Chapter 20: The First Raid, Pt. 2
As the Pelican Yankee-Triple Seven rose from the hangar deck, there was a brief sensation of weightlessness. In the dull red light of the passenger compartment, Frost instinctively gripped the safety harness. Almost everybody did, even Carris, who loomed ominously in her armor. With the rear hatch already sealed, there was absolutely no noise save for the squad's labored but otherwise steady breathing, the muffled conversation between Warrant Officers Jasper and Pajari, and the occasional utterance from the crew chief Isha, who sat beside Frost on the starboard side of the Pelican.
Craning his neck, the Gunnery Sergeant could just see past the heads of his Marines and into the cockpit. On the right side was Pajar's helmeted head; her hands flowed over the console and controls. Readouts ran across the screen and dials of varying colors flashed. Through the cockpit windscreen, he could see a formation of Albatrosses already leaving the hangar. Behind them was a formation of Pelicans, waiting their turn. Below, deck crew members in orange and yellow uniforms waved lights and made hand signals. Every so often, Pajar would return one.
Then, the engines of the forward Pelicans flared and they moved forward. Exiting the hangar, they soon disappeared, leaving only the dwindling lights of their engines. Pajari suddenly saluted, the Pelican shuddered, and they thrust forward. A moment later and they were in vacuum. The entire dropship trembled as the speed increased and the pilots adjusted to flying in orbit. Slowly, banked towards Heaven's Sent, nothing more than a massive gray slate through the screen. Once the planet seemed to fill the entire cockpit's windscreen, obscuring even the slightest segments of black space around it, the speed increased again.
As the Pelican plummeted towards Heaven's Sent, it finally entered its atmosphere with a shudder. The entire dropships began to shudder heavily. Frost and his squad were jostled back and forth in their seats. It felt as though his very teeth were wobbling in his gums. One wrong move and they would fall out or shatter. Looking back towards the cockpit, he saw Pajar hold up one finger.
"One minute!" Isha cried, holding up his finger.
"One minute!" everyone cried out, holding up their index fingers as well. The terrain of Heaven's Sent became defined through the glass. Below were ash colored ridges and fields of shattered stone. In many places, there were gigantic creators big enough to hold a town or even a small, thriving city. An entire regiment could sit at the bottom with all its equipment and would still have enough room for every single Marine to establish a crash pad and sleep. Remembering the briefing in the hangar, Frost recalled Heaven's Sent was a mountainous planet but a combination of UNSC nuclear detonations and Covenant heavy weapons destroyed them.
"Thirty seconds!" Pajar yelled out, holding her index finger and thumb apart by nearly an inch.
"Thirty seconds!" everyone hollered, mimicking the gesture. Ther SQUADCOM crackled to life.
"We will not be touching down," Jasper said. "We'll drop down to the nap-of-the-earth and reduce speed. We'll operate by lights. Good luck, devil dogs."
His tone was unnaturally serious for a change. When one encountered the Warrant Officer outside his aircraft, he was always grinning, quick to joke, and unafraid to be snide. Even when he was at the controls, it was not uncommon to hear him say something sarcastic or humorous. To hear his voice as cold and firm as titanium was especially unnerving. Frost closed his eyes and drew a long breath.
When he opened them, his gray eyes were alight, his brow was furrowed with determination, and his expression hardened.
"Alright, First Squad, listen up! We're following the Warthogs in and then we're moving lightning fast through this base. Shoot anything that isn't in BDU's and wreck anything that looks like it's important. Fuel tanks, vehicle parts, assembly lines; I don't care if it's an Elite's electric toothbrush, break that shit over your knee and press on. You heard the Major: we're only stopping to pick up a wounded Marine. Nobody gets left behind. Let's raise some hell, Marines!"
"Kill!" they all shouted in unison. Frost looked towards the cockpit. They were now flying very low to the ground. Ahead, the first V-formation of Pelicans shifted left. Their formation now moved forward and was directly behind the long line of Albatrosses.
Suddenly, the red light grew much brighter. Isha raised his harness, stood up in the center of the aisle, and raised his hands.
"Stand up!"
