Chapter 9 – Broken Gates
1504 hours, October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Aboard Pelican dropship Bravo 045, on approach to Mombasa, Kenya, Planet Earth, Sol system
"We're going in. Get tactical, Marines!"
The moment Sergeant Major Johnson's order came in through their helmet COM, the ODSTs of the strike team's Second Squad sprang into action; the dropship's troop bay coming alive with a symphony of preparatory clicks, snaps and pops that was audible even over the ready-up alarm that the dropship's pilot had triggered as the black-armored troopers slapped magazines into their weapons, pulled charging handles and toggled safety switches.
The squad's commander, Gunnery Sergeant Marcus Stacker, strode down the cargo bay, coming to a stop in front of the small opening leading to the Pelican's cockpit before turning around to face his men.
"You heard the man, boys. It's time for some hazard pay!" Stacker shouted in his distinctive Texan accent as he yanked the charging handle of his BR55 battle rifle.
A big and burly man, Stacker had a commanding presence even out of his ODST armor. With it on, he was a force no one wanted to mess with. The grizzled veteran had recently cropped his hair short and shaved his face, revealing sharp features not often present in men of his age. Under his left eye was a scar delivered by a Jackal's talon during a close-quarters tussle with one of the bird-like Covenant aliens earlier in the war.
All in all, he looked like the hardcore bastard that he was.
Stacker was no stranger to risky insertions; as a seasoned member of the 7th Battalion of the infamous ODST 105th Shock Troops Division, he had partaken in some of the unit's most audacious actions during humanity's almost thirty-year war against the Covenant. He'd been present during some of the most grueling battles of the war, most recently the cataclysmic fall of Reach, of which he had only escaped aboard the Pillar of Autumn, before they had ended up at the Halo ring.
He had seen plenty of action on that damned construct and had lost most of his men during the battle. It was a matter of sheer dumb luck that he hadn't been on the surface when the Master Chief blew the thing into a million pieces of space junk.
Still, he didn't necessarily fancy their odds at charging headlong at a Covenant assault carrier. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And he was inspired by the men under his command. Those boys had been at his side since before the fall of Reach and they were damned good fighters.
And to top it off, the big green machine, Spartan-117 himself, was in one of the other dropships. While many ODSTs had a hearty dislike of the one group of soldiers that outperformed them, Stacker had always respected the Master Chief and his compatriots.
The voice of the lead Pelican's pilot came through his COM, "Thirty seconds out. Stand by to..." the man's voice trailed off.
Stacker turned to look out through the cockpit and his felt adrenaline surge through his body as he spotted the enormous Covenant vehicle that had appeared in front of the strike force, having effortlessly demolished a nearby building with its sheer mass.
The Scarab's 'eye' came alive; its primary weapon heating up as it built up a devastating charge. Yellowish-green energy surged across the spinning plate on the front of the Scarab before it belched an enormous stream of superheated plasma at the dropships.
"Hold on, boys!" Stacker bellowed. The surge of plasma struck the central Pelican, Bravo 047 directly, causing the dropship to violently explode, wiping out Stacker's friend and fellow gunnery sergeant, Nick Pelayo, along with his entire team. Before the pieces of flaming wreckage had even hit the ground, the Scarab's secondary weapon, a spinal-mounted heavy plasma repeater opened up on the surviving Pelicans as they desperately tried to peel off from their approach vector.
One of the large purple blobs of plasma caught Bravo 045 on her left wing, causing it to explode into flame. Stacker grabbed at a nearby handhold as the Pelican violently shuddered, soaring uncontrollably through the air.
"I can't control her!" yelled the pilot, his voice cracking in panic as he yanked hopelessly at the controls of the dropship.
"Everybody hold tight!" Stacker shouted, his voice not betraying any alarm despite their predicament - just one of the many traits that had allowed him to climb the ranks of the UNSC Marine Corps.
Their dropship hurtled through the air at blistering speed, leaving a long trail of smoke in its wake. They roared towards the coast of the old city, the pilot trying to use what little control he had to angle the dropship towards water to give them at least a small chance of survival, but they came in far too fast as they came down in the shallow water beside the beach. A last-ditch attempt by the pilot to deploy the Pelican's landing gear ended in failure as the dropship crunched into the shallows at a forty-five-degree angle, shearing her right wing off completely before slamming heavily into the sandy ground.
