-propelled howitzers were hurriedly packing up, trying to clear out of the area before the Covenant counter fire could arrive.
All except one.
“PRIVATE! HURRY IT UP!” Oleneva immediately screamed at him as he ripped the door open, even as she frantically thumbed the buttons to retract the outriggers and stow the barrel into its travel position.
Pieter didn't bother responding, he just tossed his rifle at her and clambered into the driver's seat. Not even stopping to buckled his crash harness, he jammed down on the gearshift and accelerator, only for a loud grinding noise to fill the air. “sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!”
“Did you just f*cking stall the vehicle? Are you f*cking kidding me right now!?”
“Sarge, I realized I f*cked up, but now’s really not the time to be yelling at me!” Pieter snarled as he attempted to jam the vehicle back into gear. “Bitch, son of a bitch!!”
“Gun-2, get the hell out of there!”
“Alright, stop! Stop f*cking panicking! Put your foot on the f*cking brake, then put the clutch all the way in!” Oleneva snapped. “Put the gearshift into neutral- “
“Restart the engine and place it into first gear,” Pieter finished, physically going through the steps as he recited them, and was rewarded by the sound of the Kodiak running as normal “Yes! We got it! We're getting out of here, Sergeant!”
“Oh sh*t…”
Pieter glanced over at Oleneva, only to see she wasn't looking at him, but out the side window. Without thinking, he followed suit, only to notice the entire lot was beginning to be illuminated by a rather unhealthy looking blue glow…
He jammed down on the accelerator. The Kodiak lurched forward, just as the first of the plasma mortars came screaming in.
The entire planet seemed to shake as the first plasma mortar slammed into the ground less than twenty-five meters away and detonated in a violent and messy explosion. Unlike the shells the UNSC fired, plasma didn't generate fragmentation in the traditional sense, but what it did generate was heat. A lot of heat. A visible bubble of air rapidly expanded from the initial impact point, literally vaporizing everything it passed through. Asphalt, dirt, plants; it mattered none to the plasma. Not even the moisture in the air was spared as Pieter could see the sky rippling and writhing as it boiled.
And that was only the first shell.
“GO! GOGOGO!” Oleneva urged and Pieter drove down on the accelerator, causing the Kodiak to shoot across the lot at high speeds. Where he was even going, Pieter had no idea only that he had to get out of here right. f*cking. NOW.
More mortars came screaming in, slamming into the ground and leaving craters all over the area. The Kodiak rattled and violent shook as it was rocked on all sides by the shockwaves, but Pieter ignored all that, singly focused on the tree line directly in front of them that marked the edge of the parking lot. If they could just make it…
Abruptly a mortar exploded a few meters just off to their left, enveloping the entire cab with the blast. Flames licked at the windshield and side windows, and temperatures inside the Kodiak skyrocketed to the point Pieter thought he could feel blisters immediately forming on his exposed face. Every single screen and electronic device began to go haywire as the shockwave rippled through them, and he could hear the Kodiak's engine roaring in protest as the self-propelled howitzer's front tires were lifted clean off the ground by the blast.
A sense of weightlessness fell over Pieter, and he could hear someone screaming and he couldn't tell if it was coming from him, from Oleneva, or maybe it was both of them and for a moment he was convinced that this was it, these were his last moments and his thoughts immediately drifted to his mama and how devastated she was going to be when she received notification of his death –
- and then the cab came crashing back down onto the ground and Pieter found himself getting thrown headfirst into the steering wheel, yet somehow his foot remained glued to the accelerator and he automatically grabbed the wheel to try and keep it straight as the needle on the speedometer continued to climb. Another explosion ripped through the vehicle, lifting the vehicle up off the ground once more, but this blast came from directly behind them and with the front six tires still touching the ground the Kodiak was less effected as the hood of the cab slammed into a small tree, uprooting it entirely and then, suddenly, it was all over.
Pieter frantically looked around as the Kodiak cut a scythe of destruction through the undergrowth. Plasma mortars continued to devastate the parking lot behind them, but having escaped the blast zone, Pieter found they were now free and in the clear, having somehow miraculously escaped with minor to no damage, both to their vehicle, and their persons.
“Gun-2, this is Actual; come in! What's your status, over!”
Pieter violently started and reflexively twisted the wheel, nearly causing the Kodiak to spin out of control but Oleneva immediately reached out and stabilized the vehicle even as she grabbed the radio with her other hand and replied in a remarkably calm voice, “Actual, Gun-2: we’re both up, but it was a near one and our gun might have been damaged, over.”
“Copy that. Glad to hear you guys are alright. As for your gun, we'll find a place to pull aside and get it checked out. Don't fire it, obviously, just in case it explodes.”
“Copy that,” Oleneva replied as Tofte's Warthog pulled out in front of their Kodiak. Lowering the radio, she slapped Pieter on the shoulder, causing him to jump. “Hey. You alright? You good?”
“Yeah,” Pieter quickly replied, trying to sound confident, though the death grip he had on the steering wheel was probably undermining his words.
“Yeah,” he repeated. “That was, uh, just a bit closer than I was expecting.”
“No sh*t,” Oleneva replied with a snort. “But that's part of the job. It’s why they give us guns, you know, in case something like that happens.”
“Nah, I get that. Just… long as we can avoid any more close calls, I think I’ll be good.”
Scrubbing his face, Pieter looked up just in time to see a spike grenade embed itself into the side of Tofte's Warthog a split before it exploded, causing the entire vehicle to erupt into flames. And just like that, Lieutenant Tofte and the rest of the Fire Direction Center team was KIA.
For a few moment, all Pieter could do was gape, his mind struggling to comprehend what he had just seen as the burning wreck of the Warthog rolled to a stop in the middle of the road. Then the fear kicked in. “Oh, f*ck! Holy sh*t!!!”
“Contact right!” Oleneva began screaming at the same time. “Contact right, contact- URGH!”
Pieter's head snapped in her direction to see five Spiker rounds had slammed into their front windshield in rapid succession, weakening the reinforced glass enough to allow a sixth spike to punch clean through the window and hit Oleneva directly in the chest.
“SERGEANT!” Pieter screamed, slamming on the brakes and lunging towards her as she slumped in her seat, blood gushing out from her wound.
She was chanting something, and it took Pieter a moment to understand what it was. “Get the gun, get the gun, get the gun.”
A fresh volley of spikes slammed into the passenger window and Pieter immediately understood what she was ordering him to do. Scrambling for the controls to their roof mounted machine gun, Pieter's finger found the trigger. Their RWS roared to life, and he wildly sprayed down the woods with gunfire.
“Sergeant! Are you alright!? Talk to me!” Pieter frantically called, trying to suppress the Covenant infantry hiding in the woods while assessing her wound.
“f*ck,” she gasped even as she reached into her IFAK and pulled out a can of biofoam. “f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.”
“Sergeant, let me! I can help!” Pieter yelled, keeping one hand on the trigger while reaching out for the can with the other.
“No…” she gasped. “Gotta… keep the Covies… suppressed… secure area… then treat wounded… keep shooting…”
Pieter snarled and turned his attention back to the screen. He swiveled his gun left and right, sweeping the woods with bullets but the Covenant were well concealed and he had no idea where they were, or even what their numbers consisted of. And where the hell did they even come from!?
“Status?” Oleneva rasped out, her voice strained and obviously in pain.
“We’re f*cked!” Pieter couldn’t help but resignedly yell, flinching as a plasma bolt splashed against his windshield directly in front of him. “We’re totally f*cked! We’ve got an unknown amount of Covenant infantry in the woods and only a single machine gun to hold them off!”
“Call for help…”
“f*cking f*ck!” Keeping on hand on the trigger, Pieter grabbed his radio with his other. “This is Storm Wind 2-2 broadcasting in the blind to any UNSC call signs on this net: we need immediate help! We're pinned down by a Covenant infantry seventeen klicks behind the MLR. Multiple casualties! We need immediate assistance, I say again, immediate assistance!!! Does anyone copy, over?”
“Storm Wind, this is call sign Noble Protector,” came the immediate reply over the radio, and Pieter felt a surge of hope, only for it to be immediately dashed the moment he heard the speaker's next words. “You’re not the only ones getting attacked; a Covie counterattack has penetrated our lines and we're getting reports of firefights taking place all across our back lines. Division reserve is moving in to plug the hole, and they’ll be in your area in… f*ck, I don’t know. They’ll get there when they get there. Just hold out until then, over.”
Pieter let out a string of curses, but what else he could he do besides reply with, “Wilco, out.”
Throwing the radio aside, he continued to tap on the trigger as he glanced at Oleneva. “Hang in there, Sergeant, help is coming. Just hang in there!”
But Oleneva wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she was looking out the window. “GRENADE!”
“What?”
Pieter reflexively tried to look around Oleneva but immediately realized his mistake and snapped back to his screen, but it was too late: the Grunt hurtled the plasma grenade which arched through the air, hit the ground and rolled underneath their cab. There was no time to react.
For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, Pieter found himself in a state of weightlessness as the grenade exploded, lifting the front of the Kodiak a few centimeters off the ground. Oleneva screamed in pain as the Kodiak landed heavily back down onto its wheels, and for a split second, Pieter lost his grip on the control. And of course it was in that exact moment, a Brute stepped out from behind a tree, leveled its Spiker, and fired a single shot.
“f*ck!” Pieter screamed, punching his controls as the dreaded words ‘Gun Offline' flashed across his screen. “Motherf*cking sh*t!!!”
“What happened?” Oleneva coughed out.
“Our gun is down! That’s it! We are so f*cked!”
“Use the howitzer.”
“What?”
“Line-of-sight fire; hit ‘em with the cannon,” Oleneva gasped as she lifted her rifle. “I’ll buy you time.”
“Wha-? No, wait, Sergeant- !”
But it was too late, as Oleneva had already slipped out of the cab and through the window, he could see the muzzle flash from her rifle as she fired wildly into the woods, immediately attracting the attention of the Covenant who instantly returned fire. The Kodiak shook as stray rounds struck the side of the cab.
“f*ckity-f*ck; we don’t even know if the gun still works!” Pieter protested to himself even as he unlocked the barrel and quickly loaded a single high explosive round into the breach. “Don’t blow up…”
Disabling the safety, Pieter took a deep breath -
- then pulled the trigger.
The Kodiak rocked from side to side as the recoil nearly caused the entire vehicle to flip, but that didn’t stop Pieter from seeing the shell fly through the woods, punching through entire trees like an angry beaver and sending them crashing to the forest floor below. A split second later there was an orange flash as the shell exploded deeper into the woods and for a brief second Pieter could only hope he hadn’t just caused a friendly fire incident but he had no time to dwell on it as the Kodiak immediately became the Covenant’s priority target.
“sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!” Pieter yelped, mentally begging the auto-loader to work faster. Plasma and spiker rounds raked the entire vehicle from front to rear but fortunately none of it did any serious damage as the Kodiak was armored, but the armor was only rated for shrapnel and not direct plasma fire, so it was only a matter of time before –
“- FUEL ROD - !”
Pieter snapped his head up to see a Brute emerging from the trees at the exact same time as the ready light on his dash appeared. Without thinking, Pieter immediately pulled the trigger.
BOOM!!!
The shell slammed into the Brute’s chest. At that range, the fuze had yet to arm so it failed to explode but it didn’t matter: getting hit in the chest with a fifteen centimeter wide, four-seven kilogram shell – even one fired with a single base charge – was not something even a Brute could simply shrug off. Pieter could only watch with morbid fascination as the Brute sort of… fell apart… as the shell passed right through its chest and buried itself into the ground.
“Yeah!” Pieter couldn’t help but cheer. “Take that you stupid- “
Thunk.
A single spike grenade embedded itself into the hood of the Kodiak.
Thunk. Thunk.
A second spike grenade and a plasma grenade quickly followed suit.
“f*ck,” Pieter whispered.
xxx
XXVII Airborne Corps HQ
22 Hours Later
Lieutenant General Noland Archer studied the tactical map. With the liberation of the town of Seven Pines, the linkup of the 25th Rifle Division, the 31st Cavalry Division, and the 222nd Airborne Division was complete and with it, the total encirclement of what UNICOM was calling “the Southern Covenant Army.” Being cut off from their supplies and sealed in a pocket didn’t mean the Covenant were automatically defeated, of course, but their isolation from their main landing site meant the Covenant invasion force was now cut in two, allowing UNSC forces to defeat each half in detail.
But, as always with the Covenant, victory had come at a high cost in both equipment and manpower, and none more so than the 31st had suffered. Taking advantage of the reduced sightlines within the jungle, the Covenant had been able to amass enough warriors for one last minute breakout attempt. They had slammed into the 31st’s lines with enough force to punch through into their rear area, taking many support units by surprise. The destruction of the division’s main communications hub had greatly aided the Covenant’s assault as many of the cavalrymen had not even known a counterattack was underway, at least not until their positions starting coming under direct fire.
Ultimately, the cavalry troopers - armed with their Bisons, Cobras, and Kodiaks - had been able to repel the attack using their own resources, but doing so had cost them a brigade of cavalrymen, almost sixty percent of their divisional artillery, and roughly a third of all their support troops. Over the course of the Newsaka Campaign, all combat divisions had been relying on a steady stream of replacements to cover their casualties in order to maintain the initiative, however with losses as high as the 31st had taken, that was no longer possible; most likely, the 31st was going to have to be pulled off the line to be reconstituted.
Fortunately for Archer, he no longer needed to concern himself with the 31st CD as they were being transferred out of his Corps, and being reassigned to the XI Infantry Corps in the south. Instead, his paratroopers were pivoting north to begin the second phase of the liberation of Newsaka: Operation: LONG PATROL, which, if successful, would see the destruction of the “Northern Covenant Army” as well as their main landing site. The operation was going to be tough and bloody, as his paratroopers were going to have to fight uphill, through the thickest part of the Tien Giang Forest, in the middle of monsoon season, across terrain that was only permissible for light infantry.
Yeah…
Archer had absolute faith his paratroopers would be able to overcome whatever resistance the Covenant threw at them, but there was no doubt in this mind this operation was going to be brutal. And it was up to him, as their commander, to do whatever it took to try and ease their suffering.
As he studied his maps and reconnaissance photos in order to familiarize himself with the terrain his paratroopers would be soon fighting across in the coming days, all thoughts of the 31st Cavalry Division slowly faded from his mind until they were nothing more than ashes in the wind.
Canon Notes
- The M400 ‘Kodiak’ Artillery System is a canon self-propelled artillery vehicle first seen in the Halo Wars 2 RTS game. It is an 8x8 wheeled vehicle system, similar in appearance and function to several IRL wheeled self-propelled howitzers such as the Swedish Archer or the French CAESAR. It is armed with a 152mm “M4131 rapid-fire howitzer.”
- Krasnopol: this is named after the Soviet 2K25 ‘Krasnopol’ 152/155mm laser-guided artillery shell, which is the Soviet equivalent to the United State military’s ‘Copperhead’ or ‘Excalibur’ shells. Unlike its IRL counterpart though, the shell in this chapter is intended to be a “fire-and-forget” indirect fire top-attack cluster muntion, similar to the French/Swedish “155 BONUS” or the German “SMArt 155.”
General Notes
I’m not too crazy with how this chapter turned out. I’ve wanted to write a chapter that focused on artillery for a while now, in recognition of the fact that once you get into the 20th Century, with the advent of better medical procedures and technology, artillery jumps up to being the number one cause of casualties among armies. However, my biggest problem has always been, I find it difficult to make it a thrilling and exciting chapter simply because, if an army is doing it correctly, at no point should an artillery battery be exposed to direct fire. As a result, I sort of muddled by way through this chapter by throwing random scenarios at the page, even if they don’t make the most logical sense.
Chapter 10: New Llanelli 2553: Helljumper
Chapter Text
Given the recent success of the game Helldivers 2, it’s hard not to see the similarities between the “Helldivers” in that game and “ODSTs” from Halo. Given the parallels, I thought I would try my hand at a “Halo-ize” version of Helldivers. So here’s my humble attempt.
UNSC Fifth Winter
Low-Orbit, New Llanelli
22 February 2553
Capt Nabil Djavadi, 7th ANGLICO, 15th Shock Troops Battalion
On Incident Response and Investigation (IRI) Duty
“ – GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS. ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS! THE ROUTE OF TRAVEL IS FORWARD AND UP TO STARBOARD, DOWN AND AFT TO PORT! SET MATERIAL CONDITION ZEBRA THROUGHOUT THE SHIP! ALL ODSTS, REPORT TO YOUR PODS FOR AN IMMEDIATE DROP!”
Captain Djavadi raced through the corridors, his armored boots barely touching the metal deck as he headed straight for the drop pod deployment deck, i.e., “Hell’s Waiting Room.” Dodging around a couple of Navy technicians doing some last minute checks, he threw himself into his SOEIV, where his weapons and gear were already set up and waiting for him. Slamming his hand down on the master ignition, he hurriedly began strapping himself in as the pod powered up, the door sliding shut. At the same time, all the screens inside his pod flickered to life, and all of them started flashing the same three dreaded words: “FLOOD OUTBREAK DETECTED.”
“All pods, we are T minus sixty seconds to deployment,” the Navy ATC sitting in the control ‘tower’ reported over the radio as Djavadi quickly checked over his pod, making sure all systems were good to go. The voice of the ATC disappeared, only to be immediately replaced by Major Ironside.
“Charger Company, sound off in sequence for equipment and status check!” he roared.
“This is 1st Platoon, ready and waiting!”
“2nd Platoon, green across the board!”
“3rd Platoon, awaiting orders!”
Djavadi tapped his mic. “ANGLICO, standing by.”
“Company Command, prepped and ready,” Ironside finished. “All Charger Company elements are confirmed ready, break. Control, this is Charger-Actual: we are ‘go’ for launch.”
“Copy that, Charger,” Djavadi heard the Controller tersely reply. “Fifth Winter is moving into final launch position. We are T minus forty-five seconds.”
“Copy that, Control.”
The whine of electrical motors filled the air, and Djavadi reflexively glanced up as his pod began to rotate into position.
“Right,” one of the platoon commanders said as all pods were being slowly lowered into final launch position. “Now that we're all assembled, where’s the fire, Major? What's this about the Flood, sir?”
“So,” Ironside began. “As all of you know – or should know - we're here in this system because a week ago, potential signs of the Flood were detected on the surface of this planet. In the wake of the firing of the Ark, that shouldn't have been possible, so a joint UNSC/Covenant science team were sent to the surface to investigate. About half an hour ago, they went radio silent. Roughly fifteen minutes ago, the Marine garrison at Whiskey Outpost reported they were under heavy attack by a massive wave of Flood.”
“Three guesses as to what happened to the science team,” someone sarcastically muttered and Djavadi bobbed his head in agreement. He, like most of the ODSTs in the company, had been fighting in Kenya when the Flood had first made their appearance. As such, he, like most of the company, knew exactly how fast the Flood worked. And how dangerous they were because of that.
“Our mission is simple,” Ironside continued. “We go in, secure Whiskey Outpost, clear an LZ for follow on forces to arrive, and then purge the planet of Flood.”
“Hang on, sir,” someone else interjected, “if our ultimate goal is to purge the planet, why are they sending our asses down to the surface? Why doesn’t High Command just nuke the site from orbit? Or better yet, make our ‘allies' glass the area? After all, they seemed pretty quick to do so during the war…”
There were murmurs of agreement at that, and Djavadi co*cked his head, eager to hear the answer. Unfortunately, the answer Ironside provided only seemed to raise more questions.
“Don't ask me the details ‘cause I don't know ‘em, but apparently High Command tried to do that back in ‘46. This site we're about to hit has already been subjected to four separate MAC cannon strikes, had a Shiva nuke dropped on it, and then the Covenant glassed the area. Yet, somehow, the Flood are still here. Which means, either the Flood arrived after the strikes, High Command made a mistake, or this infestation goes a lot deeper than anyone knows. Whatever the case may be, that's why Command is sending us in: to make sure the job gets done properly this time.”
“All Troopers, we are T minus fifteen seconds.”
All conversation immediately ceased as the bay doors below their feet slowly slid open, revealing the vastness of space, and Djavadi felt a chill pass through him as he inhaled sharply, trying to keep his nerves under control. As an air winger, Djavadi was used to high speed dives and crazy evasive maneuvers, but there was a world of difference between doing strafing runs in his Hornet and falling out of orbit in naught but a metal egg.
“All Charger elements, we are T minus ten… nine… eight…”
Djavadi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Here went nothing.
“- three… two… one… DROP!”
Djavadi felt his heart immediately drop to his stomach and he was forced up against his restraints as his pod was ejected from the Winter’s hold at high speeds. The SOEIV began a race towards the surface of New Llanelli, joined by nearly a hundred other pods. Glancing upwards, he watched as the Fifth Winter flew by overhead, the Orion-class assault carrier growing smaller and smaller by the second as it peeled away to join the rest of the joint UNSC/Covenant fleet sitting in orbit around planet.
