Chapter Forty-Eight: New Mombasa, Act II

0246 Hours, February 12, 2553. Near the City of New Mombasa, Kenya. "The Dark Side," Planet Earth. Day Twenty-Nine of the Fate of Humanity

I started to feel a harsh ache in my shoulder as we continued hiking up the hill, trying to stay low in the tall grass and duck behind any cover we could find to keep out of sight. Banshees were still arching all across the sky above us, and while a number of Hornets had now joined the squadron of Pelicans assigned to our initial air defense, that didn't mean that the occasional Covie ship didn't get through. We'd been strafed three more times at various intervals, thankfully without casualties, before Pelicans had come swooping in to rescue us. Still, the march had been treacherous on its own, and I was glad we were now just a klick away from our RV point.

Fucking Jackal, I thought as I flexed my hurt shoulder. The alien's shield had been wide enough to catch me in both the head and the shoulder when it had slammed into me, and now my bashed side was really making itself felt. For now, I figured I'd try to remember not to sling my gun on that arm anymore, and hoped the tenderness would dissipate if I didn't use the muscle for a while.

Since we hadn't had any enemy activity from above in several minutes, I decided to check in with the fireteam up in front. "Orson? How're things looking at point, Sergeant?"

"Quiet, ma'am. I don't see any Banshees taking any undue interest, and the only Phantom I can think of that might've been trouble was the one that was shot down two klicks back. Shouldn't be too long to the RV now, Cap – "

I heard a sound like a thin arrow finding its mark in flesh, then a number of crystalline bursts, one right after the other. Sergeant Orson's astonished grunt was loud over the COM channel.

"Third platoon, halt!" I cried into the radio. "Everybody hit the dirt, now! Doc, take two men and see what you can do for Orson. Double-time it!"

Though I couldn't see the threat from here, I slowly moved up, too – I'd been at the center of the loose patrol column, so I had to crawl on my stomach between the high grasses to try to get up to the point squad. I held my submachine gun tight to my chest, listening for more sounds of enemy fire over my heavy breathing and the rush of my pounding pulse.

I hugged the earth again a few seconds later when the hidden Covie suddenly opened up with its needler again. The burst was longer now, but judging by the silence over the COM, no one had been hit. I quickly checked my motion tracker and IR to see if I could pick up the gunner.

There they were. Two red dots near the crest of the hill. The damn Covenant had set up a small but fortified observation post right where we'd designated our rendezvous point.

Dammit.

I continued even more cautiously through the lines until I'd reached the Marines just behind the men at point. From here, I could now see what had happened to the sergeant.

Orson was lying on the ground a few meters in front of me, being looked over by two Marines from his fireteam on either side of him. They were trying desperately to get the bright red fluid spouting from his neck to stop, but the noncom was panicking too much. I could hear the wet gurgles bubbling up from his mouth as he frantically clutched at his wound, his whole body twisting and turning in shock and fear.

I took in a deep breath and shut my eyes for a moment against the ugly scene. Africa was already turning out to be a bitch of a place, and we weren't even into the official operation yet.

"Calden, where the hell are you? Orson needs help, Doc, or he's gonna drown in his own damn blood!" I whispered urgently into the COM channel.

"On my way, Captain!"

The medic and her escorts finally came up on the left side as I gave orders to the half-platoon's two snipers to take discreet aim at the enemy OP. I could still see the twin red dots on my motion tracker indicating the enemy positions, but I couldn't determine what they were yet. I guessed one was a Grunt because of Orson's needler wound, but I knew it could've easily been a different alien.

Petty Officer Calden had just reached Sergeant Orson when one of the snipers radioed me back.

"I see 'em, ma'am. There's two Covies up on that hill. One's a Grunt keeping watch on this side of the approach, and the other's a Brute. The big bastard's sittin' there at the top behind a shielded plasma cannon, Captain. I can't get a shot."

