Note: I'm even less certain and knowledgeable of ground tactics than I am of [fictional] space warfare. A couple of my previous stories incorporate naval warfare, but none of them have anything on ground engagements. If there are mistakes, discrepancies, or mixed-up terminologies, please, feel free to enlighten me in your comments.
Content of this particular chapter is still subject to change.
This isn't the last chapter, though, and will probably be the first of my fanfictions that I plan to develop further.
Update: I wasn't satisfied with the ending, so I extrapolated. Hopefully it's better now.
The ride out of New Mombasa was quiet, eerily so. Seated in the middle of the military transport's left bench, Rose silently hugged herself and waited out the ride. Squeezed between two corpulent men, she tried her best to minimize the amount of contact she had with them. The canvas flaps of the military truck were missing, so the oppressive heat of the sun beat down terribly on their backs. Sweat poured profusely down her face and back, soaking her white top through in minutes. The ride didn't go smoothly either; the undeveloped desert road was dotted with rocks and potholes, frequently jostling and shaking the truck and the passengers inside. Yet all this went unnoticed for the refugees of New Mombasa. In the cramped spaces of their transport, no one spoke a word. All of them knew what was happening. The war…the Covenant…had finally reached their home.
At the rear of their truck, two Marine privates sat, poised and ready should trouble start to happen. Following them were four Marine LRV escorts, their olive green finish gleaming brightly in the New Mombasa sun (They must be new). Ahead of them were at least four more military transports, carrying more civilians that have been evacuated from the city. They were led by another couple of "Warthog" Light Reconnaissance Vehicle, only accompanied by two of their LRV's close cousin, the M831 Troop Transport. At either side of their party were Mongoose riders. On each of them sat one Marine on driving duty, while another was aboard for weapons fire support. Overhead, the sound of one support AV-14 "Hornet" could be heard as it provided air support for the civilian evac train. They were the last group to be evac'd from the city.
For the umpteenth time, Rose's eyes scanned the occupants of her transport. No familiar faces from what she could tell. Rose was always good at remembering faces. She may not be as skilled in placing names on people, but she never forgot a face. Two people stood out from cluster of refugeess. One was a large, heavyset man. He had strong, piercing blue eyes and sported the familiar "white sidewalls" military cut. His left bicep featured an unusual tattoo: a shield with olive green outlines and a central chevron in a deeper shade of green. Perhaps he was a retired Navy service man, but she doubted it. The other interesting occupant was a woman. She had dark brown hair with dark red highlights, prominent cheekbones and thin lips. But what made her curious were her eyes, a brilliant shade of green that glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Behind her dark brown/reddish bangs, they scanned the inside of the truck with an intensity that startled her. When those eyes reached hers she was filled with a sort of dread that she could not understand. Shaking the thought off, she directed her thoughts outwards, letting her mind and imagination drift, trying to calm herself despite the fact that she knew, they all knew, that the Earth was under attack.
She thought of her job, a teaching position in a New Mombassa Prep School. She thought of the workload she had left unattended the other day and how she might never even get the chance to finish them, or even get reprimanded for handing them in late. She thought of her friends whom she might never see again. No. She thought to herself. There was nothing to be gained by worrying about all that now. Surely she wasn't about to stop the Covenant by worrying over these things. Gripping her knees, she closed her eyes and attempted to calm herself. Breathe in, breathe out. Quietly, she repeated the action over and over. She had just reached that inner quiet when –
BOOM! Ahead, they saw the lead Warthog explode in a wash of plasma. "-under attack! Repeat! We are under attack! Covenant Banshees, two of them. Position, designation Tango-one-zero-seven. Repeat. Tango-one-zero-seven." Quickly, the situation outside dissolved into chaos. Gunners from all of their escorts sprayed the skies with automatic weapons fire, trying to do critical damage to the alien aerial assault craft. Their own aerial support laid its own counterattack to the enemy aircrafts. One of them blew up in a ball of fire and raining debris. The other Banshee hurriedly left the seen, smoke trailing in its wake. The passengers of the evac transports cheered at the results, a marked contrast with the grim faced reactions of their Marine escorts. "– Covie attack broke off. Banshee bearing south by south east –" the words were lost to Rose as the Banshee, which had retreated from the fray, came back with reinforcements that came from the sky. Possibly dropped off from the Capital ship looming above. "Contact! One squadron of Banshees. Count eighteen ships…wait…No, eighteen Banshees and one dropship."
