Chapter Fourteen: Behold a Pale Horse
1500 Hours, December 18, 2552 (Military Calendar) \
Earth, Sol System
Old Mombasa, Kenya
Captain Ian McCandlish—Delta Company Commanding\77th Marine Regiment
"Incoming!!" the warning cry came for the thousandth time as the Covenant wraiths opened up on us yet again. I took cover behind a section of broken wall as the barrage of plasma bolts tore into the ground and building around us.
Ten hours ago I had roused my company from their nighttime slumber and informed them of the mission Major Sutherland had given us. We would have to advance up Liberty Street two whole miles—a distance that usually took us days to recapture—and secure most of the block that an ONI listening post was located on. Then we had to—this is while being under heavy fire from nearly every side by legions of Covenant infantry, Ghosts, and Wraith tanks, by the way—we had to retrieve vital data from the computer core of the ONI outpost. That was the easy part.
The hard part was personified by Aerath 'Ovarumee, the Sangheili ultra who had chosen to fight with my company. My men hadn't reacted too well when I told them about the alliance between our two races, but at least there hadn't been any physical tension. I had that much to be thankful for. I would walk through fire for my men, and they would do the same for me, but someone like 'Ovarumee could easily wipe out a good number of us if we ever turned our weapons on him.
Despite our initial animosity towards 'Ovarumee, he had proven himself an exceptional fighter, scoring kills like a Titan on the battlefield. The Elite and my men developed a grudging respect for each other as they saved each other's skins throughout the day. He was as agile, fast, and strong as a spartan; more than once I had seem him cave a brute's skull in with a single blow, helmet and all. When he fought grunts, jackals, or vehicles he did so with ruthless efficiency; but when he fought a brute it was different. He was savage and vicious with the brutes, as if every fight between him and one of them was personal. Perhaps it was; I had yet to discover that the brutes had tried to massacre the elites just as the Great Schism was beginning to occur. The Elites' deep, deep hatred of the brutes had been pent up for centuries, like a thunderstorm in a small glass bottle. And now, without the Prophets' lies to restrain it, that bottle had finally shattered.
After ten hours of fighting and slow advancing, I was currently pinned down with 3rd platoon in an old warehouse one block down from the ONI listening post. We had to cross the street ahead of us to reach the outpost, but a solid line of infantry and wraith tanks barred our way and threatened to atomize anything that stuck so much as a nose hair outside. I stole a glance upwards, nervously observing the roof. As the barrage continued the roof had begun to fall apart. This warehouse simply wouldn't be able to take this much of a beating for very long. A large chunk of it crumbled away under the wraiths' attacks and crashed to the ground, narrowly missing three marines who had been taking cover behind another section of wall.
I turned to my aide, Corporal Abruzzi, who was dug in right next to me and shouted, "Bloody hell, Abruzzi, get on the ringer to 1st platoon and tell 'em that if they don't take those wraiths out now they'll soon be taking orders from Lt. Hollard!"
1st Lieutenant Hollard, another good friend of mine, was my company executive officer and he would be the one who would take command of the company in the event of my death. I'm sure my point was clear.
"It's done," Abruzzi reported. I strained my ears over the noise of the battle until I could faintly hear the great whooshing sound of several jackhammer rockets firing at once. I peeked over the edge of the ruined wall I was behind in time to see several blazing rockets impact and destroy a good number of the wraiths between us and the ONI listening post.
The barrage stopped as the wraith tanks ceased their fire to allow their plasma to recharge and recycle. I knew we had to advance and that this building couldn't take another beating. "Move up, lads, move up! We need to get across!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, taking advantage of the temporary lull in enemy fire. As 2nd platoon laid down a withering covering fire from the left flank with several M41 LAAGs and two gauss warthogs, 3rd and I broke cover and charged out of the building.
The turret gunners manning the wraiths' plasma cannons opened up on us when we reached the street. I saw several marines go down, peppered with the plasma fire.
