A/N:
Hey, there, readers. This story is a revamp of a story I had stopped working on about two years ago (just titled Stockholm Syndrome). I had stopped writing is because of crippling family issues, but everything has recently resolved itself and I am PUMPED to rework and finish this adventure. I am very sorry that is took so long for this to continue, as I know there were a good amount of people who liked the story.
If it happens that you had already read the original, I want to just get it out there that there are going to be some significant changes in the story; mostly the addition of some sub-plots, better character development, some minor plot tweaking, and an overall slower pace (upon rereading, I felt that everything seemed a bit rushed before). The rating has also been boosted to M, but for violence and language reasons only.
Well, enough of my ramblings… Please read and enjoy.

{2552-10-15}

The hot desert sun beat down upon the small platoon rested along the face of a tall sand dune. There were four members, all clad in matching taupe uniforms. They sat side-by-side, reclined on the slanting surface of the mound of shifting sand. Each member had black goggles, fit for protection from the harsh sunlight and airborne sand. One of the people, situated at the left of the line, pulled a pair of binoculars from a bag from their side. Flipping on to their belly, the soldier, in a soft toned, feminine voice spoke.

"I'll check the base."
A small, worn nameplate above her right breast labeled her simply; Clay.

The three others nodded and the woman crawled to the top of the sand dune. On her back was a high caliber rifle, its long barrel rising well above her head, the matted tan paint on its surface preventing a glare. Silently, Clay thanked the sun for finally moving behind the group. The heat on their backs was uncomfortable, but they needed all of the vantage they could get. Lifting up the binoculars, she peered over the peak of the hill. In her eyesight was a small, dome shaped building surrounded by a sturdy concrete wall. The wall was rectangular, and cast heavy shadows on the objects within its perimeter. It was very different from the usual bright colors and fluid shapes of normal Covenant architecture. It was made for being inconspicuous and sturdy. Nothing more, nothing less.

The sight of the old war style bunker was almost relieving. It brought back a slight wave of nostalgia, of times not so long ago when the only wars humans ever fought were with each other. Clay may have been very young when the Covenant had made itself known; but she could recall evenings at home watching the news, where the top stories were of the struggles within the human race.

Snapping back to the present, Clay continued to survey the area. The thick outer wall made for an easily maneuvered pathway for the four guards stationed on each corner of the barricade. How they could stand on one place, in the heat all day was beyond her. All of them were Elites, suited head to toe in glistening azure armor. They were armed, but unaware. Weapons were either holstered or held loosely. They were completely oblivious of her presence. Clay would guess they even had their safeties on, if Covenant weapons even had them.
After getting badly scorched by an overheated plasma pistol a few years back, she had vowed not to touch alien weaponry again; not wanting to risk another accident. Even after an intense healing regimen she was left with scars; thin, pink tendrils and patches on her palm and undersides of all fingers on her right hand.
Smiling, the scout returned to her team. She slid back into her previous position, and turned to face the others.
"They have no idea we're here. Get your gear ready, it's time to attack."

Smiling, the others began to slide their own rifles from their backs. Opening their chambers, they filled up the needed space for ammunition, and they all made sure scopes and barrels were debris-free. One large built man, who finished preparing earlier than the others, crossed over the two soldiers to his left, and made his way over to the only woman in the platoon. He sat up straight, and smiled goofily. His broad chin was covered in bristle, and the small patch on his breast read "Kipp". He lifted the issued goggles to his sweat-beaded brow, revealing a pair of striking emerald eyes.
"So ya ready to kill some alien bastards?" His Australian roots were very apparent in his speech.
Patting the weapon leaned on her shoulder, the Clay returned his childish grin.

