Introduction: This "chapter," as well as the next few that I am going to post in the coming weeks require some explanation. Like I said in the epilogue, Missing in Action is done and over. However, when I was writing the story, I would on occasion, get some writer's block (like all writers do at some point.) In an effort to overcome those blocks, I would write some other stories, some one shots, just to try something different. They're nothing fancy, just stories where I was trying some other techniques, both to practice and to mix things up. They all involve characters from this story, which is why rather than post them in a brand new story, I'm posting them here (no, I am not trying to drag this story out) [okay, maybe a little.]
At any case, I have five of these One Shots, all of which I will post here at a rate of once a week, at which point, this story will be truly over with.
I hope you guys stick around for these one shots and as always, I hope you enjoy.
Thanks.
Explanation: Okay, so I wrote this one shot when I was starting to feel like I had made Moss a bit of a Mary Sue/Gary Stu. I thought I'd try and write a story where he wasn't so competent, and the best timeframe to write that was when he first began. So, this One Shot takes place two months before the prologue of Missing in Action.
Like I said, my goal was to try and make Moss seem a little less competent then he was in MIA. Um, I'll be honest, I don't really think I succeeded, but I'll leave it to the readers to decide.
The only other thing I tried to do here was to try and write a semi-realistic firefight. It's something I've been trying to do since the first chapter, because in all my research, the one thing everyone seems to agree on is that in modern combat, soldiers rarely see the enemy. At best, 90% they're just shooting at muzzle flashes. I've been trying to capture that feeling, but it's never really worked because a) that's not how the Covenant operate. They're very much in your face fighters. B) It kind of makes for a boring story actually. But, hopefully it's not too bad in this one.
Baptism by Fire
Summary: They say that no amount of training can prepare you for combat. That nothing can prepare you for the noise, the shock, the loss of complete control, and the sensation of total helplessness in the face of the enemy. Every combat veteran had to face the same thing. For Moss Shen, February 17, 2545 was his. Welcome to Operation Mossflower. Welcome to Newsaka. Welcome to the first day in the rest of his life.
Somewhere over Central Oshima, Newsaka
February 17, 2545, SMC
1855J
Moss jerked awake as he felt someone drive their elbow into his ribs. For a moment he sat there, blink in confusion before he realized he must have fallen asleep at some point during the three hour Pelican ride. He let out a loud groan that was barely audible over the hum of the Pelican engines, before he removed his safety glasses and began rubbing his face, trying to wake up.
Someone touched his shoulder and Moss looked up to see Ferguson sitting in the seat next to him, a mild look of concern on his face. He leaned in close.
"Moss, you alright?" he shouted to be heard over the roar of the Pelican engines.
"Yeah," Moss replied. "I think so. Still haven't gotten accustomed to the eighteen hour days and the heavier gravity I think. What's going on?"
In lieu of a response, Ferguson pointed to the back of the plane. The red light over the rear cargo ramp had just turned on, and the sight electrified Moss, sending shivers down his spine and causing him to shake off the last remaining vestiges of exhaustion.
"We're nearing the drop zone!" Ferguson reported. "Let's start getting ready!" He frowned. "You sure you're alright Moss? You look pale, like you just saw a ghost or something."
Moss waved off his concerns. "Two days isn't exactly a long time to get accustomed to this environment, but I'll get over it."
Ferguson nodded. "Good enough. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help."
"Affirmative."
Ferguson grinned. "Good. Now go wake up your girlfriend."
Despite his best efforts, Moss felt his cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment, and he quickly turned away before Ferguson could see it. Despite Ferguson's teasing, there wasn't actually anything going on between him and Poblede. They were just two young people around the same age, who just so happened to be assigned to the same squad at about the same time, which is why they hung out with each other. Under different circumstances, Moss doubted they would have even become friends, as they actually had very little in common.
Still, that being said, Moss couldn't deny the fact that Poblede was pretty hot and the idea of shacking up with her did have some appeal.
Leaning over, Moss carefully poked her in the cheek. "Piper!" he called out. "Hey Piper! Wake up!"
Poblede woke up with a jerk.
"Wha-?" she said, quickly wiping the crud out of her eyes. "Moss? What's going on?"
"We're nearing the drop zone," Moss gently informed her. "Come on, get up."