Damn it… For the umpteenth time I found myself missing the team of Spartans that had fought with my company in the beginning of the invasion in the parking garage in New Mombasa. Their sharpshooter had been able to snipe the turret gunners right out of their seats, reducing the wraiths' combat effectiveness by a significant amount. That alone had saved many, many lives. It had been a luxury that I had relied on a lot, but now we were on our own. Those Spartans had been called away to some mission up north and had yet to return.
As we reached the other side of the street and broke into the building—an old clothes shop—I saw 'Ovarumee sprinting towards one of the remaining wraiths. I opened my mouth to call him back, but closed it at the last second. I was curious to see what the ultra was up to.
The Elite drew out and activated his crackling energy sword as he leaped on top of the wraith. He plunged his sword into the brute manning the plasma cannon, killing it and tossing it off the tank. The driver must have heard the commotion because the wraith started to veer around wildly, trying to shake him off, but all to no avail. 'Ovarumee's mandibles stretched out in a savage shout and he brought his fist pounding down on the thick panel of armor protecting the cockpit. The first blow dented it, the second blow actually dislodged it a tad, but the third blow completely crumpled it. The ultra ripped the armor covering away and, with a swift stroke of his energy sword, decapitated the brute driver. 'Ovarumee picked the corpse up and cast it down onto the ground, giving a victorious shout. He then slid into the wraith's cockpit and turned the tank around, opening fire on the remaining Covenant tanks and ghosts.
"Go, Humans," the Elite ordered us over the COM, "I will keep them busy."
"He sure will," I murmured, getting to my feet, "Look alive, chaps, we're almost there!" Lt. Gervais, 3rd Platoon's platoon leader, got the sixty or so men on their feet and led them to the back of the shop. We all exited the shop via the back service door and ended up in a thin back alley.
"Where's our objective?" Gervais asked me as we reached the open street once more.
"Two hundred yards down this block," I answered, gesturing down Liberty Street with my hand, "disguised as a hardware store."
It was chaos on Liberty Street; 'Ovarumee was tearing the surprised Covenant apart with his captured wraith, but they were starting to recover. 1st Platoon's heavy weapons teams were still taking out other hostile wraiths to help the Elite. Liberty Street was now choked with the shells of destroyed Covenant vehicles and alien corpses.
We advanced down the sidewalk swiftly before the Covenant could get a chance to acquire us as targets. I took 2nd squad inside the hardware store while the rest of the platoon shored up the perimeter. "Make this fast, sir!" Gervais called after me.
There were at least a dozen grunts inside the hardware store, led by a minor brute. We opened up on them and sent them all to Hell before most of they had a chance to react. One marine was hit in the shoulder with a burst from a plasma pistol, but other than that we were unscathed.
I led the squad behind the counter where normally people would pay for their goods. Sutherland had told me how to access the secret ONI listening post, but it didn't matter anymore; behind the counter was a gaping hole in the ground still glowing around the edges from the heat of the plasma that had created it, revealing a steel ladder descending to a dimly lit room several stories down. I slung my MA5C over my back, grasped the two sides of the ladder with both hands, and slid the whole way down. I landed in a short corridor which led up to another gaping hole which had used to be a steel door. The rest of 2nd squad, led by Staff Sergeant Howell, dropped in behind me and did a brief sweep of the corridor. We steadily advanced into the room ahead, cautiously checking for Covenant.
Two brutes and five jackals waited for us; they must have heard our exchange of fire upstairs. They opened fire the moment we stepped into the room. I took two spiker rounds to the chest and blacked out for a few seconds. I felt my blood rush to my head briefly as I came to again. Another marine had been hit, but the rest managed to take out the small Covenant garrison with quick, concentrated bursts. Luckily for us, the jackals didn't have their energy shields ready when we dropped in, allowing Howell's boys to kill them quickly.
I picked myself up, wincing at the two spikes lodged in my chest. "Sir, I really don't think you should be walking right now," Private Levin, one of Howell's marines, warned me. She took my arm, but I shook it off. I was fine; my armor had taken most of the impact, the spikes themselves had caused just a slightly deep flesh wound. Pulling them out could result in excessive bleeding, so I left them in for now. My own personal tribal jewelry. I thanked Levin for her trouble, though, because I was just that nice.
