Chapter Forty-Seven: New Mombasa, Act I

0204 Hours, February 12, 2553. On Approach to the City of New Mombasa, Kenya. "The Warm Welcome," Planet Earth. Day Twenty-Nine of the Fate of Humanity

I hate ships. I hate ships. I. Hate. Ships.

I knew the mantra wasn't helping my nerves any, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. I'd hated being on transport ships of any kind ever since the first time my parents had moved to another planet from my hometown on Mars – new orders my dad had been forced to follow, and the family went with him. I remember I'd been three at the time. My younger brother Travis had been born a few months earlier, and my little sister Allison wasn't even a blip on the radar yet, though she'd be coming soon. Mark was seven and Jenna had been nine; they'd both been old enough and comfortable enough to not worry so much about the fact that we were helpless in a big bucket in space. But me, I'd freaked. My mom told me later that I'd spent most of the trip crying and getting sick, and begging to be placed back on firm soil.

The only reason I hadn't minded my second trip on a space vessel was because we'd been going back home to Mars, back to my hometown of Emerald Pines. That had been after my father's funeral, and Mom hadn't wanted to stay on the planet he'd been stationed at anymore. Too many memories of his death, she'd said, and she'd rather be home. So we went.

I never had to go on a ship again until I was eighteen, and I'd been rocketing off to Reach with Willis to attend the Naval Academy. That time I had Willis to help quell my anxiety and keep me calm; we'd been on a civilian transport, so he'd held my hand whenever we were out and about on the ship, then provided us both with some…other forms of distraction once we were alone together in our room. At that point, I'd almost started to warm up to being on ships.

But once we'd graduated two years later, that was it. I no longer had a reason not to hate the ships and I had nothing to keep me from thinking about the fact that I was on one. When I shipped out to my first post on the planet Coristal, I wasn't glad to be going back home and Willis wasn't with me anymore. I was headed off to my very first fight with the Covenant, nervous and young and green as hell, and already missing my new husband. I'd probably hated that transport ship more than any other I'd ever been on, before or since.

The irony of the fact that I was married to a pilot who absolutely adored ships wasn't lost on me. But I still couldn't bring myself to find being in these flying buckets anything more than occasionally necessary – and even acknowledging that much was already a big step for me. The only thing I could do at present was try to hide my discomfort from the Marines surrounding me.

For now I held my submachine gun barrel-up between my knees, trying consciously not to grip it too hard, or turn over the wedding ring on my finger with my other hand too much, or push my slightly-past-regulation-length hair behind my ears too many times. Being an officer meant I couldn't afford to show anything but a cool and collected outward appearance; I didn't want my subordinates to pick up on my unease and make them start to panic themselves. So instead, I spent the time subtly watching the others.

Everyone had their own way of showing anxiety and fear – or, in very rare cases, a lack thereof – and my Marines were no exception. One of the older sergeants who'd been in the Corps probably since before I was born was asleep, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the hull of the Pelican as he dozed without a hint of worry about what we'd be going into soon. A young private to his left, on the other hand, was just beginning to pull off his helmet, and then I realized why when he quickly flipped it over in his lap and puked in it. Another still was tapping her boots incessantly on the floor of the troop bay, while the corporal beside her chewed gum with an equal amount of frenzy as he stared straight ahead.

In the meantime, I caught myself fiddling with my gold band again and immediately stopped, instead leaning back and crossing my arms just as the old master sergeant had. I took in a discreet but deep breath to force the nerves out, then closed my eyes.

Thirty-five more minutes passed in agonizing anticipation, during which time I ate two of my stashed energy bars and downed a quarter of the water in my canteen. Once we hit dirt, I had no idea when I'd get to eat next, so I figured it was best to start off with all the advantages I possibly could. It wasn't going to be much longer now till we reached the outskirts of New Mombasa.

I was just shoving the wrappers into one of my pockets when the Pelican suddenly banked hard to the right.

Luckily, the loose harnesses that kept us strapped into the seats were enough to stop the Marines on the left side from being thrown into the ones sitting on the right, but the abrupt motion was jarring nonetheless. Several of the men who'd dozed off woke up at once, reaching for their weapons almost instantly, only calming down when they saw that it was just the ship making evasive maneuvers.