"Man," Poblede complained, even as she started to stretch out her arms. "Why'd you have to wake me up for? I was having a good dream: I was on a beach with my husband, drinking a milkshake."
"Well, you were so excited when we left the staging area, I figured you didn't want to miss the invasion," Moss informed her with a nod. Then he realized what she actually said. "Wait. Husband? You're married?"
"What? You didn't know that? Aren't you two like, besties or something?" another voice said, causing Moss to jump. He quickly whirled around to see Shin, checking over her assault rifle, sitting in the seat across from him. She grinned. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
You didn't scare me," Moss quickly denied. "Just, uh, just startled is all."
Shin snorted, clearly not buying it. "Yeah. Sure."
Fortunately Moss was saved from having to respond when Poblede spoke up.
"So, Sergeant, you never did answer me," Poblede was saying as Moss did his best to recover. "What's up with our new Lieutenant?
Lieutenant Lancelot?" Ferguson asked. "What, you got something against him? You certainly didn't raise any objections to him when he was giving us all that weapons training during our pre-deployment buildup."
"No, I got nothing against him," Poblede quickly said. "I'm just asking: since when are there executive officers at the platoon level?"
"Since experience has shown casualties are highest among the officer corps, especially on the first jump," Ferguson explained.
"But why a butterbar?"
"He's no butterbar," Shin protested. "He's a mustang. Former Marine Force Recon. For all intents and purposes, that's special operational forces right there."
"Of course that's what you would be worried about," Poblede commented with an obvious roll of her eyes.
"I'm just say, he's got all the training you would expect of an operator: BRC, SERE, Jump School, etc. He's better trained than all of us combined. Probably a better shot than you even."
"No one's a better shot than me," Poblede declared and Moss couldn't help but let out a derisive snort at her cockiness.
"Oh shut up Moss," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You know I'm right."
"Attention all personnel, we are three minutes to drop," the pilots abruptly said over the Pelican's intercom. "All Paras, make ready."
All conversations ceased as everyone climbed to their feet and turned so they were facing the rear of the Pelican. They then began checking over their equipment, making sure everything was secured. Moss quickly patted himself down, making sure all his straps had been tightened and all his pockets closed before reaching out to check on Ferguson, who was now standing in front of him. As he double checked the parachute Ferguson was wearing on his back to make sure it was in working order, Moss could feel Poblede standing behind him doing the same to his own parachute.
"You're set Sergeant!" Moss called out, slapping Ferguson on the shoulder once he was done. Ferguson nodded in acknowledgement and Moss waited for Poblede to report the same thing.
"Everything looks good!" she yelled into his ear.
Moss twisted around enough so he could give her a thumbs up before slapping the button over his head, changing his status light from the "standby" yellow to the "ready" green so everyone could see it. He looked around as everyone else quickly followed suit, and soon the entire aisle was full of little green lights.
"Listen up 2nd Squad," someone at the front of the Pelican abruptly yelled. Moss twisted his head to see Sergeant Tanner making his way down the aisle towards them.
"All of you know what's at stake here," Tanner was saying. "So I'm not going to repeating it. We're going in as part of the first wave which means things are going to get really hairy, really quickly. So I want every Trooper aboard this bird to be ready to fight the moment we hit the ground. I know the pressure on you has got to be enormous right now, but don't worry; it's alright to be scared. Remember: there can be no courage unless you're scared."
Tanner paused as he reached Moss.
"You good to go Private Shen?" he asked.
"Airborne Staff Sergeant," Moss bellowed as enthusiastically as he could. Tanner nodded.
"Good man," he said before continuing his way to the rear of the aircraft. As he walked away, Moss could hear Poblede snorting.
"What?" Moss demanded, glancing at her over his shoulder.
Moss could see her smiling, but she quickly shook her head.
"One minute," the pilots announced.
Suddenly, the entire Pelican shook as if it just hit some turbulence, almost knocking Moss of his feet. As he struggled to recover, he heard what sounded like hail hitting the side of the plane, then he felt rather than heard, the rumble of an explosion. As the Pelican continued to shake as several more explosions went off, Moss felt the adrenaline in his veins spike as he realize what it was. His theory was confirmed moments later when the pilot announced:
"Crew, we're currently receiving light flak from the ground. We're evading, standby."
"Remember your training!" Tanner yelled from the rear of the Pelican. "And you will make it through! WHAT ARE WE?"
