This is a rewriting of my fic "Tell Me What It's Worth", which I wrote a few months back on my old account "Volconix". I never got to finish it, and I'm hoping I will with the new writing skills I've picked up while I've left this story on hiatus. Hope you enjoy!
0607 Hours, February 4, 2525. UNSC Base
The bitter wind that had suddenly picked up bit into my face. The cloth cape that the UNSC had given us wasn't doing any good shielding us from the cold. My head was bent down, arms cross over my legs with my assault rifle leaning against my leg as I and the rest of my fire team sat along the bench outside our barracks. We had been in the same position for over an hour now, waiting for new orders. As I felt all warmth in my body start to seemingly evaporate, a shadow walked before me. A small cough from the figure confirmed that it was a man.
The man seemed to ignore me and touched the small insignia of a red cross and backed up. I looked upward, administering who it was. From the lack of light I couldn't figure out who it was, but his silhouette was tall and stocky, which could only be one person.
"El-tee?" I muttered, my voice hoarse and barely loud enough for him to hear. As if on cue, First Lieutenant Walsh switched the flash light attached to his helmet on, shining it in my face. "What is it, sir?"
Walsh seemed to stand straight again, keeping his flash light on. "Half of Echo squad have been deemed either MIA or KIA, and Delta and Foxtrot are getting pounded up front. General Riska has ordered all available reinforcements in a fifty mile radius to get their skinny asses to the frontlines." My expression faltered. I was excited to experience what I had signed up for, but not in weather like this, where the cold had beaten my body to a pulp. "Get suited up Private, you're heading out."
Walsh then began to walk down the line of the men sitting on the bench, leaving me to fend against the harsh weather once more. It took a while for my brain to register the Lieutenant's orders, but I managed to stand up. I bent down quickly to grab my MA5B rifle and my bag of medical supplies, which merely contained biofoam and a few bandages. It was reasonably heavy since I hadn't been called for duty since I had been shipped to Harvest.
To my right sat Lance Corporal John Wileman, my only and probably best friend in the whole squad. We had been to school together and enlisted together, and had remained in each other's company for all the time we had been in the Marines. He was hunched over as well, finishing off an off-colour mug of coffee.
"You alright there John?" I asked. His ears seemed to prick up when I had spoken. He looked up at me, revealing another pale face and tired eyes.
"Do I look it Elias? Damn, this coffee tastes like shit." John replied, throwing away the half-filled cup into the snow. My friend John, always the optimist. Yet who could possibly be optimistic in the situation we were in? We were under attack by some alien force that no-one had ever seen before. "What did the Lieutenant have to say?"
"We're moving out John. A convoy's coming to pick us up. We've lost half of Echo, and slowly losing Delta and Fox."
"Jesus Elias, you're gonna be busy up there huh."
Before I could retort the unmistakable sound of engines filled the air. I looked across the landing strip, which was drowning in snow and sleet to see our escorts to the battle. I could pick out at least four Scorpion tanks, four Warthog LRVs and two M831 Warthog Troops Transports. The convoy slowly moved around the strip, turning the snow upside down revealing dark mud patches. My squad slowly got to their feet as the transports got ever closer. Soon they were parked in front of us, and Charlie squad began piling into the available vehicles.
"Knight, Wileman fall in!" Walsh had called out from another Warthog. When me and John spotted him, he was pointing to the LRV in front of his.
"Alright Doc in ya come." The driver bellowed over the revving engines. John was quickly pointed to the M41 LAAG gun mounted on the back of the jeep.
A large hand gripped mine and lifted me into the passenger seat. The driver resumed his seat behind the wheel and started the engine up once more. When the driver had finally got the Warthog going he handed me two black balaclavas, each with a large hole to look out of. I took one and handed one to John behind, who stepped down from the gun and took it from me. It was like a gift from the heavens, something to shield my ears from the cold, and the rest of my face for that matter. I lifted my helmet off of my head, exposing my bare face to the cold before slipping the balaclava on.
