This chapter has a counterattack in it.
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Chapter Eleven: Counterattack
Brixton, South London
Coates and his fellow officers watched as the forward line burst into action as the husks began their charge across the rubble. Behind them, he could see Cannibals and Marauders taking positions in cover behind them, opening fire on the entrenched infantry.
"Johnson," he radioed, "I want a salvo, 50m back from the line."
"Copy, Major. Firing."
Behind them, positioned on the ridge, the remaining artillery of Task Force Hammer thundered into life, blasting the Cannibals and Marauders with a devastating barrage of rockets and mass-accelerated shells.
"We only got a few more of those, Major."
"Copy, Captain," nodded Coates.
He pointed to Major Kirrahe, motioning to the forward line.
"Major Kirrahe, can you give them sniper support?"
"We're on it," nodded Kirrahe, "STG – on me, we're moving up!"
The Salarians unfolded their rifles and moved into position.
Jacob grabbed a husk with his biotics and lifted it, holding it up for a marine to fill it with lead. Once this was done, he dropped it and fired his shotgun at three more who had nearly reached his foxhole.
"Ravengers!" the marine yelled.
Jacob nodded as the bloated, spider-like creatures ambled onto the battlefield, their hideous fleshy turrets blasting the line ahead.
"Focus on the damn spiders!" he yelled, "Shut 'em down!"
"Yes sir!"
The marines aimed their fire at the Ravengers' sacks, downing several in quick succession. Out of these sacks, smaller spiders – Swarmers – crawled out and began to scurry towards the line. A few crawled onto the marine next to Jacob.
"Shit, shit, get 'em off!" screamed the marine.
Then the swarmers exploded, and the marine fell to the ground, chunks of his armour blown off.
Jacob shook his head and returned to the task at hand, blasting away enemy troops close to him and using his biotics against Reaper infantry further away.
There was a cry of 'Brute!' and a tremendous crash. Jacob watched as a Brute smashed its way through the rubble, roaring as it charged towards him.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, opening fire on the massive creature.
Suddenly, several red dots appeared all over the Brute. There was a series of gunshots, and the Brute toppled face first into the ground.
Jacob cheered, but his celebration was cut short by a group of husks leaping into the trench. He gritted his teeth, and got to work on clearing them out.
"Thank God for the STG!" exclaimed Andrews, as several Marauders fell to sniper-fire.
"Shut it!" thundered Smith, "They're closing in! Fix bayonets if you have 'em!"
Smith folded his rifle and grabbed a rock from the ground, swinging it at the nearest husk as they charged into the trench line. The husk's head caved in at the force of the rock, and it fell.
Suddenly, the corporal was grabbed from behind. He could hear the moaning and smell the rancid breath of a husk as it clawed at his back. Smith grunted, and swung his rock at the assailing creature, battering it in the head until it let go. He then turned around and stamped his boot onto his head.
At this moment, a Cannibal leapt at him, giving the corporal a good look at the human corpse that served as its gun. He braced himself for the hit, but there was a burst of fire and it fell aside.
James Vega was standing next to him, carrying a shotgun with a bayonet.
"Who's in charge here?" he yelled.
"I am, sir!" replied Smith.
Another husk tried to leap into the trench, but was downed by Vega's bayonet.
"We're falling back to the main line!" barked James, "Rally your men!"
"Sir!" exclaimed Smith, "We can hold this posi…"
The air was split by an awful, high-pitched wail. Smith tensed up.
"…time to go," he nodded, quickly, "Fifth platoon, rally on me!"
The troops of fifth platoon disengaged and moved over to Smith's position. James nodded to the corporal and moved down the line, passing the word to other unit commanders.
"Andrews, Barlow, cover our six!" shouted Smith, "We're falling back to the main line!"
Andrews and another soldier opened fire on the nearest husks as the rest of the platoon climbed out of the trench and began to move steadily back towards the line. Once they had gone twenty metres, Smith called back.
"Barlow, Andrews, move up!"
There was another ear-piercing shriek. A group of tall, shrivelled green husks – these ones mockeries of the asari - floated out of the rubble, moving tantalisingly slowly towards the trench line.