"AIRBORNE!" the entire bay yelled back.
"Damn right we are," Tanner declared.
The rumbling continued.
Moss took a deep breath in an attempt to slow his heartrate down a bit. Rather than think about what was coming next, Moss instead tried to focus on the plan.
Approximately one week ago, the UNSC colony of Newsaka was invaded by the Covenant. Making landfall in the northern mountainous part of Newsaka's largest continent of Oshima, in an area collectively known as the Tien Giang Forest, the Covenant invasion force had quickly shrug aside all resistance, pushing their way south towards the more populous regions in a concerted effort to kill as many humans as possible. Though their momentum had been checked by three UNSC Marine expeditionary forces and four Navy fleets, the Covenant were hardly perturbed. They began to fortify the territory they had already captured, necessitating the UNSC to send in an entire Army Group to flush them out.
Moss was part of that force.
As part of Operation Mossflower, the UNSC's codename for the first phase in the recapturing of Newsaka, Moss, the 222nd Airborne Division, and the entire XXVII Airborne Corps was getting dropped smack dap in the middle of Covenant controlled territory in an effort to isolate the primary Covenant invasion force in southern Oshima from their landing sites in the Tien Giang Forest. The operation was expected to be highly dangerous, resulting in many human casualties especially among the airborne forces, however the payoff would be that the entire Covenant Army on Newsaka would be cut in two, allowing them to be defeated in detail.
"Thirty seconds."
The pilot's voice cut right through Moss' musings, and he quickly took another deep breath.
"MASKS ON!" Moss heard Tanner order from the back of the Pelican. Moss looked up to see Tanner strapping on his oxygen mask and Moss quickly followed suit as, with a whine of hydraulics, the ramp to the Pelican opened, exposing the cargo bay to the darkened sky outside.
Temperatures plummeted as the cargo bay was exposed to the thin atmosphere outside and Moss shivered, both because of the cold and the green explosions that were lighting up the night sky outside; clearly Covenant anti-aircraft batteries were still at work.
"Launching ordnance pods."
In the pale light casted by the explosions, Moss could see the half dozen Type-"C" resupply canisters carrying the squad's heavy weapons get ejected from the Pelican's tail assembly and quickly disappear into the darkness. Moss tightly gripped his fist in anticipation of what was coming next.
High altitude low opening (HALO) jumps used to be the primary mainstay of special forces due to the complexity and specialized training needed to conduct such a jump. However as technology and military tactics evolved, the technique began to be used by more and more conventional Airborne units, until it finally became the Airborne's preferred method of deployment. In a HALO jump, paratroopers would jump out of an aircraft but instead of immediately deploying their parachutes as they would in a static line drop, the parachutist would instead wait until the last possible second to deploy their parachute.
The primary advantage of using such a technique was that it minimized the time a parachutist needed to spend helplessly suspended in the air, reducing potential casualties and allowing for an overall more successful drop. It also allowed the aircraft to fly at much higher altitudes, thus allowing the transport to evade potential ground-based anti-aircraft fire. For an operation like this, HALO jumps were the best and most efficient option however for Moss, who was never a big fan of falling in the first place, he felt completely terrified no matter what they did. Still, backing out was not an option at this point and even if it was, there was no way Moss was going to puss out in front of all his buddies now.
The light above the open ramp abruptly turned green.
"2nd Squad, follow me!" Tanner bellowed over the radio as he waddled to the end of the ramp. "HI-HO SILVER!" he screamed then toppled over the edge and instantly disappeared from view.
At once, everyone in the cargo bay began to surge forward. With his oxygen mask on, it was impossible for anyone to see how scared Moss was but on the inside, he was frozen with fear. He felt like a kid that was about to be called into the principal's office. The only thing that kept him moving was that he could sense the entire mass of paratroopers behind him, eagerly pushing forward, and the last thing Moss wanted was to get trampled. So he closed his eyes and felt his feet automatically move him closer and closer to his fate.
Distracted as he was, Moss wasn't aware of how far he had traveled until he heard the Pelican's crew chief screaming "NO FEAR" into his ear and startled, Moss opened his eyes only to find he was standing right on the edge of the ramp. Thrown off balance, Moss toppled over the edge and into the night sky.