“All call signs, this is Charger-Actual,” Ironside announced over the radio. “All pods away; we’re in the pipe. Three minutes to the DZ, break, break. Platoon leaders, lock all pods onto the outpost – wait, sh*t; Whiskey Outpost just fell off the grid.”
Inside his pod, Djavadi grimaced. According the TO&E chart he had on the outpost, the base was supposed to be manned by roughly a hundred Marine military police officers from the 3rd Law Enforcement Regiment. If the outpost was off the grid, chances were high all the Marines who had been posted there were either dead, or wished they were. And if they were dead, then…
“All Platoon leaders, divert to secondary DZ. Lock all pods onto new drop zone coordinates.”
There was a moment of hesitation.
“You mean the DZ that's currently swarming with the Flood?” one of the platoon commanders asked, sounding slightly incredulous and Djavadi glanced at his HUD to see that, yes, the DZ they were headed directly for was covered in red dots indicating hostile forces.
“Yes,” Ironside bluntly replied. “All pods, lock on. Captain Djavadi? Make us a hole.”
“On it, sir!” Djavadi replied, glad for a distraction as he pulled out his TACPAD and quickly scrolled through the many call signs loaded on its database until he found the right one. “Archangel-6 to Big Daddy; do you copy Big Daddy?”
“This is Big Daddy, we read you five by five. Go ahead.”
“Big Daddy, need an ordnance drop; me and the boys are headed planetside and we're not expecting a warm welcome. I’m transmitting the coordinates of our DZ to you now; requesting times one BLU-327 strike on aforementioned coordinates. Target is light infantry in the open. Pave the way! You’re cleared hot!”
“Copy, Archangel. One ‘x’ BLU-327, five hundred kilogram FAE strike on designated coordinates, cleared hot. We are rolling in!”
Djavadi’s pod’s proximity alert let out a small shrill a split second before a UNSC Navy C709 “Longsword” fighter dove straight down through the center of the ODSTs’ formation. As the fighter roared past Djavadi’s SOEIV, he noticed the ordnance bay doors on the Longsword’s ventral hull were open, and a large cylindrical bomb with rocket boosters attached to its base was emerging from the hold.
“Bombs away, bombs away, bombs away.”
The Longsword immediately peeled away, breaking parallel to the planet’s atmosphere. The bomb however, continued along its path for a few seconds before the rocket booster ignited, propelling the bomb straight down to the surface. Djavadi watched as the projectile grew smaller and smaller until –
There was a small flash of light, barely visible to the naked eye, then a massive orange bubble seemed to appear out of nowhere. The bubble rapidly expanded, the shockwave tearing across the ground and ripping apart anything that might have been in the way. On his HUD, Djavadi watched as a good chunk of the red dots simply vanish. “Big Daddy, Archangel, good effect on target, break. Charger-Actual, DZ has been cleared!”
“Copy,” Ironside coolly replied. “Alright Charger Company, we're going in! Pop your chutes and aim for ground zero! And get set for a hot DZ!”
Djavadi immediately shut his eyes as the drogue chute erupted over his head, causing the entire pod to lurch. Things began to rapidly heat up as they descended through the atmosphere and the turbulence made Djavadi feel like he was stuck inside a washing machine on full spin. He didn’t think the ride could get any worse but somehow, it did; as they passed through the upper atmosphere, they immediately slammed into the dust cloud still hanging in the air following the FAE explosion. Tiny chunks of debris and soot slammed into and ricocheted off the SOEIV's hull like bullets. A loud CRACK filled the air and Djavadi cracked opened an eye to see one small pebble had hit his door with enough force to leave a small fracture in the outermost layer of the reinforced window.
But the worse had yet to come.
“Approaching burn stage! Brace for deacceleration!”
The deafening swoosh of his retrograde rockets firing drowned out all other noises, and Djavadi watched as the numbers on his altimeter rapid tick downward. Twelve hundred meters. Seven hundred meters. Four hundred meters. One hundred. Fifty.
“IMPACT!!!”
The pod plowed into the ground, the impact causing Djavadi’s teeth to rattle and nearly causing him to bite his own tongue in half. He didn’t feel any pain though because at the exact same time, there was a loud buzzer while simultaneously, the door to his pod was blown outwards off its hinges. Safety harness automatically retracting, Djavadi seized his rifle and hurtled himself out of his pod only to immediately be confronted with –
- something. Based on reports and his own first-hand experience, Djavadi knew the Flood worked by infesting a host and then rapidly mutating it, but the creature in front of him had been so badly mutilated, he couldn’t figure out what the baseline being had been before the Flood had gotten its tentacles around it. The Flood form was crawling around on the ground, letting out inhuman screeches of pain as swamp-green blood squirted out of its many wounds, yet it was still alert enough to turn its ‘head’ in Djavadi’s direction and let out a roar.
Djavadi promptly shot the creature twice in the head.
“Rest in pieces, motherf*cker…” Djavadi muttered as the Flood form let out one final exhale and slumped to the ground.
“SECURE THE DZ! Fan out! Let’s go!”
Giving the corpse one last kick to make sure it was truly dead, Djavadi turned and sprinted for the edge of the drop zone, running over freshly overturned dirt and body parts alike, all a result of the FAE strike. Unlike conventional high-explosive bombs which mostly relied on fragmentation for its killing power – of which had limited effect against targets that lacked a central nervous system - FAEs or fuel-air explosives worked by propagating the overpressure blast wave commonly found in all explosions. By using a combination of aerosol fuel and atmospheric oxygen, FAEs could extend both the duration and intensity of the blast front resulting in any light material – such as flesh - caught in the area of effect to literally be torn to shreds. Against Flood combat forms caught in the open with no cover? As Djavadi and his comrades had discovered in Africa, the results could be absolutely devastating.
But FAEs alone weren’t enough to halt a Flood outbreak in its tracks.
“FLOOD!” the cry went over the radio. “Flood is regrouping to our east!”
Djavadi threw himself onto the ground for cover – joining the rest of the ODSTs assembling there - and leveled his rifle, his VISR outlining all approaching hostiles, even through the smoke and dust. Dozens of targets immediately appeared on his HUD and he nervously licked his lips.
“OPEN FIRE!”
The sound of dozens of battle rifles firing immediately split the air as the Marines opened up with everything they had. Spent bullets casings quickly began piling up on the ground as the rounds sped downrange, instantly devastating the first rank of Flood. At once, a loud, bone-chilling howl filled the air as every single Flood combat form in the area turned in unison and began charging the ODSTs’ line.
“HERE THEY COME!”
Djavadi dropped his crosshairs over his first target and promptly opened up. Fighting the Flood was always so different from fighting against the Covenant. Unlike the various species that made up the Covenant's ranks, the Flood had no sense of self-preservation, and would continuously charge their enemy, even in the face of overwhelming firepower. Conversely though, Flood forms were far more resilient than anything Djavadi had ever faced, requiring far more bullets per target to put down as there was essentially no such thing as a wounded Flood.
“LEAPERS! UP HIGH, UP HIGH!”
Djavadi's head snapped up to see some Flood from the back ranks were leaping over the heads of their comrades in order to close the distance that much faster. Hurriedly racking the charging bolt on his rifle, he fired on one of the leapers, catching the creature midair and halting its forward momentum. He continued to unload on the Flood, even as it plummeted to the ground, tearing chunks of flesh off with every trigger pull. Yet, despite nearly emptying an entire magazine of 9.5mm rounds into the creature, Djavadi could still see the Flood form writhing on the ground, struggling to stand back up.
“KEEP POURING IT ON! MAKE SURE THEY CAN’T GET CLOSE!”
“DJAVADI!”
Djavadi barely managed to avoid flinching as Ironside grabbed his shoulder. “Sir!”
“Whiskey Outpost is three kilometers in that direction!” Ironside bellowed, pointing in the direction of the Flood. “We’re gonna have to fight our way through the Flood to get there, but we’re gonna run out of ammo half a klick in if we do it like this! I need you to do your job; start calling in fire support and clear the way!”
“Aye, sir!” Djavadi yelled back as he attached his weapon onto his back. Activating his HUD, he simultaneously pulled out his TACPAD and grabbed his radio. “Morning ladies and gentlemen, this is Archangel-6 calling to all UNSC call signs on this net. Who do I have with me today?”
“Morning Archangel, this is Hurricane 1-1, reporting in.”
“Wildcat 2-5, standing by to provide support.”
“Archangel, Bayonet Flight on approach from the north…”
As various UNSC call signs started reporting in, their names also started appearing on Djavadi’s HUD, listing not only their numbers and flight composition, but also their loadouts, allowing Djavadi to know exactly what sort of ordnance he could call upon.
“Alright, all pilots, this is the current situation,” Djavadi announced. “I’ve got a sh*t ton of bad guys between my position and Whiskey Outpost. I need snake and nape on station, ASAP. Stack up at every five hundred meters and stand by to be vectored in. Approach direction for all aircraft will be north to south, so keep an eye out for that.”
“Major, sir! Flood getting a little too close for comfort!”
“Djavadi, why aren’t things on fire yet!?”
Djavadi ignoring the cries as he hurriedly designated three spots on his mini-map, then scrolled through his list until he found the correct call sign. “Archangel to Oddball, requesting airstrike on concentrations of Flood combat forms in the open. Strike positions one, three, and five with six times Mark 207 bombs. Attack direction south, you’re cleared to engage.”
“Copy. Locked on target, TOT, twenty seconds, over.”
CRACK! CRACK!
Djavadi instinctively hit the deck as the familiar snap of bullets passing by overhead filled the air, but unlike during the war, these rounds were aimed directly at him.
“Watch out! Incoming fire! Flood got their hands on some assault rifles!”
“Take ‘em out!”
Djavadi could hear the retort of a battle rifle, followed by the sound of a grenade launcher, but his focus was on the growing roar of an approaching jet engine. Looking up into the distance, he spotted a single Broadsword fighter jet on approach.
“Archangel, Oddball: bombs away, bombs away, bombs away.”
There was a loud roar that temporarily drowned out the sounds of fighting as the Broadsword made a pass over the battlefield, then –
Boom. BOOM. KABOOM!!!
- the world started exploding as six bombs landed in rapid succession, walking parallel to the frontline from left to right. Flood forms were sent flying in all directions as the shockwaves picked them up and hurtled them across the field like a giant had scooped them up and negligently tossed them over its shoulder. At the same time, shrapnel cut through the crowd like a scythe through wheat, staining the ground with brownish-green blood.
“’NADE THE BODIES!” Djavadi roared at the Marines surrounding him, even as he spotted a number of pod infector scurrying across the ground towards the prone bodies, intent on revitalizing them and bringing them back to life.
“Djavadi!”
Ironside appeared over his shoulder. “That was a good strike, but I need you to bring it in closer!”
“Closer, sir?”
“Closer!”
“Roger that!” Djavadi confirmed as he turned back to his radio and glanced at the next call sign. “Hurricane, Archangel, set up for a rocket run: I want 110mm HE Anvil rockets on positions two and four. And bring it in closer! Come within a hundred meters of my position, over!”
“Copy. I’m inbound, thirty seconds.”
SWOOSH! SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
A trio of unguided Anvil rockets slammed into the ground, taking out a Sangheili attacker form and two smaller figures standing nearby. A split second later, the battlefield was lit up as another Broadsword ripped by, dropping flares as it did. Djavadi immediately glanced up at Ironside, only to see him shaking his head.
“No, you’re still not getting it! I want a creeping barrage of airpower! Keep taking out the front ranks of the Flood so we can advance!” he commanded.
“Ah,” Djavadi said, finally seeing what Ironside was hoping to achieve. Turning back to his radio, he barked, “Wildcat, Archangel: requesting an immediate napalm strike. Need you to burn out the Flood's first line. Drop those canisters within fifty meters of the FLOT.”
“Copy. Might want to get your head's down, this is going to get a bit toasty.”
“INCOMING!” Djavadi immediately roared at the Marines surrounding him. “We got nape comin' in, and it’s coming in close! Get your head’s down! INCOMIN- “
BABWOOSH!!!
An entire wall of fire abruptly erupted directly in front of them! Demonic figures seemed to dance in the fire as the red-hot flames rapidly expanded outwards, greedily consuming everything in its path: flesh, metal, even oxygen. Among the fire, Djavadi could see Flood forms crumbling to ash under the heat, leaving barely enough biological matter for even the Flood to revive. And while he couldn’t feel the heat because of his sealed ODST armor, he could smell the acrid scent of petroleum, even through the filters of his enclosed helmet. It smelled like… well, it smelled like sh*t, to be honest.
“That’s it, that’s what I need you to do!” Ironside triumphantly roared as the flames slowly died down, leaving the Flood's front rank decimated. “Keep at it. MARINES! ADVANCE!”
“Oorah!”
Djavadi joined the rest the company as they surged to their feet and began advancing across the ash-strewn field. Despite having already lost three-quarters of their original number, the Flood howled and pressed their assault, continually running headlong into the wall of bullets the ODSTs were putting up. Pointing at the largest cluster of Flood, Djavadi placed a navpoint and called out, “Archangel to Bayonet: need a strafing run. Hit ‘em with your guns!”
“Rog. Guns, guns, guns!”
BRRRRTTTTT!!!
The bark of a Broadsword's twin autocannons filled the skies. As the 35mm shells came thundering in, they plowed into a number of Flood forms that had coincidentally chosen that exact moment to leap up and forward. The shells caught those forms midair, causing them to explode and strew body parts down onto the ODSTs below, like some sort of necrophiliac's piñata. Looking up, Djavadi spotted one chunk headed straight for him, and he hastily dove to the side as the piece landed on the ground with a sickening splat. Glancing at the part, Djavadi expected to see an arm or a head but as it turned out, it was neither.
It was, in fact, a Pod Infector, which, upon landing, immediately turned and began scurrying straight towards Djavadi.
“Oh, f*ck!” Djavadi yelped as he scrambled to draw his sidearm, but he had barely grabbed hold of the grip when the Infector lunged towards him, and all he could do was stare in horror as the massive, squid-like monster the size of his torso reached for him.
BANG!
Without warning, the Infector unexpectedly exploded as a bullet passed right through it! Djavadi knocked onto his ass as a wave of ichorous blood and gore splashed over him, covering him from head to toe in goo.
If it were up to him, Djavadi would have laid on the ground, panting, for however long it took to calm his racing heart. But he wasn’t given the chance as a pair of gauntleted hands grabbed him and hauled him upright.
“Captain. Djavadi! Are you alright?” Ironside yelled at him, concern evident in his voice even though his visor was polarized.
Djavadi glanced at the ground where what remained of the Infector laid, smothering, and he shuddered. “I think so, sir.”
“Good. Keep moving! Objective is in sight!” Ironside noted, gesturing beyond the Flood, where the prefab walls of Whiskey Outpost were looming out of the dust. “Marines! Finish off these stragglers and get inside!”
Releasing Djavadi, Ironside turned to his men to direct their fire against the last half-dozen Flood remaining. For his part, Djavadi only watched – as he tried to catch his breath – as a volley of grenades landed among the feet of the Flood tearing them to shreds. Anything that survived that were quickly finished off with rifle fire and within a matter of minutes, the field was clear of all hostiles.
“Area cleared!” someone yelled.
“To the Outpost!” Ironside immediately barked. “Double time it! Captain Djavadi, what’s the status on our air support?”
Shaking his head, Djavadi tried to get his mind back into the fight.
“Most of my pilots are close to bingo fuel, sir; they’re going to need to refuel and rearm soon,” Djavadi reported. “But I still got one flight left.”
“They got napalm?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then have them burn the field; make sure the Flood can’t recover any of them,” he ordered, gesturing at the bodies strewn across the field.
“Aye, sir,” Djavadi affirmed. “Archangel to Oddball: drop your napalm on the battlefield. Burn the bodies and then RTB, over.”
“Understood, Archangel.”
He gave Ironside a thumbs up who immediately yelled, “Marines! Let’s move!”
Djavadi took off for the outpost. Behind him, the sound of Broadswords screaming in filled the air and as they incinerated what remained of the battlefield, he took a moment to think of the people who had been, before they had been mutilated and violated by the Flood. He could only hope that by cremating their bodies and preventing the Flood from using them to cause untold horrors, all those unnamed victims would be able to rest a bit more easily in the afterlife.
Entering the outpost was just a matter of walking through the front gate. Outposts such as this one were designed to be both easily transported and rapidly assembled. As such, the entire facility consisted of five buildings – a command center, a barracks, a galley, an armory, and a few outhouses – all of which was surrounded by a two and a half meter tall metal wall reinforced by sandbags and gabions. The outpost was defended by four guard towers – one at each corner – while access was controlled by a simple ECP, all of which should have been manned by armed Marines.
However, as expected, the entire facility was abandoned, but based on their surroundings, the Marine garrison had not gone quietly into the night. There were signs of fighting all over the place: bullet casings littered the ground, blast scoring marked the walls, and blood – both human and Flood – was splattered all over place. But no bodies, and knowing what he did about the Flood, it wasn't hard for Djavadi to imagine what had become of them.
“Fan out,” Ironside ordered. “1st Platoon, sweep around outside the perimeter. 2nd Platoon, secure the guard towers and the ECP. 3rd Platoon, clear these buildings, but give me a squad: Company Command will clear the command center.” He glanced at Djavadi. “Let’s get this outpost back onto the grid.”
Djavadi nodded, taking the moment to quickly swap the partially loaded mag in his rifle for a full one before following the rest of the command staff as the rushed towards the Command Center. The metal doors leading into the center were lying on the ground, having clearly been destroyed by a forceful breach. Weapons raised, the ODSTs cautiously entered the small room, but a quick but thorough sweep revealed the area was just as empty as the rest of outpost.
Ironside gestured at Djavadi, whom immediately walked over to the main control panel. An abandoned MA5C assault rifle and the gas mask from a MOPP suit was propped up against the desk and laying on the seat, respectively. Both were sticky with blood and Djavadi tried not to think about the fate of their previous operators. Shoving the objects aside, he sat down in front of console and began typing.
“Accessing the mainframe,” he announced out loud, only to immediately hit a wall. “Hm. Looks like the garrison managed to lock out the entire system before they fell. Major, I need your command override.”
Djavadi shoved himself away from the desk as Ironside walked over and quickly typed in his access code.
“We're in,” Djavadi announced, sliding back to the computer as the entire system started rebooting.
“Good. Reconnect us to the bee-net and signal the Fleet to start sending us our reinforcements. Have them land in the open field just south of the OP.”
Djavadi moved to execute Ironside's orders, but just as he started typing, an alert appeared on the screen. “sh*t. sh*t! Sir, we have a problem: seismic sensors have picked up on massive amounts of underground vibrations headed straight for us from the north! ETA to contact, seven minutes!”
“What!? More Flood!?” Ironside exclaimed. “How many?”
“Computer indicates maybe several hundred…”
Djavadi and Ironside exchanged a look.
“We’re gonna need more firepower,” Ironside declared. “I’m contacting Fleet Command to see what I can wrangle up. In the meantime, call in a resupply and let’s start reinforcing this outpost!”
“Aye, sir!” Djavadi quickly switched channels on his radio. “UNSC Fifth Winter, this is Archangel, do you copy?”
“Go ahead, Archangel,” came the reply.
“Winter, I need an immediate resupply on Whiskey Outpost: automated turrets, defensive barriers, the works. I also need an immediate weapons drop; level five REQs or higher. I’ve got a sh*t-ton of bad guys headed straight for my position, so I need this resupply ASAP, over.”
“Copy that, Archangel: deploying Pelicans and Herons to your location now. ETA, one minute.”
Djavadi looked up as Ironside turned to him. “Fleet's sending us a destroyer to back us up. You have full control. Get some where you can direct their fire.”
“I need someplace high!”
“Climb the communications tower on top of the command center. Ladder in the corner, go!”
Attaching his rifle onto his back, Djavadi mounted the ladder and climbed to the roof where he found himself at the base of the outpost's communication array. He started to climb that until he found a small platform roughly halfway up. Settling himself in, he looked around. Already, D20 “Heron" heavy lift cargo ships were on station dropping off M5 “Talos" automated base and siege turrets to help protect the base and augment the ODSTs' firepower. At the same time, ordnance pods and resupply canisters were being dropped by a Pelican directly into the center of the outpost. Charger Company’s first sergeant and a couple of other ODSTs were already there ripping them open, revealing they were filled with all manner of crew-served weapons, ranging from simple M247 “Gimpy" machine guns, to short ranged NA4 flamethrowers, and even more exotic weapons like ARC-920 railguns. All of this was on top of the small arms and grenades the ODSTs already had on them. And if that wasn’t enough firepower to hold the Flood back…
“Archangel, this is destroyer, UNSC Midnight Sun, holding station thirty klicks above your position, standing by to provide support. Do you copy, over?”