Now I knew for sure that the initial fight was finally getting underway.

"Hang tight, Marines, and make sure your weapons are secured!" I cried over the roar of the Pelican's engines as I clung to the strap of my own gun. "This is going to be a hot landing!"

I resisted the urge to shut my eyes tight when I heard – and felt – the Pelican's mounted AIM-486H heavy machine gun open up against some obscured enemy aircraft just as I'd finished speaking. It was bothering me to no end that I couldn't see what was going on outside, and that I couldn't help do anything productive, either. The only thing I could do was sit there and hope to hell our pilot was at least half as skilled at flying as my husband was, and that he'd get us all down in one piece.

And hopefully not one giant, charred piece of wrecked hull, at that.

I couldn't help the grunt that was forcefully expelled from my lungs when the Pelican suddenly banked to port again, throwing me and the rest of my row of Marines back hard into the bulkhead. Since I'd chosen to leave my helmet hooked onto the straps above our heads rather than wear it on the trip, I didn't have anything to dampen the unexpected blow to my head, and it left me momentarily dazed with my ears ringing.

What I was more worried about, however, were the jiggling frag grenades on everyone's web belts. If even one of those burst from a hard impact in here, we were all toast.

Because of my rank, I'd been afforded a seat next to the intercom with a direct link to the cockpit, and once my head had cleared a bit from the sudden hit, I punched the button on the bulkhead beside me and yelled, "Carson! What the hell is going on out there, Lieutenant?"

"Banshees, Captain! A fucking lot of 'em!" came the frantic reply. "And we've got a couple Phantoms inbound!"

I felt my stomach drop then as the Pelican took a nosedive without warning, no doubt to avoid a burst of plasma fire on the part of the enemy aircraft outside. This time, my eyes shut hard out of pure reflex, and for a second I seriously wondered just how sane my husband really was to not only thrive in, but also enjoy these types of aerial maneuvers. All it was making me at the moment was really, really sick, and I hoped to God I didn't make like a rookie in front of half of third platoon and throw up the bars I'd eaten.

I almost breathed a long sigh of relief when the craft finally leveled out, but thankfully I was able to stop myself in time. I could already feel dots of sweat forming on my forehead when the pilot's voice came through the small intercom again.

"Sorry about that, Captain," I heard the first lieutenant say. "Had to dodge some bolts, and I didn't have time to warn you."

"I understand, El-Tee," I replied. I'm just glad we're still alive. "Do we have an ETA to dirt yet, or are we still pretty far out?"

"We're about ten minutes out now, ma'am. A couple of the Pelicans ahead of us have actually already touched down. We're lucky; our LZ is just out of range for the first anti-aircraft plasma cannons, Captain, so it shouldn't be too bad."

Well, at least there's something to be thankful for in this mess, I thought.

But apparently the pilot had been a little too quick to speak. A moment later, I gripped my restraints hard as the Pelican did a full barrel roll, and the Banshees dogging it now were so close I heard their shrill whine even over the roar of the UNSC craft I was sitting in.

Then I felt a sudden heat at my back – a plasma bolt that'd grazed the hull so close it had momentarily heated the thick metal plating. The Pelican banked sharply to starboard again to avoid more enemy fire.

It wasn't quite fast enough.

The sudden hit on the outside of the Pelican threw all of us inside roughly against our harnesses, on both sides of the troop bay. Muffled groans and suppressed cries of surprise came from many of the Marines, especially the younger ones, and a couple other privates lost their midflight snacks on the narrow strip of floor between the two rows. The stench of vaporized air from the outside that circulated through the air filters in the cabin mingled with the new smells of sweat and vomit, and that wasn't helping to settle my own upset stomach in the least.

Still, I was glad the plasma bolt had only hit the hull and not the fuselage, or the whole ship would have burst into flames by now.

"Hold steady, Marines!" I shouted as I kept my eyes shut against further evasive maneuvers. "We've got eight minutes left to dirt, so just suck it up and hold on tight!"

Our craft continued to try to avoid the incoming plasma fire with various jarring twists and turns, throwing all of us here in the back to the left or right like ragdolls – or at least it would have if we hadn't been strapped into our seats. As it was, we were jerked hard into our restraints several more times until the pilot finally announced, "All right, Captain! This is it! Home stretch now, I'm just over the treetops!"