At once, the Marines raised their harnesses, grabbed their weapons, and stood in two parallel lines facing the stern of the Pelican. Isha tapped his shoulders and everyone began checking over their BDU's. Frost could feel Moser's hands tapping his armor plates, webbing, vest, and rucksack. When he finished, he thumped his fist on his shoulder and gave a thumbs up. Frost returned the gesture over his shoulder. When he looked back to make sure his squad was in order, he was able to look through the cockpit windscreen one last time. Ahead by several hundred meters were the Albatrosses, flying low over the ground. Once they reduced speed, the rear ramps lowered and Warthogs began to reverse down and land on the ground. Green and blue plasma bolts began flying by the aircraft and followed them as they began to ascend.
"Cabin depressurizing," came Jasper's voice, this time over the Pelican's intercom link.
Isha turned around, hit the upper button on the control panel, and the rear hatch opened. Gray sunlight filled the passenger compartment and Frost had to shield his eyes despite the orange-tinted goggles he was wearing. When he lowered his hand, his eyes adjusted. Yankee-Triple Seven was only a few feet above the ground and was moving so slowly Frost could make out the individual rocks littering the scorched ground. The red light turned green. Isha stood off to the side, held a handle on the bulkhead with one hand, and then pointed with his hand towards the hatch.
"Go, go, go!" He shouted.
"Follow me!" Frost shouted with a wave of his arm. Charging forward, he leaped out of the Pelican and landed in a crouch. Looking over his shoulder in the same instant, he saw the rest of the squad piling out of the Pelican. Once the last one, Carris, was out, the Pelican picked up speed and ascended. All around, Marines began forming up and began racing after the Warthogs. The vehicles ahead were already assuming wedge formations, with one truck in front and one spaced diagonally slight behind it on either side. M41 Vulcan chainguns, M39 rocket launchers, and M68 Gauss cannons rippled along the Warthogs. Ahead, the sleek purple-pink color of the Covenant the base was already budding with explosions. Hundreds of blue and green plasma bolts streaked and arced past the Warthogs and over their gunners' heads.
Frost jumped to his feet and began running towards the closest Warthog formation. Turning as he did, he activated the SQUADCOM. "Wedge formation, I'm on point, let's go!"
Over the roar of heavy weapons, a great cry rang out from the Marines as they barreled forwards. The Warthogs, moving at half-speed, provided covering fire for the men as they advanced. NCO's and officers filled the SQUADCOM with orders, waved, and pointed. Everybody was screaming. It was chaos but it soon became order as the Marines fell in behind the Warthogs, matching their speed at a jog, and soon began firing at the enemy. Ahead, Covenant infantry began to filter out of various structures and began to take cover behind their own defense barriers. Elites threw oblong items onto the ground which sparked and deployed tall energy shields. Others directed squads of Grunts who formed firing lines and filled the air with plasma. Jackals began to filter into the ranks, carrying Beam and Needler rifles. Pink streaks flew through the air, embedding into the armor plating of Warthogs. Marines struck in the leg or arm cried out and fell. These men were swiftly picked up by fellow infantrymen or Corpsmen, were treated, and then were loaded into the back of a Warthog. Those who were hit in the head crumpled over without a sound, were stripped of ammunition and weapons, then loaded into the vehicles as well. Some who were killed in the rear were left behind, too far to be carried.
Frost walked with his shoulder pressed against the rear of one of the leading Warthogs. Every few meters, he would briefly duck out, fire a burst from his MA5B towards the enemy, and then return to cover. As the mechanized Marines approached the enemy perimeter, the Warthogs reduced their speed again and the Marines began walking behind them. Every single man was hunched low, occasionally popping out from behind the vehicles to fire at the enemy.
Machine gun fire and rockets ripped apart Covenant barricades. Single Elites were blown apart by blasts from Gauss cannons. Vulcan rounds tore Grunts apart, shattering their measly armor plating to pieces and ripped their flesh to bloody chunks. Once they lost their squad leaders, many of the Grunts threw away their weapons and began running away. Jackals held their ground, but riflemen armed with BR55's began picking them off as the distance closed between the opposing forces.