"Levin, I'm sure the Captain is capable of deciding when he is able to perform one of his most basic bodily functions," SSgt. Howell said gruffly.
"Sir," the marine nodded.
I dusted myself off and observed the computer core in the center of the room. A Covenant Engineer hovered in front of the core, dismantling the panel protecting the data crystal inside. I drew my magnum sidearm, pressed it to the Engineer's head, and splattered its brains all over the core. I gingerly removed the crystal from its niche and pocketed it. "Our objective is complete; we're out of here," I said.
SSgt. Howell led us back up into the hardware store and outside into the street. I could tell that things had deteriorated outside from my first glance. 'Ovarumee's wraith had been destroyed and the Elite, his armor still smoking, was now fighting alongside Lt. Gervais' men right outside the store "Colville, give me a sit-rep!" I called out to SSgt. Colville, 4th squad's squad leader.
"Sir!" the staff sergeant acknowledged me with a nod. His expression faltered when he caught sight of the spikes in my chest, but he continued anyway, "the Covenant managed to flank us and cut us off from the rest of the regiment! Phantoms came in from the west and deployed reinforcements! 1st and 2nd platoons are defending the other side of the block! We're giving 'em all we can, sir, but we'll be overwhelmed within ten minutes if this continues!"
Oh, this was not good. Not one bit. I hunkered down behind a derelict car parked by the sidewalk and opened fire with my MA5C, taking down a pair of bold grunts trying to charge across Liberty Street towards us. "What's the status on our heavy rippers?!" I called out to Lt. Gervais.
"M41 LAAGs are out of ammo, sir! We're down to conventional arms and grenades," the platoon leader reported.
"Squid-face Mc-whatever-your-name-is," I shouted to 'Ovarumee, fully aware of what his name was, "any ideas?"
"Take as many of them with us as we can," the Elite answered simply.
Well that was rather unhelpful. I swore as a trio of brutes led a file of jackals and grunts in a charge across Liberty Street against our defenses. We only just managed to repel them; we wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. This would be my company's grave, and all for a measly piece of crystal.
One of the marines next to me went down with a stray spiker shot to the neck. I screamed for a medic, but by the time Doc Siddhartha arrived, the kid was too far gone; the spiker had penetrated too deeply. I saw another figure appear out of thin air and crouch over the dying marine, holding a crucifix in one hand and a small black bible in the other. It was Father Patrick Maloney, the 77th's chaplain. He wasn't really a Father, but soldiers always refer to chaplains as 'Father' in the same way that all medics are called 'Doc'. Father Maloney was a freak of nature; he had been in this outfit longer than I had been. I remember fighting with him during my first battle on Arcadia and ever since then I had observed him. He waded through every battlefield under heavy fire and at colossal personal risk to dying marines and civilians and administered last rites, or khaddish, or other rituals depending on the dying person's religion. He had been doing that for over twenty years and had never been hit once. The men of the 77th viewed him as the 'beloved grandfather' of the regiment.
Maloney completed administering last rites to the marine and closed his eyes with his hands. He glanced up at me and gave a brief nod as he stood up and moved off to another downed man.
The attacking Covenant must have gotten all the reinforcements they needed, because at that moment they all let out a scream in unison and charged our lines. We took out as many of them as we could, but there were too many. All of the men with longer ranged weapons retreated into the shops and buildings and continued to take potshots at the aliens, but anyone with a handy shotgun remained outside, taking brutes out with well-aimed bursts and dealing with lesser Covenant with their side arms. They were all brave souls, and a number of them were killed, but we managed to hold our line for the time being.
I didn't move from my position; I continued to pump lead into any Covie that came within a ten-foot radius of me. Eventually I realized that I was isolated as the Covenant overran the rest of the line. I picked up a shotgun lying on the ground next to its previous owner and found myself back-to-back with 'Ovarumee. The seasoned ultra had abandoned his carbine and plasma rifle, instead wielding his energy sword and keeping anything not human at an arm's length with sweeping slashes.