Djavadi looked up at the sky until he spotted the warship hovering high in the air. At this distance, even as large as the Halberd-class destroyer was, it appeared to be nothing more than a black dot in the sky. Still, Djavadi couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief upon seeing it. With the firepower of an entire warship at his fingertips, on top of the fighter jets streaming back into the AO, Djavadi and the rest of the ODSTs just might survive this.
“Sun, this is Archangel, I read you loud and clear,” he replied. “Thanks for stopping by and lending us a hand, over.”
“Don’t start buying us drinks just yet, Archangel,” Sun warned. “Let’s make sure you make it through this… Archangel, wait one, we're picking up a signal… Seismic disturbances! Archangel, be advised, we're picking up surface seismic disturbances two klicks due north of your position, over.”
Djavadi immediately raised his rifle and peered through his scope in the indicated direction. Sure enough, a cloud of dust was rising into the air as a sinkhole began to form.
“Copy that, Sun, I see it,” Djavadi declared. “Break. Archangel to Charger, I got eyes on a possible Flood breach two klicks north of the OP. Can you confirm, over?”
“Confirmed,” came the immediate reply. “Sensors confirm, those are hostiles. Archangel, you are cleared to engage!”
“Copy that! Archangel to Sun, seismic disturbance confirmed hostile! Target that hole! We need to use that as a chokepoint and keep the Flood boxed in for as long as possible because if they spread out, they'll be impossible to keep contained! Requesting immediate fire support; hit with ‘em with Archers!”
“Copy. Locked onto target, missiles away.”
Contrails filled the air as the Archers departed from their VLS pods embedded in the hull of the Midnight Sun and sped towards the surface. Technically, Archers were anti-ship missiles and as such, were optimized for armor penetration, not light unarmored infantry targets in the open. But as each missile came equipped with a two hundred and fifty kilogram warhead, optimized or not, it ultimately mattered little to a target as small as a humanoid figure.
The missiles slammed into the ground at hypersonic speeds, the impact barely strong enough to set off their fuzes. Nevertheless, the explosion sent plumes of smoke billowing into the air which unfortunately had the side effect of preventing Djavadi from seeing what sort of effect the ordnance was having on the Flood, but he didn’t see them pouring out of the hole, he figured it had to be a good one.
“Good effect on target!” he yelled. “Hit them with your tertiary batteries! ASGMs!”
“Copy. HE equipped ASGM-10 missiles in effect. Missiles inbound.”
A volley of smaller but no less effective missiles saturated the area. Through his scope, Djavadi was frantically scanning the area when he noticed movement near the top of the hole. At first he thought it was just dirt being churned up by the explosions, but as the figures began to form silhouettes in the dust, he realized Flood forms were beginning to emerge from the ground.
“Sun, Archangel: got eyes on Flood emerging from the hole,” he announced. “Need you to repeat, I say again, repeat fire mission, over.”
“All missile batteries are reloading.”
“Then give me a Gatling barrage!”
“Copy. Engaging with forward ventral Rampart turrets... Archangel, be advised: we've been authorized by Strike Group Command to use whatever means necessary to contain the Flood threat, up to and including MAC rounds. We are in a position to use said rounds; we could plant one into the breach and collapse the hole, over.”
Djavadi felt himself sitting up straighter at that. “Sun, acknowledged. Wait one, break. Charger, Archangel: sir, we've just been given authorization to use MAC rounds in atmosphere. I have one primed and ready to use right now. Request permission to plant one in the hole, over?”
“Negative request,” Ironside immediately barked. “That MAC may just bury the Flood instead of killing them all outright and if we gotta to fight them, I rather do so on the surface then underground. Just keep pouring it on!”
“Got it, break! Sun, save the MACs, just keep pounding them with conventional weapons.”
“Understood. Re-engaging with Archers.”
Djavadi glanced downrange. Whether by the explosions or their own actions, the hole was slowly expanding, making it more and more difficult to keep the Flood boxes it. Already he could see dozens emerging onto solid ground, undeterred by the barrage of 50mm cannon shells raining down from above.
BOOM! BOOM!
Through his scope, Djavadi watched as the led combat form – a human attacker form – take a shell to its upper torso and exploded into ludicrous gibs even though it was no where near the intense bombardment Midnight Sun was generating, and he glanced down at the outpost walls to see the base's newly deployed automated siege turrets had just become active. Though they weren’t the only ones. Even as Djavadi turned his attention back to the Flood, tracer rounds began streaking across the field as the M202 machine guns mounted on the Talos turrets also began firing, filling the air with bullets.
“All call signs: the Flood are now in the open,” Djavadi announced over all channels, even as the sound of gunfire intensified as the ODSTs began to add their fire to the conflagration. “I need all pilots on full alert; I’m going to be vectoring in fighters here shortly, which means things are about to get extremely crowded, so watch your fire. All call signs, confirm order, over.”
“Midnight Sun copies all.”
“This is Bayonet, that’s an a-firm.”
“Oddball here: understood.”
As a hail of affirmations came rolling in through the radio, Djavadi took a deep breath…
… and then began to direct fire where needed.
“Hurricane, this Archangel: I need a Broadsword airstrike on position one zero six…”
Bombs, rockets, missiles, shells, bullets, and napalm all plummeted out of the sky in a highly coordinated orchestra of death, with Djavadi as the conductor. Explosions and shrapnel and fire ripped through the ranks of the Flood, leaving the ground covered in craters, ash, and blood. The amount of power Djavadi had under his direct control was unprecedented: with nothing more than a wave of his hand or a pointing of his finger, he could cause entire platoons of Flood forms to simply vanish into the ether. The feeling was awe inspiring, euphoric, and completely unknown as during the war – outside a few notable exceptions – the UNSC never was able to maintain the air and space dominance necessary to provide this level of support. From his position on top of the array, if he could see it, he could kill it, and that thought sent tingles down his spine even as he realized he would never experience an event like this again. And as that thought, that realization, settled into his bones, for a brief moment he almost felt like weeping.
POP! POP! CRACK!
Djavadi was forcefully dragged back down to Earth by the sound of bullets ricocheting off the railing beside him, and looked around wildly before zeroing in on the source: the Flood, proving once again they were more than the mindless beast they appeared to be, were shooting at him with whatever weaponry they had salvaged from the former garrison of Whiskey Outpost. Whether they were drawing from the memories of their hosts or simply came to the logical conclusion, they had clearly made the connection between a single Marine sitting by himself in an elevated position and the airpower wrecking havoc on their ranks.
Scrambling to his feet, Djavadi lifted his rifle and immediately returned fire, striking the Flood several times. Blood oozed from their wounds but they didn’t even so much as flinch, and Djavadi cursed, wishing he had had the foresight to grab one of those heavy support weapons before climbing up here. There was a slight pause in the incoming fire as the Flood stopped to reload, and Djavadi seized the opportunity to grabbed his stuff and scurry around to the other side of the comms tower in an attempt to give himself more cover. Unfortunately, he knew it was a temporary solution; now that the Flood had a lock on his position, how long would it be before they brought heavier weapons to bear?
“Archangel, Charger: underground sensors indicate majority of Flood ranks have made it to the surface. You’re cleared to take out the hole. Cut their legs out from beneath them!”
“Copy!” Djavadi yelled. “Sun, take out the hole! Shut it down!”
“Acknowledged. Weapons, load up fragmentation round, single coil charge. Lock on target, safeties off. Ground troops, be advised, engaging with MAC in three… two… one… engage, engage, engage.”
There was a flash of light, one so bright, Djavadi could still see it even as his visor went full opaque, and white noise filled his ears as his helmet automatically sealed to prevent his eardrums from getting blown out. Even at the lowest power setting possible, the MAC round still hit the surface with the force of a small tactical nuke, and while most of the explosion was contained underground – which protected the outpost from total annihilation - the entire world yawed and shook as the blast front caused the ground to literally ripple like waves. The Flood, numerous ODSTs, and even a couple of the automated turrets were sent toppling to the ground and for a moment, the fight was abandoned as everyone involved stopped what they were doing to just focus on riding out the storm.
As a pilot and orbital drop qualified Marine, Djavadi was used to the effect of unstable maneuvers and high-g forces against his body and as such, was quickly able to regain his bearings following the blast. Surging upright, he quickly surveyed the battlefield. A massive crater now sat in the place of where the hole in the ground once was. Meanwhile, the Flood that had been closest to ground zero had all been vaporized, however, several hundred Flood forms still occupied the field and they too were quickly recovering from the blast. But, with all the Flood – or at least, the vast majority of them – now on the surface, Djavadi was free to call in every single one of his fighters and have them simultaneously drop whatever ordnance they had left on the field. The coordination it would take to accomplish while preventing his fighters from accidentally hitting each other would be intense, but the result would be –
“All UNSC aircraft, clear the airspace.”
…what?
“What the f*ck!?” Djavadi exclaimed out loud as his fighters began disappearing from the AO while the Sun started flying back into orbit. “This is Archangel-6: who the f*ck is taking away my air support!?!?”
“This is Starfire-Actual,” an unknown feminine voice replied. “Authentication Tango Bravo Niner Six Five Quebec One Three.”
Djavadi quickly typing the code into his TACPAD to see who he was talking to, and immediate blanched when he realized he was talking to Rear Admiral Richards, commander of the Expeditionary Strike Group Four and overall head of all UNSC forces in system.
“Ma’am!” he reflexively blurted out. “With all due respect, Starfire, but why are you taking away my air support? We’re still in heavy contact!”
“Unfortunately, son, when the Sangheili decide to do something, even I can’t stop them. And I rather there not be any friendly fire incidents,” Richards drily replied.
Djavadi opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but then paused when he noticed the area around him seemed to have picked up a red glow. He instinctively looked up.
“Oh… sh*t…” he whispered as he noticed a massive Covenant ship descending through the atmosphere. His radio suddenly crackled, and growling voice sounded over the channel.
“HUMANS. CLEAR THE AREA. WE SHALL DEAL WITH THE PARASITE.”
“Holy sh*t,” Djavadi yelped as he saw the weapons on the ship begin to power up. “EVERYONE! GET DOWN! GET- “
Djavadi was cut off when the Covenant ship abruptly fired, and he watched with his mouth hanging slightly open unloaded its full range of weaponry on the field below. Entire sections of the field simply disintegrated – along with anything standing there – as plasma torpedoes bombarded the surface while plasma bolts targeted individual Flood forms. At the same time, plasma lances swept the field, burning anything that remained.
During the entire time of the fusillade, all Djavadi could do was just stand there, watching, equal parts astonished and horrified. This was not the first time he had seen an orbital plasma bombardment. This was the first time he had one land so close to his position and yet, not be directed towards him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. On one hand, there was no doubt the plasma weaponry was far more effective at eliminating the Flood than convention UNSC explosives as not only did plasma kill the combat form, it also destroyed the biological tissue, make it impossible for the Flood to revive. On the other, watching this unholy broadside uncomfortably reminded him of the many, many worlds that had suffered through such an event, and the countless humans who had been murdered directly by the Sangheili on behalf of the Covenant.
Thus, it came with some relief when the barrage abruptly ended, the entire field now covered in glass and ash, and the acrid scent of ozone hanging in the air. He scanned the field, but not a single Flood form remained.
“HUMAN SHIPMASTER, THE PARASITE HAS BEEN PURGED. YOU MAY PROCEED WITH YOUR WARRIOR DEPLOYMENT.”
“Thank you, Shipmaster,” Richards replied, sounding wary. “Starfire to Charger: Task Force ‘Jackalope’ is en route to your location, ETA, five minutes. As soon as they touch down, you are to execute ‘Clean Sweep’ Protocol, over.”
“Copy that, Starfire,” Ironside replied. “Gentlemen, you heard the lady: check your weapons and prepare to move out.”
Djavadi nodded to himself in acknowledgement as he silently gathered up his equipment, exhausted by the events of the day. As he glanced over the still smoldering field, he was suddenly struck with the realization that, despite everything he had seen, everything he had experienced, he still wasn’t sure who was worse: the Flood…
… or the Covenant.
Canon Notes
New Llanelli: this is a canon colony. It is the homeworld of Anthony Madsen, one of the SPARTAN-IV members of Fireteam Majestic from Halo 4’s Spartan Ops (he and fireteam leader DeMarco were the ones who tried to hit on Sarah Palmer upon arriving on the Infinity before they realized who she was.) In canon, the colony was attacked and glassed by the Covenant in 2546. There was never a Flood outbreak here, either during the war or after; that’s a plotline that I created for another Halo fanfiction that I write several years back.
ANGLICO: this is an IRL USMC construct. Standing for Air Naval Gunfire LIaison COmpany, it is a “special operations capable” unit tasked with coordinating artillery, navy, and air fire support for ground maneuver units. They are somewhat analogous to the USAF’s “Tactical Air Control Parties,” aka, “TACPs.” Technically speaking, at the battalion level, they’re actually called “Firepower Control Team” or “FCT,” but I thought ANGLICO sounded cooler.
15th Shock Troop Battalion: this is a canon ODST unit, however there’s no indication they actually fought at the Battle of Kenya, or the Battle of Installation 00. Nor is there any indication they ever encountered the Flood.
UNSC Fifth Winter: this is a canon ship. It is an Orion-class assault carrier that first appeared as part of the Halo: Outpost Discovery experience.
General Notes
Given the importance of “Stratagems” in Helldivers 2, I tried to make them the focus of this chapter, as opposed to the actual fight between the ODSTs and the Flood. At first, I wanted to match the Stratagems to their potential Halo counterparts, which sort of worked for the Offensive “Eagle” Stratagems (though I had to make up some ordnance of my own, most notably the BLU-327 fuel-air explosive,) but it quickly fell apart when I reached the Orbital Stratagems. For example, originally I envisioned the “380mm HE Barrage” and the “120mm HE Barrage” to be Archer and ASGM-10 missile strikes, respectively, but I quickly realized that while 380mm is a massive caliber for tubed artillery (380mm is 15inches; for reference, the last battleships the US Navy ever operated – the Iowa-class battleships – were armed with 16 inch guns,) for missiles – especially anti-ship missiles – that’s actually quite tiny. That, and guided missiles usually aren’t classified by their diameter like tubed artillery is. So I quickly abandoned that idea.
I made the Flood the enemy in this chapter firstly because all my other stories focus on fighting the Covenant and I wanted to mix things up and secondly because based on all of the streams and YouTube videos I’ve seen of Helldivers 2, it seems that the “Terminids,” which are a bug-like alien enemy similar to the “Zerg” from Starcraft or the “Tyranids” from Warhammer 40k (or, you know, the Pseudo-Arachnids from Starship Troopers) are the most popular enemy to fight against. Whereas in Halo, the Flood seemed to be the closest we have to the traditional “insectoid” enemy. (Well, we also have Covenant Drones, but I don’t find them as interesting.)
Chapter 11: Earth 2552: Eternal Patrol
Chapter Text
This is a direct sequel to Chapter 8: Earth: 2552: “Dive.” Unfortunately, in order to understand this one, you’ll have to read that one. Sorry.
Sydney, New South Wales
Australia, Earth
11 November 2552
1303J
SgtMaj Chislon Godwin, Command Staff, H&S Company, Sydney Defense Force
Siege of Sydney
Tink tink… TINK!
Spiker rounds smashed into the concrete just behind him as he frantically crouch-dashed forward. Bouncing off the wall at the far end, Godwin snapped up his shotgun and fired off two shells in rapid succession. The eight gauge frag rounds slammed into the lead Brute, bursting the alien's power armor and causing it and the two Grunts it was with to immediately dive for cover.
“Mathis!” he yelled as he dropped to one knee to top off his shotgun with buckshot. “I need a grenade, right here!”
He pointed with two fingers, placing a Waypoint directly over the Brute's position. With all the gunfire, there wasn't any verbal confirmation, but a split second later, a forty millimeter grenade came plummeting out of the sky like a mortar, landing directly onto the Covenant's position. There was a cry of alarm that was abruptly cut off by the explosion, which sent metal fragments and chunks of flesh up into the air. Godwin didn't hesitate.
“Cover me!” he yelled as he tucked his weapon under his arm and charged forward. Reaching the lip of the crater, he snapped up his shotgun and began slamfiring the weapon, hosing down the entire crater with double-ought buck and finishing off the three wounded aliens moaning pitifully at the bottom.
CRACK!
Godwin ducked as a Spiker round whizzed over his shoulder.
FWOOZ! FWOOZ!
A volley of plasma bolts followed and Godwin glanced over the crater to see another company of Covenant infantry a hundred meters downrange advancing toward him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hold his current position as it was too exposed.
Ducking his head, Godwin turned around and ran back to the wall, yelling, “Marines, break contact and fall back!”
His two guards hurriedly climbed to their feet – their battles rifles spitting out a few last rounds – as they turned to follow Godwin. They reached the wall the exact same time three troop Warthogs pulled up with a screech and began disgorging out an entire section of Marines.
“Gunny. Gunny!” Godwin yelled, grabbing the gunnery sergeant leading the section and pulling him close. “I want you and your section to secure this breach! Do not let the Covenant break through! We took out their support weapons, but you got a company of Covies advancing on this position; I’ll wrangle up some reinforcements for you, but you hold your ground, come hell or highwater! Is that understood!?”
“Got it in one, Sergeant Major! Alright Marines, find some cover and spread out! MOVE!”
“You two, on me!” Godwin barked at his guards. “We're headed back to the Command Bunker!”
“Aye, Sergeant Major!”
Tossing his weapon into the backseat of the Warthog closest to him, Godwin scrambled into the driver's seat.
“Hurry it up, Devil Dogs!” he screamed as he jammed down on the accelerator. The ‘Hog immediately leapt into motion, nearly causing his guards to fall out as the powerful all-terrain vehicle took off across the shattered ground and back towards the city.
Or, at least, what remained of the city.
Sydney was a moonscape. Given the city's prominence as both the political and military capital of humanity, the Covenant had thoroughly bombarded the area from orbit within days of their arrival to the system. Unfortunately for them, the UNSC had twenty-eight years to prepare for such an event and as such, most of the critical infrastructure needed to run the war effort had long been relocated underground. So, while the city itself had been devastated, the military and political complex had mostly survived to remain a thorn in the Covenant's side.
“Keep an eye out for aircraft!” Godwin yelled over the howling wind as he turned onto what had once been a major highway, but had since transformed into a crater-filled debris-choked funnel. Dodging around wrecked vehicles and bomb craters, Godwin sped towards one of the many hidden entrances that led towards the Command Bunker. “How we lookin’?”
“We got enemy aircraft at our three o’clock, maybe seven kilometers out!” Mathis reported without lowering the binoculars from his face.
“This our daily bombing run?”
“Not sure, Sergeant Major; I think they’ve got a couple of dropships with them.”
“Might be attempting another air assault on one of the outpost!” Godwin guessed, before yelling over his shoulder, “Private Holst! Get on the horn and alert all stations: enemy dropships spotted over Sector Seventeen, headed towards the coast! Destination, unknown, but all outpost are to watch their backs!”
“Aye, Sergeant Major!”
“Keep an eye on them, Mathis!”
Godwin shoved the accelerator down even further and watched as the numbers on his speedometer climb. With the Covenant maintaining air superiority over all of Greater Sydney, any vehicles moving on the surface ran the risk of being quickly bombed out of existence in short order. They had to get underground. Now.
Consulting his HUD, Godwin quickly turned the ‘Hog onto the nearest exit ramp. Leaving the highway behind, they sped straight down the road toward the tunnel that laid at the other end. The entrance loomed ahead like a cavernous mouth.
“Sergeant Major! We got two Banshees turning in our direction! I think they just spotted us!”
Godwin didn’t bother responding as he slammed down on the brakes, pulling the Warthog alongside the tunnel entrance. At some point during the course of the battle, the entrance had taken a direct hit, causing it to partially collapse. It was still accessible, but not for vehicles. They would have to proceed the rest of the way on foot.
“Dismount! Move!” Godwin roared as he leapt from the Warthog.
He scrambled over the debris as the shriek of Banshees filled the air and glanced over his shoulder, only to see two green flashes.
“sh*t! INCOMING! GET INSIDE, NOW!”
Without waiting for a response, Godwin took off running down the tunnel. About halfway down, he skidded to a stop in front of a large metal sliding door and wrenched it open. “Marines, MOVE!”
Holst and Mathis hurtled through the doorway as the fuel rod cannons came screaming in. They slammed into the abandoned Warthog, causing it to go up like a megaton nuke. The explosions ripped through the tunnel entrance and Godwin felt his eyes widen as a fireball shot straight towards him.
“f*ck!” he yelled as he slammed the door shut, but not before enough flames had passed through the threshold to set him ablaze.
“Sergeant Major! Are you okay!?”
Hands began grabbing at him to try and put out the fire, but Godwin angrily shoved them away.
“Get the f*ck off me!” he snarled. “I’m fine. Sealed ODST armor, remember? Let’s just get out of here before the Banshees come back around.”
