Chapter 31: The Battle of Jeannette 5, Pt. 4

Light and noise discipline were in effect as Vivian and the rest of Alpha Company made their way through the southern woods. To the north, she could see the smear-like orange haze of the raging forest fires. Heavy guns thundered in the distance; she could hear Scorpion M512 cannons bellowing and the raw power from falling Kodiak shells. Machine guns rattled in response to the patter of faraway plasma. Sometimes, she saw the blue, green, red, and pink lights of Covenant weapon systems firing. At least, that's what Vivian saw when they were just leaving the perimeter. Now, wearing night vision goggles, all she could see in the dull green world was Frost directly in front of her, a few feet beyond, and then an impenetrable blackness. If she looked north, all she could see were a few glimmering lights every so often.

Alpha Company was spread out in a tactical column with her squad in the lead. She was directly behind Frost, the point man. At six feet and in full gear, he looked large and imposing. He walked deliberately, carefully, his upper body slowly moving back and forth in a semicircular fashion. His MA5B was a low-ready position, the IR laser moving with the barrel. Not once did he look over his shoulder. As the point man, his duty was to watch the front while those behind him covered the flanks and the rear. Vivian surmised it wasn't just the strict nature of his training that kept his eyes front; he trusted the Marines he was with. Training fused them into one cohesive unit in which trust was paramount. After eleven years in the Marines and eight at war, how could he not trust these men?

Vivian adjusted her goggles and kept scanning the flanks. She felt hot despite the nippy, late winter-like air. A patch of sweat on the middle of her back irritated her to no end and she resisted every urge to scratch it. They had gone out only with the bare necessities and her load was not as heavy as when they first deployed from the I'm Alone. Still, she was chafing around her groin from her BDU trousers and underwear. The chestpiece of the M52B body armor was not bothering her all that much but the shoulder pauldrons were limiting the rotation of her arms. Despite these irritations, she was focusing on the environment and on the patrol.

Nobody spoke, not even over the SQUADCOM. It was very eerie. Vivian was used to command settings in which multiple officers would be talking over multiple communication channels. Streams and streams of data would cover her terminal screen; logistics, coordinates, ship courses, weapon charges, munitions counts, casualties, and that was all just in orbit. During planetary missions, she needed to split her screen just to monitor GROUNDNET, countless Marine, Army, and Air Force elements, support requests, and fire missions. An efficient Navy officer was able to not only receive but comprehend and act upon all this accumulated information. Somebody who became overwhelmed and failed to make decisions had no business on the bridge of a UNSC Navy ship.

Having only experienced the most basic infantry courses while she was at OCS, Vivian was left with a distinct impression that ground warfare was more hectic than what she had to deal with in battle. In a strange way, there was organization to the chaos of space combat. On the ground, there were so many moving parts; air, armored, mechanized, and infantry movements, overwhelming enemy forces, logistical demands, taking and losing ground, evacuating casualties, and above all standing one's ground and returning fire with the Covenant. What terrified her most about ground warfare was a lack of control. While on the bridge of the I'm Alone, she had complete command control over every situation. On the ground, all she had was an MA5B and a couple hundred rounds of ammunition.

Now, she had gotten a true taste for it and found that it truly was terrifying. But she found that she did not have less control. Rather, it was a different kind of control and as she prowled through the night with nearly two hundred armed, armored, angry Marines, she was finding it all the more alluring. Here, on the ground, she could move on her own two feet, defend herself with her own two hands. There was not waiting for MAC guns to charge; all she needed to do was take cover, aim, and fire. Despite all of war's moving parts there was a simplicity to it that she found all the more inviting. Move, point, shoot, move, point, shoot. If she ran out of ammunition, then it came down to the knife and she had the skills to use it thanks to the Marine marching in front of her. Even as close as it got multiple times throughout the day, the control she had, the simple equations of war, were entities she found agreeable. And now, trekking into a deep, dark unknown, delving behind enemy lines, with thousands of friendly guns at her back, made the experience all the more exciting. Not only was the sheer power of the Marines she was with and the combined units behind her something to find exhilarating, but it was the fear itself. If they were spotted, the jig was up. All she could compare it to was a game of hide and seek. What made it fun for those that hid was the fear of being found; you didn't want to get caught and that made the game so much more fun.

Comparing war to a game of hide and seek seemed like she was trivializing it, but she had no other point of comparison.