"Word from the top is that nearly all of Company D are wiped off this planet. These aliens have bombarded the front for a good few hours now, and the call for all the medics are real desperate." The driver turned off the dirt road, following the rest of the convoy through the forest formed around the base. I got ready to reply, but the driver spoke again. "I'm Corporal Earl Jackson, Fox Squad. I'll be driving you to the frontlines, so fix that helmet on tight. It's gonna be a bumpy ride."
"But I thought all of Fox had been wiped out?" I asked, not knowing that the subject could've been a little delicate for the Corporal.
"Oh they have. It's only me and I think five guys left from Fox. Damn aliens killed everyone. But I ain't got no time to cry over 'em, y'know? I, we I mean, could be next to go."
I nodded and turned my attention to John, who was swivelling the M41 around, shooting at imaginary targets. "Having fun up there John?"
A green light in the corner of my HUD winked. I let out a small laugh before fixing my gaze forward again. The silence continued for a few seconds, until a shrill sound pierced the silence like knife. Everyone's attention turned skyward, where three purple ships screamed forward. Moments later one of the ships unloaded what seemed to be a green light. A flare? It was much worse than that. A tank a few vehicles in front of us exploded into a huge fireball which caused all of the convoy to halt. Then the purple shapes turned round for another pass, and John opened up on them with the M41, along with every other gunner.
Suddenly a muffled voice erupted from my TACCOM. Tapping my helmet, I entered the channel and waited for the distorted voice again. It must've been an open channel, since Earl and John were keenly listening in as well.
Yet there was silence over the radio, but the ships overhead screeched towards us once more. Thinking it would do some good, I punched a few rounds into the oncoming ship. My bullets pinged off of the ship's hull, but was quickly reinforced by John behind and soon smoke was trailing from the right wing. An intact Scorpion then unloaded 90mm's of pain from its barrel and into another ship, which careered into the forest without a wing.
My eyes averted from the final Banshee to the Warthog's dashboard, listening intently to the voice that had suddenly. "This is Staff Sergeant McCollough calling to all vehicles in the back half of the convoy. We've been hit hard at the front, so take yourselves around the path and into the woodland. We'll catch up, over."
Lieutenant Walsh's voice then sounded over the COM. "Roger that McCollough. Charlie Squad, follow the rest of the convoy through the forest. Over." A few "yessirs" came from the headset before the link was finally cut.
I looked upward once more, trying to spot the final purple ship. The now familiar sound of screaming came from behind. I turned to see the ugly craft flying low, unleashing a torrent of plasma fire on the line of vehicles. "Shit John, shoot that thing!"
John swung the turret round and began firing, soon turning the alien aircraft into a flaming wreckage which sailed right and into another part of the forest. A loud explosion confirmed that the bastard was down and out.
"Nice shootin' there gunner!" Earl commented, turning onto the dirt track that the Scorpions had carved into the ground. John simply gave a mock salute and relaxed, leaning back with his hands firmly around the turret grip.
But the ecstasy of downing an enemy ship was cut short. The full scene of the carnage that happened up front came into view. Marines were lying against the trees, either unwounded or with some minor bleeding standing out against their armour. Then the Scorpion appeared, or what was left of it. The lower half of the tank was blackened and dented, with fire trickling out of small gaps in its frame. The large turret which housed the 90mm High Velocity Gun had been completely severed from the rest of tank. It would've been a miracle if anyone had survived it.
"It's ten times worse in the real battle. You got plasma hitting you from every angle. Even if you're in the trenches you're gonna get hit." Jackson said. . I turned to Jackson who had a twisted smile on his face. "How'd you like that then Doc? Just a taste, y'know. You're gonna be a busy man up there." He pointed north, presumably indicating the frontlines.
"Yeah.." I looked down at my lap, as the adrenaline that had pumped my body left and was replaced by the icy winds once more. For everyone else, this was just a warm up but for me, this was the real battle.