I tried not to show the utter relief I felt at the news on my face, but I really was just that glad.

It wasn't long then until I felt the craft's engines slow, and the Pelican eased into a not-quite-soft, but not-quite-abrupt, landing in the designated clearing seven klicks out from New Mombasa. My company and Charlie's were landing a little more inland to avoid the enemy defenses set up all along the coast, and it seemed that so far, besides the large Banshee welcoming committee, it had been a wise decision.

"Thanks for flying Carson Air, Captain," the pilot said cheerily through the intercom once we'd touched down. "Good luck as you go on to your final destination, ma'am."

I shook my head at the flyboy's quirky sense of humor, but said, "Yeah. You, too, Lieutenant."

Will is lucky I met and fell in love with him back when we were both civilians, I thought to myself then. Otherwise, I can't see any way I would've been attracted to someone who likes ships as much as he does.

Knowing I had more pressing issues to deal with at the moment, I pushed the thought from my mind with a concealed smirk. After having been together for over eight years now, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would've fallen for Willis no matter what the circumstances had been.

"All right, third platoon! Form up outside on me, now!" I yelled. I undid my harness quick before grabbing my helmet and jumping out into the tall, dark grass first. I felt beyond relieved to have my boots on the ground again.

I kept my helmet off as I slung my SMG over my shoulder, then rolled up the sleeves of my thin battledress jacket as I waited for the half-platoon to come off the ship. The African night here in Kenya was warm, and I was still sweating from the hairy ordeal of being trapped inside the Pelican – and besides that, I wanted my Marines to see my face while I gave the initial orders.

Once I'd made sure everyone was clear, I walked back up to the front of the Pelican and slammed the hull hard with the side of my fist, letting Lieutenant Carson inside know we were good to go and that he could take off. The pilot waited for me to get to a safe distance again, then gave a small wave while he lifted off into the sky.

As I turned to face my men again, I hoped Carson would survive flying through the tens of Banshees still circling above – and I hoped that, wherever Willis happened to be up there, he'd be ok as well.

"Marines, you know what to do now," I said when the sound of the Pelican's engines had died down. "We'll start heading for the rendezvous point in a loose patrol column. Spread out by fireteams, and spread out a little more by squads; there's still a hell of a lot of Banshees up there, and if they decide to go after us, we need to be sure their bolts hit as few as possible. Keep your eyes and ears sharp, too, because you can bet your ass that if there weren't any Covie ground patrols roving the area before, they'll definitely be sent out to look for us now. Let's move."


My Pelican had consisted of third platoon's first squad and half of second, while my XO had flown in with another Pelican containing the rest of his platoon. All of Bravo Company, however, was set to reunite within the hour at the designated RV point – a large, half-destroyed building three klicks outside the city. From there, we'd finally march into New Mombasa to see what was left of the UNSC ground forces there. If we found some units still alive, they'd be temporarily integrated into Bravo or Charlie Company. And if we found no one…we'd have to rely heavily on the aid of the ODSTs who were supposed to already be there.

Either way, by tomorrow morning, we'd be assaulting the roadblocks to get the convoy to Voi rolling.

Currently, I found myself breathing hard inside my helmet as we hiked uphill towards our objective. I knew the terrain would be all downhill from the RV point, since the maps I'd studied endlessly in the past week had shown that the land sloped a bit towards the coastline from there. But for now, it was a hard march in the dark with tall grass, large rocks, and heavy brush trying to prevent us from going forward.

I kept my submachine gun hanging on my shoulder and instead held out one of my combat knives, hacking away at the grass and some of the other vegetation to see if we could get through the LZ a little faster. When I heard a low pulsing sound suddenly coming from behind us, though, I sheathed my blade quick and brought my weapon to bear in an instant.

"Phantom inbound, Marines!" I whispered low into the platoon channel as I went down on one knee. "Squads, halt! Fireteam One, move it on up to recon, but take it slow."

The five men up at point winked green acknowledgment lights at me, and then I watched through my HUD as their labeled shapes stood and began to move quickly towards the clearing several meters ahead. I thought that that was logically where the Phantom was headed, so that it could land some troops between us and our intended route, but it turned out the enemy craft had other plans at the moment.