The first few seconds were almost indescribable. The sound of his breathing filled his ears as Moss felt his stomach drop and his started to feel a bit lightheaded. His muscles reflexively tensed, and the sensation that he was going to either shit his pants, or piss himself, or both, overwhelmed his thoughts. His face was lit up as his night vision goggles, as well as the altimeter in his HUD automatically activated, showing his exact height: he was roughly ten thousand meters above sea level and falling fast. Unless he manually activated it, his parachute wasn't going to open until he was within six hundred meters above sea level.
There was a tremendous thunderclap of an explosion behind him, and Moss turned his head to see a Pelican passing by overhead had just taken a direct hit to one of its engines. Orange flames were shooting out of the right wind stabilizer and paratroopers were pouring out of the rear at a frantic pace. Moss could see the Pelican was starting to drift to the right, but somehow the Pelican remained flying. Man those birds could take a lot of damage.
Moss didn't have time to admire the engineering behind the Pelican because almost at the same time, green explosions began lighting up the sky around him; the anti-aircraft battery on the ground had clearly decided the paratroopers plummeting through the sky were more of a priority than the empty Pelicans above them.
Below him, Moss could see the shadowy figures of several other paratroopers (his HUD identified them as 1st Squad, Tanner, and Ferguson,) who had deployed before him throwing themselves into a dive and he followed suit, his fear of falling quickly being triumph by his fear of getting blown up. The numbers in his HUD rapidly began to tick down towards six hundred, and Moss could only hope he could make it to the ground before the Covenant AA could zero in on him.
There was a flash of orange below him but before Moss could identify what it was, he felt his teeth rattling as he was struck by the rumbling of a jet engine directly overhead. Moss snapped his head up in time to see a Shortsword, one of their Air Force fighter escorts, rocketing its way through the sky. As it passed directly overhead, a single black object was ejected from the fighter's underbelly. The object shot through the rank of the paratroopers at speeds Moss couldn't possibly hope to match, before, seconds later, a giant orange fireball began rising from the ground below them, roughly correspondent to where most of the flak had been coming from.
The fireball illuminated the silhouettes of the soldiers below him, revealing some of them were missing, including Tanner. Were they forced to pull their chutes early?
Moss started to look for open chutes above him but before he could even begin his search, a chime filled his ears as a warning flashed across his face: Altitude reached.
There was a small pop as Moss' parachute automatically deployed from his back. It took a few seconds for the parachute to unfurl, but then a grunt slipped through Moss' lips as his entire body jerked from the impact of his chute deploying. In a few seconds, Moss rapidly went from near terminal velocity to less than twenty-eight kilometers per hour. Below him, Moss could barely make out the chutes of everyone else in front of him, and he quickly tried to angle himself towards an empty spot on the ground to avoid colliding with anyone.
Floating the rest of the way down to the ground, Moss landed near a small cluster of trees. He hit the ground, reflexively collapsing his legs like he'd been trained to do to absorb the impact, toppling over and landing on his side, his chute settling on the ground behind him. The first thing he did, even before trying to stand up, was lay there and marvel over the fact he had just completed his first ever combat jump. He was now, officially, an honest to god, paratrooper. Holy shit.
Moss' head shot up as he heard something hissing near him. He frantically looked around, wondering if he had somehow landed on a snake, but the hissing disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Still, the hissing remind him of where he was, and Moss hastily prepared himself for a fight.
Slapping a button on his chest, Moss ripped his oxygen mask off his face before rapidly undoing the equipment he had strapped to his lower abdomen and upper thighs as his parachute automatically began to repack itself. As soon as the parachute was stowed, he unstrapped it and his oxygen tank from his back and tossed both of them to the side, replacing them with his assault pack. Standing up in a crouch, Moss threw his battle belt around his waist and secured it, before grabbing his M739 SAW.
Hefting his weapon, Moss casted around, looking for the navpoint Tanner was supposed to drop so the entire squad could know where to rally. There was only one problem: there was no navpoint to be found.
Involuntarily, Moss felt the cold fingers of fear gripping his heart and he tried his best to remain calm. Tanner was just a bit delayed, that was all, Moss tried to reassure himself. He would be dropping the navpoint any second now. Yep. Any second now.
The minutes ticked by and no navpoint appeared. The trickles of doubt began to filter into Moss' head. Maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe Moss had landed in the wrong place. Maybe everyone else had been killed and Moss was all alone. Maybe Moss had been killed and he was all alone.
