Meanwhile, on a low rooftop overlooking one of the main roads leading to the city's starport, two armored warriors lay on the edge, surveying a Covenant patrol through the scopes of their rifles. "Who do you want?" the smaller warrior wearing green armor that had a small amount of camouflage netting along the neck and additional sniper rifle rounds strapped to the shoulders.
"Whoever you don't," the larger warrior, who had a one-hundred-seventy-five-kilogram recoilless rifle attached to his back and the dual mosquito-wing insignia of a corporal, replied.
"Fair enough," Jun acknowledged as he took aim with his SRS99.
"But I call dibs on the Wraith," the Corporal demanded as she sighted in with her Jupiter rifle.
"If your weapon can do the job, be my guest," the Warrant Officer replied as he took his first shots.
He was answered by the crack of Corporal Linda Perry's rifle as it accelerated its .69-caliber slug to Mach 3. As Noble Team's sniper watched, the hypersonic, seven-hundred-grain nickel-iron projectile punched into and through the driver's hatch of the Wraith; the former crumpled around the bullet's impact point, while the latter ground to a halt as its driver died.
Jun, trying not to be too upstaged by the Legionnaire sniper, drilled a round into the exhaust vent of a Ghost, which exploded and flipped the Revenant driving next to it, which, in turn, crushed a couple of Grunts.
Linda's shot came to fruition a few seconds later, but it was worth it when she pulled the trigger. The .69-caliber, nickel-iron, one-point-six-ounce dart slammed into the protective cowl of another Ghost, flipping it into the air. Its trajectory put it directly in the flight path of a passing Banshee. Unable to turn quickly enough or stop, the flier's pilot tried to fly over the ascending hovercraft, but it was too late and both craft collided.
The moment the two armored shells collided, Linda's gauss rifle cracked out another nickel-iron slug that burrowed into the exhaust vent of the Ghost. The Banshee exploded in sympathy with the recon/strike vehicle, and the wreckage tumbled amongst the scattering Covenant patrol, trailing bits of alloy and white-blue-violet fire.
As the Covy infantry dodged out of the path of the carnage, both human snipers cut down eight warriors of various ranks and races; one of Perry's shots glanced off of a Jackal's shield and punched through the sides of two others. Then Jun noticed one Elite, its leg pinned under the toppled Revenant, moving its mandibles in the way they did when the split-lips spoke, and it was not high-ranking enough to be giving orders. He swung his rifle into line, but a glance at his HUD's ammunition display reminded him that his SRS was empty. "Elite. By the Revenant. Calling for help," he stated simply as he reloaded.
*Crack* "Not anymore," the female sniper coldly announced as the Sangheili's shield burst, and its head and neck were torn away.
Then their radios crackled to life. "UNSC AegisFate here on my way to Aszod. I have eyes on a pair of fast assault Scarabs inbound on the spaceport bearing 194. ETA: Twelve minutes. I don't have enough room to maneuver for a shot, so you're on your own."
"Negative on that. Angel Flight inbound. We only have enough armor and fuel for one run, but we'll pound 'em as hard as we can."
"Thanks. We'll try to capitalize on that airstrike," the Corporal replied and closed the comm. link. She then looked at the Warrant Officer and stated, "Well, you heard them. Bearing 194 will take 'em right past us. Do you wanna get help, or do you wanna try to lone-wolf these kills?" as she loaded a new clip into her rifle and rammed it home.
"Fewer warriors, more glory. Besides, I think we can take them by ourselves."
Meanwhile, several hundred kilometers away, Alan "Apollo" Van Karten, AeroMajor and commander of the twenty nine other pilots of Angel Flight, relayed orders to his fellows. "V formations, three fighters each. Paladins first. Alpha Squadron, Air Lance 3-Kappa, concentrate fire on the Scarabs' anti-air turrets. Crusaders next. Delta Squadron, Air Lance 1-Kappa, focus your firepower on the rear armor of the rearguard Scarab. Beta and Gamma Squadrons, annihilate the survivors. Hawkeye, I want you with me. Guide my Arrows into any chinks we find." Twenty eight acknowledgements came in over the radio and Hawkeye's acknowledgement light winked green.
