HALO
INFRACTUS
PROLOGUE
1135 HOURS, JULY 3RD, 2545 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \ 51 PEGASI-B SYSTEM, TARGET AREA APACHE, PLANET PEGASI DELTA
Crash!
The Orbital Insertion Pod impacted with the force of a thousand stampeding rhinos; the impact sent debris rocketing in every direction as another three Insertion Pods hit the dirt just as violently as the first. Jack allowed himself a second to let the disorientation pass, the transition from Slipstream space to normal space had left him heavily disoriented. He shook his head as stars swam majestically across his eyes (concealed under the polarised visor of his helmet); collected his wits; grabbed his MA5K Carbine and kicked the titanium blast door of the pod open.
The battlefield of Pegasi Delta could have been mistaken for hell itself. The chemicals from the Covenant's plasma reactors had made the sky burn a fiery red, the ground was covered in blackened rocks and the sand was being blown everywhere - growing increasingly thicker so that the light of the crisp orange sun could hardly penetrate it.
No, Jack broke away from the scene, his training kicking in. There's a job to do, the mission comes before fear...
Operation: TORPEDO was the plan to eliminate a Covenant refinery on Pegasi Delta. The chemicals deuterium and tritium were extremely plentiful on the planet; the Covenant harvested them for use in their plasma reactors, an excellent place for the Covenant to make a shipping port to refuel. To make matters worse, Pegasi Delta was right on the edge of UNSC space - allowing the Covenant such a vantage point would mean a quick and bloody end to the Human-Covenant War. That was not acceptable.
This mission was imperative to the continued survival of the human race.
No pressure then, Jack thought to himself.
"Fall out, Sierra," Jack ordered; pointing at large rocks, their enormous bulk would provide adequate cover. "Plasma mortars incoming, scatter!"
The sky was suddenly full of large blue orbs of superheated plasma, likely fired from Covenant Wraith tanks. After a moment of being suspended in terror, Jack exhaled a sigh of relief that the mortars had missed them by a long shot - impacting about thirty meters behind them and creating large smouldering craters in the ground.
Jack switched his visor display to TEAMBIO, a grid displaying the health condition of his team. Everyone alive and green, he gave a short smile. Good. However, he noticed that nine of the three-hundred SPARTAN-IIIs had not made the drop - their status now moved to MIA... Spartans never die...
Switching back from TEAMBIO; Jack looked around for his fellow Spartans, the Spartans of Team Sierra: B215, Miranda; B129, Darius (nicknamed 'Dare') and B006, Elliott. Their IFF tags flashed up on his HUD.
Jack was about to issue the order to move out, but was interrupted by a convoy of Seraph fighters flying overhead. The teardrop-shaped craft weren't designed for battles inside an atmosphere, but they were still deadly against ground infantry with insufficient firepower to fight back.
But Team Sierra did have the firepower to fight back. Darius - the heavy weapon and explosives specialist of Sierra - raised his M19-B SAM Launcher and took a steady aim on the leading Seraph craft. Smoke billowed out the back of the tubes as the rocket was propelled towards its target, the Seraph's shields absorbed the blow but the craft had lost its flight pattern with the convoy and came crashing down towards the rocks - the air now full with a cloud of blue-purple plasma fumes.
"Engage stealth systems, Sierra," Jack ordered. The photoreactive panels on their SPI suits shimmered and reflected the burning barren environment around them.
"Eyes ahead," Elliott called over TEAMCOM. "Enemy contacts, three Grunts and a single Elite."
"Take out the leader," Jack ordered. There was a sharp crack from Elliott's Sniper Rifle and a sudden outburst of high-pitched yells as the Grunts panicked and scattered over the sight of their dead leader.
"Nice shot. Bastard didn't even have his shields up," Darius chuckled.
"Stay focused, Dare," Jack said; he'd been with Team Sierra for over six years, but he was still in command and had to keep them on-task. A Spartan should be ever vigilant, always focused! The bark of Mendez sounded in the back of his skull.
The sky gave a low grumble, there were several bright white flashes and dozens of Seraphs streaked over the battlefield. A torrent of blue plasma dropped from above like rain; Team Sierra - though well camouflaged in their SPI suits - didn't want to take any chances, they each sprang apart and took cover from the three-thousand degrees C blobs raining down upon them.
"Let's make our way up the hill," Miranda called to the team. Green acknowledgement lights appeared on Jack's visor and they sprinted flat-out up a large hill that had been blocking the rest of the battlefield from view.