As soon as it got within range, it started strafing us.

"Take cover, third platoon, and keep your heads down!"

I managed to shout the order just as a huge, hot salvo of plasma pounded into the earth a few meters away. Though I'd been able to crouch low behind one of the scattered chunks of broken rock to protect myself from the enemy projectile, I still felt the wave of heat wash over the exposed parts of my arms. The impact reverberated through the field, throwing dirt and splintered wood and plant fragments high into the air before the now-scorched debris came back down on our positions. I heard several loose pieces ping off my armor plates and helmet, but I counted myself lucky that there'd been nothing metal around for the plasma bolt to hit – I knew from experience that superheated shrapnel was the last thing you wanted falling on top of you.

The bombardment didn't end there, of course, and I continued to huddle tight against the large fragment of rock while the Phantom loosed four more salvos at us in quick succession. A couple of the sparse nearby trees were reduced to blackened craters or halved chunks of bark, and some of the sturdier, thicker ones started to catch fire. That definitely didn't help our situation any, since the LZ consisted of a high savannah full of mostly-dry brambles, all of which would ignite fast. It wouldn't take long for the whole sector to be set ablaze if the Phantom kept up its attack.

Thankfully, though, when the earth stopped shaking and I chanced a quick glance around, I saw that I'd been right in my earlier assumption: while the squad and a half of third platoon had stayed behind cover as I'd ordered, the Covenant troop carrier had kept us all pinned so that it could continue securely on its way to the clearing two hundred meters in front of us. By the time I felt it was safe enough to get up again and step cautiously out of cover, I could see with my HUD's zoom-in feature that the purple craft had just touched down.

"Third platoon, status, now," I said quickly over the COM channel, keeping my gun up and my eyes fixed on the enemy ship ahead. "And as soon as you're done with roll-call, I want the two snipers to set up somewhere here in the grass and aim for that Phantom. But hold your fire and wait for my mark, because I don't want you targeted as it's leaving. The rest of you, move up. We're gonna go take out those Covies the minute the ship's out of range."

Like the Marines around me, I started going forward while I listened to the fireteam leaders report their group's status – though a moment later, I ended up discovering our first two casualties on my own. Apparently two of my Marines, who'd only had enough warning to go prone in the grass rather than get behind more durable cover, had been too close to one of the plasma blasts. Not unlike the bombed-out trees, their corpses were charred, and their once-dark brown armor plates were now an opaque black. Taking in a steadying breath, I knelt beside them for a moment to check their pulses, then pulled off their tags to stick in my pockets when I found none. Both had been young privates, and I recognized the blonde one as the Marine who'd been tapping her boots against the floor of the Pelican our entire ride here.

Poor kid.

I looked up when I felt someone grip my shoulder.

"Captain, I'll take it from here," third platoon's medic, Petty Officer First Class Erika Calden, said to me. She held out her hand for the dogtags I'd just taken off the Marines' bodies, and I handed them to her without a word before moving on.

Jesus, I thought. Not even three minutes into this op, and I've already gotten two newbies killed.

"Ma'am, the Phantom's taken off," I heard one of the snipers say over the open platoon channel then, interrupting my thoughts. "Looks like they landed a reinforced patrol's worth of aliens for us, Captain. Permission to engage?"

"Granted. Fire at will, Lance Corporal," I replied.

"Yes, ma'am."

I kept my gaze straight ahead as I continued to move forward with the rest of the half-platoon, watching as the lead fireteam took up positions in the last bits of brush and rock before the clearing. In the meantime, I saw several Grunts, Jackals, and Brutes already dispersing from their own LZ, scanning the wild grasses beyond for us.

There was a moment of silence then when all of us seemed to be holding our breaths, waiting for someone to take the first shot, and then I heard the sharp crack of a sniper rifle burst through the air.

One of ours.

Two more cracks echoed through the night, and a large Brute's helmet and skull split wide open in a spray of dark violet blood.

"Open up, third platoon!" I shouted into the COM channel before anyone else moved. "Let's go!"