As if to emphasis his point, the tunnel shook and the howl of the Banshees echoed though the air as the aircraft shot by overhead.
Patting himself down, Godwin limped to the end of the passage where a single elevator car sat waiting. Punching one of the only two buttons available, he grabbed the hand rails to steady himself as the car lurched into motion, quickly descending below the surface. The elevator shaft suddenly shook, and all three of them reflexively glanced up as the rumble of plasma bombs reached them.
“f*ck,” he heard Mathis mutter. “I guess that’s another entrance scrapped.”
Godwin grunted in agreement, having already scratched the location off his HUD.
There was a mute ding and the doors slid open. Godwin stepped off the car, only to find himself facing the business end of a heavy machine gun turret. He paused, mid-step, as he waited for the operator to recognize him.
“Oh, sh*t, friendlies!”
The machine gun was immediately pointed away as the Marine operator leapt to attention. “Sorry about that, Sergeant Major!”
“As you were,” Godwin barked, hardly fazed by the potential friendly-fire incident. “Lance Corporal, Private: secure this entrance!”
“Aye, Sergeant Major!”
Without another word, Godwin took off down the corridor in the direction of the command center. “Make a hole! Marine coming through, make a hole!”
The corridors were filled with military personnel from all branches of the military as well as civilians seeking shelter from the marauding Covenant aircraft above, but they all quickly scrambled to get out his way. Whether they were doing so because they recognized the hurried air that surrounded him, or were just intimated by the sight of a heavy armored ODST trooper barreling towards them, he didn’t know and frankly didn’t care; all he knew was that within a matter of minutes, he found himself approaching the personnel guarding the entrance to the command center. Without breaking stride, he flashed his ID at them, and the guards quickly parted to allow him passage.
“Who do we have available that can reinforce Outpost Three at Phase Line Gold!?” he demanded to know the moment he was inside. Of the dozen or so technicians frantically working at their stations, none but two looked up at his shout.
“Task Force Wolfe is in reserve, Sergeant Major,” one reported.
“Good. Send them out.”
“Er, Sergeant Major, TF Wolfe just got pulled off the line not even twenty minutes ago. Their commander isn’t going to be happy about being forced to redeploy so soon,” the other technician warned, only to shrink as Godwin glared at her.
“You tell Warrant Officer Wolfe, from me, the tactical operations commander of Sydney’s Defense Forces, he’s got one of two choices: either he and his Marines can get their asses over to OP-3 and die on their feet, or they can die lying on their cots when the Covies finally overrun us because he didn’t want to do his f*cking job. Clear?”
“Aye, Sergeant Major,” the technician meekly replied.
Immediately dismissing her from his mind, Godwin turned to the room at large. “Give me a sitrep!”
“Seraphs have collapsed the tunnel over Entrance Eleven, burying it; its no longer usable,” someone immediately reported.
“Phase Line Purple has been completely overrun, but all defending forces were successfully able to conduct a fighting retreat to Phase Line Silver. Still figuring out the butcher’s bill though.”
“Casualty list from yesterday actions, Sergeant Major,” another technician said, handing Godwin a data pad as they walked past.
“Any word on our relief?” Godwin demanded to know.
“They’re moving down the coast as fast as they can, but last reports indicated they got halted by heavy Covenant action just outside Newcastle.”
“Sergeant Major Godwin?”
Godwin glanced at the technician who called out his name.
“The Admiralty wants a debrief.”
Godwin grunted in acknowledgement and started to turn away when he noticed the technician was looking at him with an expectant look on his face. “What, now?”
“Er, no Sergeant Major: I told them you were out inspecting the line, so they said to call them ‘at your earliest convenience.’”
Godwin suppressed a sigh. “I’ll deal with it in my office.”
Barely hearing the acknowledgement, Godwin walked over to the small closest that was his office. Shutting the door behind him, he tossed his data pad onto his desk and slid into his chair. It was only then, in the privacy of his office, did he let out a loud groan of exhaustion.
It had been nearly four days since he had walked off that stupid submarine that had saved him from what was let of Mombasa on the coast of east Africa. Four days since he had entered this city and discovered that he was the highest ranking Marine with an infantry MOS. Because of that, he had been promoted and made commander of tactical operations here in the city despite his protest that, as an ODST, his expertise laid with small unit tactics, not large scale combat operations. Still, as an ODST, he wasn't one to shy away from challenges and had reluctantly accepted his promotion.
…And had regretted it ever since as these last four days had been some of the most difficult he had experienced in his entire career. Admittedly, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice; as both the last stronghold of the UNSC and the homeworld of humanity, Earth was it. If Earth were to fall… well, humanity's defeat had been inevitable for many years now. At least this way, Godwin could make the Covenant pay in blood for every square centimeter they tried to take.
Scrubbing his eyes, he decided he had let High Command wait long enough and reached out to activate his communicator. As he waited for the connection to go through, he absentmindedly glanced at his data pad-
- and froze upon reading the first line.
…SS Seahorse lost with all hands…
For a moment, all Godwin could hear was white noise, and he quickly re-read the data pad to make sure he had seen it correctly the first time. Sure enough, the words didn’t change.
…SS Seahorse lost with all hands…
For a moment, Godwin wasn’t sure how to react. As far as deaths go… as a veteran ODST in the war, Godwin had lost people far more important to him than the crew of the Seahorse, including most recently, his entire ODST company to an EMP over the skies of Mombasa. And, truth be told, it wasn’t like he really knew the crew of the Seahorse; the journey from Mombasa to Sydney had only taken a couple of weeks during which the crew had been mostly busy with their own duties, leaving Godwin to himself.
And yet…
The words Corpsman Maggie had said to him when he first board the submarine echoed through his mind. That, once a colony was lost to the Covenant, it was usually the submarine crews that were the last humans standing. Somehow, he abruptly realized, he had taken those words to heart on a subconscious level. That the moment he had stepped off the Seahorse and onto Sydney Harbour, he had fully expected himself to be the first to die, and the crew of the Seahorse to be the ones to read the report about his death. And strangely enough, that had given him some comfort, the idea that, even when everything was said and done, when Humanity’s last light was finally extinguished, there would at least be one ember of hope, one surviving piece of humanity that could grow back into a blaze, still remaining – however small – just below the ocean’s surface.
But now that hope was gone. And… Godwin wasn’t sure he knew how to feel about it.
“Sergeant Major?”
Godwin twitched as he looked around wildly, only to notice that in the time he’d been distracted, the connection had been established, and now sprayed out in front of him were the holographic displays of what remained of the UNSC Security Council, including its chair, Fleet Admiral Lord Terrance Hood. Who was staring at Godwin with a small look of concern on his face.
Feeling himself flush ever so slightly, Godwin shook himself off. “My apologizes, sir, I was… distracted. Admirals, Generals, as requested, the situation in Sydney is as follows…”
As Godwin continued with his brief, he tried to shove all thoughts of the Seahorse to the back of his mind, but as he did, he suddenly called up a half-remembered story he had heard once in his youth regarding submarines, specifically: the legend of the Eternal Patrol. Among Old-World Navies, there was a tradition that if a submarine were to be lost at sea for whatever reason, she and crew weren’t considered dead but rather, “on Eternal Patrol,” and their names would be retained on the rolls, waiting for the day they finally returned to port.
Gone, but never forgotten.
Godwin wasn’t normally an indecisive man, but he suddenly knew what he had to do. As soon as the Admiralty was done with him, he was going back to his room to light a candle, to help the show the crew of the Seahorse their way back home. Then, he was going to turn his full attention back to the defense of Sydney, this time with the intention of killing as many Covenant as possible. Because, as every ODST knew, it wasn’t just their job to jump feet first into hell-
- it was to make sure it was damn well crowded before they got there.
General Notes
I came across the concept of the Eternal Patrol when doing a bit of research on submarines for chapter 8. The parallels between that and Halo's “Spartans never die" are unmistakable, so much so, I wonder if the developers and writers were actually inspired by the submarine community. Whatever the case may be, I thought I would try and write a chapter around it.
I also thought I would take the opportunity to explore a bit of Sydney’s role during the Battle of Earth as its one of the few places explicitly mentioned in canon as being attacked by the Covenant (specifically, it is said the city was “severely devastated by the Covenant”) during their 2552 invasion. As you can see, I’ve taken the liberty of calling it “The Siege of Sydney.” Sydney is important in canon because, as mentioned in this chapter, the city serves as the primary headquarters for the UEG (humanity's civilian government) and host to the UNSC Security Council - also referred to as “High Command" or “the Admiralty” - the governing body of the UNSC (humanity's military arm.)
Chapter 12: Actium 2545: Guardian Angel
Chapter Text
Subway System, Byzas
Thracia Province, Actium
6 May 2545
Kaylee Smothers
The popping of electricity was what woke her first. For a few moments, all she could do was lie there. Her entire body hurt. She had never felt like this before. The closest she could think of was the last time she and Molly had a sleepover, but instead of sleeping, they had spent the entire night gossiping and eating the candy. They had paid for it the next morning when they could barely keep their eyes open during breakfast, and she had nearly faceplanted her scrambled eggs.
Even to this day, her mom kept making fun of her for that. It was totally lame.
But now? Now, as she forced her eyes opened and looked around, she realized she would give anything to deal with her mom's lame but well-meaning teasing. Anything, but the situation she found herself in now.
The subway car she and her family had been riding in was a mess. It had been knocked off the rails and onto its side; what had once been a wall was now the floor. Seats and stanchions had been ripped out from their mountings and tossed around, and live electrical wires hung all over the place. The entire rear half of the car was smoldering, filling the air with smog and making her eyes burn. But worse of all were the bodies: the people she remembered boarding the train with were now all over the place, their bodies lying in unnatural poses. Including…
“Dad! Tommy!” she cried, her voice hoarse and strained because of the smoke. Pushing herself upright, she staggered to where her father and her younger brother were lying, half-covered by a bench that had been ripped out from its bolts. Her dad was lying on his back with his eyes closed, arms wrapped around her brother. Both were eerily still.
“Dad,” she gasped as she grabbed his shoulder and roughly shook it, trying to wake him. “Get up! Please…”
She tugged on his shoulder, trying to pull him out from underneath the bench, but he was too big and heavy for her alone. She tried the same with her brother, but he didn’t budge either, and looking more closely at the bench, she realized it was keeping them pinned down.
“Hang on! I’ll get you guys out!” she desperately cried as she wiggled her fingers under the edge of the bench and tried to lift up with all her strength, but unfortunately, the bench was too heavy and there was too much stuff keeping it pinned down. And her dad was the one in the family who always did the heavy lifting.
Abandoning the bench, she darted back and grabbed her dad's shoulder.
“Dad, please get up. I need your help,” she pleaded. “Tommy? Please?”
She could feel tears stream down her face as she whispered, “Please don’t leave me…”
But no matter how much she begged or cried, she knew that her pleas were falling on deaf ears. In her heart, she knew that half of her family, that her annoying and bratty but oh so kind when he wanted to be brother, that her goofy and sometimes lame and strong and loving dad, were…
Were…
Were.
xxx
Kaylee didn’t know how long she sat there, cradling her family. All she knew was that by the time she looked up, a small pool of her tears had formed on the floor, mixing in with the ash and trash lying there. At first she didn’t understand what had caught her attention, but then she heard it again: the soft pitter patter of footsteps, followed by the mute groan of metal, like a door was being wrenched open. It took Kaylee a few moment to realize what it had to be: someone was going from car to car, opening the doors and looking inside.
A rescue squad!
Kaylee automatically opened her mouth to let out a shout for help, to let them know she was there, when she suddenly remembered something: she and her family hadn’t been in this subway because they were going to Byzas for a daytrip, they were in the subway because they had been evacuating. Because the Covenant had invaded.
Kaylee had to admit, she hadn’t really paid too much attention to war. What? She was twelve, she had better things to do. Plus, unlike many of her friends and classmates, none of her family were soldiers. Sure, her dad's sister was a soldier, but her dad and her aunt weren’t close and Kaylee never really got to know her growing up. And her mom was an only child. So aside from seeing her classmates occasionally getting pulled out of class – and sometimes never returning – she didn’t have much to do with the war.
Her brother, on the other hand, was obsessed with all things soldier. Every game, every movie, every song that dealt with UNSC soldiers fighting against the “evil Covenant aliens" he just had to have it. His favorite game he and his friends liked to play was “soldiers versus aliens,” and despite being only nine years old, he had already decided he was going to a soldier one day. One of the ways he used to annoy her was by coming into her room before bedtime and tell her stories of what the Covenant were doing to the poor people on all of the other colonies they were invading. And although Kaylee would never admit it – especially to him - those stories terrified her.
And it was those stories in mind that caused her to freeze with fear and listen as the footsteps drew closer and closer to her car. She found herself praying that whoever it was wandering outside would simply… walk past her, but to no avail as there was a slight pause, then the door handle at the other end of the car started rattling.
“Oh no,” Kaylee fearfully whimpered as she stared at the door, as if she could magically ensure the door was locked or jammed shut or something. Maybe if whoever was outside couldn’t get in, they would go away…
With a mute screech, the door slid open, and a beam of white light penetrated the darkness of the car. Reflexively, Kaylee wiggled further into the shadows, slapping a hand over her mouth as she tried to stay quiet, but she was shaking so much and breathing so hard and tears were dripping down her face as she tried to remain brave but she didn’t want to get eaten-
There was a soft metallic groaned as someone climbed inside and Kaylee watched with wide eyes as the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to her hiding spot, the beam of light traveling across the floor, revealing all of the bodies lying on the ground and casting eerie shadows all over the place. Whoever it was that was carrying the flashlight seemed to be pausing by every body, as the beam would stop every now and then, and Kaylee couldn’t help but wonder what the alien was looking for, if they were looking for someone that looked particularly tasty, or, or…
The light fell onto her dad and brother, and Kaylee wanted to scream as she hadn’t realized Tommy's eyes were wide open and staring directly at her, as if he was blaming her for everything that had happened, and she shoved her hand even tighter against her face to prevent any noise from escaping her but she must have whimpered or something because the light immediately leapt from her family to her face, blinding her, and Kaylee finally gave in and took a deep breath to scream because the Covenant was standing right in front of her-
The light abruptly turned off.
“Hey,” a soft and warm and distinctively human voice suddenly said. “Hey, kid, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. UNSC Army, I’m here to help.”
As Kaylee's eyes slowly readjusted to the darkness, she could see a humanoid figure crouched in front of her, with their hands up and palms out in a gesture of peace, and even though the figure's dark skin made it hard for Kaylee to make out their features in the low light, Kaylee could see enough to know that the person in front of her was a woman, and more importantly, wearing the uniform of a UNSC soldier.
Kaylee couldn’t stop herself: she immediately burst into tears, sobbing in relief as she realized the person was one of the good guys and not one of the monstrous Covenant aliens.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, everything is going to be okay,” the lady reassuringly said, and Kaylee didn’t resist as the lady reached out and pulled her into a hug. It wasn’t as warm or as friendly as the ones her parents gave her after her nightmares, and the lady's body armor meant Kaylee couldn’t press her face against the lady's chest like she would with her parents, but the lady's arms felt strong and solid around her, and she didn’t protest as Kaylee sobbed into her shoulder. She just hugged her and murmured reassuring words into her ears.
Eventually, Kaylee's tears slowed as she began to calm down, and she reluctantly pulled away from the women’s chest. The Soldier quietly regarded her for a moment, before softly asking, “Feeling better?”
Kaylee nodded.
“Good, I’m glad to hear,” the woman said sincerely. “I’m Mackenzie. What’s your name?”
“Kaylee. Kaylee Smothers,” Kaylee whispered, and she couldn’t help but glance at her family. Her dad had been the one to name her, she suddenly remembered.
Mackenzie must have noticed Kaylee’s movement because she turned to glance at whatever had caught Kaylee's attention.
“Your family?” Kaylee heard her gently ask. Kaylee nodded.
“My dad,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears once more. “My brother, Tommy.”
“I'm sorry,” Mackenzie mutely said. “I wish I could do something for them… but I can’t. The only thing I can do now is make sure you make it. Do you think you can stand?”
Kaylee nodded. Wiping her nose, she climbed to her feet as Mackenzie grabbed her gun off the ground and flicked on the flashlight. Before they walked out of the car, Mackenzie paused and glanced back at Kaylee’s family.
“Kaylee, is there… anything you want to… get from them?” she hesitantly asked. “Because I’m… not sure when we'll be back.”
Kaylee resolutely shook her head. She didn’t want to touch her family anymore. She didn’t want to feel how cold and still they had become. She… she wanted to go home. She wanted her mom. She wanted to forget today ever happened.
But she knew, from the moment she had walked onto this car this morning, nothing was ever going to be the same.
“Okay,” Mackenzie said. “Just… stay behind me, okay?”
Kaylee nodded and together they climbed out of the car.
Out in the tunnel, it was no better than inside the car. It was immediately clear to Kaylee that for whatever reason, their train had derailed as train cars were lying all over the place, some lying on their sides like the one she had been, while other had remained standing. All the lights and much of the tiles on the wall and ceiling had blown out, and the only source of illumination – aside from Mackenzie's flashlight – were from destroyed, with arcing electrical wires hanging from the ceiling. Much to Kaylee’s surprise, there was no one else there, and she looked around, trying to figure out where everyone was.
“Kaylee. Are you… looking for someone?”
“Where's the… where's the rescue squad?” she asked, confused.
Mackenzie was quiet for a moment.
“I’m afraid it’s just us two,” she finally said.
Kaylee stared at her, puzzled. One of the things she remembered from the movies her brother watched was that a soldier never fought alone. So, where were all of Mackenzie's friends?
“Where are your friends?” Kaylee reflexively blurted out, only to immediately cringe as Mackenzie grimaced. She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could say anything, Mackenzie jerked her head in the direction of the last car in the train. “My squad and I… we were in the caboose, bring up the rear. My squad leader saved my life but… he didn’t make it. Nor did anyone else.”
Kaylee immediately felt terrible. “I’m sorry! I didn’t…”
She trailed off as Mackenzie shook her head.
“Don’t worry about it, kid, you didn’t know,” Mackenzie said with a gentle smile, though even Kaylee could tell it was forced. “Let’s just… let's just focus on getting out of here, shall we?”
Kaylee nodded, but as Mackenzie turned to walk away, she couldn’t help but ask, “Are… we going to be able to get out of here?”
Mackenzie stopped, turned around, and lowered herself into a crouch. As she stared into her eyes, she very firmly but not unkindly said, “Kaylee. Even if it’s the last thing I do, I will get you out of here. I promise.”
And with that, she held up her pinky.
It took Kaylee a moment to realize what she was doing, and it took all of her self discipline not to roll her eyes.
“You know I’m twelve, not four, right?” she snarked-
- only to instantly cringe as she realized how rude she was being. Not only would her mom have been furious at her (Kaylee could already see the disapproving glare on her face,) she suddenly realized she probably shouldn’t be so disrespectful to her savior; what if Mackenzie got so offended, she decided to leave her here…?
Fortunately, instead of getting mad, Mackenzie immediately burst out laughing. It was a joyous laugh, not a mean one, and Kaylee immediately felt better about her comment.
“Fair enough,” Mackenzie said as she stood back up. “As you might be able to tell, I don’t really deal with kids- sorry, young adults too often.”
“Its alright,” Kaylee reassuringly replied. “I don’t really deal with soldiers either.”
“Good to see we're in the same boat,” Mackenzie said as she hefted her gun. “Feel free to ask me any questions. In the meantime, shall we?”
Kaylee bobbed her head and together, they started walking down the tunnel.
As she followed in Mackenzie's wake, Kaylee found she didn’t really have anything to say. Part of it was because she had to keep her eyes on the ground - Mackenzie only had one flashlight and the ground was uneven so Kaylee had to be careful of where she stepped least she trip – but also, she just didn’t know what to say and it made her feel bad. Tommy, she knew, would have been over the moon. A chance to talk to a real life soldier? Tommy would have been walking alongside Mackenzie, asking her all sorts of questions about her training, her experiences, what she did… anything and everything he could think of, even if they weren’t the most appropriate. But Kaylee? Kaylee had questions, sure, but she didn’t even know where to begin, and she didn’t want to sound stupid; she was twelve, after all. Almost an adult.
So, instead, she did what she almost always did in these types of situations: she kept quiet and watched, studying Mackenzie as she led the way through the tunnel.
Mackenzie, Kaylee decided, was a warrior. Kaylee didn’t really know what a warrior looked like, but she was sure they would look like Mackenzie. Her body armor was strapped tight against her uniform, making her look strong and powerful. She stood tall, and walked confidently, even in the dark. And the weapons… Kaylee didn’t know much about guns, but she knew enough to know Mackenzie had a pistol strapped to her right thigh, a knife strapped to her left, and she was carrying some sort of machine gun, though Kaylee had never seen a gun with two barrels before. She wasn’t even wearing a helmet like all the heroes from the movies, which admittedly made Kaylee happy because that meant she could see Mackenzie's hair was done up in cornrows, and that made Kaylee slightly jealous as she always wanted to try cornrows. One time, she and Molly tried to braid up her hair like that, only, they could never get it right and all the tutorial videos they watched didn’t make sense-
“Kaylee? You still with me kid?”
