CHAPTER 1
"Alright marines, listen up!" roars the Lieutenant, "Our objective is to get these civilians to the Evac Point so they can get outta here. Sergeant Shearer, take your section and cover the left flank. Sergeant Cummins, you have the right. The rest of you, on me. Clear?"
"Sir, yes sir!" comes the reply.
"Then let's get to work people! Move, move, move!"
...
...
There is a loud explosion. The two marines on point are killed instantly.
"AMBUSH!" someone yells.
Everyone ducks for cover as flashes of green and pink whizz through the dust and into the formation, marines scrambling for cover. Some don't make it. The marines return fire, taking out several Jackals and an Elite, then being forced back into cover.
The Jackals make a slow, firing advance behind their shields, protecting the Elites behind them. A marine rolls a frag grenade like a bowling ball. The Jackals scramble. There is a loud explosion. Jackals are thrown everywhere and the marines mow them down.
The Elites, void of their protective barrier, resume their onslaught. Another marine goes down in the dash for safety. He sees him go down, and reaches out for his hand, pulling him the rest of the way. The downed marine moans in agony, the plasma shot had bitten off a small portion of his torso. "Don't worry buddy, we'll get you out of here," he says above the gunfire. The other marines renew their assault, bringing down more Elites.
He yells into his radio, "this is X-Ray team; we have been engaged, taking heavy casualties! We need back-up NOW!"
"Copy that X-Ray, We're almost there," comes a reply.
Suddenly, more gunfire erupts from the Elites' left flank, catching them off, and wiping them out.
"Friendlies coming through!" yells a voice.
More marines come running from their position. They check over the fallen, looking to see who is still alive. Six marines from a squad of 22 had been killed, and two more are critically injured. One of the slain was the lieutenant.
A rather poor exchange for 5 Elites and 10 Jackals.
"Regroup on me," says a Gunnery Sergeant quietly. He was the next highest rank. "Let's move on".
...
...
There was a flash and a loud roar as the last UNSC frigate, Aegis Fate, lifted from the dock yards on Reach. The frigate almost looked serene against the backdrop from Hell. The ruins of New Alexandria in the distance were bone-dry and lifeless. The wind made a distinct whistling noise. Phantoms could be heard in the distance. Then, the roar of a Warthog as it pulled to a halt. Its occupants stared in utter horror as their last hope for survival slipped away into space. A marine, got out, cursing furiously.
"No, no, no, no, NO! Fuck, we were too late!"
His companion just watched in silence, shaking her head.
"Damn it, that's just great" he said, "Now there's no way to get off".
The first marine sighed and got back in the 'Hog. "Piece of shit couldn't wait that LITTLE bit longer", he muttered. They sat in silence, trying to make sense of their situation. He turned to his companion, who was struggling to hold back tears.
"This is it" she said, "This is a marine's life in a nutshell, doomed to die from day 1 on some remote hell-hole, alone." She met his gaze, "Is it really worth it? Spending months fighting for your very survival, against an alien horde that is slowly but surely wiping out your close friends, one by one, all for what? To buy time for the next guy, until he dies?"
He didn't know what to say. But he knew one thing: he didn't plan on dying today.
"Don't worry" he said, "I'm not going to let them simply kill us when they come. I know a good place in those mountain ranges over there. If we can get there, we can set up some sort of hide-out to stay in, or if need be...make a last stand".
"How will we survive out there?" asked his companion, wiping her eyes, "we don't have any food supplies. We'd have to raid the city just for scraps. And when the Covvies glass the city, we'd starve".
He pondered this statement. "I'm sure we'll think of something, even if it means stealing from the Elites".
"You'd eat Elite food?" she asked in disgust.
"If there was nothing left, then yes."
There was a moment's pause.
"Well, we should search the dock yards for supplies. If we're gonna hold out for as long as possible, we're not gonna do it with sticks" he said, gunning the engine and racing off.
They pulled up to a large structure. "Let's start looking here", he said.
They walked around the complex, on edge with nervousness, wary for Covenant patrols. They came to a door saying ARMOURY.
"This looks promising" said the first marine. The door slides open as they walked in. There was a large container with weapons of various sorts. The first marine grabbed an M45 shotgun and a small ammunition crate. The second marine picked up ammunition for her MA37 assault rifle and a M6 pistol.