My blood suddenly ran cold at the information. That meant if Calden got up to treat Orson, she'd be right in their line of –

"Doc! Keep your head dow – !"

Too late.

The plasma cannon opened fire just as Calden had gotten up on one knee to pull out her medical supplies. The rapid burst of white-hot rounds rained down on her mercilessly, hitting her three, four, five times in the chestplate before her body bucked back toward the grassy ground. Vaporized air and roasted skin permeated my olfactory senses in an instant, and I heard a choking sound as the medic's limp body fell to the dirt with a thump.

"Fuck!" I shouted inside my helmet, remembering to cut off all channels before I did so. I pounded my fist into the ground beneath me and bent my head for a moment, trying to get a grip on the situation. I had a Marine with a severed carotid artery bleeding out in front of me, a dead medic killed by enemy fire when she'd tried to help, and now I had to quickly calm myself down and try to figure out what to do next. The snipers were no help either, because they couldn't get a shot.

And I had to somehow get half a platoon's worth of Marines safely to the top of an enemy position – while the Covies clearly had the advantage of being on higher ground.

No one ever said the final fight would be easy, I thought to myself. But I've gotta do this, to get my men out of here alive and get rid of the Covies so I can go back home to my son. To my little Gabe.

"Third platoon, sit tight!" I said into the platoon channel then. "Tucker and Limm, keep pressure on the sergeant's wound. See if one of you can scrounge some biofoam in Doc's bag and patch up that neck. Fireteam Two!"

The Marines beside me turned their faceplates in my direction. "Ma'am?"

"Hug the dirt and follow me. We're gonna go flank that gunner."

I started slithering through the grass again, trying to go as fast as I could while keeping myself low to the ground. The last thing the squads needed right now was for their only officer to take a hit as well.

Not that I was itching to get shot, either.

Luckily, though, the elements were cooperating with us for once – a moderate wind had picked up since we'd dispatched the Covies from the Phantom, so with the long blades of grass swaying all across the area like small ocean waves, our own movements through the savannah were covered…to an extent.

"Watch your fire and stay tight," I ordered the fireteam as I continued moving. "There's two Covies up there, but we have to eliminate the gun emplacement first. The Grunt's not going to be a problem once the Brute's down."

The five Marines behind me acknowledged, and then I made the subtlest of motions for them to halt behind me.

From this new angle, I could just barely see the top of the Brute's head peeking out from the side of the shield. I could tell the Covie was being cautious as well, since it turned in its seat slowly, surveying the area below for the Marines it knew was there, but waiting for a visible target in order to let loose with the cannon once more. Normally vigilance in the field was what saved you, but in this case, it gave my Marines and I a decent shot for longer than usual for a gunner behind a shielded emplacement.

So as not to attract the Brute's attention, I stayed low while I tried to quickly slither backwards. All this time of pulling my weight forward with my elbows was killing my injured shoulder, but I ignored it for the time being as best I could and turned to face the Marines at my side.

"I need a battle rifle, fast," I commanded, slinging my SMG on my good side. The Brute wasn't really that far, but my own weapon wasn't going to be accurate at this range. "The rest of you, stay the hell down until I order otherwise. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," came their whispered replies through the COM channel.

I nodded as a corporal to my right handed me his BR55. I sure hope none of them accidentally gets exposed by the wind, I thought to myself as I slowly crawled back up to my previous position. If that Brute notices one of them behind me while I'm taking the shot, I'm done for.

Once I had the gun where I wanted it, rifle butt pressed hard against my bad shoulder while I kept the barrel firm and steady in my left hand, I eased my face in close to the weapon's scope and peered through the sights. My raised visor made taking aim a little harder than if I'd had the aid of my HUD, but I didn't have another choice. I took in a deep breath, waited a second longer to get my shot lined up, then pulled the trigger.

The three-round burst hit the Covie dead-on, right on the exposed side of its helmeted head with a loud metallic ping. But one burst wasn't enough to penetrate, and even though I squeezed the trigger a second time less than an instant later, the Brute had already recovered and swiveled its plasma cannon toward me fast. With its own body now concealed behind the weapon's shield, my burst did nothing but cause a ripple in the translucent barrier to mark the impact.