The entire squad was thrown violently around the dropship's interior; Stacker's unhelmeted head slammed into the side of the bulkhead with enough force to nearly make him black out while his men tumbled into one another as well as the sides of the dropship. A moment later, the wrecked Pelican fell silent except for a sound of a distress alarm which mournfully chimed through the troop bay. Sparks hissed and sizzled from destroyed panels on the interior of the dropship and weak red emergency lights flickered on and off.
Stacker staggered to his feet, somehow still holding on to his battle rifle throughout their turbulent landing, coughing as he did so. Blood wept from a wound to his temple and his head throbbed like he had been hit by a gravity hammer.
Shoulda worn my damn helmet, he thought.
"Status!" he called out groggily.
The first to speak was Fones, who crouched beside another ODST who lay unmoving on the floor of the troop bay, "Sir, O'Brien's down," he reported, a hint of sadness in his voice. All the squad's members had become closely-knit during their campaigns together, and the loss of one of their number stung.
Stacker closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. Even after so many years of combat, he still hated to see the lives of his men being taken.
"We lost our pilots, too," said Walpole. The squad's sharpshooter had glanced into the shattered cockpit and seen the dropship's operators slumped in their harnesses. They hadn't had a hope in hell, Stacker thought grimly.
"Grab their tags and ammo." Stacker ordered Walpole. It was the least they could do for their fallen comrades. He checked to ensure that his earpiece was still working, otherwise he would have to borrow one of his squamate's helmets if he needed to use the COM. Fortunately, it was still in full working order.
Stacker stepped out of the Pelican's troop bay and on to the soft sands of the Kenyan seaside. The final ODST of the squad, Butkus, stood nearby, scanning the surrounding area with his own BR55.
"Sarge, we better get moving," Butkus said.
"Agreed," replied Stacker. He gestured towards the bombed-out structures across the shattered roadway adjacent to the beach they were on. "We'll find better cover in those buildings. Butkus, you have point."
Butkus nodded, and the squad moved cautiously away from their destroyed Pelican towards the nearby buildings, their weapons up and scanning for any signs of the enemy.
Duma 'Sanamee hated being on this infidel planet. Its dense urban buildup, ugly pointed shapes and blocky structures filled him with disgust and gave the Sangheili a faint headache. He had been among the blessed first to depart from the Hierarch's assault carrier to begin their attack on the human city. He and his forces had swept in like an unforgiving tide, wiping out the humans in an inferno of plasma fire. Most of the cowardly creatures were unarmed, and they fled before the Covenant in droves and the few who tried to use primitive firearms in their defense had fallen just as quickly.
None had stood against their onslaught, and 'Sanamee longed for a challenge.
This place had been determined by the Prophet of Regret's noble stewards to be the resting place of an ancient artifact; a gateway that would lead the Covenant to the final home of the Forerunners and the birthplace of all of the Sacred Rings, the Ark.
That the filthy human primates inhabited the planet was of no surprise to 'Sanamee, however. The creatures had proven to dwell on countless planets like a galactic plague of rodents. Many of those worlds had been home to artifacts of the gods which the heathens had no doubt befouled, forcing the Covenant to retrieve their forebears' sacred relics before cleansing the planets of their infestations. Being a particularly devout believer in the Covenant's holy quest, this boiled 'Sanamee's blood to a boil.
It was of some surprise to him that this world, home of the Ark gateway, was so heavily inhabited by the humans. Ultimately, it did not matter. 'Sanamee would crush as many of the humans as he needed to in order serve his part in bringing about the Great Journey, and he could feel the gods smiling down on him.
But nevertheless, he detested having to set foot on what should have been holy ground, now stained by the repulsive grays and browns that predominated human construction. He was in a foul mood, and the troops under his command had borne the brunt of it. And now that they had swept away all of the humans in this sector, their task had changed to scouring the streets for any evidence of the artifact. 'Sanamee was sure that such an important part of the Forerunner's transcendence would undoubtedly be grand in scale, but the enclosed warrens of the planet necessitated that they thoroughly scour the city.
The unmistakable sound of an aerial vehicle in distress met the Sangheili's ears and he looked up just in time to see a human dropship tear across the skies above him, aflame and billowing a thick trail of black smoke behind it before disappearing behind the nearby buildings. He looked down at the troops under his command, several Unggoy and a Kig-Yar sniper and barked a command, ordering them into the closest structure that would lead to the likely crash site of the human vessel.