For a second, the platoon was frozen in shock. One of these creatures – Banshees – could generally take out a squad. A whole group of the disgusting things was almost unthinkable.
"Jesus H. Christ," someone breathed.
"Andrews! Barlow! Move your arses!" thundered Smith.
Barlow sprung into action, practically shoving Andrews from the trench. Instead of following him, he opened fire with his rifle, firing long bursts at the banshees. Andrews joined the rest of the platoon, who had begun to provide cover fire.
"What the fuck is he doing?" demanded a soldier.
"Buying us time," wheezed Andrews.
Smith nodded.
"Unless you want to get sniped, keep moving," he ordered.
The platoon continued to fall back. Smith heard a few more bursts of fire, another shriek – and then nothing.
"Second squad is clear, third squad fall back!"
Jacob kept up the fire from his shotgun as the last squad of his company began to fall back. This left only him, Macnaughton the engineer, an Alliance sergeant and James Vega holding the foxhole.
Jacob winced as he heard the shriek of a Banshee. As it approached, he, the sergeant and James fired off a volley of fire, downing its barrier but failing to kill the monstrosity.
"Ah Christ, more coming!" shouted the sergeant, pointing to a wrecked building to the left. Another Banshee had emerged, moving tantalisingly slowly towards them.
"Keep your cool, Gavin," barked Jacob, "We're getting out of here soon."
He turned to Macnaughton.
"Macnaughton! Call it!"
Macnaughton nodded, and activated his comms.
"This is Specialist Macnaughton, Ex-Cerberus Battalion!" he yelled, "We are requesting artillery on grid-ref 23C, how copy?"
"Solid copy, Specialist," Johnson replied, "Firing."
There were a few dim popping noises in the distance, followed by the thunder of explosions as the shells tore the ground in front of them. Jacob could hear the death-cries of husks as they were blown to pieces. Then the explosions stopped, and the smoke began to clear.
"…you have gotta be shitting me," cursed James.
A line of Marauders were advancing over the field, several stopping to revive the husks killed in the bombardment. The Banshees were dead, but yet another was leading the Marauders, sneering at the four men in the foxhole.
Jacob's biotics flared as he made a defensive stance.
"Alright," he breathed, "Vega, take the guys and fall back. I'll buy you time."
"Not an option," snapped James, "No one gets left behind. Marine policy."
"Yeah," nodded Jacob, "But I'm not a Marine. Not any more."
He turned and looked James in the eyes.
"Get out of here," he ordered, "Blow those Reapers to hell, and when you do…give this to Brynn."
He reached into his jumpsuit pockets and pulled out a small box, thrusting it into James' hands.
"Sir…" urged Sgt. Gavin.
James nodded.
"Fall back," he whispered.
He climbed out of the foxhole and began to make his way back to the main line, leaving Jacob alone.
Jacob sighed, and looked towards the advancing enemy. He raised his shotgun and began to fire on the Marauders. The Marauders promptly returned fire, their shots weakening his shields until they fizzled out.
A shot hit Jacob in the shoulder. He cried in pain as he dropped his shotgun and fell to the ground. He landed face first in the mud, but slowly pulled himself out and reached for his pistol. Holding it in his left hand, he dragged himself from the foxhole and began to hobble towards the enemy.
Another shot hit him in the thigh, and he fell again. Grunting in pain, he forced himself up again, shooting wildly towards the Marauders. All the while, the Banshee edged closer, its scream piecing the air.
The pistol clicked as his heat sink depleted. He growled and threw it at the enemy, before forcing himself to his feet. He screamed and his biotics flared again.
A husk was flung backwards by a push. Another three were torn up by a singularity. A Marauder found itself lifted into the air and dropped at height.
Then the Banshee was on him, and he was lifted up by the neck. He could see the decayed face and the soulless eyes just inches from his face – he knew it was over.
For a few seconds, he defied its stare, gazing upwards instead. Through the smoke and clouds, he could just make out the moon. It looked just as it had one overcast night in Monaco, where he had first met Dr. Brynn Cole. He closed his eyes, content at the memory.
Despite the sweat and mud that covered him, despite the blood oozing from his wounds, and despite the tears spilling from his eyes, Jacob Taylor died smiling.
Lay me down in the cold cold ground,
Where before many more have gone…