She gazed at the back of his head for a long time. Vivian could just see some of his brown hair, tapered down to a fine stubble, past the back of his helmet. He was laser-focused, moving forward like a machine, and he appeared utterly fearless. More than ever, she felt that she understood him. At least, to some degree. Everything that crossed her mind seemed to add up but there still seemed like there was something that attracted him to the infantry lifestyle that she couldn't comprehend. He seemed detached from the modern idealism in humanity's youth, spurred to action by the necessity of their species' survival. While he certainly believed in that, there was something personal about his being a Marine. It was becoming a mystery to Vivian and the longer she followed behind him, the more she wanted to find out.

Frost suddenly stopped and Vivian halted as well. The former held up his fist and crouched. For a moment, she was concerned something was ahead of them. As she crouched, she tried to look over his shoulder but saw nothing. Suddenly, a distant, bubbling, whirring sound began to permeate the air. The veteran Marine looked right sharply.

"Broadsword Six, Gladius Two-One. Three Phantoms inbound to our pos, about a three hundred meters out," Frost said in a low, impassioned voice over the SQUADCOM.

"Roger, Two-One. All call signs," Major Royce growled over the channel, "Get down. Continue noise and light discipline. Over.

Vivian obeyed and flattened amid the scrub and undergrowth. The sound of the approaching Covenant dropships drew nearer. Looking right, she noticed purple and pink lights appearing through the treetops. Filled with the urge to see them, Vivian flipped the goggles up and was plunged into a world of darkness. As the sound of the dropships intensified, she saw them through a break in the tree. Similar to Covenant space-faring ships, they reminded her of sea creatures. They were wide but not very long, were oddly sleek despite their cumbersome appearance, and had a smooth sheen to their upper hull. Slowly, the chin turret swept back and forth, hunting for targets. On each side, green-armored Grunts manned Type-52 plasma turrets. Despite their little frames, the aliens looked menacing as they scanned the environment with their weapons. Sitting on the ramps and hanging out of the hatches were a multitude of Brute minors and majors. As the Phantoms passed overhead, a Captain stuck its head out. Against the purple running lights, Vivian could make out a scarred maw and black scruff on its chin.

She didn't move, not even to put her night vision goggles back on. The Brutes' heads moved in a slow, scanning fashion. For a few, agonizing, tense moments, Vivian thought the Covenant were aware of their presence. The Phantoms seemed to linger over them but did not turn on their searchlights. She held her breath, waiting for the plasma to start flying. It seemed like some of the Brutes and even the Type-52 gunner were all looking directly at her. Then, the Phantoms turned to the east and began flying towards the UNSC position. When their lights finally winked away, Vivian released her breath and flipped her goggles back over her eyes. Behind her, she heard Major Royce speaking. "Get on the horn and notify Amsterdam that they've got three Phantoms inbound," he whispered to his systems operator. Then he flipped over to the SQUADCOM. "All call signs, on your feet, we're moving out on Two-One's go. Light and noise discipline. Out."

After her eyesight adjusted to the night vision again, Vivian got up. In front of her, Frost looked over his shoulder. With the goggles covering his eyes and the sides of his CH252 helmet covering his cheeks, he looked more like a robot than a human. For a few moments, he stood there regarding her blankly. Then, he shifted his MA5B to his left hand and held out his right hand. At first, Vivian was confused. Briefly, she checked her own rifle to see if anything was wrong. Was he asking her to hand it to him? Slowly, she began holding it out but he shook his head slowly. His outstretched palm came closer, his glove making it appear almost as a black tendril of some shadow. After spending another moment looking at it, Vivian reached out and slipped her hand into his. All his fingers wrapped gently around hers.

Frost gently drew her forward, walking slightly as he did. His pace was slower than hers and he pulled her in front of him. Once she was in front of him, Vivian stopped and looked back. But he pointed forwards and Vivian followed it. Her neural interface bore the squarish blue diamond of their second phase line, four hundred meters directly west. She bristled slightly as she felt his hand wrap around her shoulder and squeeze. It was reassuring as it was ominous. Now on point, Vivian began trudging forward. She looked at her motion tracker and saw nothing but yellow dots behind her signature.