'Sanamee flexed his mandibles in anticipation. That ship was likely part of an effort by the human's armed forces to counterattack the Covenant. This meant that some of those humans could perhaps put up more of a worthy fight than those he had already butchered.
Maybe this cycle would not be so dull after all.
The Sangheili strode through the entrance of might have once been a building where humans congregated. The lettering above the foyer read out R, but 'Sanamee's nescience with regards to the infidel's language left him clueless as to what it meant. But he did not care. There was nothing worth knowing about the heretical creatures which had infested their gods sites like maggots and blasphemously defied the Great Journey.
Passing through a darkened corridor with numerous doors branching off on both sides, he emerged outside. He immediately spotted the downed human ship, still billowing flame from its resting place on the shoreline. Behind the dropship, he could see the large suspension bridge connecting to an even more nauseatingly congested part of the sprawling city.
He couldn't see any movement from the crashed ship, but there was debris scattered all over the place between his vantage point and the dropship; countless places for surviving vermin to hide. He gestured to the ship and directed his Unggoy to make their approach. The diminutive creatures leapt down, letting out small squeals of excitement, but as the Kig-Yar made to follow, 'Sanamee held out his hand, stopping the lean sharpshooter from following.
The Kig-Yar grumbled, annoyed at losing the opportunity to scavenge the human craft for valuables as their species so often liked to do but 'Sanamee directed its attention to a position higher up on the nearby building that would grant it the perfect vantage point from which to scout out the area and cover the rest of his lance. With that, the Sangheili leapt down after the Unggoy, hand on the hilt of his fireblade and ready to confront whatever had survived the crash.
As he moved through the rubble, a thin purple-white beam of light flashed overhead, shortly followed by another as the Kig-Yar fired shots from its particle beam rifle at a distant opponent. Within a second, his blade was in his hand, and he quickly ducked behind a piece of rubble. The loud, unmistakable crack of a human sniper rifle filled the air, and a faint trail of gray smoke crossed the air in retaliation.
He looked back in time to see the Kig-Yar take the round to its chest. Purple blood sprayed through the air as the sniper plummeted then meters to the asphalt below. It crunched into the ground behind where the Unggoy were waiting. The small creatures spun around, shrieking in surprise and one ran away, dropping its plasma pistol, quickly followed by the other, their oversized forearms waving in the air.
Craven cowards! 'Sanamee thought bitterly.
As the Unggoy scrambled to get away from the threat, 'Sanamee grabbed the first one by the throat, hoisting it into the air. He brought it close to his face, so close he could smell the disgusting odor wafting from its methane rebreather before roaring in its face. The Unggoy whimpered and wheezed in his grasp before he tossed it aside violently. He would kill both of them for their cowardice, after he had dealt with the humans.
With an angry snarl, 'Sanamee activated his armor's built-in active camouflage, and he faded from view before leaping down, ready to confront his foes.
The team of ODSTs moved hastily across the exposed beach towards the cover provided by all of the rubble from the shattered roadway, Butkus in the lead, Fones running backwards, sweeping their rear to make sure no threat caught them from behind, and Stacker and Walpole covered their left and right flanks respectively. The group ducked behind the shattered concrete and paused for a second. Stacker nodded to Butkus, their point man, and the ODST went to move out of cover before hastily ducking back around the corner as a brilliant purple beam flashed past him.
Despite his close call, the split second Butkus had been exposed had allowed him to spot their attacker, and he turned to Walpole, who was next to him. "Sniper, third floor, on the left."
Walpole raised his sniper rifle, nodding. "Here, let me give him my "Welcome to Earth" gift basket, he quipped. Walpole ducked around the corner, his head low. Another flash of light struck the ground next to him but he unflinchingly raised his sniper rifle and fired a round, catching the Jackal in its chest and knocking its lifeless carcass out of the building it had been perched in.
Jackals might be dangerous with long-ranged weapons in the right circumstances, but their impulsive and bloodthirsty nature made them far too impatient to be proper snipers. With few exceptions, most Jackal snipers fired as soon as an enemy came into sight without taking the proper time to line up their shots. Stacker had observed this throughout his long years of fighting the bastards.
"Nice work, Walpole," Stacker said. "Let's move up, carefully. I doubt that's all the surprises the Covies have for us. Butkus, lets go."