"Hopefully, this will keep us going for a bit" said the first marine, "if we run out, we're gonna have to come back for more".
As they started heading back to the Warthog, they heard heavy footsteps in the corridor outside.
Their faces went white with horror as a menacing shadow appeared in the door way.
"Shit" whispered the first marine frantically, "Hide!"
The Elite walked in and scanned the room. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, it walked out again, muttering something in Sangheili. The marines slowly emerged from their hiding spots, the first marine making a low whistle in relief. "That was too close" he whispered.
Apparently Elites have good hearing, as it poked its head back in, and instantly saw the two humans. It growled as it pulled its plasma rifle from the holster. Adrenaline kicked in as the marines ducked for cover. The Elite ran up to the second marine, trying to blow her head clean off. There was a loud BLAM, blood went everywhere, and there was a high pitched scream.
The marine slowly opened her eyes. She was still alive. Covered head to toe in Elite blood and nerves almost at breaking point, but alive. The Elite almost smothered her as its dead corpse fell limp in top of her. The first marine slowly lowered his shotgun and went to help her.
With a heave, the corpse was on the floor. The second marine was breathing heavily, realizing how close to death she was. The first marine broke the silence.
"Let's move, before more show up".
They walked out to the 'Hog, throwing their supplies into the back. The first marine took the driver's spot, his companion riding shotgun.
"The quickest way to the mountains is via the highway," he said, "It's probably riddled with Covvies, but that's a chance we just have to take".
His companion nodded silently, steeling herself for the ride.
He put the 'Hog in gear and sped off. They reached a main road leading to New Alexandria. Suddenly he had an idea. He violently jerked the car off the road and into the scrub.
"What are you doing?" asked the second marine, caught off by this rapid change of plan.
"I just remembered, " He replied, "That this thing is a four-wheel drive. We don't NEED to go by the highway!"
His companion facepalmed as they made a b-line for the mountains. The terrain was rough and bumpy, and the equipment in the back rattled loudly. The second marine glimpsed at the rear-view mirror and a look of horror came to her face. Noticing her expression, he craned his neck to look around.
At the last second he saw a green blob hurtling towards them.
A Banshee was looming menacingly over them, its fuel rod cannon noticeably steaming. The projectile landed a near-miss, launching the Warthog into a rapid spin, ejecting its occupants into the ground. The marines hit the ground with a thud. Everything was suddenly in slow motion.
He struggled to pull himself together, vision going hazy. His joints protested against the ordeal of the landing.
The Banshee landed, its pilot hopped out to get a close up view of its victims. It stood over the marine in amusement, watching this pathetic human's feeble attempts to get away. Activating its Energy Sword, it wound back to deliver a coup de grace. The marine flinched. The second marine watched helplessly as the Elite went for the kill. She bowed her head, not wanting to watch.
There was a loud pop. She didn't bother looking, and tried to crawl away.
Then it dawned on her. Energy Swords don't make a noise like that. They make a soft hiss as they slice. She looked and saw a now-headless Elite fall to the ground. There was a faint, white contrail passing through where its head once was. She followed the contrail to the mountains. Someone was already up there, alive, and with a sniper rifle.
The first marine stopped cringing when he realized he was still alive. He looked and saw the contrail, thanked God for whoever that was, and tried to get up. The Warthog was on its back, not going anywhere any time soon. They pulled themselves together, grabbed their equipment and started walking.
As they walked, the first marine was in thought. Who could it have been that just saved them? How did they also miss the evac ships? Why compromise their position for a couple of marines? It didn't make sense.
In the distance, they heard the distinct sound of a Falcon, as one appeared from the ranges. It slowly lowered in front of them. Over the headsets in their helmets, they heard two words: "Get in".
They took up position in the gun turrets, placing their equipment on the seats behind them.
"Thank you for flying with Sierra Airlines", said the voice in a mock pilot's accent, "Flight 308 to the middle of God-knows-where, we hope you have a pleasant flight."
Great, a comedian, thought the marine.