Already, the platoons on the flanks were pressing ahead of their Warthogs. Like a green-colored ocean wave, they charged the enemy positions and washed over the barricades. Some were cut down by the energy blades of Elites, but these heavy opponents were dispatched with blasts from M90's or had their shields chewed up by M7 rounds. When the shielding unit broke, they were torn apart by MA5B or MA5C rounds. Grunts were punted by black boot heels or pummeled by rifle butts. Marines threw themselves upon Jackals, unafraid of their disgusting, bird-like maws. Combat knives sliced throats, gouged out eyeballs, and tore open guts.
"First Squad, let's go!" Frost hollered. They ran past the Warthog, keeping clear of its tight field of fire. Frost leaped over the low, smooth barrier and immediately kicked a Jackal back. It squawked loudly as it landed hard on its back. Before it could get up, Frost planted his boot on its gut and fired a quarter of a magazine into its chest. By the time he released the trigger, its chest was caved in and oozing purple blood.
An Elite roared, dropped its plasma rifle, and charged at him. In the same instant, it activated its energy wrist blade. Just as Frost swung his MA5B towards it, Bishop fired a shell which stunted its movement. Then, he jammed the barrel against its middle and fired, killing its shield and tearing open its gut. But the Elite was not dead yet; it grabbed him by the neck with one of its hands and attempted to bring down the wrist blade with another. But Frost drew his M6C, aimed, and fired one shot. The bullet struck the Elite in the head and it immediately collapsed. Bishop wrested himself free, fired a slug into the corpse, and pressed on.
Major Royce appeared and began issuing orders on the comms.
"Engineers, demolish these barricades so the Warthogs can get through. One-Six, start clearing those sharpshooters fifty meters to your front. Three-Six, get your Marines moving up the right fucking flank, don't let the Covvies deploy any of those Type-42's. That's the way, hit'em, hit'em, hit'em! Two-Six, get your men in order and pierce the center of the next line before it forms, go, go, go!"
Lieutenant Conroy was in front of Frost, holding the handset from his RTO's radio to his ear.
"Two-Six rogers!" he turned around and waved. "Second Platoon, line formation! First and Second Squads on my right, Third and Weapons get on my left. Let's go!"
"You heard him, First Squad, move it out!" Frost hollered. The Marines of Second Platoon fell into formation and pressed forward. Through sizzling plasma and white-blue explosions fell around the Marines. A squadron of nimble Ghosts began speeding towards them; streams of blue plasma bolts flew from their cannons.
Conroy ordered the men to take cover and ordered his grenadiers to come forward. Marines shoulders their MA5's and took hold of their XM510 grenade launchers, aimed, and began firing. Shells fell around the enemy Ghosts, biffing, buffeting, and bracketing them. Once they found the range, they began scoring hits. One Ghost lost its rear section causing the anti-gravity propulsion to disengage and the vehicle to go skidding across the ground. Another was hit right on the nose, blowing open the armor plating. Flames erupted through the cracks, blue sparks began flying from them, there was an audible buildup of energy, and it exploded. Before the Ghosts were within fifty meters, all were destroyed.
"Move it up, Marines!"
Frost went ahead and heard detonations behind. The barriers disappeared in dust; when it settled, the path was clear save for some charred rubble. Warthogs began driving over the wreckage.
"Lieutenant, Warthogs are moving up," Frost said over the SQUADCOM.
"Second Platoon, spread it out, make way for the Hogs!" Conroy said over the platoon net.
In a few seconds, the Warthogs were leading the Marines once again. This time, they moved at a manageable speed and the Marines moved in between them. While the infantrymen continued to clear out enemy positions with M9 fragmentation grenades, underslung M301 launchers, or concentrated assaults, the Warthogs began blasting away at enemy structures. Warehouses cranes were destroyed by missiles and rockets; massive cylinders stored with raw materials were torn open by explosives. Power cells blew up in blue, red, and yellow fire. Fires began to spread throughout the building. Secondary explosions began erupting.
"Here come the ODSTs!" someone called.
Fiery shapes began to descend over the far end of the base. One by one, they began to burst through the ashen cloud layer and plummet towards the planet. First, there were only ten or twenty. Then there were fifty, a hundred, then several hundred. It was like rainfall that was afire. Streams of blue plasma flew skywards and flowed around the drop pods. Some were hit and exploded.
"Keep it moving, keep it moving!"