Surprisingly, the Grunts and the Jackals were the first to react, separating from their leaders as some scurried around the clearing in fear, while the smarter ones took up defensive positions behind deployed shields or rocks. The Brutes, on the other hand, stayed back for another moment, letting out furious roars before charging through the brush.

The squads were ready for them and started firing immediately, but the beasts were big. A Brute who looked to be the leader went for the fireteam at point in seconds, slamming its massive fists down hard against the rocks the Marines had been using for cover and instantly reducing the stone to smaller pieces. The Covie then grabbed a corporal by his torso armor and flung him hard to the side, and made to go for another before three additional sniper rounds brought it bleeding to its knees. I took a second to watch the Marine who'd almost been crushed empty his clip into the alien's head to finish it off, then stood myself and sprinted forward into the fray.

I came up on a couple of the frightened, wildly running Grunts first, who quickly regained their faculties once they saw me level my submachine gun at them. I dove directly into the deep grass in front of me as two plasma bolts went sizzling past my head, then popped back up on one knee before they could fire again and rapidly squeezed the trigger of my SMG. Both of the smaller Covies jerked back as the rounds punctured their methane masks, and I continued pumping lead into their bodies until they'd fallen back to the ground, dead, pale blue blood erupting from bullet-induced wounds.

"Calden!" I yelled into the COM channel then as I rose up to head for the next targets. "Get to that Marine who got tossed, Doc, and get there now! I want a report on his condition five minutes ago!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

I hoped against hope that the thrown corporal was still ok, but kept running fast through the grass till I'd reached some suitable cover. The air was thick now with plasma rounds, needler fire, and bullets, so I tried to stay a little more cautious this time.

And it was a good thing I did, because one of the Grunts still in the back of the clearing had just managed to set up its plasma cannon. Now ready to fire, I watched as the small alien moved to get behind the automatic gun.

"Snipers, I need that cannon offline! Do it fast!"

I ducked my head then as the little bastard decided to go straight for me first, and as I hugged the dirt hard, I knew I was cooked. The first viable cover I'd managed to find hadn't been a nice, solid boulder like most of my Marines had gotten behind by now, but one of the thicker-looking patches of vegetation. Without so much as a tree stump nearby to scamper to, I was forced to press my helmeted head sideways to the ground to avoid the incoming fire, all while keeping the rest of my body as low as possible.

I felt the heat of one of the plasma rounds finally graze the back of my torso armor, and while the minor impact wasn't enough to injure or hurt, it flipped me sideways for a moment before I landed belly-up in some shrubs.

For a terrifying moment, I remembered when I'd been in the forest on Heath: everything engulfed in flames and dead charred Marines lying everywhere and Covenant on approach from the front and the sides and the back - and as I'd been concentrating on those rushing at me in front, I'd been struck hard in the back with a searing overcharged plasma bolt. The same one that had ultimately landed me in the intensive care unit for over thirty days of treatment. The wound from the battle I still had nightmares about more than one year later.

Even as I heard the cracks of the sniper rifle go over my head and force the plasma cannon to go silent, I was already part of that other world, reliving that horrifying moment in the past where I'd gotten my entire back roasted, and I couldn't seem to get myself to return to the present. I felt my breathing coming in shallow and fast, and whenever I opened my tightly shut eyes for a moment, I ended up catching sight of the smoldering trees behind us at the LZ. A cold panic gripped my insides as I found myself suddenly unable to differentiate this current picture from the hellish scene I'd lived through on Heath. By the time I opened my eyes again to the sight of one of my Marines' faces, I was thrashing and trying desperately to get my suffocating helmet off my head.

"Whoa, whoa! Captain, you're not hit! You're not hit, ma'am!"

The voice was gruff and male; now that my helmet was off, I was able to clearly hear his words. I lay there for several seconds as the fighting continued around us, concentrating hard on taking in deep breaths of fresh night air as I felt an icy sweat roll down my face. It helped calm me down again, enough to the point where I was finally back in the present.

When I eventually paused to look into the Marine's dark eyes, I saw that it was the old master sergeant who'd been asleep in the Pelican. He seemed to be breathing hard, too, and looked at me with eyes that were neither concerned nor questioning – but understanding.