"Well, Lieutenant, I have only been waiting for this time for… how long have we been stationed here? Two weeks!"
Gregory Kipp let out a hearty laugh, and couldn't help but proudly glance at the golden bar stitched onto the upper arm of his uniform; he had worked hard for his rank. Looking over at his comrade, though, he knew that she worked much harder for hers. On her arm was the gold, leaf-like symbol of the Major. The woman in front of him had killed more mother's children- if their foes could even be labeled as such- than he would dare to count. Her precision with a sniper rifle was unmatched, and her careful planning usually left no room for error. A fond memory he held in mind of his female friend was during a deployment in a thick jungle terrain; during which she deftly scoured the treetops, taking out perched Jackals either by bullet or hand.
"Major Clay?" A male voice rung out from behind Kipp's hulking figure, and the major peeked out from behind him.
"Yes?"
"We're ready to go." He shifted the rifle in his hands, and the final member of the group nodded in agreement.

Clay cleared her throat, her face erased of relaxation and replaced with authority,

"Good. Now a quick review. One wall guard per person, hit the one most direct to your position. These guys will react to the initial firing pretty fast, so hit the soldiers as they come out. The base is fairly small, so they will have, at tops, twenty more inside. It seems like most, or all, of the Elites here are already outside. If any more emerge, target them first. It'll be best to disrupt the chain of command.
" Take them out as you see them, and don't let them get near us. At the event of a close encounter, use your SMG's. We'll sweep the area after the assault. Ready, guys?"

Nodding, the team of snipers began to climb up the dune. Kipp gave his commanding officer a crooked grin as she advanced, admiring her immediate transition from playful friend to hardened soldier. He never seemed to be able to break from his own goofy demeanor with stride, like she did all the time.
"Hey, Vic. Just make sure to leave some Covvies ffor the rest of us, ok?"
"I can't make any promises." A smile managed to cross her face as Kipp scooted ahead of her on the climb.

Victoria was a name the major would never have picked for herself. It was much too elegant for her likes, and it felt too regal when spoken aloud. She had always insisted on being called Vic. Even though it was much more boring than the name's full form, the normality of the sound made her feel like she belonged with the other soldiers.

They all lined up at the peak of the dune, Kipp's form easily dwarfing his three comrades. Usually people of his stature preferred a station with more up-close combat, but his eyes were that of an eagle, and his trigger finger always had an itch that could never be satisfied. Even with the large size differentiation, he always viewed himself as no more, and no less, than the lean and nimble assassins that he fought alongside.
In unison, the soldiers removed their goggles, and took aim through their respective scopes. The rifle barrels were long and heavy, and the stands supporting them were slowly sinking into the churning sand. If they had taken the time to set up sandbags, they would have been spotted for sure.
"On my mark, men…" Vic said as she drew a breath.
Her sight was on the enemy closest to her, and as she saw him turn his head, revealing a fleshy gap in his armor. Her muscles tensed as she steadied her weapon.
"Now."
Four gunshots rang out in unison, but even before the bodies hit the ground, a fifth, then sixth crack was heard. They were not from human weapons. Vic flinched as warm liquid splashed her jaw, and she pushed backwards, falling behind the safety of the dune's face.

They never could have seen it coming.

Falling back into safety, three stunned soldiers lay silently on their torsos. Vic grimaced as she looked to her side, Kipp was injured, and one of the other men, Matthews, was dead. From where they were, all that could be seen was the back end of his limp corpse. Vic has seen, in the short seconds of her retreat, the extent of his wound. Being a sniper's round, it hadn't cauterized as much as plasma weapons usually did, instead leaving a bloody mess on the sand. The remaining soldier was unharmed, but a bit shaken. He was young, and fairly new to high-risk combat. Eyeing Kipp, Vic surveyed the wound. He had been hit in the left crook of his neck, and he grasped the entry wound with his opposite hand. Crimson blood pulsated out from between his fingers in rapid beats.
"Greg? Are you alright?"
"Just a flesh wound! I'll be fine!" Through his attempted humor was obvious pain and fear.