Covenant defenses began to melt. Elites were picked off by sharpshooters and heavy weapons. Grunts were running all over the place, bumping into one another and scrambling to get back inside.
"First Squad, get up onto those ramparts and destroy those turbines!" Conroy shouted. Frost looked towards the left flank and saw the upper walkway. Five turbines were vibrating and generating energy. Around them were various humming power cells that were taller than a Warthog; many were vibrantly blue with plasma.
"Frost, over here!" Maddox called. He made his way over to the combat engineer who busted open a crate packed to the brim with blue plasma grenades. No more discussion was had; Bishop and Knight joined them, each took hold of a side, and began carrying it over to the nearest power cell. They set it down as close as possible; the rough impact knocked nearly a dozen grenades out. Everybody fell back and then Maddox primed a grenade, hucked it at the crate, and it fell right inside.
"Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!" the Marines cried. Everyone ducked down, tugged their helmets low over the brows, and turned their backs to the cranes. The explosion was massive; a bright blue plasma mushroom cloud flew skywards. At the same moment, the plasma cells began detonating, showering the next unit with fiery plasma and heat. Each one burst right after the other. The entire facility was rocked, the ramparts collapsed, and the turbines exploded. All the combined detonations rocked the entire facility, melted some of the exterior armor plating, and caused a fire that began to spread within.
Frost ordered his squad to return to the main unit. Already, they were pressing deeper into the facility. Marines seized more and more Covenant positions, began lobbing grenades into every door, hatch, and compartment they could find. Engineers rigged explosive charges under ramparts or at vulnerable, exposed assembly lines producing Covenant vehicle parts. Each time a detonator was pressed, the assembly lines fell into pieces and the secondary explosions raced inwards. One of the tall production facilities rumbled and shook after its assembly line was destroyed. In a few minutes, the building seemed to moan and quiver as more explosions continued to climb the spire. Then, the spire began to collapse and began to fall in on itself. Soon, the pieces of the spire fell in great piles around the base, fire jetted out, and the foundation crumbled.
"Wraith, Wraith, Wraith!"
Frost looked forward. A single Wrath began advancing towards the Marines. Its mortar flared and a blow of white-blue plasma began plummeting towards them. Marines scattered in all directions but the leading Warthog did not move fast enough. The plasma struck it directly and the Warthog was thrown off the ground by the concussion. All four tires blew off the axles and the engine exploded. Both the driver and the gunner were thrown from the Warthog, their bodies half-vaporized by the plasma. Even the M41 Vulcan was torn off, the barrels melting and curling, and the turret shield wasting away.
When the burning hulk landed on the ground with a terrific crash, it came to rest flast. Fire from the engine began to envelope the entire vehicle. Then, out of the bed, came half a dozen wounded Marines. All were covered with plasma burns; their hair and skin was aflame from the engine fire. Some of their armor plates melted and fused to their flesh by the heat of the plasma. Each one tumbled to the rocky ground screaming at the top of their lungs. A number lost arms or legs; all that remained were blackened, cauterized stumps.
Marines who avoided the blast rushed over and began applying biofoam. Some took their ruck blankets and put out the fires. Still, the wounded men screamed and writhed. Frost watched, horrified, the flames glinting in the pupils of his gray eyes. What lasted for less than a minute seemed like hours to him.
Shaken back to the fight, he passed the wounded Marines by and fell in step with other troops and their supporting Warthogs. Frost directed his squad, ushering them forward as they continued to engage Covenant targets. Many were starting to retreat, doubling back towards their anti-aircraft installations. ODST drop pods continued to fall from the sky and many began to strike the planet, following out of Frost's view.
"Alpha Six, this is Wardog Six, we're advancing on the Covenant AA battery," came Major Holst's voice over the SQUADCOM.
Captain De Vos raised her M7S and squeezed the trigger. An Elite Major's shields shimmered white as the rounds hit it. Two more ODSTs came up on her right and added their firepower to the fight. In seconds, the shield was destroyed. With a roar, the Elite staggered back as all three Helljumpers drained their magazines into its flesh.
"Move it up!" De Vos cried, loading a fresh magazine into her M7S. She led a squad of ODSTs towards the base of the Type-27 Mantis turret. The giant gun was scanning the air, searching for targets. All the Albatrosses and Pelicans were well above the cloud barrier, using it to disrupt the gun's scanners.