She pressed on through the dark. For some reason, she didn't feel scared. On point was the most dangerous position in a patrol, even Vivian knew that. Yet here she was, the western-most UNSC warrior on the entire planet. In front of her was unknown territory and potential Covenant threats. Despite not only knowing but feeling the Marines marching with her, and their readily available reinforcements, she felt like she was alone. But she was not afraid of that. Why didn't she feel small and impotent in the face of such overwhelming odds? It couldn't just because of the rifle she held or the Marines at her back. Was it that control, again? Or perhaps it was like standing on the bridge of the I'm Alone. It seemed like all of those things and none of them at all.

Being different was a concept Vivian entertained for a very long time. She had accepted that she was not like other people because of the trauma she experienced. It set her apart from people, withdrew her from them, forced her to retreat. At least, that's what she thought for so many years. Now, as she strode across a battlefield with no fear, she realized that's not where it began. There wasn't a single event, a defining moment, that made her stand apart and alone from the majority of people, to make her a stranger. Something inside her was already different. Defining it was an impossibility and Vivian was done trying. She was different, and perhaps insane, as no sane person would carry an absence of fear into battle.

At that moment, she thought she understood Frost somewhat better. Yes, he too was different, more or less like she was. There were so many ways to define a normal life and one was the absence of war. And yet both she and him were drawn to it and that made them strangers to all the people who would never bear arms or ever set eyes on the Covenant. War, in its infinite brutal intimacy, was Frost's world and he just pulled her into it. In a twisted way, it was a privilege to have the experience. She increased her pace, pressed the butt of her MA5 into her shoulder, and pressed on.

###

After passing through the second and third phase lines, they eventually arrived at the ridge. It was more of a high rise in the landscape than an actual ridge; it was rounded, soft, and grassy. Bushes, scrub hedges, and pockets of small trees and saplings covered it. Royce staggered Alpha Company across the top of the ridge and spread out the weapons platoon among them for overlapping fields of fire. At the bottom, they dumped their packs and kept one rifle platoon in reserve for security purposes. Motion trackers were still clear but they did not want to take any risks.

Vivian crawled to the top with Frost. The pair settled in between two gnarly bushes with a tree standing over them. The wind shifted southwest and it carried the subtle scent of burning woodsmoke with it. Leaves fluttered down from the bushes, nestling onto her uniform and scraping against the metal finish of her M52B armor. Following her laser, she scanned the slope and the ground beyond. Then, she set her rifle down, tugged a long-range scope from a pouch on her belt, and lifted her goggles. She activated the scope's night vision feature and gazed across the top of the forest. Beyond it and due west of the raging forest fire was the Covenant base.

It was a massie complex. Factories and foundries operated despite the battle, their massive cranes, anchors, and drills rising, falling, and turning. Wraiths, Ghosts, and Revenants gathered in line inside their assembly area. Entire fields were covered by infantry; there were so many they weren't even in formation. Instead, they just stood and waited for orders. Grunts clustered around their Elite squad leaders. Others gathered and bowed their heads in front of white-robed Deacons who were apparently praying. Jackals and Skirmishers checked their weapons, strapped up on their personal direct-energy shields, and snapped at one another every so often. Teams of Elites lined up and their leaders prowled among them, apparently speaking. Hunters stood together stoically and without moving.

"That's a juicy target," Vivian whispered to Frost. Light discipline was still in effect but now they were free to speak aloud, if in low tones. When the Gunnery Sergeant failed to respond she looked over. His eyes were just visible behind his night vision goggles and they were bathed in the green light. Although their gray color was masked by the green, Vivian found they looked distant. It was the first time since they touched down on the planet that he hadn't appeared hyper-focused. Frost seemed far away and his eyes were very wide, as if he was witnessing something terrible and was terrified of it.

To see him that way was just as confusing as it was unnerving. Vivian reached over and patted him on his shoulder pauldron. "Hey. Hey." Frost jumped and looked at her sharply. She couldn't see his eyes anymore, just the outline of his face. It was pitch black out and she could barely make him out, let alone the other Marines in the rest of the company.

He was breathing heavily, as if he had just woken from a nightmare. "You good?" she asked, concerned. Frost didn't answer at first, then he looked forward.

"This just feels...familiar."

"Skopje?" Vivian asked.

"Yeah," he said in a weak tone. Frost was not an arrogant kind of person but she always guaged him to be confident. Or at least, like many individuals thrust into leadership roles, able to feign confidence for their subordinates. He wasn't putting on a show, that was for sure, and it was startling that he seemed nervous at this moment. Vivian didn't believe him entirely but believed he would be able to focus on the mission.