The squad carefully picked their way up the ruined concrete, weapons scanning the area carefully as they went. Their caution was justified; without warning, a glowing white blade of energy cut directly into their path, seemingly moving on its own. Butkus jerked backwards just in time to avoid getting slashed by the sword, but his battle rifle was cleanly bisected to the blade, and he was knocked to the ground by a follow-up blow from their invisible assailant.
Stacker was the first to act: he had his battle rifle up in an instant and he fired several bursts at the spot where the air seemed to ripple. The figure quickly vaulted away over a nearby piece of debris, but the Gunnery Sergeant's shots made contact, causing their assailant's light-bending camouflage to flicker, momentarily revealing a dark-blue armored Elite.
Butkus staggered to his feet, his foot brushed a small purple weapon lying abandoned on the ground, a Covenant plasma pistol, and he picked it up. The four men closed ranks, standing back-to-back, weapons scanning high and low for the camouflaged Elite.
"Damn, where is he? Anybody see him?" Walpole muttered.
A moment later, Fones yelped in surprise as a glowing plasma grenade slapped onto his helmet. Without hesitation, the Helljumper tore off his helmet. Stacker heard the sound of Elite hooves on metal and whipped around just as Fones hurled his helmet towards a large piece of exposed rebar above the squad as the cloaked figure made to leap into their midst.
The grenade exploded high above them, leaving the ODST's unharmed but the Elite, which had already leaped into the air, was caught in the blast radius. The alien's energy shield flared, and its camouflage faded as it landed amongst the ODSTs. Stacker was closest and he was knocked to the ground as the large alien landed next to him. The Elite lashed out with its left arm at Walpole, but the sniper moved out of the way just in time. The Elite quickly grabbed hold of the ODST and spun him in front of the rest of the squad, its energy sword flaring to life in one arm while its other remained wrapped around Walpole, preventing him from breaking loose.
Immediately, Stacker and the rest of the squad had their weapons up and trained on the alien which was holding their teammate as a human shield. Butkus squeezed his plasma pistol's trigger, building up a glowing green ball of energy on the end of the alien weapon.
The Elite snarled something incomprehensible at the ODSTs while Walpole wheezed in the Covenant soldier's grasp, both of his arms wrapped around the Elite's armored forearm.
"Take him, guys!" Walpole choked out.
"Cook the bastard," Stacker said quietly. His face might as well have been sculped from marble for all the emotion it displayed.
Butkus nodded in affirmation. Walpole wrenched the arm holding him down as hard as he could, momentarily giving the squad the opening they needed. Butkus fired his plasma pistol's overcharged bolt at the Elite, striking the surprised alien in the center of its chest. Without missing a beat, Stacker fired a single shot from his battle rifle, catching the Elite in the dead center of its snake-like forehead. A trail of purple blood blossomed from the fatal wound and the alien crashed to the ground next to Walpole, its energy sword flashing out of existence.
Butkus went to help Walpole to his feet. The sniper had an arm wrapped around his collar where the Elite had held him. Stacker and Fones moved up as well, keeping alert for any more surprises.
A cool female voice suddenly spoke over the team's COM, "Second Squad, this is Cortana. What is your status, over."
Stacker raised a hand to his earpiece, "We're operational, ma'am...barely. Our pilots didn't make it."
"Find a hole, stay put," Cortana said. "We'll come to you."
"Roger that, ma'am. We'll be at Hotel Zanzibar, over," Stacker replied. He turned to Walpole, who had retrieved his sniper rifle and had it raised at the ready.
"You ready to go, son?" Stacker asked.
"Hell yes, Sarge. Appreciate the assist on that one." There was a hint of amusement in the man's voice.
"Heh, you got it, Marine. Alright, men, let's move out. Hotel Zanzibar is just up the way, and that's as good a place as any to wait for the Master Chief."
Stacker and his team moved onwards towards the hotel, clambering up the slabs of concrete from the road which had once been part of New Mombasa 105 East, which comprised of a large highway that led into the city center. That was still likely to be their best bet if they were going to push through to New Mombasa, where the Covenant carrier's landing zone was located.
As they reached the rear entrance to Hotel Zanzibar, the hum of a Phantom met Stacker's ears and he quickly ordered his squad into the safety of the hotel. Stacker flattened himself against the warm concrete on the exterior plaza and looked through his battle rifle's scope. Surely enough, one of the bulbous Covenant dropships had arrived and was hovering over their Pelican's crash site. He watched long enough to spot a cluster of Grunts and their Elite commander float down the gravity lift before he eased himself up and pulled into the hotel with the rest of his team.