Other squads of the mottled gray armored troopers advanced on the enemy positions. Droves of Covenant dead littered the ground in front of them. Surrounding defensive positions were in the shape of purple half-circles festooned with purple armor plates; each one came no higher than an average man's waist. Jackals armed with wrist-mounted shields formed phalanxes in the gaps, linking the barriers. Others, armed with Needler rifles or plasma pistols, line the barriers. Kicked and prodded by furious Elites, Grunts joined the firing line as well. Some were armed with Needlers and streams of pink crystals began to fly towards the ODSTs.
"Spread it out!" Major Holst called. "Form a line on me! Move it up, Helljumpers! Keep up the fire!"
The air was alive with the sounds of suppressed weapons firing. Some of the ODSTs carried MA5C's with underslung M301 launchers. These grenadiers would crouch, load a shell, and fire at the enemy. Puffs of ash would appear on the ground in front or behind the walls, but some found their marks and detonated in a brief flash of debris. Armor plates were ripped off, exposing the wiring and framework underneath. Heavy weapons teams loaded M41 rocket launchers, cleared the backblast, and fired. One rocket struck the plasma shields of a concentrated group of Jackals. Squawking and screaming, the shields gave way under the explosion and the bodies flew in all directions. Purple blood splattered the ground, broken up by severed arms, legs, and heads.
"Six, this is Five, I'm going to move my section up and take the southern barrier. Request covering firing, over!"
"Roger Five," Major Holst responded over the SQUADCOM. "Go on my mark...mark!"
The right flank exploded with a furious array of fire. Several heavy weapons teams quickly set up their M247 general purpose machine guns and began raking the Covenant troops with heavy automatic fire. Grunts and Jackals ducked down behind their cover, unable to return fire.
"On me!" De Vos yelled. The ODSTs hollered as they rushed the enemy position. But just as they were about to take it, Holst's teams were forced to cease fire. Reacting quickly, the Grunts, Jackals, and Elites got back on their feet and unleashed a volley of concentrated plasma. "Down!" De Vos yelled, diving in front of the barrier. When she rolled onto her back, she saw dozens of her troopers do the same. Nearly ten didn't react fast enough and they were riddled with plasma. Some were wounded and dropped down, clutching their wounds; others with greater presence of mind opened their first aid kits and began applying biofoam. One ODSTs caught a dozen pink crystal needles directly in his chest and detonated. His torso was blown into a bloody mass, his bones splintering and organs exploding. Yet, his limbs went unaffected; his arms, legs, and head came to rest on the fleshly pile of red blood on the ground. Even his weapon clattered to the ground unharmed.
De Vos rose to a crouch, shoved the barrel of her M7S over the edge of the barrier, and squeezed the trigger until the magazine was empty. On the other side, she heard Grunts screaming in terror and pain. When she reloaded, she repeated it but a heavy hand grabbed the weapon and tore it from her grasp. Immediately, she drew her M6C and emptied a magazine, being sure not to stick it out too far. Stubby arms jutted plasma pistols over the top and did their best to shoot at the ODSTs. Those who were still in cover at the original position were able to suppress them however.
When she emptied the magazine, she took an M9 grenade from her belt, pulled the pin, and lobbed it over. Other ODSTs who slithered up on either side of her did the same; seven grenades detonated on the opposite side. The combination of dull thuds rocked De Vos despite her enclosed helmet. She looked around and saw an ODST with an M90 over his shoulder. "Shotgun!"
The ODST took the weapon from his back and threw it to her. She caught it, waved her hand to signal other units to cease fire, and then jumped up. Leveling the weapon, she came face to face with a group of Jackals and Grunts. Cycling the sliding fore-end and squeezing the trigger as fast as she could, De Vos watched as the impacts sent the aliens flying off their feet in a shower of busted armor and blood. Just as she emptied her weapon, the other ODSTs got to their feet and began laying heavy fire on the remaining Covenant. De Vos slung the shotgun over her shoulder, picked up her M6C, drew her combat knife, and vaulted over the barrier. At the same time, Major Holst led one of their companies over the adjacent barrier, flanking one of the Jackal phalanxes, and cutting them down with accurate small arms fire.