I knew now without a doubt that I was dead.

Just as I gripped my rifle hard and shut my eyes out of reflex, however, two more shots rang out in rapid succession – sniper rounds.

When the alien had turned to target me, it'd left itself exposed to the rest of the half-platoon still lying in wait to the side and below us. Though I would've bought it for sure if the timing hadn't been precisely right, I realized now that I'd inadvertently given my snipers the shot they hadn't been able to get earlier.

With one round going through its neck and the other through its jaw, the large beast slumped sideways off its gun emplacement, incapacitated, while the inside of the shield got instantly blotted with its dark purple blood.

Turning around fast to hand my battle rifle back to the corporal who'd lent it to me, I opened up a channel to the squads with me and said, "Move it up quick, Marines, and let's get to the peak!"

I didn't want my snipers to waste their precious ammo on the lone Grunt still keeping watch on the top of the hill, so I ordered them off the shot and got up quick from the grass myself and ran towards it. The Covie was now aware of my position anyway, and it'd been momentarily stunned from seeing its commander felled, so I decided to take action before it did.

I pulled my submachine gun back into my hands as I sprinted up the grass, keeping the dull throbbing of my hurt shoulder out of my mind only because the adrenaline surging through me was stronger. I had a Navy corpsman and two dead Marines to avenge now, possibly – probably – three, so just as the shocked Grunt leveled its needler down at me, I pulled the trigger of my own weapon first and let loose.

This close, the rounds ripped through the small alien's midsection, blood spurting quick even as its body remained suspended in the air a moment before jerking back. The Grunt let out a single agonized yelp, but fell silent a moment later when it hit the ground.

Continuing my quick rush up to the crest of the hill, I kept my gun in my hands nonetheless, bringing the SMG to bear and coming to a halt once I was standing at the top.

Much to my surprise, the rest of the OP – at least on this side – looked clear. I stepped over the Grunt's corpse and made my way to the plasma cannon then to see if the Brute was really dead.

As I heard the sounds of the rest of my half-platoon of Marines charging through the grass behind me, I walked up cautiously to the large Covie's body. The Brute was lying just to the side of its stationary gun, blood still seeping from its wounds, but I could tell by its rage-filled eyes and snarling grimace that it wasn't quite gone yet.

"Pathetic…human," it said to me. "You believe you can…escape the coming end? The fools like…you will be the first…to die."

The thing shut up quick when I drove my combat boot hard into its still-bleeding face. It grunted as the strike hit against its half-blown off jaw, but then the Brute let out a low, growling sound of satisfaction.

"Yes. You will learn…the hard way. Your end is approaching, human. Something you…cannot stop."

"You mean your end, you piece of shit," I spat back. Fury at its words rising up within me, I pointed the barrel of my weapon downward and emptied the remainder of my clip into its head.

I kicked the Brute's body hard again once it was dead, just to ease some of my swelling anger, then turned back to face my squads. "Tucker, Limm, set Sergeant Orson down on that long slab of rock over here by the plasma gun so we can try to get him stabilized. The rest of you, I want a loose perimeter around the platform, now. Looks like we're the first ones here, so sit tight and dig in."

Hearing the slight edge lingering in my voice, the Marines moved fast to execute my commands. In the meantime, I slung my SMG behind my back and waited for the two privates to bring over their badly wounded sergeant.

"Well? How is he?" I asked once Orson, eyes closed, was on lying on the slab. The noncom's face looked white as snow and there were fresh red stains all over the front of his uniform, but at least his blood wasn't pulsing out his neck anymore.

Although, that made me wonder.