No wait, that couldn't be right. He had definitely seen open chutes reaching the ground.
But if that was the case, then where the hell was everybody? Another advantage of HALO jumps versus static line jumps was that the less time paratroopers spent drifting in mid-air allowed for soldiers to land in closer proximity together, allowing for faster consolidation times. In training, Moss usually had landed no further than five meters away from his squadmates, which wasn't far at all.
However, Moss was beginning to realize that on the battlefield, between the fog of war, the uncertainty as a result of being on an active battlefield for the first time his in life, as well as the fear for not only his life but that of his friends, five meters might as well be five hundred meters. Looking at the woods that surrounded him, Moss was struck by the awareness of how very alone he was right now.
After a few minutes of uncertainty, Moss finally decided he just couldn't sit here, cowering. He had to get up and go find someone. But before he could go anywhere, Moss suddenly hear something moving behind him and he whirled around, ready to unload half a magazine into whatever was trying to sneak up on him.
"Viking!"
"War Dog!" Moss automatically replied when he heard the operation's current challenge word.
"Odin," the other person responded with and Moss couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when Poblede stepped out from the shadows.
"Moss? That you?" she asked, sounding a bit uncertain.
"Yeah Piper, it's me," Moss declared, lowering his SAW.
"Oh thank god," he heard her mutter and he noticed her holstering her M6G pistol before she shouldered her grenade launcher. More loudly she said, "Man, I was beginning to think I was the only idiot to make it to the ground. Hey, is your radio working? I can't seem to reach anybody."
Moss started, then felt like smacking himself. He didn't even think about his radio. Grabbing it quickly, he made sure it was on before looking it over. It was like Poblede said: the radio waves were quiet and no one seemed to be talking.
Curious, Moss boosted the volume to maximum, then blew into his mic. He couldn't hear a thing over his headset, not even static.
"I think the network is down," Moss announced.
"What the fuck. We've dropped into Covie territory and our radios don't even work? That's fucked up man," Poblede complained.
"Forget about that for the moment. You see Tanner's navpoint anywhere?" Moss nervously asked.
Through his night vision goggles, Moss could see Poblede shaking her head.
"Man, what the fuck is going on?" Poblede asked out loud.
There was a rustling of leaves from behind them and both Moss and Poblede instantly whirled around, weapons raised. Moss glanced at Poblede and she gave a small nod.
"Viking!" Moss whispered in a loud voice.
When no one replied, he repeated, "Viking! Viking, or we will shoot you!"
"Dude," came the reply. "Chill out. It's just me, Fish."
A figure emerged from a nearby bush, and Moss quickly identified him as Private First Class Julian Perez, or Fish as everyone called him (why, Moss had no idea; Perez didn't look anything like a fish.) He walked out, cradling his DMR in his arms, an almost bored expression on his face.
"Dude," he commented as Moss and Poblede lowered their weapons, "you guys are wired fucking tight. You need to calm the fuck down."
"And you need to give us the fucking password when we challenge you like that," Poblede snapped. "We almost blew your fucking head off."
"Well, I forgot what the password was," Fish replied with a shrug. "Besides, can't you see my IFF tags?"
"And didn't you hear anything Lancelot told us during our pre-deployment training?" Poblede retorted. "Covies can fake that shit. Can't always trust them. That's why we got this entire countersign system going on, dumbass."
Fish shrugged again and Poblede turned away, muttering something about "fucking druggies."
"Fish, what the fuck are you doing here?" Moss anxiously asked. As glad as he was to see another familiar face, Fish was part of 1st Squad, not 2nd, and their drop zone was supposed to be about a hundred meters away.
"My chute got cut up by shrapnel on the way down," Fish explained. "Had to use my reserve. Must have floated away from the DZ. Guess I'm stuck with you guys for now." He glanced around. "Where is the rest of 2nd Squad anyways?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out now," Moss admitted. "Radios are fucked and Tanner still hasn't dropped his navpoint, so we don't know where the rally is."
"So you guys were just planning on sitting here all night?" Fish asked, and Moss could almost hear the derision in his voice.
"Fuck you Fish, you're the one distracting us," Poblede snapped.
"Viking!"