De Vos fired at a group of retreating Grunts and then jammed her blade into the neck of one Jackal. As the alien gurgled its last breaths, she fired the remaining rounds at more Grunts. Withdrawing the knife, she hurried underneath the Type-27 turret and ordered one of her anti-tank teams to regroup on her.
"Specs show that the central power cell is under that hatch in the center," De Vos said, pointing at it. "Hammer it with rockets until it opens!"
"Yes, Captain!"
The backblast was clear and the gunner fired the M41. Both rockets detonated against the hatch and charred it, but didn't blow it open. De Vos was not going to waste anymore time. When she looked over her shoulder, she could see the Marines Raiders and their mechanized support slowly pushing through the base. The armored gauntlet advanced steadily, deliberately destroying everything in their path. So many Covenant troops were retreating, Holst had to divert another company to establish a perimeter facing the Marines so the enemy didn't hit their own flank.
De Vos called up two more anti-tank teams, arrayed them in a line, and ordered them to fire at the same time. Six rockets slammed into the bottom of the Mantis turret. Volley by volley, the plating was broken open. Chunks of charred metal fell below the massive gun. Then, a glowing white plasma cell was exposed.
"Hit it!"
All three launchers fired both rockets in rapid succession. The cell erupted and fell out of its compartment; when it landed, it sparked, flickered, and tied. "Fall back, fall back!" De Vos shouted. The ODSTs got up, vaulted over the barriers, and dashed for their original positions. Before they even reached the positions, the turret exploded. First the base of the turret blew off, flying off in a shower of plasma flames and landing beside the tripod. Secondary explosions occurred around the joints and the legs fell on top of one another.
Major Holst immediately jumped onto the comms.
"I'm Alone, this is Wardog Six, anti-air installation destroyed!"
Lieutenant Koroma's smooth voice filled the link.
"Roger Wardog Six, dispatching Determined Guardian and Lion's Den. CAS in effect. Hold position and wait for the Marine Raiders."
Within minutes, Longswords filled the air and began launching ordnance at one of the spires. Banshees that were just beginning to take off were destroyed just as they left their platforms. Orange-purple detonations blossomed all over the spires. Like flies around a corpse, the Longswords persisted and destroyed more facilities. Then they banked, ascended, and disappeared. De Vos looked towards the Marines, who were coming even further and were bracketed on either side by burning Covenant structures. Overhead, Determined Guardian swept into the planet's atmosphere, loomed larger until it was over the base.
"Alpha Six, Wardog Six, we have you on scanner. Hang onto your helmets, over," said the ship's communications officer. Moments later, massive golden cannon shells descended from the guns on either side of the ships and crashed into the raised Covenant buildings. The impacts were so heavy, the superstructure of each facility did not so much explode as it was sheared off from the rest of the building. It was a tremendous drumfire and the giant bolts continued to smash into the facilities on either side of the base. Assembly yards and factories the infantry were not able to access were soon destroyed.
De Vos scanned the environment, searching for targets, but no Covenant infantry presented themselves. Her motion track was clouded with yellow dots and no red. At the northern end of the facility, at the base of the crumbling aircraft pads, she could see little movements. The Covenant were preparing their last redoubt.
Just as she finished scanning, the Marine Raiders rendezvous with the ODSTs. Major Royce appeared and Major Holst went up to meet him.
"Casualties?" Holst asked, his VISR depolarizing.
"Light."
"About the same," Holst said. "We need sixty seconds to load our wounded into your Hogs. Then we'll advance to the EZ together."
"I'll attach one of my platoons to one of your companies; three columns."
"Got it."
The two officers saluted one another, returned to their respective units, and began issuing orders. Groaning, grunting, wounded ODSTs were loaded into the back of the Warthogs. Marine Raiders began filtering towards their assigned units. Once the wounded were loaded, Holst went to the head of the center column and waved his hand. "Move out!"