Major Royce's voice came over the SQUADCOM.

"All call signs, this is Six. Standby while the FCTs work their magic."

"This is going to be good," Vivian said, feeling giddy and smiling. Only more exciting was the prospect of assaulting the Covenant base after the fleet's MAC's devastated it. Mopping up a defeated enemy would be very cathartic for her and she knew it would have a positive effect on the Marines, who had taken so many casualties during the raids. She wanted to fight very badly; she felt like an attack dog with the leash still attached to her collar. Her fangs were bared and she was licking her chops for something to kill.

Again, Frost was silent. She reached over and tapped the side of his helmet. "Still with me?"

"Yeah. It'll be a good one," he said. While they waited for the ships to get into position to fire, there was little talking among the Marines spread out across the ridge. Vivian was prepared to settle into silence once more but Frost moved a little. He slid about two feet from the lip of the ridge, rolled onto his back, and stared up at the stars. After a few moments, she followed suit and she was so close her shoulder pressed into his.

Frost sighed. "I don't know how you handle it, Captain," he finally said. "Losing people."

"Everybody copes differently," she responded. "It hurts. It really hurts. But I have people who are still alive who are depending on me. I just focus on what I need to do to keep them alive."

"You know, normal Marines train for three months pretty much. We were all kids and we spent three years training in special military schools. So I've been a Marine since I was thirteen, really. I went to war when I was sixteen. Now it's 2543. Nine years of this, almost ten. You'd think I'd be fucking used to people dying by now."

Vivian folded her hands onto her chest and looked up at the sky. After a few moments, she smiled a little.

"Losing friends makes life seem like it's going to pieces. Friends provide or at least add to the natural order of our lives and when we love them, depend on them, for that order, and then they leave? Things just go to shit, don't they?" She paused, waiting to see if he had anything to say. Frost didn't speak. "I don't think we ever can come back from that. We just have to put it somewhere and accept the pain, accept the fact we'll spend the rest of our lives wondering if we could have done something different."

"Forever wondering what it's like to be the one who lived," Frost breathed. "When you come out of a firefight alive, it makes life seem really fucking lonely. Even if you come out with other people, you know not everybody made it."

"Being a survivor is a lonely fucking business, Nate." Vivian's tone mirrored Frost's dejected nature but with a little bit more light. "Even if you can focus, you still have to deal with it. I'm still dealing with it. Jasmine thinks that there's a point where you heal. If you get help, put the effort in, find ways to bear your trauma, you can heal. I think she knows there's no one-hundred-percent healing, not from those wounds, but there is a point where you can reach where you can say, 'I'm better.' I never believed that and I guess I still don't. Makes me kind of a shitty friend. Jasmine's been taking care of me since our first night at OCS."

There was a long pause. She suddenly felt Frost reached over and tapped her on her chestplate in what seemed like a reassuring fashion.

"Jasmine loves you. You're her best-friggin'-friend in the whole Colonies." Frost clicked his tongue. "She's got a lot of love in her, our Jas, doesn't she?"

"Oh yeah," Vivian confirmed, giggling and shaking her head. "Sometimes a bit too much. I don't know she can function in the OR sometimes. She feels other peoples' pain. It must kill her."

"She's probably the bravest doc in the entire Medical Corps," Frost said, then added after another pause, "She makes me think I've got a future sometimes."

Vivian bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to say the first words that came to mind. They were on a mission, after all, and she didn't want to become distracted. Saying something that could affect Frost's feelings might have an impact on his ability to fight and everybody needed to be in their A-game for this mission. But, in a strange way, she couldn't hold back the words. It seemed too important not to.

"Don't stake your future on another person or on other people. I did and look how fucked up I am. I mean, I joined the Navy." This she added in the hopes some levity would dampen the words. But Frost didn't laugh nor did he utter a single word. Vivian sighed heavily. "What I'm saying is, no matter how much you love or trust someone, there's always a chance they'll be...absent at some point. We're at war and people die all the time. If you stake it all on one person or on a few, if they go, then there's a pretty big chance you won't make it."

"You did."

"Who says I did?" Vivian said to him, her voice quiet but not fragile.

Major Royce's voice came back over the SQUADCOM.

"Splash is in ten seconds."

"C'mon, jarhead, let's have a look," Vivian said, reaching over and tugging on one of his straps. Frost silently followed her and they resumed their original positions. Vivian didn't want to watch with the binoculars. She was smiling very wide. Beside her, Frost was close enough that she heard him breathing.