As they climbed higher and higher, a dazzling blue light became more and more visible. Jack felt it sting his eyes and the image burned into his retinas, even with maximum visor polarisation the Covenant refinery was a chore to look at.
"Jack, we've got hostile contacts," Miranda pointed down at over a dozen Jackals forming a phalanx with their rounded energy shield gauntlets.
"Grenades?" Jack barked over the noise of the Seraph bombardment above.
"Aye, sir," Dan drew out two fragmentation grenades and threw them with remarkable accuracy. The Jackals screeched in pain as their phalanx was broken apart by a burst of fire and shrapnel; their blood splattered the rocks and sand around them.
"Move up, we'll take care of the rest of them," Jack declared to his Spartans, he was once again greeted by green acknowledgment signs.
Jack began to sprint down the hill, the sand being thrown up to his visor - but he didn't care. This is what he'd been training for. He tackled the first Jackal head on; it tumbled to the ground and barely had time to identify its attacker before a quick burst of Jack's MA5K silenced it. He pulled out his Combat Knife (concealed in a holster on his shoulder) and began to viciously hack away at the bastards who had torn his childhood apart.
Miranda delivered a heavy punch to another Jackal's face, the creature recoiled and opened its mouth - exposing its disgusting maw and razor-sharp teeth - in a vicious cry as she used the end of her Shotgun (like a sledgehammer) to deliver a final, neck-breaking blow. She snatched up two Point Defence Gauntlets from her fallen foes and strapped it on to her wrist - she threw the other to Jack, who caught it expertly in the air.
"Check it out," Elliott exhaled over TEAMCOM. Jack quickly understood what his squad mate was talking about; several dozen Spartans were sprinting down the hill in different Fire Teams and darting towards the factory.
Damn it, no! A flustered Jack felt his blood boil. They're all going to be killed...
Jack switched his HUD to display the IFF tag of every active Spartan in battle, the number had dropped from 291 to 258; the Seraphs were certainly making short work of the resistance. To make matters worse, something was shifting towards them all through the sand, what looked like over a hundred shadowy silhouettes were marching towards them - hidden behind dust clouds and grains of sand swept-up from the battle.
The acknowledgment lights of his team flared red, Jack could tell that they too felt the same as he did - that this was more than they had bargained for.
"Shit," Dan grimaced. An entire legion of Jackals with Beam Rifles (the Covenant equivalent of a UNSC Sniper Rifle) and Elites were coming into battle. It was instantaneous; a volley of plasma and bullets quickly filled the air until nothing was visible apart from their continuous flashes.
"Orders?" Elliott asked, his tone shifting a little in anxiety. Elliott shook his head and made a silent vow to himself not to give into fear, not now.
"If we engage the Covenant head-on, we'll be slaughtered... We still have a mission to accomplish here, let's flank them - take out as many as we can - and hit that refinery!"
There was a deafening battle cry issuing from both Spartans and Covenant, screams and yells filled the air as blood was shed ravenously on both sides. Jack was stunned to see that the surviving number of Spartans had hit 200; this mission could not be a failure!
The plan Team Sierra had formed was halted almost immediately, it was now they realised that Operation: TORPEDO could only end with the death of every Spartan in Beta Company. The clouds around the refinery had parted and colossal shadows moved over the surface of the warzone; seven Covenant Cruisers had arrived, this was never something they could compete with.
"We're screwed," Miranda groaned, her tone wavered a little but she was able to remain stoic.
Each Covenant Cruiser was 1.782 kilometres long and armed to the teeth with plasma weapons capable of knocking the planet out of orbit. Jack watched their lateral cannons charge up - the kind of lateral cannons that were used for capital ship combat, not ground bombardment... How could anyone survive that? A distress signal had appeared on the HUD of every Spartan, the final emergency code that sent shivers down the spine of all who saw it: Code Omega Three.
Code Omega Three was the final panic code, the order to abandon the mission and run no matter what the cost. Dread plummeted into Jack's stomach; he was momentarily frozen with fear. Fear for himself, fear for his team, fear for his fellow Spartans... Fear for humanity. And then one thought entered his mind, overriding his training, his orders, his duty - it sunk into his very bones.
Survive.
"What are we going to do?" Darius said through gritted teeth, TEAMBIO showed that they all had a large inflation of heart rate and Elliott was slipping into shock.
The Covenant ships were now dropping hundreds more troops from their Gravity Lifts to engage the remaining Spartans.
"We're not running away," Jack declared, putting a knee on the ground and leaning on his MA5K. "What will the Covenant see if we pull back now? Cowards, that's what. We can't survive this, hell we can't even win this... but we can take down as many of them as we can before it all ends. We fight to the last man!"