The older brown-haired private, Limm, shook his head at my question. "I don't know, ma'am. We grabbed a dose of morphine and some bandages from Doc's pack, injected Sarge and slapped a gauze pad over his wound, but he was bleeding so much…"

"And he was choking on it, ma'am," Tucker added. His hair was a few shades darker than Limm's, but his face was as pale as the sergeant. "We don't know how much he's got left in his throat blocking his airway, Captain."

Before I said anything else, I quickly leaned over and pulled up one of Orson's sleeves to check his pulse at his wrist since his neck was torn up. After more than a minute, there was still nothing. I leaned my face in close over his next, to see if I could hear him taking in shallow breaths or see his chest rise. Nothing; Sergeant Orson was stiff and still.

"Dammit," I said, shutting my eyes hard for a moment as I pinched the bridge of my nose. "He's fucking dead."

Limm went white for the first time, and Tucker paled even more.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm sorry, we tried to – " the younger private stuttered, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

"I know, Private. I wasn't holding out much hope for him, anyway. You did what you could." Still, even when I'd seen the medic get killed in front of me, I'd held out an irrational hope that the sergeant would live. That brought the tally up to four dead in less than an hour since we'd landed.

Between that awful knowledge and the fact that my system was now winding down after the adrenaline rush of the skirmish, I shook my head, feeling suddenly drained, and said, "Just grab his tags and get back to the line. Did you pick up Doc's, too?"

Tucker was hesitant to answer, but let out what he thought was a discreet sigh of relief when Limm nodded.

"Yes, ma'am, I got it," the older private replied.

"Give me both. I'll hand them over to Doc Reynolds when first platoon shows up." If he shows up went through my head, but I suppressed that thought and moved on to my next task instead – trying to hail anyone else who might be close to the RV point now.

I took the two sets of dogtags the privates gave me and placed them both in the breast pocket of my uniform jacket, then opened a localized COM channel as I watched Limm and Tucker get back to their fireteam. "Bravo Company, this is Captain Cooper. If any of the other Pelican teams are a hundred meters out from the rendezvous point or less, respond."

There was a long crackle of static on the line, and for a moment I was afraid I wasn't going to get a reply. But then, finally, I heard a jumbled voice break through.

"Cap…this is…tenant Hillburn, ma'am. I've got all of…irst platoon rounded up now. We're…few meters…other side of…Captain."

"Got it, Hillburn. Can you hear me, Lieutenant? Your message was a little broken up."

"…es, ma'am. Read you loud…clear, Captain."

"Repeat your position, Lieutenant. Didn't catch that last. And are there any hostiles on your end?"

"Few…ostiles, Captain, but…ook care of 'em. First platoon's…other side of the building, ma'am."

"Acknowledged. Any casualties so far, El-Tee?"

"Five casual…between…whole platoon, ma'am."

I sighed. Well, it's not as bad as I feared, but not as good as I hoped, either. "Understood. Stay put where you are, Hillburn. I'll be coming up on your six with half of third platoon now, so don't shoot. Is that clear?"

"…es, ma'am. I hear you. First plat…will hold fire."

"Good. See you in a few then. Cooper out."


The area that made up the RV point – the partially bombed-out building on the hill three klicks from the city – was much broader than the maps I'd studied had indicated, so I was surprised that it took my half-platoon and I about ten minutes to get to the other side. One of the first things I noticed before First Lieutenant Hillburn walked up to me were the blackened remains of the three plasma cannons that had apparently been protecting this direction of attack; it seemed the Covies' observation post was also larger than I'd thought.

Folding my arms across my chest as I looked out at the view beyond the guns, with the once-bustling mega-port sprawled below and the dark, unnaturally amber-tinged waters of the coastline hitting the shore beside it, I spoke. "So this is what we came here to help liberate, huh?"

With its placement right near the ocean, I could see how New Mombasa could've been a beautiful city once. But it seemed that since its takeover by the Covenant, the water and sky had been utterly polluted, and the streets within the city were sure to be not much more than rubble now.

"Yes, ma'am," the youngest platoon leader replied. "I guess so, Captain."