Suddenly, a golden cloud appeared in the sky, then the clouds; it pierced the smoke over the Covenant base, and then smashed right into the field of infantry. There was a bright yellow flash and a gigantic column of brown earth flew skyward. Vivian looked through the scope; thrown up with the slil were thousands upon thousands of Covenant infantry. Then, the massive report of the MAC round flew across the landscape, a mixture of raw, explosive power combined with the zwop of a laser weapon. Then, four more lights appeared in the sky. One by one, they struck the Covenant base and it disappeared in the fire and churned earth. The reports of the falling rounds came in rapid succession and the combined force created a new windfront that flapped Vivian's collar and sent some of her locks flying backwards.

Beside her, Frost chuckled. When she turned, she found him looking at her and not the MAC rounds.

"The Corps has got your ass now, Cap'," he said.

Vivian shook her head and looked back. The earth was still settling over the base. Through the dust cloud, she could only see a few charred, blackened remains of the base. None of the vehicles or the infantry remained. Major Royce came back on the SQUADCOM.

"Standby, some UH144's are going in to conduct BDA."

Vivian continued watching through her scope. Eventually, about ten Falcons came flying over the forests. They were flying nap-of-the-earth, skimming just above the treetops to avoid the smoke bank. When they arrived at the base, they began circling around. Vivian pressed a finger to her helmet's earpiece.

"Six, Waters," she said. "Are we going to be moving out soon?"

There was a delay before he responded.

"Wait one, incoming traffic..." he said, his tone grave.

"What the fuck is that?" Vivian heard Steele mutter. She didn't realize the sniper was so close. "Nate, I got some weird lights on my scope. In the clouds, west of the splash. Coming down."

"Colors?"

"Purple."

Just at that moment, hundreds of Banshees broke through the cloud barrier and descended on the Falcons. All ten UH144's immediately disengaged and began retreating back to the base. One by one, they were pounced on by ten, twenty, and even thirty Banshees. Riddled with blue plasma bolts and hit by multiple fuel rod blasts, they burst into flames and tumbled into the forest.

"All call signs, this is Six!" Royce cried into the SQUADCOM. "Fall back to Phase Line Yellow! Fleet's reporting Covenant slipspace signatures and reinforcements landing on the planet, we need...fuck, Phantoms inbound to our pos! Fall back!"

Frost was running at full tilt. He looked over his shoulder. Behind him, Marines at the edge of the woods fired into the trees. Streams of plasma chased them off. Grenades detonated, briefly lighting up segments of the woods. In them, he saw lumbering Brutes, scampering Grunts, and darting Skirmishers. Among them were the imposing forms of heavily armored Elites. The aliens were chattering and were so close he could hear them.

The run and gun firefight had lasted the night and was bleeding into dawn. Every instinct told him to stand and fight but he knew that was certain death. Around him were the blurred forms of so many other Marines. Carris towered among them, stopping and standing like a castle's tower with her M739. A few, sharp bursts ripped from the barrel, covering the last few Marines who were bringing up the rear. When Steele tapped her on the back, then she turned and rejoined their flight.

Royce ordered the Marines to flee for a hundred or two hundred meters at time, then they would fight a delaying action, slowly splintering off by platoons. The Major was standing a clump of trees just outside the perimeter of the forest, waving to attract their attention. Frost, Vivian, and the rest of the squad took cover behind a fallen log and began returning fire. After emptying an MA5B magazine at the charging enemy, Frost ducked down and grabbed Maddox who was holding the handset to his ear.

"The fuck is going on!?" Frost screamed over the battle din. "Where's the air!? Where's the arty!?"

"GROUNDNET is fucked!" Maddox shouted back, his accented voice more alarmed than Frost ever heard it before. "Got everybody screaming about Covvies this way and that way and every fucking way! Nobody can get a word in! All I got is that air's tied up at base and Amsterdam keeps coming on, ordering a full evac of the planet!"

"What's going on in orbit!?" Vivian shouted when she reloaded.

"Fuck if I know!" Maddox shouted before crouching with M7 and filling the air with automatic fire.

Frost swore under his breath, slammed a full mag into his rifle, and then observed his motion tracker. There was so much Covenant infantry coming at them he couldn't make out separate dots. Blobs of red swarmed towards the dwindling yellow dots on the motion tracker.