That man was an odd one. He'd signed on just before the Invasion of Terra, and he hadn't spoken a word, ever, to Alan's knowledge. From his name and looks, he appeared to have come from one of the worlds in what was now the Ghost Bear Dominion. Despite his mysterious origins, Baraek Kiereson was an extraordinarily skilled aerospace fighter pilot, especially in the light, fast, and nimble Crusader. During the battle of Terra, he had downed one Rusalka, two Shades, and assisted a group of Ghost Bear pilots destroy a Leopard pocket warship. In fact, Baraek's abilities rivaled those of the Manei Domini and Clan pilots; several of the latter group had actually issued Trials of Possession for him, but Alan's Paladin was able to outmaneuver and outlast the Clan Jenghiz and Kirghiz fighters.
Interrupting his musings, one of the AeroLieutenants, Jeumann Goering, warned, "AA Wraiths! Lots of 'em!"
"Understood. Paladins, evasive maneuvers. Crusaders, abort. Mujahiden, target those Wraiths." Amidst the acknowledgements was a gun-cam image from Hawkeye showing a three-quarters rear view. Most prominent in the image was the oversized maintenance hallway leading straight to the glowing, half-exposed reactor. "Arrow loosed," the Major stated simply as he pulled the trigger for the Arrow IV. He then shoved the control stick forward and to the left, corkscrewing into a four and a half gee dive that brought his fighter roaring over the armor formation at over seventeen hundred kilometers per hour. As he dove, he reassigned his lasers to be evenly split between two target interlock circuits and assigned his Arrow IV missile artillery system to a third TIC. At the bottom of the dive, as a dumb-fire Arrow missile fell into the loading channel with a clunk, Alan targeted two individual Wraiths and one cluster and pulled the trigger and tapped two of the four firing studs on his joystick. The lasers scythed their way through their targets and both tanks fell apart. The artillery missile detonated a meter above the ground and tore apart all of the Wraiths within forty five meters of the blast.
As his fighter was buffeted by the impacts of a couple of fuel rod projectiles (and the near-misses of several others), the combined firepower of Beta and Gamma squadrons smashed and tore into the remaining Wraiths and the lead Scarab. Gauss slugs, Swarm LRMs, and Rockets pummeled several Wraiths into scrap. Inferno SRMs bathed another dozen tanks in napalm. Autocannon shells, the liquid fire of Plasma rounds, and Laser and PPC bolts pulverized and melted armor plating along the Scarab's top and sides; the right legs took an especially heavy pounding, nearly taking the rear limb off at the knee and permanently damaging the joint. Then, as Angel Flight accelerated away for repair, refueling, and rearmament, the rearguard Scarab exploded; Alan's first, homing, Arrow had struck home. The blast wave finished the job on the leg that the fighters had started, and the lead Scarab collapsed, minus the right rear limb.
"Strafing run complete. Have a nice day, snipers," the AeroMajor announced as the walker struggled to regain its footing.
"Roger that. I'm sure we'll enjoy the results, Apollo," Corporal Perry replied. Chuckling, she turned to Jun and added, "Be ready for some up-close-and-personal combat, Spartan." She armed the Sunbeam laser pistol attached to her left wrist, the Light Recoilless Rifle on her right shoulder (which slid up along its storage rails and locked into place, partially embedded in the thickened shoulder plate), and the vibro-blade on her right wrist.
Jun drew his combat knife and an M7 submachine gun. By the warriors slid their sniper rifles onto the carrying plate of their armor.
When the remaining Scarab walked into view, the Spartan gasped in wonder. Seeing one of the Covenant's most powerful war machines limping along on three legs and missing most of its armor was certainly heartening proof of the thirty-first-century's advancements in firepower.
"Let's get to a lower floor. Less of a drop to get to the target. Plus, the shattered glass should scatter any remaining resistance on top of the Scarab," Jun suggested.
"Good idea."
Both armored warriors raced down the stairwell, taking no more than two steps per flight, until they reached the fourth floor. There, they waited by the street-side window for their prey to pass. When the massive quad passed less than a story below them, they pounced. Surprisingly (in both directions of the term), the only resistance they encountered were an Elite Ultra (whose shield had permanently shorted out during the strafing run) and a gunner Grunt, which were put down by a long burst from Jun's sub-gun and a single bolt from Angela's Sunbeam, respectively.
The Spartan prepared to head down the central corridor to finish off any remaining Covies, but the Corporal stopped him with, "There's no one alive down there. One of our pilots put an Arrow artillery missile up this Scarab's keister." They walked to the small alcove that partially concealed the reactor.