There was silence for a moment, the members of Team Sierra exchanged glances through their polarised visors. Jack felt - for a fleeting second - that they might ignore his orders and focus on getting as far away as they could. Finally, Miranda winked her status light green - followed by Darius and Elliott seconds after.
Jack felt stupid. Of course they wouldn't run away, he told himself. We're a family; we look out for each other...
"We fight," Elliott nodded.
"Until the bitter end," Darius concurred.
Good soldiers, Jack smiled. Correction: good Spartans, each one of them willing to lay their lives down for each other.
They turned to face the battlefield once more; all fuelled by the thirst for revenge as the sight of over a hundred Spartans (their comrades) lay dead upon the ground.
They charged.
Darius emptied out his Rocket Launcher on two battle groups comprised of fifteen Elites; they soared into the air with their arms flailing like ragdolls. Jack and Miranda activated their stolen Shield Gauntlets and began sending volleys of bullets from their MA5Ks towards a horde of Grunts and Jackals; the way they fought felt so fluent, a rising feeling of satisfaction rose in them with every kill they made. It was then that a bittersweet fortune smiled upon them.
A blazing new cyan-coloured sun burst into life as the Covenant refinery shattered, the plasma energy arced outwards and engulfed the seven Cruisers in a hail of burning debris. Anything within a hundred feet of the refinery flash-vaporized, not even a bone was left on the battlefield. Seraph fighters were sent barrelling around in random directions, some collided with each other and others simply spiralled away towards the horizon. Operation: TORPEDO was a success, but at the cost of almost every Spartan from Beta Company.
This turning of events had a profound effect on the remaining Covenant warriors however, instead of pulling back in defeat they decided to stand their ground and fight to the last man.
Just like us, Jack thought with a surprising amount of admiration. When it comes down to it, we really are not that different.
Elliott was shaking his head in agony, he'd seen the refinery explode and was temporarily blinded... he never saw the dozens of purple needles arc towards him; each one impacted on his chest and legs, the combined explosion completely tore through his SPI armour - making Jack feel sick as his innards began pouring out - and sent him flying backwards by several meters. His helmet flew off and the last echoes of his victorious smile remained etched on his face.
"NO!" Darius cried for his fallen comrade. "You bastards! You Covenant bastards!"
Jack made to grab his friend to stop him; they could not lose team cohesion now. But he charged forwards in a kamikaze rage holding a detonator, he primed all his explosives and clicked the detonator. The explosion was deafening, the force of the detonation sent anyone within thirty meters caterwauling backwards against jagged rocks.
His blood ran cold, suddenly full of a substance he had not fully experienced before: Grief. He'd lost two Spartans, two friends in a matter of seconds.
Miranda rushed towards Jack and helped him to his feet, dragging him away from the kill zone. Darius had wiped out the remaining Covenant in his rage, chunks of flesh were spread everywhere over a fifty meter radius... he couldn't tell what remains were human and which were Covenant.
"H... how many are left?" Jack wheezed, coughing up a mouthful of blood. They were alone now, the Covenant forces all dead... along with the Spartans.
She checked the roster; she immediately chocked back a sob.
"Only four," she cried. "Including us. L... let's get somewhere safe, shall we?"
"There is nowhere safe," Jack groaned, he felt a lump in his throat rising as he spoke; with every step he took the image of another dead Spartan clouded his vision. He felt sorrow grinding against his bones, the final stand of Beta Company - his friends.
But we're alive; a voice spoke in the back of his mind. We survived, we succeeded... We won... but at what cost?
"Dare... And Elliott, that was..." Miranda couldn't finish her sentence, now giving in to her emotions and freely crying.
They walked for several minutes before stopping at a riverbank, each of them trembling in fear and sadness. They could not contact the last Black Cat subprowler for pick-up, and they were more than three kilometres away from it anyway.
"The other two?" Jack asked after a moment of silence.
"Tom and Lucy, they've left... They'll live to fight another day. We're marked as MIA... Spartans never die."
"If only that were true..."
Jack and Miranda pulled off their helmets - now splattered with the blood of their comrades and foes. He took hold of Miranda's hand and embraced her as they looked out over the battlefield of the fallen Beta Company. Everything they had worked for had lead up to this moment, their final moment. Only the two of them could really understand and appreciate the magnitude of their last minutes as they cried in each others' arms, sitting on the blood-stained brink of destruction at the end of all things.
But we are alive...