"Phantoms!"

More Covenant dropships hovered over the woods, dropped their ramps, and disgorged throngs of aliens. Even more swooped to their left flank and deployed their troops there.

"All callsigns, Six!" Royce shouted over the comms. "We've just gotten flanked! We're going to get slaughtered in the open; move one hundred meters north into the woods and then push east. The woods should slow them down! Let's go!"

Frost, Vivian, and Maddox lobbed their last M9's at the enemy and took off running when they detonated. Behind them, they left piles of screaming, wounded Covenant and were chased by brightly colored plasma bolts. All around Frost, the trees were a blur. He was running as fast he could, his legs and arms pumping. He nimbly weaved between treets, often striking them with his shoulder or barely dodging them. Around him, Marines passed him, turned, fired, and kept running. Some fell, riddled with plasma or disappeared in huge plasma mortars. The enemy had Wraiths in the open too!

He couldn't think about the bodies he leaped over and left behind. Marines were taught from day one to never leave a dead or wounded comrade on the ground. But if they stopped to pick them up, they would be overrun. His eyes kept darting to the motion tracker on his HUD piece; the clouds of red were less than seventy-five meters behind him. Plasma bolts sizzled over his head, scorched tree trunks, and cut off branches. Everyone was barraged by falling branches, sticks, and leaves. Some plasma mortars struck the trees, turning them to charcoal or setting others alight. In the distance, the encroaching forest fire was still engulfing the woods. If they kept north for another three hundred or so meters they would be facing a wall of flame.

The waypoint Royce placed appeared on his HUD. Frost shifted direction, observing the compass at the top. In a huge mob, the Marines stampede to the east. For a brief moment, the enemy fire led up. All the red clouds and blobs on the motion tracker hesitated, apparently confused by the shift of direction. Moments later, however, plasma rained down from above. Frost looked over his shoulder and saw Banshees floating in the air. Almost lazily, they chased Alpha Company through the woods, blasting them with fuel rod cannons and plasma.

Frost eyed his motion tracker again and almost smacked into a tree. Staggering, he felt someone grab his open left hand. He caught a glimpse of Vivian's blonde hair from under her helmet as she pulled him along. Both of their helmets bobbed loosely on their heads, plasma bolts grazed their M52B plates. They were continually battered with debris and dirt.

Suddenly, Vivian looked over her shoulder. Her emerald eyes were wide and wild.

"This is such bullshit!" she hollered. "I thought we were winning!"

"Me too!" Frost hollered back.

He looked at his motion tracker. The red blob split up; a wide tendril directly pursued them. One arced up the left flank and another tentacle came up on the right. Frost looked in that direction; through the trees he could see Elites sprinting through the woods. They weren't firing, just keeping pace. He put a finger to his helmet earpiece.

"Broadsword Six, Gladius Two-One! Covenant are paralleling us on the right flank, eighty meters!"

"Two-One, Six," Royce replied, his voice ragged as he sprinted. "I got them on the left, they're trying to envelope us."

Before the conversation could continue, Frost and Vivian burst from the trees. Their pace slackened for a second. They were now in a jagged section of the woods that had suffered from a massive M400 bombardment. Everywhere there were deep craters and overturned treets. It was at least a square half-mile wide. There was a lot of cover but not much concealment. Ahead, he saw Marines traversing the obstacles any way they could. The forward element was about to enter the opposite end of the clearing when Phantoms and Banshees cut them off and killed them with plasma.

Covenant appeared from the left and right flanks, unleashing a double fusilade of heavy, concentrated plasma. Dozens of Marines fell and the survivors all took cover anywhere they could. Frost slid into a crater with his squad. He counted their heads; two were missing. Scrambling to the top, he searched for them among the remaining Marines still out of cover. Bishop was crouching behind a stump, having switched to his MA5B from his M90. He switched to the forty millimeter grenade launcher attachment and began hitting the tree line with shells. Langley was running back towards them. She stopped on her heel, practically skidding, and fired a few short bursts at the tree line which was alight with plasma muzzle flashes. When she finished, she turned and began running towards them. Halfway to the crater, she stopped and fired again. Suddenly, two green-purple trails whizzed out of the trees. Langley was thrown off her feet and helmet flew off. Her blonde locks swayed in the thin, gray, morning sunlight. She fell flat on her back and didn't move.

"Langley's down!" Frost shouted. "Corpsman up!"