Kipp had been hit by small explosions and shrapnel in the past, but this was his first serious injury. A searing, throbbing pain stream-lined through his neck was left where the projectile had sliced clean through his flesh. It may not have hit its exact mark, but the damage done was all but inefficient. Most of the blood was exiting where it had entered, but there was a decent sized pool forming at the back collar of his uniform. The projectile had gone through and through, just missing his spine.
Looking at the shaken man behind her wounded comrade, Victoria lifted her rifle, and prepared to climb the hill again.
"Williams!" He jumped at the sound of his name. "What are you doing just sitting around? Patch this man up, now!"

"Y-yes ma'am!" Yanking out some medical supplies from his pack, Williams began to treat Gregory's neck.

Victoria began to edge up the slope, knowing full well that her friend's life was second to the succession of their mission; and she hated it. She had no experience with patching wounds anyway, so there wasn't much else she could do for Kipp. He was in the most capable hands they had, at the moment.

"Goddamnit!" She heard from behind, "Why did we have to drop the fuckin' medic?" She didn't dare look back to her team.
Their platoon had a wonderful record, and every mission they had been deployed on had been executed without fail, or even injury. It was decided that a professional medic was not needed, and that keeping one with the team was just a waste; and since their newest member had basic medical training, no one objected. This was, of course, their first mission without a seasoned medic. Vic found the irony nearly sickening.

As she reached the summit of the dune, the major readies her rifle, and placed the scope to her eye. She had to make the shot quick, before the opposite sniper had a chance to fire. Scooting up to the peak, she quickly scanned over the shadows in the confines of the base, but to no avail. Then, after a second sweep, a flicker of light caught the major's eye. As she focused in on the flash, she could begin to make out the figure in the dense shade. Active camo. As the guise faded, she could make out the sniper, an ugly toothy Jackal, staring down the scope of a sleek rifle, poised directly at her. At any other time, she would have wondered at the oddity of a Jackal with such advanced equipment. Vic froze up, and no shot came. Her sights weren't lined up just right, and one move would trigger hostile fire. Still looking through the scope, her enemy slowly raised his left hand and waved.
'Goodbye.'

Then, just as he pulled the trigger on his streamlined weapon, Vic jerked back behind the dune. A shimmering round flew straight through where her head had been barely a second before. She lifted herself up again, just below where he could see her. At least she knew his position. She drew in a deep breath, then rose over the peak, swiftly firing three rounds at the sniper's location. She ducked back immediately, but only heard the sound of metal making contact with concrete. For a second, she thought she had missed and hit the wall, so she looked up, only to see she had hit her intended area, but her target had fled.

"Shit."

Vic knew he was off reporting this incident to his superiors. They had planned for a clean termination of all stationed guards. Instead, they had one dead comrade, one wounded, and who knows how many stealth soldiers lurking in the shadows. This place was not at all what their observations and intel suggested. They would have to head back to camp, or they would be dead for sure. Sliding back down the slope, Vic didn't face her comrades until she had reached the base of the hill, afraid to see another dead soldier at her feet. This was a mistake on her part, because as she turned, she was not met with two people, but six. The major froze, staring into the faces of four well armed towering aliens. No matter how many times she had seen them, Vic was always intimidated by the sheer mass of the elites. At their smallest, they were still almost three heads taller than Kipp, and much broader.

She was in no position to reach for her holstered weapons, not with two of the aliens pointing highly volatile plasma weapons at her head. The remaining Elites had her comrades on their knees, the barrels of their guns pressed into the backs of their skulls. The one on Kipp raised his free hand to the side of his head, and spoke; into a comm. link, Vic assumed. Not that she could decipher any of his alien garble, though.
Her heart was pounding. Never before had she been in such a terrifying position. She couldn't take out even one of them at this close range, no matter no matter how hard she could fight. Vic looked to her men, and felt ashamed that her leadership had led them into this. Both men looked just as scared as she felt. Glancing over at Kipp's wound; Vic felt a short sense of pride in viewing the newbie's handiwork. He patched up the hole nicely.

The aliens were now babbling amongst themselves, and then one began to advance towards her in long equal strides. Before she could react, the butt of his weapon made hard contact with the side of her face. She only had time for a fleeting thought before her world was plunged into black.

'If they wanted us dead, they would have just killed us... Right?'