The doors on this side of the hotel had been blown off during the initial Covenant attack, so there was nothing to stop their pursuers from entering after them. With any luck, the Covenant on their six would be too busy rooting around in their dropship's wreckage to come after them.
"What do we have?" Stacker questioned his teammates as he made his way down the hotel's darkened corridors. The attack had knocked out most of the power in the building, and what little juice was left caused the roof-mounted strip lights to flash on and off, giving the place an eerie feeling.
"Not much," came the response from Fones. "The lobby is pretty cozy. Got a nice big reception desk that could give us some cover if the bad guys come knocking."
Stacker jogged into the front area of the hotel. Fones wasn't wrong; the lobby wasn't too big, but it was quite open. The reception desk was massive, big enough for the whole squad to take cover behind at once and there was a smaller room behind it. The large windows that had once framed the front of the building were completely destroyed, as was the double doors. The street outside was littered with abandoned vehicles, as he imagined most of the city streets were and the building across the street had a gaping hole in the side of it.
"Alright, boys, let's get set up and..." the rest of Stackers words were cut off by the whine of plasma fire. He leaped into cover behind the desk next to Fones as bolts of green and blue energy burned holes into the desk's metal framework, throwing sparks into the air.
"Get your heads down!" Stacker bellowed, "Butkus, Walpole! We have enemy contacts at the front of the hotel."
"Aw, shit! Sarge, they're bringing up a plasma cannon!" Fones howled as he took a quick peek over the desk.
"This is gonna get ugly." Stacker muttered under his breath. "Alright men, keep your heads down but don't let them set one fucked-up alien foot inside this hotel. We gotta hold 'em until the Chief gets here. Fones, frag on my mark."
Stacker took out a fragmentation grenade, primed it, held it for a second before shouting, "Mark!" He and Fones both hurled their grenades over the desk towards the enemy forces outside the hotel. When the ground shook from the twin detonations a moment later, both ODSTs whipped out of cover and began to dish out some pain of their own.
John paused at the corner leading into the next alley and held up a fist. The Marine squad behind him froze and crouched down, weapons at the ready. A look at the TACMAP showed a host of enemy contacts dotted throughout the next area, many of which were on the rooftops across both sides of the alley as well as across the many exposed floors of a large, bombed out building on the far side of the street.
Their elevated positions told John that they were most likely to be sniper units, the majority of which were typically Jackals. The bird-like aliens were deadly shots with their beam rifles, but most were too impetuous to function as proper snipers like their UNSC equivalents. This made them fairly easy to provoke into a hasty attack that could oftentimes give John the advantage.
Still, their beam rifles were incredibly powerful and although John's MJOLNIR armor and energy shielding could take a shot from one, the Marines could not. And with no way to get around the threat, John decided to tackle it head-on.
"Marines, there are at least half a dozen enemy contacts in the next alley, including possible snipers on the rooftops. I need you to hold here until I can take them down."
John heard grumbling from several of the Marines, but he didn't give the matter any more attention. Instead, he darted into the alleyway and dropped into cover behind a dumpster. A red blip flashed on his motion tracker, indicating a contact dead ahead and he whipped around the dumpster, crouched low with his rifle raised in time to see a Jackal walk out from behind a Covenant supply case, the sleek silhouette of a beam rifle in its three-fingered hands.
John reflexively fired his battle rifle, a three-round burst that caught the alien in the side of its elongated neck. It fell to the ground, dead before it even knew what had happened. He saw shapes stirring on the bombed-out building ahead, his enhanced eyes telling him that they were more Jackal snipers. He fired off more bursts towards the enemy, hoping to take them down quickly or otherwise encourage them to keep their heads down.
Plasma bolts seared his way as the rest of the Covenant forces in the alleyway took exception to his plans. More Jackals with wrist-mounted energy shields appeared, hunkering down in the street while a swarm of Drones flew in from over the bombed-out building.
The presence of both ground-based and aerial threats complicated his situation massively.
A thin pink beam of energy struck John in the chest, almost completely depleting his energy shield. He ducked back into the safety offered by the dumpster and paused for a moment to allow his energy shield to recharge.
The flitting of Drone wings told him that the enemy was closing in, and surely enough, a formation of the human-sized insectoid aliens flew in high over him, spewing fire from their plasma pistols and needlers. He turned his aim upwards and fired at the oncoming threat; bullets began to tear into the Drones, shredding their carapaces and causing chunks of exoskeleton and greyish blood to rain on the ground.