They were bearing in fast. To buy them time, their Hornet escort headed off to engage the enemy. To be shot down immediately. "Command, we need reinforcements. We have civilians here." "Mongoose, form up behind the trucks. Rocket support, now!" Two trucks were caught in the crossfire as the Banshees strafed the party with plasma fire. After a lead of a hundred meters, the banshees broke off and started another strafing run. This time, they didn't pass over unscathed. Two from their number were felled from the sky while a third turned to a ball of flame and plasma as it collided with two of the Mongoose rocket complements. "Hang tight, Marines. Reinforcements are on their way," a voice from the radio sounded.
And they did. Two full squadrons of AV-14 Hornets with a complement of two Pelican dropships joined the fray. As the Banshees were pulling up from their attack run, they were met by a barrage of missiles and automatic weapons fire from the reinforcement team. Now the Marines did cheer, along with their civilian charges. This euphoria didn't last long.
"Contact! Three enemy gunships approaching from low orbit! Count, four…no…five support squadrons with them." They had no time. With superior forces advancing on them there was little that they could do. "Evac team, this is the 405th Ops Group. Get those civs out of here. We'll handle this." The two Hornet squadrons formed into a cloud-vee formation. Hurriedly, they let loose with everything they had, streaks of rocket exhaust sailing towards the Banshees.
Captain Stewart of Jager-squadron, acting flight commander of the 405th, grimaced in frustration. That last maneuver only took out five of the Banshee aircrafts. They need to break an opening in the Banshee screen, otherwise they wouldn't get a shot at those gunships. In his mind, Stewart reviewed everything he knew about Banshee aerial tactics. Despite their advance technologies, Covenant aerial combat was mostly standard, lacking complexity and unpredictability. There! He had it. Covenant predictability in battle doctrine. "Jager squadron, form into attack trios. Pelicans stay close. Blaze-squadron, cover our backs." Banking right, Stewart led his squadron into an attack on the Banshee's left flank. "Jager, follow my lead. Follow attack pattern Helix." Over the canopy, Stewart watched the Covenant split their battle forces to face Jager Squadron. "All right, Jager. Conical dispersion pattern, now!" Predictably, inevitably, the Covenant flight scattered to chase after each individual fighter. Hidden behind the cloud of Hornets, both dropships were left unnoticed by the Banshees, free to pick of any target they wanted. "Pelicans, fire everything!"
With that flight of Banshees taken care off, Jager squadron was free to attack the left flank of the remaining Banshees. "Captain," Jager Two's voice announced in his helmet, "Covenant gunships are bearing on our vector. Sensors detect plasma weapons charging." Stewart gritted his teeth. If they made it to the middle of the gunship formation, they would severely handicap their enemy's ability to attack. They would be too close to shoot without risking damage to friendly ships. Their problem, however, was getting there. "All ships, make for portside of the westmost gunship. Pelicans, fallback to the evacuation team."
Jager Four cut in, "Too late, sir! Plasma defense is in effect!" One by one, energy lances took out each one of the Hornets. Stewart keyed for the team freq. "Fallback! All ships, fallback!" Suddenly, his ship bucked beneath him. Red lights flashed and alarms blared. Diagnostics ran through the ships computer and revealed that his engine was gutted. Before he could eject from his ship, the world around him exploded in a ball of fire and metal.
***
Rose couldn't remember clearly what had happened. She recalled the grim faced expressions on the faces of their Marine escorts, the distant explosions of battle, the brilliant flashes of bluish plasma in the background. What happened next came so quickly. Shouts of terror, blue splashes, blinding light…
"Covenant ambush! Wraith tanks, somewhere off –" their Marine escort screamed over the radio. Scrambling for cover, the last thing she saw was an energy mortar splashing next to their covey.
Her next memory was the experience of being herded onboard a Covenant capital ship, the awe-inspiring and frightening experience of soaring up the Earth's surface, drawn in by the warship's gravity lift. Of the few refugees that were salvaged from the wreckage, she only saw the green-eyed woman. The rest fell prey to the Covenant tradition of POW policy.
***
"An interesting catch, Ship Master," one of Refumee's subordinates remarked, referring to the two female specimens they procured. "What are your plans for the infidels?" "In due time, Major. We will see…"