Kaylee started and realize she had started to nod off. She shook herself, trying to wake up , but it didn’t help. In fact, she felt exhausted, even though she hadn’t done anything…
“Why am I so tired?” she mumbled as she tried to keep walking in a straight line.
“You mean aside from the fact you've just been through a rather traumatizing event? You have a small concussion. And…” for some reason, Mackenzie paused, then hesitatingly added, “and the oxygen level here in the tunnels are a bit low.”
“Oh,” Kaylee sleepily replied. “Why is that?”
“Ventilation fans aren’t working,” Mackenzie replied, pointing at the ceiling where, in the dim light, Kaylee could see a large metal cylinder-like device was mounted. “Plus…”
Again, Mackenzie seemed to hesitate.
“The air,” she finally said, “was sucked out of these tunnels. Only for a little bit, but… it takes a while for it to filter back.”
“How'd they do that?” Kaylee asked, confused. “Suck the air out?”
“Vacuum bomb.”
“What?”
“There's a… device… called a vacuum bomb that gets used against enclosed places like bunkers and tunnels. It’s good because it can literally suck the air out from those places and, uh, suffocate everyone inside. Its why everything is a mess down here; someone set one off.”
Kaylee was horrified. “Why would the aliens have something like that!?”
“They don’t.”
It took Kaylee a moment to parse Mackenzie’s meaning.
“Wait, are you saying the UNSC did this!?” Kaylee exclaimed, now fully awake. “That they… my dad and my brother… but, but, why?”
“I’m not sure,” Mackenzie admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure that one out. I knew we lost comms with DIVHQ a long time ago, so if they or even NORTHCOM did something, they would have had no way of warning us. I just can’t figure out why they would even want to blow up the subway system in the first place; even if we weren’t down here, a lot of Byzas's defenses run parallel or around the tunnels. Blowing up the subway would just undermine them, and HIGHCOM would only do if- “
Mackenzie abruptly stopped talking, and Kaylee stared at her, impatiently.
“’If’ what?” she finally asked.
“Quiet!” Mackenzie snapped and Kaylee felt her mouth snap shut, startled and a bit frightened by Mackenzie's terse tone. “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that but… do you hear that?”
Kaylee frowned and started to listen. Straining her ears, she thought she heard… wings?
“It sounds like wings?” she finally said. “Behind us maybe?”
She glanced at Mackenzie, only to see a grim look had appeared on her face.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she whispered as she turned off her flashlight. “Get down, and get behind me.”
Kaylee hurriedly moved to obey, and she watched as Mackenzie drop to one knee, and slide something into the large tube mounted to the bottom of her gun.
“If I tell you to run, you run, and you don’t look back. Got it, Kaylee?” Mackenzie harshly whispered.
“Got it,” Kaylee fearfully whispered back. She didn’t know what was going on, but it was clearly making Mackenzie nervous, and that made her nervous.
The fluttering of wings continued as Mackenzie pointed her gun down the tunnel they had come from. In the dim light, Kaylee watched as Mackenzie move her hand forward until –
“Cover your ears.”
BLOOP!
A loud gunshot echoed through the tunnels, making Kaylee jump in fright at ear shattering noise. A streak of light sped down the tunnel until it exploded into a ball of white light at the far end, illuminating the tunnel and revealing-
Kaylee couldn’t stop herself, even if she wanted to. She screamed.
Clinging to the walls and ceiling and floor was an entire crowd of gigantic, bug-like aliens. Each individual bug was massive, far bigger than her, bigger than her dad, and definitely bigger than the plastic bugs Tommy sometimes placed in her pillow. The moment they realized they had been spotted, the bugs immediately let out a bone-chilling screech.
“Kaylee, RUN!” Mackenzie yelled, and opened fire.
The lead bug instantly exploded into a ball of green goo that made Kaylee feel sick to her stomach, but she managed to avoid puking as she turned and ran. She didn’t know where she was going but it was a tunnel and there were only two ways to go, and she knew she wanted to go where the bad guys weren’t. She ran, stumbling and tripping over things she couldn’t see, but each time she picked herself up and kept on running. All the while, gunfire and inhuman screams continued to ring out behind her.
Rounding a bend, Kaylee stumbled to a halt as she realized she was faced with a fork, with the tunnel branching off to the left and right. She didn’t know which way she had to go, and she didn’t want to go the wrong way because what happened if she went one way and Mackenzie went the other...? And speaking of Mackenzie, Kaylee abruptly realized she couldn’t hear anymore gunfire, and the possibilities for why made her terrified. Was Mackenzie alright? Should Kaylee go back for her? But what could she even do if she did? What should she do!?
Before Kaylee could make a decision, Mackenzie came sprint around the corner and ran right into her, knocking them both over.
“Sonna- come on, kid, get up!” Mackenzie snapped. Attaching her gun onto her back, she reached down to her belt and pulled out a small ball of sorts. “FRAG OUT!”
BOOM!
The explosion roared through the tunnel, making Kaylee's ears ring, and in the glow of the fireball she could see Mackenzie's mouth moving but she couldn’t hear what she said. Mackenzie must have realized that because instead of repeating herself, she grabbed Kaylee by the waist and took off running. Startled, Kaylee didn’t resist, and as she bobbed up and down on Mackenzie’s shoulder, she looked back only to see an entire swarm of the bugs come charging from around the corner. In reality, there was probably a dozen of them at most but to Kaylee, it seemed like there were hundreds. She very quickly made sure not to look back again and instead, glanced forward to see Mackenzie had launched them down the left tunnel.
“Mackenzie! How do you know we're going the right way?” Kaylee found herself asking, not even realizing her hearing had come back. She didn’t want to question her savior, but at the same time, she didn’t want to get trapped down here forever.
“Air flow!” Mackenzie yelled back.
“What?”
“There's a maintenance shaft somewhere down here that leads to the surface!” Mackenzie explained between pants. “It's why we haven’t choked to death yet; air is still filtering its way down here!”
Kaylee didn’t question it; instead, she just clung tighter as Mackenzie somehow managed to make it down the tunnel without once tripping.
They had just raced past a humming fan running at full blast when Mackenzie abruptly stopped and Kaylee found herself being deposited onto the ground.
“There! Through there! Ventilation shaft!” Mackenzie yelled, pointing at a door embedded in the wall and Kaylee sprinted over and forced it open with all her strength as Mackenzie pulled out her gun and fired a few more shots downrange. Kaylee dove through the doorway and waited until Mackenzie was through before, with Mackenzie's help, slammed the door shut.
“That's not going to hold for very long,” Mackenzie noted out loud.
For her part, Kaylee was looking for a way out, but as it turned out, they were in a shaft: literally a shaft with no stairs or ladders leading up.
“Oh my God, we're going to die!” Kaylee screamed but before the words could even fully leave her mouth, Mackenzie was pointing her gun straight up and firing, and Kaylee watched in shock as a thick cord flew out of the bottom barrel and disappear into the darkness. A split second later, there was a loud thunk, and Mackenzie was pulling the line taut.
“Grab hold of me and hold tight!” Mackenzie barked as she attached the line to her waist and Kaylee wrapped her arms around Mackenzie's chest. Next thing she knew, they were yanked off their feet and flying through the air as the grappling cable retracting.
BAM.
Below them, the door to the shaft was blown inwards, and a trio of bug-aliens came charging in.
“MACKENZIE, BELOW US!” Kaylee screamed.
Without hesitation, Mackenzie yanked her pistol from her thigh and fired three times, and all three bugs went plummeted to the ground.
THUD.
They hit the ceiling, the impact nearly causing Kaylee to lose her grip. She looked around wildly to see the entrance to another tunnel, this one sloping upwards.
“Kaylee! That tunnel should take you up to the surface! I’m going to toss you! Keep running until you hit the surface!”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be right behind you! Ready!?”
Kaylee didn’t get a chance to respond as she was immediately thrown. Instinctively, she hit the ground and rolled, and looked back to see Mackenzie hanging in mid-air with her pistol out.
“Kaylee, RUN!”
Kaylee didn’t think twice, she just took off running. This tunnel was more intact than the ones below, so Kaylee was able to run without tripping, but she barely noticed as the sound of gunfire tore through the air behind her, and she knew Mackenzie was risking her life once more for her.
Panting, Kaylee followed the tunnel around another bend-
BAMBAMBAM!!!
“HOLD YOUR f*ckING FIRE!”
Kaylee looked up from the ground where she had thrown herself the moment she had felt the bullets passing by over her head, and saw a bunch of people walking towards her in a line. She let out a sob of relief as she realized they were more soldiers, and she quickly scrambled to her feet and rushed towards them.
“Jesus Christ, that’s a f*cking kid! Hey, Kid! UNSC Army Paratroopers! It’s okay, we’re here to help!”
“Help!” Kaylee tried to yell, but she was so out of breath from her sprint, she could barely talk. “Help me!”
One of the soldiers grabbed her and started to lead her past the others. “Hey, Kid, you alright? Are you okay? MEDIC! Private, get your ass over here, now! Kid, are you alone?”
“No!” Kaylee managed to gasp out. “Mackenzie is back there!”
“Who?”
“Mackenzie! She’s one of you guys!”
“Like f*ck she is; there ain’t no other Paras down here,” someone else sneered.
“Must been one of the 53rd Armored guys – didn’t they say they lost a couple of platoons from their sustainment brigade down here?”
“f*cking Straight Leg POGs, man.”
“Guys, is it too much to ask for you to have a little bit of empathy here?” the man holding onto her arm growled.
“Sorry, Lieutenant, but I used up all my empathy back on Newsaka.
“Then shut the f*ck up until I say otherwise,” the Lieutenant snapped. “Kid, where’s this ‘Mackenzie?’”
“She’s back there!”
“CONTACT FRONT!”
The cough of gunfire immediately filled the air, but Kaylee wasn’t able to see what they were shooting at as the Lieutenant automatically shoved her behind him.
“Holy sh*t, LT, that’s a lot of f*cking Drones!”
“FALL BACK! JACKALOPES, BREAK CONTACT AND FALL BACK!” the man yelled before grabbing hold of Kaylee and running. At first, she let him, but then she realized he was running away from where Mackenzie was, and back towards the surface.
“No, wait!” Kaylee desperately cried as she tried to wiggle out of the Lieutenant’s arms, but he was far stronger than Mackenzie was as he didn’t budge. “Mackenzie’s back there! You can’t just leave her!”
“Kid, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think anyone’s back there anymore!” the man yelled. “COVERING FIRE! BREAK CONTACT! FALL BACK!”
Kaylee tried to peer around the Lieutenant, but all she could see were two soldiers fired their guns further into the tunnel before they too turned around to run.
“No, NO! MACKENZIE! MACKENZIE!”
She tried to hit the man in the chest to let her go, but they abruptly emerged onto the surface, and the sudden brightness blinded and stunned her long enough for him to toss her into a nearby truck.
“Doc, watch her!” the Lieutenant barked. “SAPPERS UP FRONT, SAPPERS UP FRONT! SERGEANT FISH, SEAL THE HOLE!”
Another soldier, this one wearing a red cross grabbed her, but Kaylee tried to fight him off as yet another soldier ran up to the tunnel entrance and hurtled a backpack into the darkness.
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!” he screamed, and Kaylee might not have known much about soldiers or war, but even she knew what that meant.
“NO! NOOOOOO!!! MACKENZIE!!! MACKENZIE!!!”
BOOOM!!!
A fireball shot straight up into the air a mere moment before the tunnel entrance collapsed onto itself with an earth shaking roar. As for Kaylee, all she could do was scream-
- and scream –
- and scream…
XXX
Fumirole
20 April 2552
Five Years Later
“One minute! Make ready!”
The Albatross swayed from side to side as it was buffeted by explosions, but Private Kaylee Smothers barely noticed. Instead, she reached into her breast pocket and pulled out an old but well-maintained photograph. On the front was a picture of her dad and brother. It was the last picture Kaylee remembered ever taking of them, so it was as close to how they appeared before they had been killed. As she had done every single day for the last five years, she stared at their smiling faces, trying to memorize their features so she could remember them as they were, not as they had become. Once she was satisfied, she turned the photograph over.
There, on the back, written and rewritten over and over again in permanent marker, was a single name: “Mackenzie.” Because so many had died on Actium, because she never properly got to see her face, and because she wasn’t even sure if Mackenzie had been her first or last name, it had proved all but impossible for Kaylee and her mom to figure out exactly which soldier had been the one to sacrifice her life to save Kaylee’s. But no matter who she had been, Kaylee knew she would never forget her, for as long as she lived.
“Thirty seconds! Clear the ramp!”
With loving care, Kaylee carefully placed the picture back in her breast pocket where it would be safe. Hefting her rifle, she looked forward to where the rest of her platoon was preparing to land under fire.
“Touchdown in fifteen seconds!”
“For my family,” she whispered to herself as she felt the Albatross touch the ground. “And my guardian angel.”
“RAMP DOWN! SOLDIERS, ATTACK!”
“HOOOOOAAAAHHHH!!!”
Let out a loud war cry, Kaylee followed her squadmates as they surged down the ramp –
- and plunged into the unknown.
General Notes
This may come as a surprise to some people, but I’m not actually a twelve year old preteen girl. Shocker, I know. As such, I’m not entirely sure how one talks or acts or whatever, especially five hundred years in the future. As such, I just mostly based this chapter on how I thought I would react at my current age if placed in a similar situation, and then upped the cluelessness because, yes, I was a rather clueless and sheltered kid.
Hope it turned out somewhat plausible.
Most of the tunnel sequence was inspired by Marvel Cinematic Universe’s Avengers: Endgame (2019), specifically the scene when Hawkeye fights off several Outriders in the collapsed basem*nt of the Avengers Compound.
Chapter 13: Newsaka 2545: Screams in the Dark
Chapter Text
This is a sort of “prequel” to chapter 1, involving the same POV character from that chapter, only from an earlier time in his career. It’s not really all that important to read that chapter to understand this one.
Somewhere in the Tien Giang Forest
Osaka Prefecture, Newsaka
14 February 2545
0045J
PV1 Danilo Marcos, HHC, 1-27th Rifle Regiment, 2-25th Rifle Division
Two Weeks Post-Covenant Invasion
It seemed that no matter the time of day or weather, the forest was always active.
This probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Private Danilo Marcos – after all, he’d been the one contemplating studying biology in college - abet marine biology - just prior to him being called into service and yet, somehow, it did. In his own defense, despite having been born and raised on Newsaka, he had never actually bothered to go and visit the Tien Giang Forest, despite it being the largest and most dense forest on the continent, if not the colony. But now, here he was.
The pitter patter of rain hitting the leaves kept most of the insects at bay, but for the larger animals that called the jungle home, it seemed to only encourage them. Staring out into the woods, Marcos could hear their grunts and growls and howls and cries as they prowled the night, looking for whatever an animal looked for at this time of day, seemingly unconcerned about the column of UNSC colonial militiamen taking a break nearby. It was peaceful in its own way, and Marcos almost wished he could spend the entire night, just sitting here, observing and listening. But he knew such an ask was impossible. Not with an entire Covenant invasion underway.
He suddenly tensed at the abrupt rumble of explosions in the distance, but just like it had been doing the last few days, the noise faded away just as quickly as it had begun. Marcos let out a small sigh, but none of the tension really left his body. And not for the first time, he couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing here.
Officially, Marcos and his battalion were here to drive the Covenant out from this area of the jungle, but despite ostensibly being on their trail for the last three days, the Militiamen had seen neither hide nor hair of the aliens, and no one knew why. And that made everyone nervous. Like everyone else, Marcos had heard about the Airborne landings that had taken place up north behind Covenant lines, which might have explained the reason for the Covenant’s withdraw if not for the fact every single veteran assigned to the battalion agreed the Covenant didn’t retreat for anything. So then, the obvious question became: where the hell were they? And what were they up to?
As someone who had only graduated from OSUT five days ago, Marcos obviously didn’t have any of the answers, but he couldn’t stop the sense of dread from pooling at the bottom of his stomach every time he thought about it. Something was about to happen, no doubt. Something bad. But what?
Without warning, Marcos suddenly realized the surrounding jungle had gotten very still, and very quiet. Very slowly, he hefted his rifle as he strained his ears, trying to hear- rustling of leaves! From behind!
Blood immediately rushing in his ears, Marcos whirled around, raising his rifle-
- only to immediately lower it once more as he realized it was only his battalion sergeant, Command Sergeant Major Lóng Dao-wun. Lóng, for his part, didn’t seem too fussed about having a rifle pointed in his direction, and instead, merely stood there, and even in the dark, Marcos could see him giving him the side-eye.
“You daydreaming on the job, Trooper?” he gruffly asked.
“Negative, Sergeant Major,” Marcos hastily reassured him.
Lóng continued to scrutinize him for a few moments before shrugging. “Good. We're done here. Let’s head back to the CP.”
“Yes, Sergeant Major.”
Shouldering his rifle, Marcos followed Lóng back through the trees to the rear where the battalion command post had been set up. Forcing their way through the undergrowth and walking past a number of exhausted troopers – one thing Marcos was quickly learning about the jungle was that between the thick undergrowth, the humidity, the steep incline, and all the bugs, walking even just a hundred meters in full gear was like trying to run a marathon – Marcos took the opportunity to study the man in front of him. A rifle division like the 25th Rifle Division typically had a total of nine combat rifle battalions assigned to them, and out of all them, Marcos couldn’t help but feel like he had lucked out in being assigned to the first of the 27th. Not because of the battalion's storied history, but solely because of the man walking in front of him. Two weeks into the Newsaka Campaign, and Sergeant Major Lóng was already becoming a bit of a legend among the Jungle Warriors of the 25th Division. The “Dragon of Dalian,” as he was being informally called, inspired by his surname which was the Mandarin Chinese word for dragon.
As the story went, when the Covenant first made landfall, catching everyone by surprise, Brutes had come charging out from the jungle with murder in their eyes. As a Colonial Militia unit, the 25th had been in garrison at their hometown of Dalian in the process of being called up when the tide wave of aliens had slammed into them, cutting through their ranks like a tsunami. Just when the entire division was on the verge of being overrun, then-Sergeant First Class Lóng had leapt onto a burning Warthog and proceeded to halt the Brute attack wave for nearly two hours, long enough for the ranks to reform. For his efforts, not only was he given a promotion, he was also nominated for the Legion of Honor – which, according to scuttlebutt, was all but a done deal – making Sergeant Major Lóng the first member in the history of the 25th to ever be awarded the UNSC’s highest medal for valor.
As someone who had been graduated from OSUT two weeks early in order to backfill the vacancies in the ranks caused by the Covenant, Marcos knew he wasn’t ready for frontline combat. So, to be under the direct command of a hero like Lóng… not only did Marcos know he could stand to learn a lot from a man like him, his very presence gave Marcos the optimism he would be able to make it out of this mess mostly intact. And that did wonders for his morale, even as everything else (the heat, the humidity, the bugs, the terrain) were doing their best to drag it down.
The journey back to battalion CP was mostly done in silence, mostly because Marcos noticed Lóng wasn’t really one for idle talk, and practically because Marcos never really knew what to say to him without feeling like an idiot. By the time they had reached their destination, the rain had stopped, and the bugs had returned with a vengeance, leaving Marcos sweating like a pig and swatting like a maniac. Lóng, on the other hand, in true heroic fashion, hardly seemed to be affected by either, stoically leading the way to the command post.
Despite its name, the command post wasn’t really all that impressive. Back when he was still a civilian, when Marcos thought of a command post, he immediately called to mind large screens, air conditioned room, windows and holograms everywhere. As it turned out, the reality was far different. This command post consisted nothing more than a few thermal tents (to prevent the heat from the computers from being detected) and mosquito netting (to prevent the operators from being eaten alive by bugs.) It was a far cry from the sleek looking buildings Marcos was used to seeing in the movies. While intellectually, Marcos understood the need for the primitivity (the entire CP needed to be able to be broken down and relocated in five minutes or less,) as they entered the battalion commander’s tent, he found himself wishing for, if anything, the AC part to have been accurate.
Inside the commander’s tent, two soldiers were gathered around a small writing desk. One of them was the battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Chaiyo Ratanapol. The other was a young private by the name of Yu Thwin. Both men looked up, and Marcos gave a small but discreet wave to Thwin. While he wouldn’t consider Thwin his friend, per se, both he and Thwin had been in OSUT together (abet, different platoons,) and had been assigned to the battalion at the same time. As a result, they had a tendency to hang out with one another, as two peas in the same pod.