The Warthogs sped forward with the joint Marine Raider-ODST unit moving at a trot. They proceeded for nearly one hundred meters before a burst of heavy plasma fire. Pink needles pummeled the front of Warthogs. Green and blue plasma cut a dozen men down and several troopers who stopped to pick them up were wounded. Gunners on the rear of the Warthogs returned fire; tracer rounds arched back and forth across the Covenant positions. Purplish-white streaks from Gauss cannons scattered entire squads of Grunts or Jackals. Rockets destroyed multiple barriers, reducing them to burned purple chunks.
Overhead, a large box formation of Longswords approached the spire and hordes of missiles struck the Covenant. Plumes of gray ash, rock, and blast Covenant defenses flew skyward. When the Longswords peeled away, a number of Pelicans in V-formations descended, pummeled the Covenant forces with rockets, and then cleared the air. Then, from behind the spire loomed Lion's Den. A golden flash emanated from its bow and a MAC round struck the spire. It collapsed seemingly into one thousand pieces before ending up in a gigantic, burning pile.
"This is Wardog Six, requesting exfil!" Major Holst cried triumphantly over the comms. From the bank of clouds overhead descended the Albatrosses and a fleet of Pelicans.
De Vos saw an empty passenger seat in one of the Warthogs, ran to it, and jumped in. Grabbing an MA5B sitting in a holder next to the center console, she took it in hand and began firing at the stragglers that remained. Withering plasma fire flew by her helmet and she could feel the heat from each bolt. When a concentrated burst of enemy fire came towards the Warthog, De Vos quickly ducked down. She heard a grunt behind her and looked over her shoulder. The Marine Raider gunner clutched his shoulder and fell backwards. Dropping the MA5B, she scrambled into the rear which was filled with wounded Marines, grabbed hold of the M41 Vulcan, and began firing. After several prolonged bursts of fire, the Pelicans launched another volley of missiles and finally decimated the enemy position.
One by one, the dropships turned around, opened their rear hatches, and the crew chiefs began waving them on. Wounded men were given priority while Warthogs rumbled onto the Albatrosses. ODSTs filled in the space in between the Warthogs, standing nearly shoulder to shoulder in the heavy dropships.
Once she dismounted, De Vos began ushering her troops onto the aircraft. As she did, she surveyed the damage the Marine Raiders did. Behind them was burning rubble, roiling smoke, and fields of corpses.
Vivian stood at the front of the bridge, her hands folded behind her back. The Covenant resupply station was larger than she initially expected. As the I'm Alone, Best of the Best, and Batavia came closer, it began to dwarf the bridge screens. At first, it appeared there was no activity around the station. Then, several ports emerged, cloaked in bright white lights from the hangars.
"Decatur, get bow cameras on those ports," Vivian ordered. One of the tactical screens briefly turned black, then showed the real time imaging of the resupply station. Banshees and Seraphs began to fly out, form up, and then began heading towards the ship.
"Lieutenant Bassot, get our point-defense blocks up and running. Lieutenant Tsang, recall our Longswords, those enemy fliers are a serious threat to our transports. Get our Shortswords prepared to strike" Vivian ordered, turning sharply on her heel as she returned to her station. When she took her seat, Decatur appeared on the AI pedestal.
"Longswords inbound, ma'am. Ground forces are evacuating: they shall be in the air within two minutes. Objectives complete."
"Thank you, Decatur. Koroma, inform Best of the Best and Batavia they may fire MAC's and Archer missile pods at their discretion. Sosa, move the I'm Alone twelve degrees to port and then reduce speed once you hit my nav marker."
"Aye, ma'am!" Koroma and Sosa said in unison.
"Bassot, give me the charge on the MACs. Decatur, display Best of the Best and Batavia's charges."
"Full charge, Captain!"
The tactical displays showed full bars for both Best of the Best and Batavia. Suddenly, the bars began to deplete. Vivian looked forward again and saw the golden streaks fade across the void and massive fireballs rippling across the resupply station.
"Bassot, fire at will!"
The I'm Alone shuddered and the very first MAC round struck one of the station's hangars. The rectangular light disappeared as the hull collapsed around it. Just as Bassot fired the second round, the first Banshees and Seraphs passed by the bridge. Purple plasma bolts riddled the hull and across the screens. Streaks of point defense weapons fire began cutting through space. Some of the enemy aircraft were reduced to puffs of space dust or exploded in tiny gouts of plasma flame. But the Covenant fliers returned and launched missiles. The I'm Alone shuddered and Vivian instinctively clutched the arm rests of her station.