Perry leveled her "Daisy" (as Legionnaires affectionately nicknamed the Light Recoilless Rifle) at the shield, but it was Jun's turn to stop his fellow sniper. "Wait a moment. Let me check on something." He looked on the left side of the battlewalker and shouted in confirmation of his suspicions. Angela heard a metallic crumpling sound, and the Spartan returned carrying a deployable Plasma Cannon. "Why use our weapons when Covy weapons are in such ready supply?" he asked as he opened fire. In seconds, the plasma had shattered the shield and melted the coolant lines around the reactor core.
As the warning klaxon began to blare, the two warriors began galloping at thirty-two kilometers per hour away from the doomed war machine. They took cover behind the flipped Revenant as the metal monster detonated.
As she stood and surveyed the devastation, Corporal Perry beamed. "Well done, Spartan," she congratulated as she gave Jun a high-five.
Over two hundred thirty klicks away, another Scarab was spitted by a set of crosshairs. In the cockpit of his Independence Weaponry-built GUN-1ERD Gunslinger, Captain Leroy Jenkins tightened his grip on the triggers of his twin Dragon's Fire gauss rifles in anticipation, but he held his fire. "Turn around, you bastard," he muttered, low enough to keep the voice-activated microphone from broadcasting. However, the Covenant 'Mech obstinately ignored his wishes. He sighed, "Hammer One, I'm gonna need a rabbit."
"Roger that," the Lieutenant replied as he set his massive GrandTitan into motion. Its sixty-five-kph top speed did not sound terribly impressive…until you considered that the enormous Battlemech weighed one hundred tons, the maximum mass for a 'Mech, which meant that it also had, at its heart, the largest fusion engine that could fit in a 'Mech: the LTV 400 extra-light. While many mechwarriors frowned on extra-light engines as overly fragile, there was no objection to the thirteen- or twenty-six-ton weight advantage the 400 XL held over sturdier light and standard engines (respectively) of the same rating.
As the tail end of that thought passed through Jenkins's skull, Lieutenant Gates thrust his Titan's left arm toward the Scarab and a volley of fifteen LRMs screamed out of the boxy, wrist-mounted launcher. Ninety meters from their target, each missile separated into four smaller missiles, and forty-eight of those missiles peppered the stationary war machine; the remaining twelve scattered the infantry.
As William looped back toward friendly lines, the Scarab gave chase, as planned. Leroy waited until the secondary targeting reticule, representing his Gunslinger's Victory 23R Medium Lasers, also burned the same golden hue of target lock that the gauss rifles had had for the past four hundred meters, and then he ordered, "Charlie Company, open fire!" He used the military lettering system to name the companies, while the other commanders named them numerically.
Within ten seconds, the Scarab was deluged with enough gauss slugs, autocannon shells, missiles, and laser and PPC bolts to fell a small warship. The Covenant quad never stood a chance. By the time the fusillade ended, the war machine's main gun was slag, three of its legs (and most of its armor) had been blown off, it was bleeding Lekgolo like a sieve, and its anti-air turret was hanging off the back by just a couple of cables. Then the entire Scarab detonated.
As the dust settled, Leroy ordered, "Sound off!"
"Hammer One, lost a little armor, but I'm still here."
"Anvil Three, sittin' pretty."
"This is Aisa. I am fine."
"Bullseye here. Let's do that again!"
Seven other acknowledgements came in over the comms, and the Captain stated, "Camp Four is at our mercy. Let it burn."
In New Alexandria's starport, a message came in that put a damper on the successes. Kat found a return on the radar that she had been looking for for a while. "Do you copy? Repeat, this is Noble Two. Noble Five, Noble Six, do you copy?"
Then came the reply she wanted. "This is Six. Go ahead, Noble Two."
Partially suppressing a sigh of relief, Kat explained, "We picked up your transponder less than half an hour ago, but did not have time to try open comms. The Covenant is putting up a stubborn fight. We're getting nothing from Jorge."
"He didn't make it." River, standing next to Kat, thought the tone of that reply was a mix of bitterness and…disappointment?
"Understood," Kat replied. Keeping her mourning out of her tone, she changed the subject. "What's the situation at starport exit?"
"The last transport is away," Six replied with a slight tinge of pride in a mostly neutral tone.
"All right. We're bringing you to us."