We were eventually backed into an alley corner, but that actually made the battle somewhat easier. 'Ovarumee dragged a small abandoned car over and we took cover behind it. The ultra's personal energy shields absorbed any weaponsfire that would have harmed either of us while I pumped buckshot into anything that attacked while 'Ovarumee was tied up. Eventually the pile of corpses around our makeshift cover grew higher than the car, forcing us to stand on its roof when a pair of plasma grenades sailed into our little niche. The explosions rocked the car, but didn't cause any real damage. Several more brutes tried to climb up onto the car, but 'Ovarumee finished them all with powerful swipes of his sword. A third plasma grenade came sailing out of the air right towards the Elite, but he didn't notice. I jumped over to him and delivered a swift kick to his knees. He crumpled to the ground and the grenade sailed over his head and exploded harmlessly on the alley wall behind us. I lost track of time after several more minutes. Each shot, each snarling brute faded into the next. Before I knew it, I shotgunned one last brute in the head, 'Ovarumee brought his sword slicing down into flesh and bone one last time, and we found the alleyway empty. We had taken on an entire flanking force of Covenant and lived. One of the thoughts going through my head at the time was the desire to live just so I could tell this story to my family. 'Ovarumee grunted in surprise, probably still realizing that he had actually survived the impossible. He turned to me and gave a barely perceptible nod before making for the alley's exit.
The ultra and I headed out into the street to rejoin the fight and came face-to-face with a lone surviving wraith tank. The wraith turned on a dime and seemed to regard us as a human would an ant before crushing it. In the corner of my eye I noticed a wild storm of dust and debris kicking up, obscuring most of the fight. Explosions and alien screams were audible through the haze; something was really tearing them a new one. But whatever it was did not matter because unless it could miraculously take out this wraith in the next five seconds, 'Ovarumee and I were up the legendary 'shit creek' without a paddle.
Then, as the wraith's mortar began to glow, I spied something out of place on the purple vehicle—a spot of red…and it was blinking…I noticed that it was in fact a thin beam of red light cutting through the dusty haze and landing on the wraith. It struck a familiar chord in my memory; I had only seen one of those weapons in action a few times—they were very rare. Just as the wraith's plasma mortar began to belch out the roiling plasma bolt with our names on it, the thin red beam of the spartan laser solidified with a rushing sound, into a thick, searing blade of scarlet destruction, tearing through the armor of the wraith like lava through ice. The wraith's mortar blew itself to pieces when the power for generating the electro-magnetic fields that contained and shaped the plasma into plasma bolts was cut, resulting in the plasma escaping unhindered. The wraith plunked to the ground, a sizeable hole through its chassis which a person could look through to the other side. "Spartan lasers," I smiled, "Gotta love 'em"
"They do give destruction a more spectacular façade," 'Ovarumee grunted in agreement. He turned back to me and eyed me with a newfound respect which I had not seen him display before. He nodded to me again, this time a full nod. "You fight well, Human. You survived at my side when most, even of my race, would have perished. It is an honor to bear arms with you."
Coming from an Elite, I knew this was high praise indeed. "Well, this party isn't over yet. I was rather hoping you'd stick around for its grand finale," I held out my hand to the ultra. At first unsure of what to do, the Elite caught on and grasped my hand with his, and we shook. We were probably the first Human and Sangheili to ever shake hands like so.
Though somewhat dazed and shell shocked, my men picked themselves up off the ground and wandered out of the buildings they had been holed up in, taking in the spectacle as the steady westerly wind blew the haze away, revealing piles of Covenant corpses amidst the broken shells of destroyed vehicles. Out of this spectacle of the sudden carnage and destruction came its cause; five silhouettes walking abreast of each other—five very familiar silhouettes which I would recognize anywhere. One of them, the girl who had handled their heavier weapons, held the recently-used spartan laser that had saved our skins over her shoulder.
"Well, behold a pale horse…" I murmured to myself.
"A pale horse?" 'Ovarumee clicked his mandibles in confusion.
"Means death," I explained to the ultra, "Death for the Covenant."
Team Rapier had finally returned.