“Sergeant Major,” Ratanapol called out in greeting. “Good to see you. One moment please.”
Turning back to Thwin, he ordered, “Run this down to the comm guys, Private, and tell them to transmit it directly to Division HQ. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” Thwin crisply replied as he fired off a sharp salute. As he jogged towards the tent flap, he glanced at Marcos and discreetly rolled his eyes, causing Marcos to hide a smirk.
“A direct relay to Division? Something happened to Brigade, sir?”
Marcos hastily took a step outside and moved to guard the tent entrance as Lóng took a seat by Ratanapol's desk, trying to given them some semblance of privacy even though the tent walls were so thin and porous, he could still hear everything that was being said.
“Not quite,” Ratanapol admitted, “but first, your report Sergeant Major.”
Lóng sort of grunted before saying, “Perimeter guard is set, sir, while the battalion takes its rest, though we’re going to have to sit here longer than expected: our water resupply has been delayed. Engineers are working on improving our main supply routes, but they’ve blocked off the only direct route to our location. And because in their infinite wisdom, Command decided to make half our logistical personnel into ad hoc infantrymen, it takes twice as long as our quartermasters to get anything done.”
Ratanapol tsked. “That’s not good, Sergeant Major; I just got an ass-chewing from Brigade about that exact thing.”
“What happened?”
“Command's not happy with us,” Marcos could hear Ratanapol admit. “XXVII Corps wants us to reach Seven Pines in three days in order to partake in a three way assault on the town with the 222nd Airborne Division coming down from the north, and the 31st Cavalry Division advancing from the east. The Cav and Paras are on schedule; we’re not. So, as far as Command’s concerned, we’re slowing things down.”
“Really?” Lóng said, sounding unimpressed. “’We're too slow?’ Let me ask you this, Colonel: did any of the generals leading this campaign even bother looking at a map before they created their deadlines?”
“Explain, Sergeant Major.”
Marcos heard Lóng climbing to his feet and out of the corner of his eye, he could see him pulling out a map, presumably of the area.
“No sh*t the 31st and 222nd are moving faster than us,” Lóng growling. “Look at the routes those divisions are taking: Cav is moving along the coast because their precious Bisons can’t maneuver in the jungle. But that means they get to use the waterfront roads, and receive direct fire support from the Newsaka Navy meaning any strongpoints they can’t bypass, they'll just blast out of existence. Meanwhile, the Airborne may have landed in the jungle, but they landed in the Covenant's rear where resistance was light and now they're making their way downhill.”
“Then there’s us: they literally have us moving through the roughest, steepest, and thickest part of the entire Tien Giang Forest where no one has bothered to make a road since this colony’s founding. That alone is bad enough, but then half our guys aren’t infantrymen or even gone through jungle warfare school, so they don’t have the training or the physicality to keep up; a quarter of the battalion is already this close to becoming heat casualties. Not to mention the growing issues with jungle foot and other TDRs.”
“Yes, I’m aware of all of this, Sergeant Major, and so is Command,” Ratanapol interjected. “But their argument is that because upwards of seventy percent of the Covenant Army that was arrayed in front of us have been pulled out and deployed to other fronts, we should be the ones moving the fastest. Not the Paras. Not the Cav.”
Lóng let out a decisive snort. “Colonel, you know just as well as I do percentage only tells half the story; the quality of troops also play a huge role. And while we might be facing only thirty percent of the original Covenant Army, according to our recon, that force now almost exclusively consists of Brutes. And how does Command expect us to deal with that when even our 120’s struggle to punch through the jungle canopy at times?”
There was a scraping noise, and Marcos glanced over his shoulder to see Ratanapol was leaning back in his chair, his hands raised in a placating surrender gesture.
“You’re preaching to the converted, Sergeant Major,” he said. “I understand our issues, and I’ve tried to convey that information to Command but ultimately, orders are orders. And right now, Command is ordering Corps, Corps is ordering Division, Division is ordering Brigade, and Brigade is ordering us to pick up the pace. And if its any comfort to you, Sergeant Major, it’s not just us who’s getting a fire lit under our asses, it’s all of 2nd Brigade.”
Marcos could hear Lóng opening his mouth to reply, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted when Marcos heard someone cry out, “Colonel!” and he looked around to see Thwin, carrying a radio and rushing back towards the tent. He immediately moved to intercept him, but the tent flap abruptly swung open and Ratanapol stuck his head outside.
“What is it, Private?”
“Emergency call from Charlie Company, sir,” Thwin declared sounding out of breath as he handed the radio over.
“Charlie Company is the one manning the perimeter, right?” Ratanapol asked as he took the offered radio. Lóng nodded. “Chindit, this is Jaguar-Actual: report.”
Over the radio in a clear and quiet whisper, Marcos heard Chindit say, “Colonel, I’ve got the whole f*cking Covenant Army headed your way, over.”
It took a moment for everyone to absorb that message, and the moment it did, Marcos heard Thwin let out a gasp and, looking over, he saw a look of absolute terror that had appeared on Thwin’s face. A look that was, no doubt, being mirrored on his own face.
Ratanapol inhaled sharply. “Chindit, Jaguar: if you’re in a position to do so, I need you to elaborate. Where are they approaching from? What sort of numbers are we looking at? How close are they?”
“Jaguar, they’re- NO! WAIT, PLEASE- AHHHHHHG-….”
Marcos stared in horror as the radio dissolved into static, before even that cut out.
“Chindit, Jaguar: do you copy, over? Come in Chindit. f*ck. Sergeant Major,” Ratanapol snapped, “we might be in a spot of trouble. Alert-
ARRROOWWOOOOOOO!!!!
A blood freezing, absolutely terrifying howl abruptly split the air, causing everyone and everything to immediately go silent. Marcos felt the hair on the back of neck start to stand as the first howl was joined by another. And then another. And then another, until the entire jungle was alive with howls.
“What the hell is that!?” Marcos heard Thwin yell, and he glanced at him, only to see Lóng’s face had gone absolutely pale.
“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!!!” he started screaming. “TO ARMS!!! TO ARMS!!!”
Marcos jumped, and reflexively lifted his rifle as the entire camp erupted into chaos, the men and women of the 25th Division leaping into action. Tents started to get dismantled while tired Militiamen ran for their weapons. All the while, the howling continued to grow in intensity.
“FORM UP!!! DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!!! FORM UP!!!!”
Marcos exchanged a terrified look with Thwin, a bit unsure of what to do. All around them, the men and women of the HHC were busy dismantling tents and packing up their computers in anticipation of moving out, or in general, just doing their duties, but aside from being assigned to the headquarters company to provide security, neither he nor Thwin really had much else to do. And that made Marcos nervous and uncertain, especially in light of the howling. And then, the sound of gunfire began echoing through the woods. Gunfire… and screams.
“Perimeter has just been engaged!” Ratanapol declared. “Sergeant Major, finish getting things organized here, I’m going to go check on the line!”
“No, Capt- LIEUTENANT COLONEL, WAIT!”
But it was too late as Ratanapol disappeared into the jungle, and Marcos could see Lóng balling his hands into fist before abruptly turning, only to immediately spot Marcos and Thwin. “What the f*ck are you two retards just standing there for!? FIND A HOLE! And get ready to defend yourselves!!!”
Marcos reflexively leapt into action as he had never heard such coarse language emerge from Lóng's mouth before, and it came with a sickening realization that Lóng was terrified. And that just served to fuel Marcos' own terror even more because if a guy like Lóng was scared…
“Weapons Company, this is Jaguar-7, pull back fifty meters from the MLR and set up a secondary defensive line…”
Finding a fallen tree nearby that looked like it could serve as good cover, Marcos plopped his rifle on top and reached down to pop open all of his magazine and grenade pouches, only to find his hands were shaking. Beside him, he heard Thwin doing the same as he said in a shaky voice, “Dude, I hope the Covies are just f*cking with us; I ain’t ready for this sh*t.”
All Marcos could do was nod in response as he was too terrified to open his mouth, least he vomited. And then, just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the jungle went absolutely silent. No more howls. No more gunfire. No more screams.
Marcos fumbled to disable the safety on his rifle as he pointed it downrange, unsure of what was going on. He had thought the howling was bad, but somehow he was finding the silence to be worse because now he had no idea what was going on. Ridiculously, for a moment he thought he had gone deaf out of terror – that was a thing that could happen, right? – but then he heard Lóng whispering into his radio, demanding a sitrep. He didn’t hear a response. Beside him, a slight rattling emerged from Thwin as he trembled like a leaf and Marcos knew he wasn’t acting much better.
“Eyes and hears open everybody,” Lóng hissed, his voice still traveling in the stillness, even though he was whispering. “Watching and listening. I know you guys are scared, but remember: you are Jungle Warriors of the 25th. Whatever emerges from those trees, you will stand your ground.”
That sounded great and everything, but Marcos couldn’t help but remember he never finished his training and couldn’t really be considered a jungle “warrior.” He tried to swallow his nerves, but it was like there was a lump in his throat, blocking everything.
“Watching…” Lóng growled and Marcos could hear him prowling back and forth like his call sign. “Waiting…”
Out of the corner of his eye, Marcos could see Thwin making a series of hand mudras, and he couldn’t help but wish the Covenant would do something, as the fear and anticipation was killing him. What were they waiting for!?
“Watching…”
“SERGEANT MAJOR- “
BAMBAMBAM!!!
Suddenly, several things happened simultaneously. Ratanapol abruptly came running out of the woods, yelling for Lóng, directly in front of Marcos. Startled, Marcos just barely managed to avoid pulling the trigger but it didn’t matter as three gun shots still rang out and Ratanapol immediately pitched face forward, like a puppet whose strings had been cut and Marcos whirled around, only to see Thwin, holding a smoke rifle, frozen with shock and growing horror.
“What are you doing!?” he heard himself scream. “Hold your fire!”
At the exact time-
“RAHHHHHH!!!!”
A ground shaking roar filled the air as an entire wall of Covenant Brutes emerged from the trees, screaming bloody murder and foaming at the mouth as they charged straight at the line of puny humans arrayed in front of them.
“FIRE!!!” Lóng screamed, but there was a moment of hesitation as everyone within earshot struggled to reconcile the two inconsistent orders seemingly given by different commanders -
- and then it was too late to do anything as the wave of Brutes slammed into them with the force of a runaway truck.
“AHHHHHH!!!”
“MATKHA! MATKHA!”
“- DIE YOU f*ckING APES -"
“- oh f*ck, oh f*ck – “
“ – SHOOT THAT MOTHER- “
“HAIT'U GA K'UTKHO – “
“ – get some, get some!”
“ – qkhe p'os, Jan ni khobuugha - !”
“MEDIC! MEDIC! I need a - !”
“- FRAG OUT -"
“ – EEEEEEEEEYA - !”
“ – keep shooting, keep shooting – “
Marcos whirled around, trying to figure out what was going on as the battlefield instantly dissolved into chaos. Beside him, Thwin was frantically reloading, having already expended two full mags which Marcos didn’t know how as he couldn’t see anything.
“Hold your positions!” Lóng was screaming. “Stand your ground!”
But Marcos couldn’t see how because, as far as he could tell, there were no lines anymore; UNSC and Covenant forces were intermingled, locked in a deadly embrace as both sides desperately battled it out to survive. He saw one Militiaman getting stabbed in the chest by a sword welding Brute while his buddy emptied an entire mag into the alien’s face. Nearby, a different Brute charged into a trio of Soldiers, knocking all of them to the ground and as he watched, the Brute raised its leg and brutally stomped on one of the guy’s head. On the other side of them, he spotted another Militiaman drawing her arm back to throw a grenade but before she could, she took a metal spike straight to the face and toppled over backwards out of sight. Another Soldier was sent flying through the air as a Brute ruthlessly grabbed him by the scuff of the neck and physically hurtled him across the battlefield.
HISS HISS HISS!!!
Marcos ducked behind the log as Spiker rounds whizzed by overhead. Two of them slammed into his tree trunk, throwing splinters in all directions. Lifting his rifle over his head, Marcos blindly returned fire, or at least, he thought his did, but he had no idea of he actually hit anything. Throwing all caution to the wind, he lifted his head to check, only to nearly lose it as a grenade bounced off his cover.
“GRENADE!” he automatically screamed, and flinched as it exploded.
“Marcos! I need a mag! Give me a mag!” Thwin screamed at him and without thinking, Marcos pulled one out and tossed it to him, but he messed up his throw and instead, threw it straight into a nearby puddle of mud.
“Sorry, sorry!” he stammered as he immediately plunged both hands into the puddle and started rooting around for it. He felt his hands close around an object and he yanked it out, only to find it wasn’t the mag –
- it was someone’s face. How, when it got there or who it even was, Marcos had no idea but Thwin took one look at it and screamed out, “f*ck! THIS!”
He immediately tossed his rifle to the ground and took off running for the rear.
“No, wait, THWIN!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Marcos saw a dark mass come flying over his shoulder and slam into Thwin’s back, knocking him to the ground. It took Marcos a moment to realize it was a Spike grenade. He gasped out loud in horror, and on the ground, he could see Thwin turning towards him, his eyes pleading for him to do something, but before Marcos could even fully process what was going on, the grenade exploded.
“OH MY GOD!” he screamed as he was instantly covered from head to toe in guts. “f*ck!!!”
“MARCOS!”
Lóng emerged from the fog, dashing right through Thwin’s remains without even realizing it. Grabbing Marcos by the shoulder, he started ordering, “Start laying down some covering fire! We need to organize a fighting retreat before we get over- ARGHHHHHH!!!”
Marcos let out a screech of fear as a metal blade seemed to sprout from Lóng’s chest. The blade withdrew, revealing a Brute standing behind him, the tips of the alien’s Spiker mounted bayonet stained with blood.
Screaming in pain and anger, Lóng whirled around, yanking out his sidearm as he did, but before he even had a change to point the weapon in the Brute’s direction, the Brute grabbed Lóng’s hand with its free paw and twisted, and Lóng let out a fresh scream of pain as his entire hand was crushed.
“HÓUZI!!!” Lóng was screaming. “WŎ HUÌ SHĀLE NǏ, WŎ HUÌ SHĀLE NǏ, WŎ-“
Lóng’s tirade was abruptly cut off as the Brute wrapped its other paw around his neck and began to squeeze. And squeeze. And squeeze as Lóng’s face grew redder and redder until –
CRACK!
Lóng’s head was suddenly turned at an unnatural angle.
“SERGEANT MAJOR!” Marcos cried, lifting his rifle and pulling the trigger as the Brute hurtled Lóng’s body to the side and charged straight at Marcos.
Bullets embedded themselves into the Brute’s chest, but the monster kept coming until a lucky round caught the alien in the right eye and the beast collapsed, crashing into the ground and coming to a stop right at Marcos feet. Despite this, Marcos continued to hold down on the trigger, emptying his magazine into the Brute’s body. Even when his rifle clicked empty, he found himself racking the chambering handle, resetting the firing pin and pulling the trigger, racking the chambering handle and resetting the firing pin, racking the chambering handle and resetting the firing pin… over and over again until he was convinced the Brute was dead.
“Sergeant Major!” he yelled, looking around for Lóng’s body, but there was no time as Brutes were everywhere and he couldn’t find anyone to give him any orders and –
“Oh god, please, no, don’t – “
“- help me, someone help – “
“I need a medic! Medic! I’m – “
“ – we need help, please, someone – “
“ – not like this, not like this – “
“- mama, mama!!!”
“ – I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry – “
“ – being overrun!!!”
All Marcos could hear was screams and more screams and he couldn’t – he couldn’t –
he couldn’t…
“WE GOT A LIVE ONE HERE!”
Marcos’ eyes snapped open, only for him to immediately get blinded by a brilliant white light. Through his tears, he could see blurry figures moving in front of him, and he immediately lashed out, trying to drive them back.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy, EASY! Friendly, FRIENDLY! Private, we’re friendlies! Corporal Terrado, 6-35 Rifle! I’m a combat medic! Take it easy!”
Marcos blinked as he tried to process those numbers. 6-35 Rifle… 6th Battalion, 35th Rifle Regiment… that was one of their sister battalions within 2nd Brigade. But they were supposed to be on their left flank…
Marcos spotted two other Soldiers from 6-35 Rifle carrying a corpse between them and he abruptly surged to his feet, catching Terrado by surprise. Ignoring the medic’s protest, he staggered after them, trying to figure out where they were bringing the body, only to find they were laying the dead man next to an entire row of corpses. And, oh… Marcos recognized most of those corpses, if not by name, then by face.
Lying on the ground closest to him was the battalion’s S-4. Next to him was the NCO in charge of comms. One of the ladies assigned to the infantry scout platoon. A private he remembered knowing from OSUT. The battalion surgeon. HHC’s first sergeant. Faces after faces of people Marcos had known, had interacted with just days before, all lying still on the ground. Covered in blood and fatal wounds. Motionless.
And then… he saw them… Lieutenant Colonel Ratanapol, with three bullet holes in his chest. Command Sergeant Major Lóng, his neck at an unnatural angle and a giant hole in his chest. PV1 Thwin, or at least, what remained of him…
All dead.
Everyone dead.
Except him.
The medics let out a cry of alarm as Marcos collapsed to his knees, but he barely noticed. Instead, he tilted his head back and started to weep. Overhead, there was a crack of thunder, and a torrent of water came pouring from the skies.
Washing away the horrors of the night.
General Notes
Battle of LZ Albany: The original concept for this chapter was partially inspired by the real-life Battle of LZ Albany. It was the second half of the 1965 Battle of Ia Drang during the Vietnam War (also sometimes referred to as the “Second Indochina War.”) The first half of the battle, the Battle of LZ X-Ray, is actually quite well known as it was depicted on film in Mel Gibson’s 2002 We Were Soldiers.
As shown in the film, the first half of the battle involved then-Lieutenant Colonel Hal Moore’s 1st Battalion, 7th Cavalry Regiment (1-7 CAV) as they fought against a numerically superior force of North Vietnamese Army soldiers at a helicopter landing zone known as “LZ X-Ray” for almost three days. However, mentioned but not emphasized in the film is that 1-7 CAV actually started receiving reinforcements on the second day of the battle from another US Army battalion, 2-5 CAV. These two battalions in turn were reinforced by a third battalion, 2-7 CAV, who arrived on the third day of the fight to help secure LZ X-Ray.
With LZ X-Ray mostly secured and the fighting seemingly over, all battalions were ordered to withdraw as LZ X-Ray was slated to be destroyed by a B-52 bomber strike. 1-7 CAV was airlifted out on the third day, but to avoid alerting the NVA, 2-5 CAV and 2-7 CAV waited until the next day (day 4) to begin a tactical march to new landing zones where they would be extracted. As they were headed to two different LZs, the two battalions ended up separating, with 2-5 CAV heading northeast and 2-7 CAV heading north-northeast to an LZ designated as “LZ Albany.”
Due a lack of intelligence and in general, poor reconnaissance, the US Army wasn’t aware a sizeable force of NVA still remained in the area so on November 17 (day 4 of the overall battle) at around 1315, with their lead elements within a hundred and fifty meters of LZ Albany, 2-7 CAV was suddenly ambushed by nearly three battalions of NVA. The Cavalrymen’s defense was poor due a number of reasons including: the Troopers were exhausted (they had been awake for over twenty-four hours and had just executed a long march through rough terrain while carrying upwards of 80-110 pounds worth of gear,) the battalion was spread out (the column was stretch over 500 meters due to the terrain which meant artillery and air support couldn’t be concentrated like it had been at X-Ray,) and a poorly timed brief by the battalion commander involving most of his company commanders and their RTOs left many Troopers without clear leadership or ways of communicating.
The close quarters ambush lasted over sixteen hours at which point more American reinforcements arrived to assisted the beleaguered Cavalrymen. Over 150 of 2-7 CAV were KIA, while another some 120 soldiers were WIA.
Other Inspiration: The battle scene for this chapter was mildly inspired by the forest ambush scene from the 2010 movie Centurion, starring Michael Fassbender, Dominic West, and Olga Kurylenko.
Other Notes
One of the things I tried to do in this chapter was include some strategic planning and conversation. This is not the first story I’ve tried to include stuff like that, and for some reason, it never quite seems to work; I still haven’t figure out how to make it interesting.
Chapter 14: Mars 2548: Blood, Sweat, and Tears
Chapter Text
2LT Daniel Codey
KABOOM. KABOOM. KABOOM.
The ground shook with explosions as the battalion’s 81mm medium mortars pummeled the town while smaller 60mm mortars laid a smoke screen across the entire field. The hiss and snap of 7.62mm rounds from weapons company’s allocated Gimpys laying suppressing fire were punctuated by the occasional woosh of 102mm HEAT rockets flying by overhead. Lanes of fire had been clearly marked on all of his men’s HUDs, mission objectives had been set, and bayonets had been mounted. Everything that could have been done to make their hundred and fifty meter dash across open ground safer, had been done. Yet, why did it still feel like Codey was leading his men straight into the jaws of death?