One brave corpsman got his feet and made a bee-line for her. But then he was shot in the leg by a Covenant carbine and fell into a ditch. "Fuck!" Frost shouted.

"I'm going for her!" Maddox shouted but Frost yanked him back down.

"Stay the fuck in the hole, you wanna get shot too!?" he screamed, then hopped onto the TEAMCOM. "Bishop, can you see Nora from where you are?"

He watched Bishop slink behind the tree stump and look in her direction.

"She's not moving. Pale as fuck. I think she took two carbine rounds to the chest. Fucking hell, I can't get her from here, I'm pinned by those Phantom guns!"

As if on cue, a burst of purple bolts struck near his position. A Phantom hovered menacingly nearby. Frost, knowing Bishop and Langley both needed help, weighed his options. As he prepared to disobey his own order and run into the field, Royce was back on the comms.

"Get small in your fucking holes, Marines!"

Frost heard the wonderful sound of fast-moving aircraft. He looked up and saw a formation of Longswords swoop overhead. Missiles struck the Phantoms and destroyed most of them. Multiple Banshees were struck as well. As the remaining Covenant aircraft began to retreat, the Longswords returned and riddled them with automatic cannon fire. Army Aviation UH144's joined the fray, knocking out Banshees with their chin-mounted turrets. Gunners laced the tree line with grenade launchers and machine guns.

Cheering erupted around the lines. Royce lit up the comms. "Gladius Six, our FCTs are down. Work with your FO and coordinate CAS immediately! We got Pelicans coming for us!"

"Gunny!" Carris houted. Frost looked over at the heavily armored soldier. She set her machine gun down. "I'll go on your count!"

Frost didn't hesitate.

"On three, Carris is going for Langley," he said over the TEAMCOM. "Bishop, when she does lay down suppressing fire and then fall back with her. Steele, keep your eyes out for that fucking sniper. See it, blow its goddamn head off."
"Fuckin'-a, bruv!" came the reply.

"One, two, three, go! Suppressing fiiiire!"

Carris burst forward. Frost fired everything he had into the tree line. Longswords kept dropping bombs and missiles. Falcons buzzed and fired. Muzzle flashes were everywhere. Grenades and plasma mortars went off. The supersoldier was at Langley's position in a matter of seconds. Bishop immediately collapsed to her position. Picking up Langley, Carris began jogging and used herself to shield both their wounded comrade and Bishop. Less than a minute later, they slid into the crater. Carris slid down the slope of the crater.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she kept saying to Langley through her helmet. Langley's face was blank and her eyes were closed.

"You're a fucking hero, Carris!" Bishop yelled as he discarded the empty MA5B. "Hang in there Nora, you're a right tough little fucker!"

Frost looked down for a moment. Carris laid Langley out at the bottom of the crater where a corpsman from the platoon began treating her.

"She's not moving!" Carris yelled.

"Get your gun back up!" Frost ordered. The corpsman needed space and they needed her firepower. Steele's sniper rifle brought him back to attention. The sniper gave a great cheer and began shaking his fist at the enemy, exposing his head to enemy fire.

"That's right, motherfucker, that's right! I gotchu, fucker, I gotchu!"

Frost grabbed his harness and yanked him back down. Suddenly, the SQUADCOM lit up.

"Gladius Six is down, Gladius Six is down!" a frenzied voice hollered. "FO's down too!"

That's when Vivian jumped up. Frost watched her climb out of the crater and sprint towards Lieutenant Conroy's position.

"Stop, stop goddammit! Shit, Steele take over!"

"The fuck!?"

Frost climbed out and followed her. Vivian tore through their base of fire, jumping over bodies, craters, and friendly rifle barrels. Frost copied her, terrified that he was about to be killed by an MA5 slug. She disappeared behind a log and Frost joined her. There, they found Lieutenant Conroy dead; he was shot through the head by an enemy carbine. The FO's face was gone, shredded and burned by plasma. Beside them, a Marine curled into the fetal position and rocked by the radio.

It felt like he stared at Lieutenant Conroy's wide, dead eyes for a lifetime. Then, he turned to Vivian who picked up the entire radio, hefted it onto her back, and was now speaking into the handset.

"This is Gladius Six, I want a gun run going south from north on the tree line! Danger close!"