Another Drone buzzed around the corner of the dumpster and crashed into John. It let out a shrill insectile wail as it attempted to assault the Spartan with the sharp claws on each of its limbs. Unfortunately for the Drone, such attacks were ineffectual against his shielded MJOLNIR armor and John retaliated with a cobra-quick strike from his gauntleted fist that punched straight through the alien's body. The Drone shrieked and its legs flailed wildly before John pulled his fist back, allowing it to fall to the ground.
John shook the thick grey gunk off his hand and peered around the corner again and fired at the remaining Drones still flitting about the area. While the creatures were capable of full flight with the assistance of small gravity-dampening modules affixed across their bodies, they were forced to periodically rest. This made them easy targets for John's battle rifle fire as they perched on the walls of the buildings flanking the alley.
The Master Chief turned his attention to the targets in the opposite building, ignoring the fire from the Jackals on the ground. The real danger was the snipers, and they had to be taken out before the Marines could move up.
After several minutes of trading fire with the distant Covenant snipers, weaving in and out of cover as he did so, he watched in satisfaction as the last Jackal slumped over, its beam rifle falling from its grasp.
"Marines, snipers are down. Move up," John said over TEAMCOM.
"Oo-rah, Chief!" PFC Dubbo whooped. The Marine squad moved up, pouring fire onto the Jackals as they took cover behind supply cases, concrete pillars and other debris littering the area. The rounded handheld energy shields the aliens carried flared as bullets crashed into them and ricocheted madly – it would take a very lucky shot to hit the Jackal through the tiny cutaway in the shield which the aliens used to fire.
Still, the volume of lead coming their way forced the Jackals back; they moved backwards as a unit, spewing plasma from their pistols and forcing the Marines to keep their heads down.
John exploded from cover and crossed the five-meter gap between him and the Jackals in a flash before slamming his rifle into the shield of the central alien. The field collapsed and John swung his weapon again, audibly snapping the Jackal's neck. He dove to the side as its companion on his right side fired an overcharged bolt at him. The energy pulse missed, and John saw an opening in the Jackal's defense. A burst of fire was sufficient to drop the Covenant soldier.
A bloodcurdling scream met the Spartan's ears and he twisted around in time to see a free-floating energy sword plunge through Private Okoye's back, twin forks of superheated energy spearing out through his chest.
"Shit!" Dubbo whipped around and fired his MA5C full auto at the cloaked Elite that had appeared in their midst. The large alien snarled as the bullets struck it, knocking out its active camouflage and revealing the Elite, who was clad in the sleek, silver-blue armor of a Covenant stealth trooper. It's sword cut through the air again, and the Marine unfortunate enough to be closest to the Elite gurgled and fell, clutching at her intestines as they spilled out onto the ground. At the same time, a torrent of fire burned into rest of the Marine squad from a second Elite with a plasma rifle in each hand.
Even as John fought the final Jackal, Dubbo's sustained fire quickly tore through the sword-wielding Elite's energy shield, and he fired a final burst into its helmeted face as the alien made to swing at him. Fortunately for the Marine, Elite stealth troopers typically had far weaker shielding systems in their armor than their conventional counterparts which was likely a tradeoff for their integrated camo systems.
John lashed out with a kick to the Jackal's shield and as it staggered back, he took it out with a three-round burst. Immediately, he shifted his aim to the remaining camouflaged Elite. The Elite ducked away as it began to take fire from multiple sources, forcing its camouflage to flicker on and off. The Spartan launched after it; his battle rifle ran dry, and he switched to his sidearm. Finally, the Elite's shielding broke and John silenced it with a hail of 12.7x40mm rounds.
The alley fell quiet after that – save for the distant sound of battles raging elsewhere in the city, their immediate vicinity was clear. John looked around at the carnage – human and alien corpses alike littered the area, and pools of comingled blood soaked the ground. Only two Marines still stood; PFC Dubbo and Private Morales. Corporal Davis and all the others were dead. Killed by an enemy sneak attack no-one had seen coming.
Even after over twenty-five years of war, a small part of John still felt tremendous guilt when fellow soldiers perished in battle beside him, and as he looked upon the corpses of the Marines in the alley he felt a pang of deep regret. Timothy Davis lay slumped against a concrete pillar, his head completely missing. Adebola Okoye, speared through the heart by an energy sword, Lisa Holter laying on her back, hands still resting on her split stomach but the life having since drained from her face, and three more Marines who had been cut down before they could return fire.