Beyond its being one of Earth's most important port cities, I couldn't imagine what the Covenant would want here that they couldn't just as easily attain somewhere else. There were hundreds of vital port cities on this planet, so why New Mombasa? And, after that, why Voi?

I couldn't quite lay my finger on it, but for now I decided that that wasn't my concern. I'd been sent here to do a job, and regardless of why the enemy was here, I would do it. I turned back to Hillburn.

"I see first platoon had quite a handful of resistance," I said, gesturing to the destroyed Covie gun emplacements.

"Yes, ma'am," Hillburn repeated. A slight smirk formed on the corner of her mouth, but it was fleeting and faint. "Those were a bitch and a half to take out, Captain, but we managed with some grenades and some maneuvering."

"Good work, kid."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Any other activity since you've been here?"

She shook her head. "No, ma'am. I had first platoon set up a perimeter as soon as we got up here, and we didn't hear anything until you hailed us, Captain."

I nodded before turning away from the cityscape. "All right. Just maintain the perimeter for now, then, and let me know if anything out of the ordinary pops up."

"Yes, ma'am."

Despite my reservations about promoting Hillburn when Bravo Company had been stationed in Portoviejo before the attack, it seemed that, at least up till now, she was doing ok with her role as platoon leader. This being her third official campaign now, though, I hoped she wouldn't dismiss what she'd learned from previous battles like she seemed to have done in Austria, when we'd been fighting the Flood. I supposed I would just have to wait and see.

My thoughts were interrupted when a familiar voice suddenly came through the COM channel.

"Captain? Is that you?"

For the first time since we'd landed, I allowed myself a small grin in the direction of the new group of Marines coming up the hill to our left. I'd just noticed the green dots approaching on my HUD, since I'd wiped off my faceplate now. "Sure is, buddy. It's good to see you made it here in one piece, Dean."

He let out a light chuckle. "I can assure you no one is more grateful for that than I am, ma'am."

"So? Can I get a report on your half of third platoon while you get your men back together?"

His tone sobered considerably. "Three KIA, Captain. Lost one in the initial skirmish, two more as we made our way here."

I didn't know why I kept hoping the landings would have gone better, but I did. "Got it. Go ahead and get third platoon to join first in keeping up the perimeter then, Lewis, and we'll wait for second platoon. Don't get too comfortable, though, 'cause we move out again as soon as they get here."

"Understood, Captain."

Now that all that was out of the way and with little to do until Lieutenant Frederick showed up with second, I was finally able to go look for Doc Reynolds. He was technically the medic for first platoon, so he continued to deploy with them, though since Bravo Company had lost second platoon's medic on Heath before I'd transferred over and never been given a replacement – no matter how much I and Captain Kingston before me had asked for one – Reynolds pulled double duty sometimes.

Of course, now that Doc Calden was gone, too, he was all we had. And even though Reynolds was the best, one medic to three platoons wasn't enough.

"Hey, Doc," I said as I approached.

He gave me a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Ma'am. How's your stomach wound treating you? Any problems recently?"

I shook my head. "Still burns like hell on occasion with certain movements, but for the most part, I think I'm doing better now. Only thing to do now is to wait for the cut to heal up fully so I can get that scar removed."

Though I knew that that wound had also left a mental scar that would never fully heal – and one that I could never get removed, either. I'd had Willis's and my second child growing in there until I'd gotten stabbed.

Not wanting to travel down that worn and painful path, I swallowed hard and pushed the thought aside. "Anyway, that's not what I came to see you for. I know your pockets must be full of these already judging by the reports I've gotten, but…I've got a few more for you."

I unbuttoned the top pocket of my battledress jacket and pulled out the four sets of dogtags inside. Reynolds looked them over with a slight frown, until he saw Doc Calden's. Then he looked surprised.

"Jesus, Captain. Her, too?"

"Yeah, Doc. I'm sorry to say it, but you're it now, Michael. You're Bravo's very last line of defense between injury and death."