B-65's swooped by and firebombed the tree line. A wall of flames engulfed the Covenant, incinerating them. Many came out, thrashing in flames. Frost watched for a few moments before shifting his fire to the left flank. He only fired a few shots when Vivian tapped him. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the TACPAD on Conroy's left wrist. "We got some arty, these are their last shots before their evac," she said. Frost pried the computer off Conroy's wrist and handed it over. She attached it to her own. "Sledgehammer, this is Gladius Six, adjust fire, over...Grid WE seven-five-seven-two-six-nine. One hundred plus foot mobiles, tree line, danger close." She paused momentarily. "Splash in five."

Five seconds later, an artillery round fell behind the tree line. To Frost's amazement, Vivian got out in front of the log, spotted the fall of the round, and continued speaking into the handset. All the while, plasma flew all around. "Sledgehammer, Gladius Six. Direction one-zero-zero-zero, drop fifty, out."

Another round struck, this time directly on the tree line. "Fire for effect, over."

Moments later, the tree line disappeared in bright flashes and columns of earth. When it ended, Vivian raised the handset. "Sledgehammer, Gladius Six: end of mission, good effect on target, out." She flipped the channel. "Broadsword Six, Gladius Six. This is our shot for evac."

"Roger Gladius Six, Pelicans inbound. Thirty seconds."

Vivian jumped behind the log.

"Let's get back to the squad."

Frost grabbed the cowering Marine and pulled him along. Together, they raced back to their crater and found the rest of the squad intact. The corpsman was still working on Langley. She remained unresponsive and the expression on the corpsman's face was dismal.

"Evac's inbound," Frost ordered. "Steele, get'em moving!"

"Alright, people, let's move!" Steele shouted, hefting his sniper rifle over his shoulder. "Knight, two more rockets and then drop that fucking thing. Grant, one more forty-mike-mike! Carris, assist the corpsman with Nora!"

Together, the squad got out of the crater and proceeded to the nearest Pelican. Several other Marines piled in with two other casualties. Amid withering plasma fire and heavy, the Falcons landed, their crews ditched, and raced for the Pelicans as well. They knew there was no chance of evacuating with their VTOLs at this point.

Frost and Steele stood on the starboard side of the hatch while Vivian was on the port side. All three ushered the remaining Marines into the Pelican. After forcing an Army pilot and the two gunners in, they saw nobody else and pushed into the overcrowded Pelican. Steele was the first one in, followed by Vivian, and then Frost. He was very glad to see Isha, the crew chief of Yankee Triple Seven, pulled him in.

"Hatch sealed!" Isha reported.

"Hold on everybody!" Jasper, the pilot, yelled from the cockpit.

The aircraft cabin pressurized, shuddered, and then took off skyward. Frost took off his helmet and joined the chorus of gasping, wheezing, panting Marines and personnel. Everybody tried to sit and give room to the wounded. Langley was closest to the hatch and the corpsman took off his helmet. He looked up at Frost and shook his head.

"Sorry, Gunny," he said. "I'm really goddamn sorry." Then he turned and began treating the others as best he could. Frost looked at him in disbelief before crouching next to Langley. Her chestplate was off and her BDU blouse was open. Her semi-exposed chest was drenched in blood, as if somebody had swept a wet, red paintbrush over her torso.

Frost took off his helmet and dropped it on the deck. He couldn't look up at the tragic expression of his squad. Vivian knelt on the other side and reached across.

"I'm sorry Nate," she said, her gaze dropping. "It was out of your..."

Her emerald eyes widened. Frost looked down. From the hole in Langley's chest, a bloody red bubble appeared. Vivian's hand dropped and she grabbed Langley's wrist. Her fingers locked on the skin, feeling from her pulse. "Corpsman!" she screamed. "Get back here!"

Words: 6,920

Pages: 16

Font: Garamond

Font Size: 12

Line Spacing: 1.5

Author's Note: Hahahaha...haha...ha...fuck.

Comment Responses:

MightBeGone: Frost and Vivian's relationship is complex is ever and is now entering a new realm that I loved exploring this chapter. Not to mention I got to bash in the theme of solitude and connect with the story's title a bunch. And yeah, it's fun to play around and not to mention write a battle where they actually lose fair and square.

Chase-A: And there shall certainly be more of it quite soon!

CarlosInferno: Oh, we've been on it for a while. A slow meandering trail, of course, but now things are...heating up! And yeah, towards the end of this part of the story or just at the beginning of the next, or perhaps a blending of the two.