"Fuck me dead," Dubbo panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Gonna need a fresh pair of undies after that..." he trailed off as he looked down at the charred remains of most of his squad-mates.
"Poor bastards. Bloody split-chins popped up outta nowhere," the Australian Marine slapped a fresh magazine into his assault rifle and stared into the Master Chief's visor. "Reckon we should haul arse to Second Squad's location now, Chief."
John nodded in affirmation. He had a mission to accomplish. Stopping the Covenant threat now was of utmost priority. If the Prophet on that carrier had called for reinforcements, the planet was already doomed. But he would fight tooth and nail in defense of humanity's birthplace until he had nothing else to give.
He banished the image of the slaughtered Marines from his mind and reloaded all of his weapons. There was still a lot to do.
"Shit, man. This is getting ridiculous!" Fones yelled over the incessant whine of plasma fire. The man was crouched behind Hotel Zanzibar's reception desk alongside Sergeant Stacker, unable to properly return fire on their assailants without opening themselves up to enemy fire. Blazing blue energy sizzled into the overhead wall, throwing chunks of concrete and sparks of superheated plasma cascading onto the ground, narrowly missing the crouched ODSTs.
"Damn right, where's the Spartan?" Butkus added. He stood further back, crouched at the top of the small flight of stairs next to the desk, firing shots from his plasma pistol in an attempt to pick off some of the Covenant troops outside. Walpole stood behind him, trying to get a bead on the leader of the enemy soldiers with his sniper rifle. The particularly evasive Ultra Elite dodged and weaved between the parked vehicles, making it a tough target to hit.
Stacker gritted his teeth. He knew the Master Chief was on his way. Covenant troop deployments in this sector of the old city was quite high and he had no doubt that the Spartan was having to fight his own fair share of alien bastards on his way to them.
Still, Stacker knew that if he didn't get here soon, all he'd find would be their corpses.
His thoughts were distracted by the loud boom of a fragmentation grenade detonation. The explosive had landed among the Covenant soldiers from a point off to their right. Grunts wailed and shrieked as the grenade's explosion set off the nearby vehicles. Shards of destroyed metal tore into the clustered aliens; methane tanks exploded as flames ignited them along with the grenades the aliens carried.
The Elite Ultra was thrown violently across the street, colliding with a nearby palm tree with enough force to crack the bark on its trunk, its powerful energy shield flaring from the impact. Before the white-armored Elite could recover, Stacker watched as the large green and black form of the Master Chief leapt onto its back, plunging his combat knife through the alien's neck in a single swift motion. A momentary silence at last fell in the area.
"Hell yeah!" Fones whooped, straightening up. Stacker walked out to greet the Spartan while his team waited inside, ensuring that their flank was still secure.
"Chief, glad you could make it. Our crash site's on the other side of this hotel. Covenant are crawling all over it. Follow me.
The Spartan's response was a brief nod. Stacker, having fought alongside the Chief before, knew he was a man of few words, so he didn't take any offense to it. The two made their way back into the hotel, followed by Dubbo and Morales.
The other ODSTs paused for the briefest of moments as the armored supersoldier walked past them, no doubt each having their own opinions on the green giant. It was a common sentiment among ODSTs to carry disdain for the Spartans. Before the Spartan program was around, the ODSTs prided themselves on being the best of the best of humanity's fighting forces. But no normal human could compare to the titans in their MJOLNIR armor. Like it or not, the ODSTs didn't hold a candle to the Spartans. Predictably, this served as a major point of contention among many in the ODST outfit.
Stacker didn't share these thoughts. The way he saw it, everybody needed to do their part to protect humanity. All that mattered was that they could fight their common foe alongside each other. Yeah, the Spartans could kick ass better than anyone else, but he still knew how to dish out some damage of his own. He had no time nor tolerance for his men harboring any one-sided grudges against the Spartans.
As the group prepared to make their way back down through the darkened corridor that would take them to their crash site, several blue-white plasma bolts seared into the wall further down the corridor.
"Stay outta sight!" Stacker barked. Instantly, his men ducked into the darkened alcoves on either side of the corridor. The Master Chief and his Marines did likewise. Within moments, he heard the clopping sound of Elite hooves as a party of the aliens made their way up the corridor. Stacker took a deep breath and held his rifle steady.