They came to a natural cave in the side of the mountain. A campfire was up and running, and there were various pieces of equipment lying around. The Falcon came to a gentle landing just outside the entrance. The marines disembarked and headed to the campsite. A figure caught the first marine's eye. It was a soldier, fully clad in armour. He realized it was a Spartan. He gazed at the Spartan's attire. His colouration was quite unique, brown and cyan. He had a Mark 5 helmet with U/A, Recon shoulder guards and LRP chest piece. He cradled an SRS99 in his arms like a father would his child. He also had an M45 shotgun magnetized to his back.
The marine turned and saw a second Spartan emerge from the Falcon. This one had an EOD helmet with CNM mod, Commando shoulder guards, Commando chest piece, TacPad wrist piece, Softcase utility and Para knee guards. His armour was Steel and Brick in colour. He also had a shotgun on his back, what looked like two Energy Sword hilts on his utility belt and an M6 pistol holstered to his thigh-piece. His pitch-black visor gave the marine a feeling of uneasiness. The Spartan's voice contrasted that though.
"How's it goin'?" he asked with a nod. The marines just look at him. His voice was very casual, considering his predicament, and he had a distinct Australian accent. He extended his hand.
"Chief Petty Officer Jake-B468," he said, "Pleased to meet ya."
The marine shook his hand, "Sergeant Ben Shearer, from the 12th-"
"Yeah that's nice," Jake interrupted, "I don't care what unit you're from. Names only, please."
"Well, that's my friend, Corporal Sam Wentworth," said Ben, referring to his companion, who was studying Jake with curiosity. Sam gave a small wave. Jake nodded in response.
The sniper Spartan got up and extended his hand, "Petty Officer 1st Class Rylee-G739". Sam shook it.
"Well then," said Jake, "now everyone's acquainted, let's get to business. It is highly unlikely that the UNSC will come back to this shithole for another dozen years at least, so the idea is fairly simple. We hold out for as long as possible until either someone comes to help us," he said, counting on his fingers, "the war ends and we can emerge peacefully... or we die."
"Sir," said Ben, "with all due respect, how do you plan to do this?"
"It's simple my friend. We fuck shit up where we can," came the blunt reply, "and Ben, isn't it? ... Don't call me 'sir'".
"I see."
Rylee placed his rifle on a boulder, scanning the surroundings. "So where are you two from?" he asked.
"Reach", said Ben, tapping the left part of his chest with his fist, "Born and raised."
"Earth," said Sam.
"Oh? Which part of Earth?" asked Jake.
"Auckland, New Zealand," She replied.
"I see..." he mused.
"Uh, people?" said Rylee, with edginess in his voice, "we're gonna have a situation here."
Jake and the marines came over. A Covenant Phantom approached, main cannon blazing.
"Oh shit! Brace from impact!" yelled Jake. Everyone ducked behind the boulder as the projectiles slammed into their position. After the salvo, Jake did a check to make sure everyone was okay.
"We can't have you dying on us ALREADY marines!" he said.
"Here come the infantry!" said Rylee.
All hell broke loose as the two sides exchanged fire. The Grunts and Jackals went down in the first few seconds. An Elite let loose with its Plasma Repeater, forcing the humans to take cover. Jake threw a grenade over his head. If the Elite saw it land by its feet, it didn't show. There was a loud explosion, a roar, and the dust settled.
"Right," said Jake, "Ben, Sam, scavenge their weapons, we'll cover you."
Ben slowly emerged from the boulder, keeping his gun trained on the limp bodies just in case. Sam moved as fast as her legs would carry her, snatching up the Plasma Repeater, and collecting some dropped Plasma Grenades. They returned with full hands, placing the loot in the cave.
"That's not all of them" said Rylee, "We have more Phantoms inbound!"
"Pfft," Jake scoffed, "That's all? I was expecting them to send a lot more than that."
The next few hours followed the same routine. Phantoms dropped reinforcements, the Spartans and Marines made mincemeat of them, and they would collect any dropped weapons of interest. Ben was beginning to wonder how long they could keep this up.
By the end of it, Ben and Sam were exhausted. Their breathing was in big gasps, sweat dripping from their faces.
"Shit," said Jake, "You'd think you just ran a huge obstacle course in 40 degree heat."
"Forty degrees isn't that much," said Ben.
"Celsius," corrected Jake.
"Oh."
"It's getting dark," said Rylee, "we should start getting some sleep."
He took up his position for night-watch as the team, one by one, nodded off to sleep.