He gave me a hard pat on the shoulder as he remained crouched over me. "You're all right, kid. Old memories are rough, I know, but you're ok and you're not hit. Think you can get up, Captain?"

I shut my eyes hard for a second, took in one last deep breath, then nodded. "Yeah. I can get up," I said. Then I gave a disgusted snort. "Christ. I thought only my husband would ever have to deal with me like this. I get these nightmares all the time at home that wake him up in the middle of the night. But I never thought it would happen this…intensely in the field. While I was awake."

"I won't tell, ma'am. Seen a lot of other young combat officers come out worse off than you."

He patted my shoulder hard again, then moved on back towards the skirmish. I wasn't sure whether to think the odd encounter had been beneficial or detrimental, since he'd stopped me from freaking out, but, by the same token, he'd witnessed me freaking out. And he was my subordinate.

I was a captain. I was company commander. I was in charge. I was supposed to be above the paralyzing effects of post-traumatic stress. But it seemed I wasn't, and it worried me that something like this had happened in the middle of a firefight.

But for now, I didn't waste any more time dwelling on it. I didn't have the luxury of laying here and contemplating my mental state, so I got up as the master sergeant had suggested and brought my gun to bear once more.

"Doc, where's that report on the corporal?" I said into the COM channel once I had my helmet back on – as much to assert my control over the situation again as to really find out what was happening.

"He took a nasty hit, ma'am, but he's alive," Doc Calden informed me. "Three broken ribs on the side he landed on and a mild concussion. Got him all patched up now, though, Captain."

"Glad to hear it, Doc. Keep me posted on anything else that comes up."

"Yes, ma'am."

I cut the connection then and turned on the leftover group of Covies still harassing the squads, but the moment I raised my weapon to take aim, I was suddenly knocked hard to the side by something rigid and translucent. Luckily I had my helmet on again, so the only damage the blow dealt was to throw me back on the ground with my head spinning. Yet still, it was enough for the Jackal who'd attacked me to bring its plasma pistol out from behind the shield it'd struck me with and aim its gun at my chest.

Knowing I didn't even have the time or the room to use any of my weapons, I struck out with my boots instead, kicking the Jackal solidly in the legs to bring the Covie down. I turned over fast just as the plasma pistol discharged, but since the aim was already off, the flaming-hot bolt crackled harmlessly against the dirt.

Now that the fight was a little more even with both of us on the ground, I pulled out my other combat knife from its sheath above my left boot and threw myself bodily against the Jackal with an angry snarl. Even with all my weight behind the attempted stab, however, I wasn't able to get far once the Covie brought its shield up to defend itself. It squawked like a crazed bird at me, threw me off, and tried to hit me again.

It missed.

Since I'd lost my knife in the scuffle, I used my feet a second time to gain the upper hand, this time by pinning down the Jackal's shield arm as I reached for my pistol instead. I cocked the weapon fast, trying hard to keep the Jackal from twisting out from under my boots, and quickly fired four shots into its stomach. The Jackal let out a high-pitched squeal as blood erupted from its abdomen, and then, finally, the alien went silent and still.

I was breathing hard again when kicked at the lifeless Covie's shield to free my legs. I could feel the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through my body, keeping me amped up in case the Jackal wasn't really dead yet and I had to go on the offensive again, but I fired one last round into its head with my sidearm to be sure it didn't get up. After that, I took a moment to search for my lost knife, put it back in its sheath as I had with the one at my hip when we'd first landed, and then secured and holstered my pistol.

As I pulled my submachine gun back into my hands, I realized I couldn't see much out of my visor anymore, so I pushed it up. The Jackal's blood had splattered onto my tinted faceplate when I'd shot at it, so until I had the chance to wipe it down properly, I'd have to keep it raised.

The platoon channel suddenly crackled to life as I got back to my feet.

"Captain? The area's been secured, ma'am. All hostiles from the Phantom have been eliminated, and we're awaiting orders."

That was Sergeant Orson's voice, leader of third platoon's first squad and up at point with the head fireteam. I took in a breath before answering.

"Acknowledged, Sergeant. Let's strip the Covies' bodies for any useful equipment, and then you can continue to lead the way towards the rendezvous point."

"Understood, Captain. Relaying your orders now, ma'am."