As soon as the leading Elites reached their position, he yelled. "Light 'em up!" Gunfire tore into the tall Covenant warriors from both sides. The Elites warbled in surprise at the sudden ambush but they were unable to do much more as a sniper round ripped straight through one's energy shield, helmet and skull. The other was brought down by a combination of battle rifle and SMG fire before it could fire its plasma rifle.
The Grunts, who had been trotting behind their overseers flew into a panic at the sudden attack, and the deaths of their commanders caused them to turn tail and flee back the way they came. Stacker and his men didn't give them the chance to escape, and the Grunts were mopped up before they could escape outside.
Stacker waved his men forward, and the group crept through the corridor, stepping through the jumble of alien corpses, pausing only to ensure that they were all dead. The Master Chief took point while Butkus watched the teams back, the sickly green energy at the end of his captured plasma pistol serving as a rudimentary flashlight in the gloomy passageway.
Upon reaching the exterior plaza of the hotel, the Master Chief immediately whipped around the left side of the building and fired two bursts from his battle rifle before the rest of the team emerged into the afternoon sun. Stacker briefly registered two Grunt corpses, luminous blue blood leaking from the fatal shots in their craniums before he heard the familiar sound of a Phantom dropship. Surely enough, he spotted it flying in from over the shoreline towards them.
"Marines, get into cover!" Stacker barked. The men under his command sprinted past the dead Grunts towards the safety provided by the chunks of rubble and remaining structural supports of the left side of the hotel which had evidently taken a heavy hit during the initial invasion. Walpole instead remained in the shelter of the hotel corridor, opting to use his sniper rifle to sight targets of opportunity.
The Phantom came to a stop, hovering over the nearby pedway that stretched over the shattered roadway. Its three belly-mounted heavy plasma cannons opened fire, spewing large globules of red hellfire towards the human position. The gravity lift on the alien craft's belly activated and a squad of Grunts filtered down one-by-one. The Master Chief, who was better suited to contend directly with the incoming fire, stood his ground and returned fire. Several Grunts were struck by rounds as they drifted downwards, unable to maneuver.
Gold light flared around the Spartan as his shields took a direct hit from the Phantom's cannons but he simply strafed to the side, keeping up his fire.
With the Phantom focusing on the Master Chief, Stacker and his men took the opportunity to provide some supporting fire. Alien blood splashed across the bitumen surface of the pedway as Grunts were snatched off their feet by the unrelenting barrage. Walpole's sniper rifle boomed, and the Elite near the rear of the alien formation fell. The Phantom was quick to depart from the area, firing several rounds as it left in the direction from which it had arrived but fortunately nobody was hit.
The sudden sound of a vehicle horn filled the air, a moment before a UNSC Warthog sped under the pedway. The four-wheeled transport came to a stop nearby, its gunner adding his own firepower to the team's. Within a few seconds the final Covenant soldier went down, its body mangled by the Warthogs's triple-barreled machine gun.
With the immediate area cleared, the team made their way down to the Warthog. The driver climbed out of the LRV and nodded to the Spartan.
"Special delivery from Commander Keyes, Chief," the man said.
The Spartan nodded to the Marine and pulled himself into the driver seat of the Warthog, the entire vehicle shook as the heavily armored giant clambered in. The Marine who had arrived climbed into the passenger seat while the gunner remained where he was, swiveling his turret as he kept an eye out for enemy movement.
A smooth female voice spoke to him through his earpiece. It was Commander Keyes. "Sergeant Stacker? You and your team are being redeployed into New Mombasa to assist the ground forces there. Kilo Company of the First Battalion, Seventh Marine Regiment are attempting to repel the Covenant from the city's industrial zone. We need to clear that area before we can attack the Covenant carrier's landing zone. There's a Pelican on the way, over."
"Roger that, ma'am." Stacker acknowledged. He turned to the Spartan. "I suppose this is where we part ways, Chief. It's been fun fighting alongside you. Maybe we'll see you again in New Mombasa. Our crash site is just down the way." He pointed towards the beach where they had come down.
"There might be a few scavengers still poking around, so stay sharp," Stacker concluded.
"Good luck, Sergeant." The voice that wasn't the Chief's, but instead it was his AI sidekick, Cortana, who spoke for him. Without further comment, the Warthog sped off down the ruined roadway and onto the beach out of sight. With nothing more to do than wait for their ride into the city proper, Stacker and his men hunkered down.