Unfortunately, it was long past time to think about it.
“COMPANY! ATTACK! FORWARD!” Codey yelled at the top of his lungs as he dashed across the muddy field. In one hand he carried his rifle while with his other, he waved forward, urging his men on.
“KEEP IT TIGHT, GENTLEMEN! WATCH THOSE FIRING LANES! MAKE SURE YOU DON’T GET SCHWACKED IN THE BACK BY FRIENDLY FIRE!” Codey heard Sergeant Fuchs yell from somewhere off to his left.
“KEEP MOVING! KEEP MOVING!” Codey bellowed in return.
His legs burning, Codey continued to charge forward. All around him, his men followed suit, their boots thumping against the ground, their mouths hanging open as they hollered out war cries and curses, and their bodies creating small eddies as they rushed through the smoke. The town loomed ahead of them, looking picturesque as hell, but Codey knew it was nothing but a façade; after all, how picturesque could a town full of f*cking Covies really be?
“FORWARD! KEEP MOVING! LET'S GO MEN!”
Codey glanced at his HUD. Halfway there, and still no movement from the Covenant. Codey couldn’t help but start to feel a lot more optimistic about this entire thing. Maybe the covering fire actually did work. Maybe the Covenant forces had retreat in the face of the violence of their attack; or better yet, maybe they were all dead. Maybe this attack was going to a walk in the -
“KHOBU!!!”
A guttural cry split the air. And then, all hell broke loose.
FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZCRACKSNAPSWOOSHHISSBOOM!!!!
It was like the gates of Hell were suddenly thrown open as a literal tsunami of fire was thrown straight at his men: plasma bolts, Spiker rounds, Needler fire, carbine projectiles, beam rifle particle lances and more came smashing into the front ranks of his men. In less than half a second, over a dozen of his men were instantly killed in action. Not wounded. Killed.
“DOWN, DOWN, DOWN!!!” someone yelled, one that Codey instinctively echoed, horrified by what he was seeing.
“GET DOWN! GET DOWN!” he bellowed, throwing himself to the ground. “GET! ON! THE GROUND!”
He landed heavily in the dirt as projectiles whizzed over his head, embedded themselves into the ground besides him, or outright exploded in his face. How he managed to avoid getting hurt or even killed, he had no idea only that it couldn’t last forever; frantically, he crawled around on the ground, looking for cover until – like magic – a ditch large enough for him to fit in appeared out of the fog and without hesitation, he threw himself inside. Almost immediately, three Spiker rounds embedded themselves into the lip of the ditch, but failed to penetrate.
“GET DOWN!” he urged his men. “FIND SOME COVER, FIND SOME COVER!”
His troops began throwing themselves into the ditch beside him, and he scrambled to try and make room. There was a loud thud and a scream as one of them was hit and toppled over, collapsing right on top of Codey.
“MEDIC!” he screamed. “Hang on, Trooper, you’re gonna be okay! MEDIC! I NEED A MEDIC!”
A medic quickly appeared, taking the casualty off his hands and he looked around wildly. “GET TO COVER! GET TO COVER RIGHT NOW!!!”
“f*ck…!” he heard one of his men scream as he landed in the ditch and Codey looked up to see it was Sergeant Fuchs.
“Sergeant Fuchs!” he screamed, flinching as a plasma bolt exploded overhead. “Sergeant Fuchs! How many of the Troopers have made it!?”
“How the f*ck should I know!?” Fuchs raged. “Can’t be that many! I told you this was a bad f*cking plan, but you didn’t listen!!!”
“Sergeant, now’s not the effing time!” Codey shot back, just as angrily. “COME ON, COME ON! GET IN THE GODDAMN HOLE!”
“COME ON, YOU GODDAMN, LIMP-DICK, f*ckING MOUTH BREATHERS!” Fuchs screamed from beside him. “GET YOUR ASSES INTO THE THIS DITCH, NOW!”
“TAKE COVER! TAKE COVER!” Codey frustratingly yelled, only to see one of his men get hit by a plasma bolt which set off the fragmentation grenades he was carrying, causing him to simply blow up. “f*ck! We got to move! Otherwise we’re going to get pinned down, if we haven’t already!”
“Hey, you’re the genius that got us into this place!”
Codey gritted his teeth. “I’m asking if you have any ideas, Sergeant.”
“I had an idea: I wanted to flank these motherf*ckers! You’re the dumbass that wanted to attack a fortified Covenant position head-on!”
“How could we have flanked them!? The entire f*cking town is surrounded by open fields!!!”
Their argument was abruptly interrupted by a loud shrieking overhead, and they both looked up to see two plasma mortars slamming into the ground nearby.
“Great,” Fuchs drily commented, as burning dirt and molten lava landed on their heads. “Now they’ve got us zeroed.”
Realizing he couldn’t sit here any longer arguing, Codey made a snap decision. “Alright, fine! We’ll do it your way, Sergeant! This ditch continues to our left; why don’t you take half the platoon and try to flank around on the left! I’ll set up a couple of SAWs here, and draw their fire! Once you’ve launched your attack and divided the Covenant’s attention, I’ll hit ‘em head on with my section!”
“Finally!” Fuchs snapped. “That’s the first lick of sense you’ve made all day! Give me a few minute head start, then start laying into them!”
“Fine! PRIVATES BOYLE AND WEXLER! BRING UP THE SAW!” Codey roared.
“My guys! With me!”
Codey ducked his head as Fuchs took off running down the trench, followed by roughly half the Soldiers still standing. Meanwhile, he noticed Boyle and Wexler running up to him with their SAWs in hand.
“Set up right here!” Codey ordered as they extended their bipods and planted themselves onto the ground. “Suppressing fire on my mark!”
He glanced around, trying to see if Fuchs was ready, but given the way the ditch curved as well as the murderous plasma fire still pouring in, he couldn’t spot him and figured he had given Fuchs enough time. “COVERING FIRE! COVERING FIRE!”
RATATATATATA!
Both Boyle and Wexler’s SAWs began spitting out bullets, firing back at where the plasma was most concentrated.
“FIRE! FIRE!” Codey roared at the rest of the men remaining in the ditch. “Get your rifles up! COVERING FIRE!”
Popping his rifle up, Codey began unloading down range, trying to set an example for his men. For their part, the Covenant didn’t seem to be all that impressed as plasma and spikes and needles continued to pour in, with some hitting the ground just centimeters away from Codey’s face.
“FIRE!” Codey urged as he ducked to reload. A Soldier next to him let out a death grunt as he was struck in the face and thrown backwards into the ditch. “KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN, BUT CONTINUE FIRING!”
“On the right!” he heard Wexler yelling at Boyle.
“Loading!” Boyle yelled in response.
Codey frantically looked around, trying to figure out how far Fuchs had made it or even if he had launched his attack yet, as the Covie’s incoming fire had yet to noticeably abate. And he needed to launch his attack soon; he didn’t know how many of his men he had lost already, but with half of the survivors gone to support Fuchs’s flanking run, he didn’t have a lot of guns left. And he was losing more every second that passed without Fuchs’s distraction.
Mortars detonated all around the trench and for a brief moment, Codey wondered what the hell battalion was doing, allowing the Covenant to fire unimpeded, when his radio suddenly sprang to life.
“Lieutenant!”
Codey grabbed his mic. “This is Codey, go ahead!”
“LT, this is Fuchs: Covies either knew we were coming or saw us moving, because they positioned a couple of plasma turrets right where we were going to attack! The boys are getting cut to pieces; need you to attack, right now!”
Codey didn’t need to hear anymore.
“ATTACK!” he bellowed at his men. “ATTACK! GET OUT OF THE DITCH AND ATTACK!!! EVERYONE, ATTACK!!! PUSH UP, PUSH UP!!!”
Digging his hands and feet into the loose dirt, Codey scrambled out of the ditch.
“FOLLOW ME!” he urged as Covenant fire raining down all around him. “GET YOURSELVES OUT OF THE DITCH AND ATTACK!!!”
Some of his men followed suit, only to immediately cut down, but Codey barely noticed as he reached down to help some of his guys out.
“Get on your goddamn feet!” he yelled at one man, only for that Trooper to immediately take a bolt to the face and collapse. “sh*t! FORWARD! FORWARD!!! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!!!”
“Stop.”
And just like that, time seemed to come to a compete standstill as everything froze. Codey looked around, puzzled, only to immediately recoil as he turned around and came face to face with a gleaming green plasma bolt, frozen in mid-air, on a collision course with his head. If things hadn’t ended when they did, he would have been dead.
Without warning, the air in front of him seemed to shimmer, and out of nowhere, a man just appeared. Appearance-wise, the man didn’t seem to be all that special: he was an East-Asian man of average height and features. Not too bulky, nor was he too thin either. He had one of those generic faces a person would see in passing on the street and not think twice about. He was wearing UNSC Army fatigues, but aside from a UNSC Army “TRADOC” patch on his left shoulder, and a unit “deployment patch” on his right, there were no other accoutrements.
The most notable features of the man were the fact his right hand and arm were obviously fake and – more importantly for Codey’s purposes – the man was wearing a black baseball cap that had the three chevron insignia of an Army buck sergeant and a basic parachutist badge pinned to the front, indicating the man’s status as a UNSC Army Airborne School instructor.
“f*ck,” Codey muttered to himself as his class instructor, Sergeant Moss Shen, just stared at him with a neutral expression on his face. “Sergeant, if I could- “
Shen held up a single finger, and Codey immediately shut up.
“I have to say, Lieutenant,” Shen began in a deceivingly calm voice. “I’ve been here for almost a year and a half now, and I’ve never seen a platoon get wiped out as fast as I just saw today. In fact, I just talking to the other Black Hats and… you might have just broken a record.” He co*cked his head. “If I recall correctly, the very first day you were here at this school, you told me you were planning on breaking records. Well, congratulations, Lieutenant: you’ve succeeded. I’m just not sure these were the records you were hoping to break.”
Codey couldn’t help but wince. At no point did Shen raise his voice or change his inflection, but somehow, that made his words all the more cutting. His only saving grace was that because they were still in the simulator, Codey was the only who could hear what Shen was saying, something that Shen seemed to realize because he abruptly yelled out, “End simulation!”
The battlefield instantly dissolved before his very eyes, and Codey blinked as he removed the VR set from head and stood up from his recliner-like chair. All around him, the men and women of “Blue Platoon” were following suit, including the ones who Codey had seen get “killed” only a few moments ago.
“So,” Shen began from the instructor’s balcony that overlooked the entire simulator room. “That didn’t go to plan.”
There were a couple of mute chuckles at the blatant understatement, but from the most part, everyone seemed too upset at their complete failure inside the simulator.
“So,” Shen continued, pacing back and forth and clapping his hands together as he asked, “What. Went. Wrong?”
“Well, if the Lieutenant had just- “ Fuchs immediately began to say, but Shen held up a finger.
“Ah. I see there’s been a slight misunderstanding here, Sergeant Fuchs: you thought I was actually asking for your opinion. That is my fault, that is a miscommunication on my part, I should have been more clear. So, allow let to be more clear.” Shen turned to look Fuchs straight in the eye and for the first time so far, the room actually got to see how irritated he actually was. “Shut the f*ck up. I’m speaking right now.”
Fuchs immediately shut his mouth.
“Now,” Shen continued as if Fuchs hadn’t said anything. “From what I just saw, it seems like a lot of you don’t actually seem to understand why you are here, so let me try and explain it in another way: you people are here because you have all expressed an interest in joining the Airborne Forces. What are the Airborne Forces? The Airborne Forces are the expeditionary forces of the UNSC Army. We’re the Army’s ‘rapid reaction’ ‘shock troops’ if you will. Anytime there’s an incident anywhere in the galaxy, we’re the Army’s first choice to respond because we’ll get there faster and more efficiently than any other unit in the Army. And we accomplish that by being a light infantry unit.”
“And for those of you who aren't paying attention, the operative word of that sentence is ‘light.’ Light,” Shen emphasised. “As in, we have no armor, no firepower, and no tactical mobility. The only thing we have is whatever we can carry on our shoulders. That’s it.”
“So, what does that mean in reality? That means: we cannot afford to get pinned down under any circ*mstances. Because the moment we do, we lose whatever advantages we have. The moment we do, the enemy will surround us, and will cut us to pieces. Because – and this may come as a surprise to some of you – but a human body is not capable of standing up to a plasma shot or even a fuel rod cannon blast in the same way as a tank or even an IFV can.”
“So, what does that mean? That means, when you commit to a force of action, you don’t f*cking stop halfway through your attack and start to question what you are doing. The time for questions and debate is before the attack begins. Not after. Once the attack beings, you commit; you don’t stop, you don’t hesitate because once you do, you get pinned down. And what happens when you get pinned down?”
Shen paused, and it took a moment for everyone to realize that was an actual question he was asking.
“You die?” Wexler hesitantly answered, and Shen immediately pointed at him in approval.
“You die,” he confirmed. “That’s point number one. Number two of things I want to address: for those of you who don’t know your military history, the most famous airborne infantry unit in history – the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment of the former United States Army – had a motto: ‘Currahee,’ which was Cherokee meaning ‘Stand Alone.’ And while the 506th PIR may have owned that motto, in truth, it could have been applied to any Airborne unit in history. Because, trust me, the moment you get dropped into the sh*t, you. Will. Be. Alone.”
For a moment, Shen’s face had a haunted look to it, and Codey couldn’t help but wonder what sort of horrors his instructor had seen. But then, Shen quickly shook it off.
“Alone, at least, aside from the other stupid son of bitches that thought jumping out of a perfectly good airplane was a good idea,” he joked, causing a few of the Troopers to chuckle. “My point is, I don’t give a sh*t who you are. I don’t care if you’re an engineering officer- “ he glanced at Codey “- a former Marine turned Army MP – “ he glanced at Fuchs “- or a couple of infantrymen – “ he glanced at Wexler and Boyle “- the moment you graduate from this place, you will be a paratrooper. And the moment you get dropped into the sh*t, the only other person you’d be able to depend on is another paratrooper. So learn how to deal. Because f*ck if there’ll anybody else to depend on.”
Shen fell silent, and for a moment, the air seemed almost charged. Then he cleared his throat and the moment was gone. “Right. Well, Red Platoon is rotating through the simulator in five minutes, so let’s retreat back to the classroom and go over in detail exactly what went wrong and how to fix it. Lieutenant Codey?”
Codey snapped to attention. “Yes, Sergeant?”
“Your platoon.”
“Airborne, Sergeant!” Codey barked, then spun around smartly on one heel. “Platoon!”
All the Troopers in the room immediately snapped to attention.
“Fall in and form two columns! Dress, right!” Codey commanded and waited until his men had gotten themselves sorted. “Platoon, left, FACE!”
As one, his entire platoon turned to face the doors, and Codey quickly joined the formation, with Shen behind him.
“Forward… MARCH!”
They began marching towards the door in formation. The doors automatically opened as they approached, and they quickly left the building and out into the open. As they did, someone abruptly started singing a song that was quickly joined by the rest of the platoon:
“We… pull the risers,
We fall up on the grass,
We never land upon our feet,
We always hit our ass.
Highty tighty Christ almighty,
Who the hell are we?
ZIM ZAM GODDAM,
We’re Airborne infantry!”
As they marched across the parade grounds towards the classrooms, they approached a series of flagpoles. The largest one was carrying the flag of the UNSC, of course, but the rest of the flagpoles were displaying the unit flags of the various airborne divisions still in active service, out in the field, fighting for Humanity against the Covenant. As they marched passed, Codey couldn’t help but subtly glance at them, wondering which of them he would eventually join. This was the one thing he had wanted all his life, to become an airborne paratrooper. And he was so close. All he had to do was make it through this course and then-
- he could join the rest of Humanity’s heroes in the annals of history.
General Notes
Three guesses to which popular science fiction series I borrowed the names from. Really couldn’t think of any other names and once I started, I thought it was too amusing to change.
So, my original plan for this chapter was I was going to write a prequel involving the main character from chapter 2, revolving around her time as a Marine Corps officer cadet going through Infantry Officer Course, hence the focus on a simulated battle. Before I had even started though, I realized I could actually merge it better with my pre-established universe if I had it revolve around my main Halo OC’s – Moss Shen – time as an Airborne School instructor, though I thought it would be more interesting to have it from one of the student’s perspective. Unfortunately, as far as I’m aware, US Army Airborne School (which this chapter is based on) isn’t actually a combat school per se, and does no combat training whatsoever. That being said, I figured an easy in-universe explanation for the change would be that because the war against the Covenant is so bloody, the UNSC military decided to introduce more combat training scenarios in all schools, just so they could make up for the general lack of experiences soldiers.
As far as the ending goes, I realize it’s a bit cheesy and forced, but I figured this would be the only opportunity to actually include one of the airborne marching songs. The version of lyrics I used come from Band of Brothers as by now, it’s probably the most well known exactly because of that show.
As far as the combat simulation goes, it was inspired by two pieces of media:
- the attack on Foy scene from HBO’s Band of Brothers, Episode 7 “The Breaking Point” from 2001
and
- the battle of Walcheren Causeway from Netflix’s The Forgotten Battle (De Slag om de Schelde) from 2020
Chapter 15: Estuary 2549: War Gods
Chapter Text
Defensive Perimeter, Evac Zone 009
Estuary, Thompson System
2538
CW3 Robert “Bob” Martell, H&S Company, 45th Marine Regiment, 21st MARDIV
“AMMO! AMMO! I NEED SOME MORE f*ckING AMMO- “
TINK!
Chief Warrant Officer 3 Robert Martell looked up just in time to see Winston take a Needler straight to the head and he toppled over backwards, dead.
“f*ck! Somebody get on that Gimpy!” he roared. “Get the Gimpy back up! Somebody get that f*cking Pig back in operation, now!”
“It’s mine!” Lance Corporal Zarabi yelled as she slung her rifle over her shoulder and leapt for the machine gun. A second later, the Gimpy was back online, blazing away, however the momentary break in fire was costly.
“RUUK’INA!!!”
Martell glanced over the trench wall to see an entire file of Covenant soldiers charging at him. Pulling out a grenade, he thumbed the activation level, slammed the grenade against his helmet to prime it, then hurtled it in their direction. “FRAG OUT!”
The grenade soared through the air and exploded mid-air directly over a cluster of Grunts, throwing them to the ground. Grabbing his rifle, he emptied the magazine in their direction. “AHHHHHHHH!!!”
“Gunner!” Zarabi screamed. “Gunner! We can’t hold out much longer!”
“Shut up and just keep shooting!” he yelled back.
“Where’s our fire support!?”
“You’re our fire support, goddammit!”
“sh*t- LOOKOUT!”
Martell looked up to see a screaming Jackal run straight at him. In a panic, Martell fired at the Jackal, but it was all blocked by the Jackal’s energy shield.
“Gunner! Get your head down!”
Martell immediately dove for the deck as a stream of tracers shot right over his head and slammed into the Jackal from the side. The Jackal tripped and toppled straight into the trench, its arm shield fizzling out, and Martell didn’t hesitate, drawing his sidearm and blowing the alien away to Kingdom come. “Die motherf*cker!”
“I’m out!” Zarabi warned. “I’m out of ammo! I need another belt, I need another belt!”
“We ain’t got one!” Martell yelled back, ducking as a series of plasma bolts splattered against the ground nearby. “Ditch the tripod and fall back! I’ll cover!”
“sh*t!” Zarabi snarled as she removed the machine gun from its mount and hefted it onto her shoulder. “Bounding!”
Racking the chambering handle, Martell stood up and rapid fired down range. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Zarabi running back down the trench and he waited a few seconds before turning to follow.
“CHKHAA PKHA NISHUM!”
Martell glanced over his shoulder and instinctively ducked as a volley of plasma splatted against the trench wall behind him. A Skirmisher – plasma pistol blazing away – leapt straight at him, but Martell was able to snag the alien out of the sky and throw it against the wall. Before the Skirmisher could recover, Martell was already all over it. Grabbing the alien's hand, Martell repeatedly smashed it against the wall until the creature dropped its weapon before viciously kneeing it in the stomach.
Too close for even a bullpup rifle to shoot, Martell reached out and grabbed hold of an entrenching shovel leaning against the wall nearby. Raising it over his head, he brought it down swiftly, but the Skirmisher was able to bring its arm up in time and the edge of the shovel embedded itself into the alien's forearm.
“AGHHHHHH!!!” the Skirmisher screamed with both pain and anger.
“Stupid motherf*cker!” Martell snarled as he yanked the shovel out. “Die already!”
Wrenching the Skirmisher's arm out of the way, Martell swung the shovel once more, this time finding the creature's neck. Dark purple arterial blood sprayed out, coating the shovel, the wall, the ground, but the stupid alien refused to die right away, desperately clawing at Martell's chest plate, trying to find a recess. Tearing the shovel out, Martell swung and swung and swung until the Skirmisher was all but decapitated, finally going still.