"War Dog," Moss instinctively replied as he whirled around and almost sagged with relief as he saw Ferguson emerging from the undergrowth, with Noelle and Vox in tow.
"Moss, Poblede... Fish? What the hell are you doing here?" Ferguson asked, confusion coloring his voice. "You know what? Never mind, it doesn't matter. Any of you guys got eyes on Tanner?"
"Saw him on the way down Sarnt," Poblede offered. "Lost sight of him after that bomb went off though."
Moss nodded in agreement. That pretty much matched his experience.
"Shit. He still hasn't dropped his rally and the radios are fucked," Ferguson swore.
"Hey, where's Shin, Kellogg, and the Mole?" Poblede asked, looking over his shoulder.
"Sent them to go retrieve our heavy weapons," Ferguson reported. "Listen, we can't stay here we... were these spikes here when you landed?"
Moss jerked at the unexpected change of topic and glanced at the spot Ferguson was pointing at. There, sticking out of the ground less than a meter away from where Moss had landed, were two metal spikes sticking out from the ground.
"I'm not sure," Moss slowly began. "Why?"
"Because those are rounds from a Covenant Brute Spiker," Ferguson grimly reported.
Moss opened his mouth to reply but then -
HISS HISS!
"CONTACT!" Ferguson bellowed. "Spread out and find cover, we're taking fire!"
Moss swore as he dove behind the nearest tree where he was joined by Poblede and Fish. So that's what that noise was.
"Anyone got eyes on?" Ferguson bellowed.
"I think I got something Sarnt!" Vox called out. "Heat sig, one forty degrees southeast, maybe three hundred meters away, about halfway up that hill!
Moss could see Ferguson poke his head up. "Yeah, that's them! 2nd Squad, you're cleared to engage! Light them the fuck up!"
Moss leveled his SAW but hesitated. He couldn't see the spot Ferguson and Vox were talking about, even when he switched over to thermals, and he was a bit reluctant to just start firing wildly into the woods.
"Moss, fire your weapon!" Ferguson barked. "The second wave is scheduled to arrive soon, we got to take these guys out before they can zero artillery in on our drop zone!"
Moss flicked his safety off. Pointing his machine gun in the direction Vox had indicated, he pulled the trigger and let his weapon rip.
RATATATA! RATATATA!
All around him, the rest of 2nd Squad had opened up and were now peppering the hillside with gunfire. Moss glanced around to make sure he was at least shooting in the same direction before pulling the trigger again.
RATATATA! RATATATA!
"Hey!" he heard Poblede screaming at him. "What the fuck are we shooting at?"
"I have no idea!" Moss admitted, before firing another burst. He could hear Poblede swearing before she too started launching grenades from her M319 grenade launcher at the hill.
"Fish, give me your rifle. Moss! What's your tracer loadout?" Ferguson asked.
"1 in 5 Sergeant!" Moss bellowed back, even as he fired another burst.
"Hey! You're shooting too low! Bring it up about nine centimeters!" Ferguson demanded as he watched the fall of the rounds through the scope on Fish's DMR, and Moss quickly adjusted.
"Bring it right about three centimeters!"
Moss fired another burst.
"There! Poblede, Vox! Set your leaf sights for three hundred and fifty meters and I want you to drop two HEs a piece on that spot Moss is suppressing! Private, keep shooting!"
Moss continued to fire quick bursts at the area Ferguson indicated. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Poblede rise up, fire a grenade, reload, then fire another one.
"Rounds complete!" Moss yelled, his SAW falling silent as the grenades began impacting the hill. About half a second later, they heard the grenades going off.
BOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOM!
Ripping out his empty drum, Moss pulled out a fresh magazine and quickly reloaded as the entire firing line fell silent. Just for good measure, he also quickly swapped barrels so he could let that one cool down.
For the next few seconds, there was complete silence.
"Did we get 'em?" he heard Noelle ask.
CRACK - FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZHISSCRACKHISSFWOOZKAPOPFWOOZCRACKKABOOM!
Moss dove for the ground as the entire area around him was lit up with Covenant counter-fire. Plasma bolts, Spiker rounds, Needler projectiles and concussion blast rocked the area as it felt like every single Covenant on the colony had started shooting at them. This time Moss needed no prompting: yanking back on the charging handle, Moss began unloading into the hillside.
RATATATATATAT!
FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZCRACKHISSKABOOMPSHHH!
"Oh we're in the shit now boys!" Moss heard Vox screaming.
"Get some motherfuckers!" Fish challenged over his head, Ferguson's assault rifle in his arms blazing away. "You want some of this? I got enough for all of you!"
In the background, Moss could hear Ferguson reciting into the radio, "Sherman 1-2 to all UNSC call signs on this net, we have been engage! Enemy contact at grid whiskey whiskey tango three five niner, about three hundred and fifty meters southeast of drop zone Delta! Any unit, please respond!"
All the while, Covenant fire continued to pour it on.
FWOOZFWOOZFWOOZPSHBOOM!
There was a mute click, barely audible over the thunder of gunfire, and Moss' SAW fell silent.
"Loading!" Moss screamed in warning even as he ripped the empty drum mag out.
Reaching down to his belt, instead of grabbing another magazine, Moss instead pulled out a hundred and forty-four round belt. The belts were supposed to be used to reload the drum mags as the heavy weight of the ammo could potentially damage the SAW's belt feed pawl and slide, but in the face of so much incoming plasma fire, it was a risk he was willing to take.
"I want fire superiority!" Ferguson yelled. "Pour it on them! Shin, where the fuck are my heavy weapons?!"
Moss continued to fire. No longer concerned about being accurate, he held down the trigger, spraying the hillside with indiscriminate gunfire. His SAW unexpectedly jammed, but he quickly yanked back on the charging handle and his weapon was back in action.
"Moss, I need a pistol mag!" Poblede screamed into his ear.
"Fuck!" Moss twisted to the side and grabbed one of his twelve round pistol magazines he had stashed on his right thigh. "Here! Take this fucking thing!"
She ripped the magazine out of hands and Moss jumped back onto his SAW.
RATATATAT-CLICK!
"Re-LOADING!" Moss bellowed as he frantically pulled out another drum magazine and awkwardly shoved into the magwell. His hands were shaking so much, either because of fear or adrenaline he couldn't tell, it took him a few tries but he managed to make it.
"Son of a bitch, son of a bitch!" someone was screaming.
"Reloading!"
"I'm up!" Moss hollered and started firing again. Covenant fire had yet to let up and in fact, seemed to be gaining in intensity.
Something heavy landed on the ground next to Moss and he started to freak, thinking someone had just gotten hit, but it was only Stohl with two of the squad's allocated M76 SRAAWs strapped to his back, and a musette bag full of extra ammo.
"Moss, Stohl, starting taking guns! Stohl, you first!" Shin ordered from above them.
Moss eased up on the trigger as Stohl fired an extended burst from his SAW.
"Moss, go!"
Hefting his SAW, Moss fired a fifteen round burst at the hill.
"Now you Stohl!"
"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi!" Moss counted under his breath as Stohl fired. "Four!"
Moss opened up at the same time Stohl let up. Brass casings and metal links began piling up on the ground as Moss fired another thirteen round burst before easing up.
"Go Stohl! That's it, you guys got it! Keep up the pressure!"
"Shin!" Moss heard Ferguson scream from somewhere to his left. "Shin and Patel! Fire rockets!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Moss could see Shin bend over and hastily undo the strap then yank one of the SRAAWs off Stohl's back.
"Backblast area clear!" Shin yelled at the top of her lungs. "Rocket!"
Moss had just enough time to relax his jaw and slap his free hand over his right ear before Shin fired. Even then, the concussive force hit him like a punch to the face and as Shin tossed away the smoking tube, he felt warm liquid dripping down his face and he realized the force of the backblast had cause his nose to start to bleed. With the stock of his machine gun getting wet and sticky, Moss continued to fire until he ran out of ammunition.
"Reloading!" Moss warned. "Mole, COVER!"
Stohl didn't say a word but Moss could hear him pick up his rate of fire.
Reaching down, Moss grabbed another drum mag and quickly did an ammo count. He had four drum mags as well as another hundred and forty four round belt left. In training, that would have been more than enough ammo for his purposes but out here, with Covenant fire seemingly increasing in intensity by the second, Moss was worried he was going to run out soon.
His radio unexpectedly popped and hissed.
"Rat Dog to any UNSC call sign within the vicinity of drop zone Delta, we are standing by to provide fire support. How copy, over?"
Moss felt his heart skip a beat. Rat Dog was their fighter escort. Finally.