She hit one of the communication links. "Damage control, report!"
"Hull plating along the forward sections of Levels Three and Four have sustained damage but the exterior plating has held. Dispatching fire crews as a precaution."
"Copy, keep me informed," Vivian ordered. "Decatur, where are my Longswords?"
"Imminent, madam!"
Moments later, silver aircraft streaked by the bridge. Missiles and autocannons lit up the darkness in front of the I'm Alone. Countless Banshees began to burn out, break up, or retreat. Seraph fighters stayed longer, looping around the Longswords, rolling and banking to avoid missiles. Nearly two dozen separate dogfights occurred right in front of the ship.
"Decatur, update me on our ground forces."
"First transports are returning to the hangars. Second, third, and fourth waves incoming."
"I'm not happy with the damage to that station," Vivian growled, "Koroma, net message: inform the Longswords to clear the lane, we're firing our MAC's again."
"Yes, ma'am!"
As soon as she sent the message and the interceptors broke off. The Banshees returned soon after and the Seraphs continued strafing the UNSC ships. Almost at the same time, the ships fired their main cannons again and the MAC rounds struck the station. Secondary explosions broke out, fires erupted from cracks in the hull. I'm Alone fired her next two MAC rounds and caused massive damage across the station hull. Hangars, bulkheads, and dock extensions collapsed or broke up. Best of the Best and Batavia fired as well, blasting huge flaming holes in the hull. Then, Determined Guardian and Lion's Den fell into the line formation and fired their primary weapons. The MAC rounds struck true and more secondary explosions began blossoming all across all levels of the bulbous space station. Archer missile pods were fired and, unabated by point defense weaponry, struck the station. Large chunks began to detonate and separate from the main station. Soon, huge explosions appeared and the entire station began to break up.
"Target destroyed, ma'am," Decatur said professionally. "Shortswords are beginning their bombing run and our ground forces have returned to the ships."
"Koroma, issue a recall for our Longswords. Sosa, I'm dispatching coordinates for our slipspace jump. Tsang, send these separate coordinates for the other ships. Proceed at half-speed so the Shortswords can catch up."
"Aye, Captain!" the officer exclaimed. Vivian activated the ship's intercom and leaned towards the microphone.
"Now hear this, now hear this, all targets destroyed. Prepare for slipspace jump!"
The bridge crew gave a small cheer before resuming their duties. Koroma informed Vivian the Shortswords completing their carpet bombing and were returning to ship. As they I'm Alone proceeded to the slipspace coordinates, Vivian observed the aft cameras. As the Shortswords began returning to the ships' hangars, the Covenant resupply station was still blowing up. Beyond it was the debris field of destroyed ships, lingering in the vacuum of space. After observing it for several moments, Vivian smiled confident and deactivated the camera feed.
Lieutenant Sosa turned around in her seat.
"Ma'am, we're ready to jump."
"Wait one, Lieutenant. Decatur?"
"All Shortswords, Longswords, and ground forces have returned to the ships. All ships prepared for slipspace jump."
"Thank you. Sosa, take us out."
As the golden-blue light began to envelope the I'm Alone and the ship, Vivian closed her eyes, leaned her head back against her seat, and sighed happily.
Words: 6,187
Pages (Google Docs): 15
Original Font: PT Serif
Original Font Size: 11
Original Line Spacing: 1.5
Author's Note: Despite familial interruptions, writer's block, shitty work schedules, and multiple projects, I've been able to complete my main goals for the week! That's what, two, three weeks now? That's a good start. Granted, I didn't upload a chapter of To Be Brave, that's a side project and thus it won't occupy my full attention compared to this work and my off-site work. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it and we'll get to some more action soon enough. Now, I'm going to respond to the comment(s) and then take a bath. Just try and stop me.
Comment Responses:
MightBeGone: Hey no problem, I'm glad things are alright on your end. Yeah, things are very dicy, there's some tough moments, but now that they've gotten to a point of normalcy (if combat can be deemed normalcy) we might see the situations synthesize or at the very least stabilize. Or maybe they won't. Who knows? I do, I'm the author, but you'll find out next time! Glad to see you, thanks for reading!