Leaving the shovel embedded in the Skirmisher's neck, he paused long enough to grab Winston's dog tags before retreating down the trench.
“Rover-06, this is 08: we lost the MG nest! I say again, we lost the forward machine gun nest. We can’t hold it!” he yelled into his microphone.
“Goddammit. Alright, acknowledged, I’m pulling the frontline back. Without that strongpoint, we're not going to be able to hold!”
“Where the hell is all our support!” Martell frantically cried. “We need reinforcements!”
“FLEETCOM said they sent us a strike package. Do you see said strike package?”
“All I see are bad guys!”
Rover-06 sighed. “Alright, let me see where they ended up. Wait one. Out.”
Lowering his radio, Martell worked his way to the next trench yelling, “FRIENDLY! FRIENDLY!”
“GUNNER! OVER HERE!”
Martell divert and threw himself into the dugout where Zarabi and Master Gunnery Sergeant Wyatt were holed out in.
“Gunner, where the hell are our reinforcements!?” Wyatt demanded to know before Martell even had a chance to get inside.
“We're working on it!” Martell retorted, firing a few rounds at the approaching Covenant, only to have to duck from the return barrage. “Lance Corporal, did you find another belt?”
“Yes!” Zarabi distractedly yelled as she fired her rifle.
“Then why the hell aren’t you using it!?”
“It’s not working and I dunno why!”
“Give it!”
Zarabi kicked the general purpose machine gun in his direction and he quickly checked it over. Feed tray, belt, chambering handle, headspace-
“How the f*ck did you f*ck up the headspace!?” he roared as he worked to recalibrate the Gimpy.
“I don’t f*cking know! I'm a goddamn administrative specialist, not a f*cking 0300 series!!!”
“’Every Marine is a rifleman, first and foremost!’” both he and Wyatt immediately retorted.
“With all due respect, Gunner and Master Guns, shut the f*ck up!”
“INCOMING!”
As one, all three of them dove for cover as a series of fuel rod cannons came screaming in. The entire ground shook as they discharged their payloads and in the distance, Martell could hear someone screaming for a corpsman.
“Here! Take this thing back!”
Zarabi grabbed the machine gun and stuck it out the embrasure as Martell turned to Wyatt. “What’s the situation in the rear!?”
“Evacuations are preceding! Colonial authorities have evacuated roughly three quarters of all the civilians!”
“We gotta hold out until the rest make it!” Martell demanded.
“We can’t do that unless we get more f*cking reinforcements!”
“Colonel said that the Navy sent us a strike package!”
“What strike package!? I don’t see no f*cking strike package!”
“Neither do I!” Martell admitted. “I was hoping I had missed something!”
“With the amount of Covies out there, the only way you could miss is if you tried!”
“That’s not what I mean, Master Guns, and you know it!”
“Here they come again!” Zarabi warned and Martell immediately rushed to the trench wall-
- and felt his jaw drop at the sight of nearly a thousand Covenant soldiers charging straight at their position. He frantically began running some numbers.
A Marine infantry reserve unit like the 45th had roughly 3500 Marines assigned to it. Over the last day, the regiment had been whittled down to maybe a seventh of their original size, and many of those who had been lost had been the frontline riflemen, leaving the POGs and REMFs and senior operations staff like Zarabi and Wyatt to pick up the slack. A thousand fanatical Covenant warriors charging at them? With them barely holding onto their trenches without any reinforcements or fire support?
“We gotta pull back!” Wyatt yelped.
“We can’t,” Martell replied, a chill going down his spine. “We're the only force left standing between the Covenant and those civilians. We break, they die. We can’t allow that to happen.”
“But we can’t hold without reinforcements!” Zarabi protested.
“Then we break. But before we do, we make the Covies pay in blood for every centimeter they take. Come on, Devil Dogs! We're the 45th Marine Regiment! ‘The Stubborn Ones!’” he roared. “It’s time to live up to our nickname! WE HOLD!”
Martell wasn’t sure if his speech was enough to motivate his Marines, nor did he have a chance to find out because it was that exact moment plasma began flying through the air and everyone was suddenly too busy fighting for their lives to care. As he pumped round after round downrange, Martell found himself reciting a warrior's creed he and his friends had invented just after finishing SOI under his breath for motivation.
“I am a United Nations Space Command Marine,” he whispered to himself as he fired. “I am a master of my craft, a weapon of war.”
His rounds cut a bloody scythe through the front ranks of the attackers, but the Covenant had deliberately stacked their vanguard with Grunt to soak up the gunfire, allowing the larger aliens a chance to return fire. Purple needles and blue plasma bolts began saturating the ground in front of him, forcing him to duck.
“I was born in the chaos of conflict and forged by the hammer of battle,” he continued as he waited for the barrage to abate before surging upright and continuing to fire.
“Look out! On the right! Zarabi, get that f*cking Elite!”
Tracers skipped off the ground as the Elite dove behind a destroyed Ghost for cover; Martell waited until the Elite poked its head up and removed it for him.
“Reloading!” he warned before continuing his recital.
“The blood of my enemies is my nourishment,” he said as he reloaded, “while the drums of battle is my enrichment. With my rifle in hand and my bayonet in my other, I am complete.”
“Hey!” Zarabi abruptly screamed, snapping Martell out of his battle reverie. “I’m out of ammo, I’m black on ammo!”
“Switch to your rifle!”
“I'm out of ammo on that too!” Zarabi admitted. “I need a mag!”
“We don’t have any; this is my last one!” Wyatt protested.
“f*ck! What am I supposed to do now!? Use harsh language and obscene hand gestures!?”
“Here, take this!” Martell volunteered, tossing her his sidearm.
“Thanks! INCOMING!”
The warning came a split second too late. There was a thunderous explosion, one that knocked everyone off their feet, and as he tried to regain his bearings, Martell glanced over to his left to see part of the trench wall had been blown inwards, killing the Marines defending there and creating a breach, one the Covenant were already charging towards. “Breach! WE GOT A BREACH!”
“PLUG THAT HOLE!”
Other Marines were rushing in to bring their weapons to bear, but it was clear to Martell the Covenant would get there first. There was only one thing they could do. “Marines! Fix bayonets!”
“Oh, f*ck!” he heard Zarabi yelp as he yanked out his bayonet and slipped it over the muzzle of his rifle. “Oh f*ck, oh f*ck!”
Tightly gripping his rifle to try and stop his hands from shaking, Martell braced himself as he whispered the last line of his creed. “I fear no evil for I know I am the baddest motherf*cker to walk the galaxy.”
With a bone-chilling shriek, a Jackal leapt into the trench. Martell didn’t let it do anything else; he lunged forward and plunged his bayonet straight into the alien's chest. The Jackal screamed in pain and Martell swiftly withdrew his rifle only to stab forward once more, plunging the blade into the alien's eye. The Jackal still wasn’t dead yet though, and Martell raised his weapon once more to finally finish it off.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he spun around to see another Jackal swinging some sort of blade at his head. Intercepting the swing with his rifle, he was able to deflect the blade to the side, knocking the Jackal off-balance, and quickly retaliated, walloping the Jackal in the face with the butt of his rifle and sending the creature sprawling to the ground. He raised his rifle to shoot the creature in the head but then, without warning, a scaly arm grabbed Martell from behind and began to place him in a chokehold, only for there to be a sudden shout of pain and arm withdrew just as quickly as it appeared.
Whirling around, Martell was confronted with the sight of an Elite Minor reaching behind it, desperately trying to remove the combat knife Zarabi had planted in the alien's back. Not willing to give the creature even the remotest change of recovery, Martell jabbed forward, stabbing the Elite straight in the neck. The Elite collapsed, writhing, and without exchanging a word, both he and Zarabi began stabbing the alien over and over again until they were both covered in blood and the Elite was very dead.
“HOLD THE LINE!” Wyatt was screaming from somewhere above him. “HOLD THE GODDAMN- AH!”
Martell snapped his head up to see Wyatt had been tackled to the ground by a Skirmisher, and he moved to help him out, but another Jackal got in his way. Without hesitation, he punched the Jackal in the jaw, knocking the alien down and stepped aside to allow Zarabi to finish it off, but then a Grunt jumped down on him, swinging its plasma pistol. Martell was knocked onto his ass but he was able to raise his rifle in time and shoot the Grunt in the head, but then another Grunt leapt into the trench, followed by another Jackal, and then another Covenant, and another, and another…
“We're getting overrun!” Zarabi screamed as she frantically reloaded.
“Hold the line!” Martell desperately yelled back. “Hold the f*cking line!”
They kept fighting, but it was quickly becoming a losing battle as more and more Marines began to fall. Martell fired off the last of his ammo and just about ready to throw himself into a crowd of Covies for one last suicidal attack when… a miracle seemed to happen…
Martell didn’t even notice at first, but then the horde of aliens in front began withdrawing. No- not withdrawing…
It took Martell a moment to realize what he was seeing. The Covies weren’t withdrawing… they were redeploying, hurriedly turning around to face someone or something that was attacking them from the rear. And they were doing so in such a rush, they were abandoning the Marines even though they had yet to be defeated.
“What the… what the hell is happening?”
Martell jumped and whirled around, only to see Wyatt limping towards him. “Master Guns! You alright?”
“Yeah. That goddamn Skirmisher just took off; didn’t even try to finish me off or anything,” Wyatt said, sounding mystified. “Not that I’m complaining but… what the hell!?”
Martell shook his head. “No idea. Must be pretty serious though.”
“Serious enough for them to expose their backs to us?”
“Guys, look!” Zarabi suddenly gasped.
Out of sheer habit, Martell almost started berating her for her casual address of them, but then he noticed where she was pointing and paused. Looking beyond the Covenant lines, he thought he saw –
Then he spotted them. Three humanoid figures, clad head to toe in heavy green armor. Wearing a helmet with a shiny golden visor. They were advancing across the field, spaced twenty-five meters apart, but it was clear they were all together as every move they made was synchronized and well-coordinated, with each individual covering their own sector, but still retained enough margin of freedom to support each other despite the distance. It was these three the entire Covenant army had turned to face head on and, oh, Martell could see why.
As an infantry weapons officers, Martell was trained and well-versed in the tactical employment of every single infantry weapon in the UNSC's arsenal. But he had never seen a person or Marine handle a weapon as well as these individuals were right now. Despite there only being three of them, despite them facing well over three hundred Covenant soldiers, the armored figures were cutting a bloody scythe through the ranks of the Covies.
He watched the one in the center – whom he presumed was the leader based on absolutely nothing – fire an MA5C rifle into the crowd in front of them as they charged forward, moving from cover to cover. Not only was every single round a hit, every single shot was a fatal one, and instantly thirty-two Covenant Jackals and Grunts toppled to the ground, dead, in the time it took Martell to draw a single breath. Out of ammo, the War God (because there was no other way for Martell to describe them) yanked out a grenade and hurtled it at a nearby Elite, timing it perfectly so that the bomb exploded against the alien's head like it was an impact grenade. As the Elite recoiled, shield flashing, the War God whipped out a sidearm and shot the Elite once through the head, then proceeded to headshot six other aliens like they were a gunslinger from one of those Old-World American westerns.
The Covenant attempted to return fire, but the War God was no longer there, having ducked behind a long destroyed Warthog, only to emerge from the other side, rifle blazing once more; presumably, they had reloaded in the split second they were out of sight. Thirty-two more Covenant bodies graced the ground.
Meanwhile, at the same time, the War God on the left was engaging their own cluster of Covies, though unlike the one in the center, this one had a machine gun. However, upon closer look, Martell was startled to realize it wasn’t the standard M247 belt-fed Gimpy, but rather an M247H heavy machine gun, which they were welding like it was a squad automatic rifle instead of the .50cal beast that it truly was. As expected, unlike the center figure, there were no fancy maneuvers with this one, just pure slaughter as they fired burst after burst into the crowd. Grunts, Jackals, Skirmishers, or Elites, it didn’t matter, the HEIAP rounds they were firing didn’t discriminate; it cut through everyone equally and in many cases, cut through two or three aliens at the same time. Needles and plasma flew at the God in a futile attempt to halt the massacre, but they just bounced off their armor.
Finally on the far right, the final figure was conducting their own war. They were welding two M7 submachine guns akimbo style, which was something Martell had only seen once in his twenty years with the Corps. And the Marine that had been firing said SMGs had promptly been knocked on their ass by the recoil while the few rounds they had managed to let off while standing had hit everything but the target.
That was not the case here. Bullets flew in all directions as the armored figure unloaded on the Covies, sometimes alternating between SMGs, sometimes firing both at the same time. Every single one of lesser aliens received a precise, three-round burst to the face, while the Elites generally took upwards of nine bullets because of their shields, but the same amount of rounds hit every single alien type every single time. Every. Single. Time. Martell had never seen such consistency outside of AIs, and for a moment he couldn’t help but wonder if these three were actually robots being controlled by AIs because surely no human could do the feats they were pulling off.
Right?
“Oh my god!” Zarabi abruptly squealed – squealed – sounding for the first time since Martell had known her, her actual age of nineteen, and making Martell feel oh so old. “Oh my god, ohmygod!”
“What? What is it Lance Corporal?” Martell worriedly asked, tearing his eyes away from the spectacle in case he was missing an approaching threat. But Zarabi was still staring at the figures.
“Oh my god! Don’t you know what those are?”
Martell exchanged a puzzled look with Wyatt.
“No?” Martell weakly replied.
“Gunner, those are Spartans!”
“Spartans?” he and Wyatt echoed as they looked across the field once more.
He had heard of Spartans before of course – what Marine hadn’t – but having been in the business for as long as he had, Martell had long learned how to spot ONI propaganda, and every story he had heard about Spartans had seemed to fit the description to a ‘T.’ After all, some of the feats the Spartans had supposedly done outright broke the laws of physics as he knew it, so surely all the stories had to be made up.
Just propaganda.
Now, gazing across the increasingly bloody battlefield, Martell was starting to get the feeling he was going to have his BS gauge recalibrated.
By now, most if not all the Grunts, Jackals, and Skirmishers had been killed, leaving behind a large group of Elites (the puss*es.) Their leader, a battered looking Elite Ultra, took one look at the Spartans and immediately tossed its plasma rifle to the ground. Not to surrender, no, but instead to pull out its plasma sword, causing all the other Elites to follow suit. As one, they let out a challenging bellow and charged the Spartans in a ‘Banzai' style attack, and Martell found himself holding his breath, waiting to see what the Spartans would do next.
They didn’t disappoint. Instead of giving the Elites any degree of respect by playing their game, all three promptly opened fire, blasting through the front ranks before the Elites could even get close. Elite after Elite toppled to the ground, but they weren’t deterred and instead, continued to charge, trampling over the bodies of those who had fallen before them. And as good as the Spartans were, there was no denying there was a certain strength in numbers and eventually, the inevitable happened: the Spartans ran out of ammo.
- but not out of resolve as they tossed their empty weapons aside and pulled out blades of their own. And rather than wait for the tidal wave to come to them, they immediately went on the offensive. And what happened next was almost indescribable.
Naked steel danced through the air, weaving patterns too elaborate for Martell to follow. Elites rushed at the trio hoping to win honor and glory, only to have their arms, legs, and other appendages cleanly sliced off, leaving them to hobble there in shock before their throats were slit. Martell always considered himself a pretty well trained Marine – he had a 1st degree black belt in MCMAP after all – but he knew he could train for a thousand years and never come close to the skill on display now.
Eventually, all the Elites were dead, leaving the Ultra as the only one standing. Absurdly, despite having seen its entire Army slaughtered in front of it, the Ultra somehow still thought it could take on the Spartans, rushing at the rifle welding Spartan with a loud cry. The Ultra made a desperate, overhead swing at the Spartan's head, but the Spartan was able to grab the sword by its hilt, stopping it.
For a moment, the two titans stood there, struggling to gain control of the sword before, rather abruptly, the Spartan whipped out some sort of holdout pistol and shot the Ultra in the stomach at point-blank range.
The Ultra let out a very satisfying cry of pain and dropped to its knees, allowing the Spartan to seize the plasma sword and – in a move that almost looked like it came straight from a video game – swiftly and cleanly beheaded the alien bastard.
And just like that, the battle was over.
A sort of ringing noise filled Martell's ears as he looked around in shock, barely believing what he was seeing. Shell-shocked Marines stumbled out from their trenches, and Martell knew he should be doing a headcount, figuring out their loses, but he found he couldn’t move. Then Zarabi let out a loud squeak, and he turned around to see the Spartans were walking towards him.
“Gunner Robert Martell? Master Gunnery Sergeant Everett Wyatt?” they asked in a deep voice, and Martell felt a sudden and absurd urge to kneel to them.
“Yes?” he squeaked, before quickly clearing his throat. “Yes, that’s us. To whom do I have the honor of speaking to?”
Much to his shock, the Spartan immediately snapped to attention. “Petty Officer Second Class Sierra-029, Navy Strike Package: Gold Team, reporting for duty, sir.”
“You’re the Navy Strike Package!?” Wyatt exclaimed from beside him, sounding shocked to his core. Not that Martell could blame him as he felt the same.
“Aye, Master Guns,” the Spartan replied. “Apologies for the delay, sir. We realized this would have been the most optimal time to infiltrate the Covenant's headquarters and eliminate the Zealot leading this Army.”
“You assassinated their leader!?” Zarabi blurted out, only to shrink as the Spartan turned his gaze towards her.
“That is correct, Lance Corporal,” the Spartan calmly replied. “We felt there would be more of a strategic impact in doing so. We had hoped to arrive in the field in time to save more of your men, however…”
The Spartan trailed off and clearly glanced at the many Marine bodies lying motionless on the ground, and Martell felt a stab of pity for this Spartan. Who knew even Gods could feel?
“Son,” Martell said as gently as he could, addressing the Spartan as he would one of his men, even though he felt slightly foolish in doing so. “You did what you had to. As did we. We knew what we were getting ourselves into and to fight and die on behalf of Mankind… I don’t think there’s a greater honor than that.”
The Spartan didn’t seem convinced. Of course, Martell couldn’t see the Spartan's face so he had no idea what the Spartan was even thinking of, so perhaps Martell was projecting, but after a moment of silence, the Spartan looked up.
“The Covenant may have been defeated for now, but they will return, and in greater numbers. I recommend reorganizing your defenses; with your permission, Gunner, I would like to assets your lines and determine where my team could best contribute to your defenses. We will hold our ground until all civilians have been evacuated.”
As if he would stop them. Nevertheless, Martell turned to Wyatt and gestured for him to show them around. Shooting him an awestruck look, Wyatt turned to escort them away.
As the Spartans headed towards the rear, Martell finally gave into his urge and dropped to his knees.
“God bless,” he whispered after them. “God bless you all.”
General Notes
The first thing to know about this chapter, is that it is heavily influenced by the 2021 cinematic trailer for the game, Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine 2.
I wrote this chapter because I was writing a different chapter from the POV of a Spartan. And as weird as it sounds considering what universe I write in, I’m actually not a huge fan of writing Spartan POVs; when it comes to superhuman/superhero POVs just in general, I personally feel that you can’t always depict them that way. On occasion, you need to depict them from the viewpoint of a normal being because if you’re always showing them from the POV of themselves or other superbeings, their actions become normalized, and your audience loses some of the awe and understanding of just how crazy and spectacular some of the things these superbeings are doing.
The reason why I used the trailer as inspiration for this chapter is because I love the way they show the awe and reverence the Imperial Guard have for the Space Marines, and I feel like you would see a similar, near-worshipping attitude towards Spartans in the Halo Universe (barring certain elements of the ODSTs, of course.)
As for the actions of the Spartans in this chapter, I feel like Spartans are depicted as being very strategic-minded, with a huge focus on the overall picture. That’s not to say they sacrifice people needlessly – Master Chief is shown to be very emphatic to his fellow non-Spartans in the books even if he can’t necessarily relate to them on a personal level – and often times they are capable of formulating plans that allow them to achieve their strategic objectives while minimizing casualties. However I think when push comes to shove, they would be the “mission comes first" type of soldiers.
The Spartan depicted in this chapter is a canon Spartan-II: Joshua-029 of Gold Team, but aside from that, I actually don’t know much about him. I didn’t want to use a well-known Spartan like anyone from Blue Team, but at the same time, I didn’t want to make up one of my own so I just chose the name from the list on Halopedia (after verifying he was still alive in 2549, of course.)
The 45th Marine Regiment from which the POV character is part of is actually a canon unit (the regiment or at least elements of it were onboard the UNSC Spirit of Fire when it went MIA) but its nickname of “The Stubborn Ones" is not. In the US military, almost every combat unit has a nickname or a motto or both. In this case, the nickname was inspired by former British Army regiment, the 45th (Nottinghamshire) (Sherwood Foresters) Regiment of Foot which, according to Wikipedia, was nicknamed “Old Stubborns.”
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