"Rat Dog this is Hammerhead Actual!" another voice joined the radio, and Moss recognized it and the call sign as belonging to one of the infantry company commanders. Rabinowitz from Quebec Company, if he remembered correctly. Nice of the infantry to finally join the fight. "I've got enemy contacts dug in on Hill 60, about three hundred and fifty meters directly southeast of the DZ. They got eyes and guns zeroed in on our position. Request you drop two, two hundred kilo PGMs on their heads to flush them out, then gun runs to finish them off!"
The radio abruptly went silent and for a moment, Moss was afraid Rabinowitz had gotten hit, but then his voice quickly sounded over the radio again.
" - ay again, come in from the north, we will be lazing the target, over!
"Hammerhead, Rat Dog. Enemy targets dug in on Hill 60, three hundred and fifty meters due southeast of the DZ. Requesting two, two hundred kilo PGMs, followed by strafing runs. Target will be lazed. Attack direction north, are we cleared to engage, over?"
"Copy that Rat Dog! You're cleared hot, over!"
"Copy. Time to target, thirty seconds."
"Laze the target!" Ferguson yelled as soon as the radio went silent. "The whirlwind is coming! Shin! Laze the target!"
Through his night vision goggles, Moss could see a few lasers abruptly appear in the sky, pointing directly at the spot in the hill they were shooting at. Infrared lasers were always a bit dangerous to use; while they were completely invisible to the naked eye, the Covenant had technology that could detect them and trace them right back to the source. However, given that the Covenant already knew where they were, a laser was the safest way for the Air Force to conduct a bombing run, especially given how close they were to the target.
Moss opened up with everything he had, trying to make sure the Covenant couldn't run. He couldn't see the jet as it was flying about twelve klicks above ground level, but he could hear the rumble of its engines as it made its final approach.
"Hammerhead, Rat Dog. Target locked: bombs away bombs away bombs away."
"INCOMING!"
Moss ducked his head as the roar of the jet reached a crescendo, before it started to fade away. His attention, however, was focused more on the WHOOSH of the incoming bombs before his hearing protection sealed as they hit.
KAAAABOOOOMMM!
It felt like the colony was about to split into two, the bombs detonating microseconds one after another. Moss glanced up to see the entire hillside was washed away by a giant wave of dirt and dust as the collective four hundred kilograms worth of high explosives caused the entire face of the hill to disintegrate. And as if that wasn't enough -
"Guns guns guns."
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTT!
Sounding as God herself had just let out one massive fart, the remains of the hill were peppered with nearly a thousand rounds of tungsten core, armor piercing incendiary 30mm autocannon shells. The shriek of a jet engine quickly faded away as the Shortswords shot passed, leaving only the sound of machine gun fire in its wake.
"Cease fire, cease fire!" Ferguson yelled out loud, even as over the radio Rabinowitz reported, "Rat Dog, Hammerhead. Target destroyed, over."
Moss eased up on the trigger and pulled himself into a sitting position. There were a number of things he should have been doing right now. He should have been reloading in case more Covenant attacked. He should have swapped out his barrel so he didn't accidentally burn it out in the first hour of the operation. But Moss didn't do any of those things. All he could do was just sit there, shocked by the intensity of what he'd just been through.
"Fucking A man," Moss heard Fish announce. "Now that's a fucking firefight."
"Shit," Stohl complained from the ground next to Moss. "Fuck! I think I pissed myself!"
Someone laughed, and normally Moss would have done the same, but he found himself trembling a bit too much for him to do that. Realizing he was thirsty, Moss grabbed the drinking tube to his hydration pack and began sucking down water.
Someone patted his shoulder.
"You good man?" Poblede asked, looking slightly pale yet exhilarated at the same time. Moss nodded.
"Dude," she marveled as she pulled out a pack of chewing gum and ripped it open. "We just won our first fucking firefight."
Moss took a moment to consider that, then realized she was right.
"No kidding," he said as he popped the drinking tube out of his mouth.
"Well, let's hope that's only the first of many victories," Poblede commented, lifting her pack of gum.
Moss reached out and tapped his drinking tube against her gum, as if they were toasting. "Hear hear."
"2nd Squad! Give me an ammo count!"
Moss groaned, then put away his drinking tube so he could begin counting rounds.
The first of many.