I do not own Halo.
Three or so minutes later the drop ship was on its way. The
inbound Pelican was flying just above the trees, clipping the tops of some,
and scaring birds out of all the trees. Aboard the Pelican were three
passengers. One was a field surgeon to take care of the cut on my neck and
the burns on my arm. The other two were both sharpshooters, and were to
guard us while we turned off the Elites shield so it wouldn't fry us if we
were in the water with it. The pilot, who I didn't include in this list,
was apparently an ace fighter pilot, but a little rough with a transport,
and I am sure that the Marines aboard the drop ship were thanking whatever
god they believed in that the ship had seatbelts, since the pilot had on
three occasions near to dumped them out of the back. The Pelican itself
being a cumbersome vehicle had an overall lack of agility, which made the
pilot uncomfortable being he was used to the fast and nimble gunship. As
he neared the area where we were waiting we fired off a digital flare shot
into the air. This way his navigation system could see it but the
Covenant, without special equipment that is, could not. He landed next to
us in a slow decent close to the tree line and carefully set down only a
few inches from the ground.
Slowly the surgeon walked toward the edge of the river, daring
to take a peek at the Elites. Like oil and water the Elites blood was
beginning to form a thin layer of water around the basin, and now only
small bits of the waters surface near us wasn't covered in a thick layer of
blood. Shuddering was a sign of the surgeons disgust, and knowing that he
had seen some pretty badly wounded marines in his career this was a great,
gesture, or rather compliment I guess.
"What did you do to them?" he said, staring first at Skip, and
probably realizing that he didn't do it upon seeing me. Here I was, coated
from the waist up in blood, "And what in gods name happened to you?" he
asked gesturing with a circling motion in his hands, now looking up and
down my body, which was covered in Elite and grunt blood, but dripping my
own from the burns on my arm.
"What happened?" I said, pausing then adding a sir "was a
knife fight."
He looked back at the bodies, and turned his head around to
face me, "What rank are you?"
"A private" I replied.
"No you are not, you are a hero!" he barked back at me, "now,
tell us which on has the shield."
I paced over to the water, and inspected the bodies. A memory of
stabbing the Elite in the neck surged back into my mind, and I realized
that I had done this to a group of Elites and Grunts. I was proud, but my
first duty now was not to praise myself, but it was instead to help out
these Marines. The body was something like 4 yards from the shore, and was
well out of the range of the pole that they brought to drag it up. Seeing
this I grabbed on of the sniper by the arm, I whispered in his ear to go
give the guy a hand and blast the shield, and within seconds he was lining
up a shot on the Elites Shield pack, and shot at it. The bullet seemed to
slow down time itself, as the bullet whizzed foreword I could almost see
its actions. The bullet left the barrel of the rifle spinning like a
ferries wheel on steroids never slowing noticeably. The split second after
the bullet left a small explosion that had propelled the bullet erupted a
tiny bit of flames. The snipers face didn't change, but his body was
pushed back by the bullet. He had not had very much experience, as I could
tell by the amount of recoil he suffered. The bullet spun through the air,
leaving behind it a tiny vortex of air. Being the Elite was in the water
the bullet drove him underwater, actually hitting the bottom from the
shock. This reminded me of one of my good memories as a kid, a hot summer
day. We were on Earth, and the covenants were still brand new to us, I
must have been three or four, but my age isn't the important thing. We
were all outside, that is my whole family, me, my parents, all of us. Then
was when we heard a ring. This was a moment that I would never forget;
being that it was the most horrible moment of my early childhood. My daddy
didn't come back; he had been drafted into the Marines, and was leaving
probably never to return to Earth. My whole family went aboard the first
Legacy craft. Roughly the same time as the Elite hit the bottom of the
river his shields energy core detonated, taking with it a half of the
Elites chest cavity. The body surfaced, and the surgeon turned around, now
with me at the top of his to do list. He picked up a little toolkit like
box with the Red Cross on it to operate, and he brought it over to me.
Propping me up against a rock he go out his antiseptic swabs, nothing like
getting sick during a Guerrilla operation, right? He examined my wound
with skill similar to that of an artist examining his masterpiece before
putting on some finishing touches, and I just stared off into space, as if
afraid to see what he was doing to my wound. The injection that he had
just put in my arm began to take immediate action, knocking me out so that
the surgeon could painlessly operate on me.
I awoke a while later, flipping up quickly breathing WAY too fast and sweating. That was one of the side effects of the knock out drug the Marines use. The only advantage to it was you were able to use it to knock them out instantly, something that makes field operations a lot easier. My breathing started to slow to a normal pace, and my vision became sharper. I looked at my arm, and it was bandaged from the elbow up in a tightly wrapped material. The arm was numb, something that was caused by the bandages to allow me full movement with no pain. I stood up and looked around. I was in one of the tents at our camp. The tent was very dark, just barley lit up enough to see where I was going. I reached the pole after tripping over something and fumbled along the central support looking for the light switch to illuminate thee room. I grabbed it and flicked on the light. It was brighter than I would have thought and I had to shield my eyes while I adjusted to the light. I sat back down on the stretcher, and grabbed a shirt from the nearby rack. It was the generic gray color of the Humans, despite everyone's desire for it to be green as to blend in better. About the time I finished putting on the shirt the medic stepped in again, aware that I was awake when he saw the tent glowing. "Pain killers wear off yet?" he inquired, knowing that they hadn't. Medics are very bad at making small talk, this being the perfect example. "Not yet", I said feeling a little queasy. "Hmm, give em about 4 more hours. Till then, why don't you just" his voice trailed off as I flung from the bed and towards the edge of the tent, vomiting the horrible lunch that I had eaten before my fight. The weird thing was that it looked better now than it did when I ate it. This confused me for a second, but I then remembered the rations. The tings were these soggy attempts to make cereal, and they all tasted like crap, something of which I hope the Marin Corps were proud. Military food has a long history of being bad, and I guess the recent war is no exception. "Not doing so well, huh?" "You could say that." I replied sarcastically. The taste of my own vomit was disgusting. I had only thrown up once or twice before that I could remember, but it felt as though I coughed up some of my stomach lining along with most of my meals since yesterday. I stumbled outside after the doctor left to try to find some food. I looked left and right, scanning the camp for people. My vision was lagging, as if I were only seeing about five frames a second. I saw a glow coming from around the corner of the next tent in the line. I took a step forward, al most tripping foreword but catching myself and shaking my head in a motion that you can usually use to clear your head. It did not work this time, the sedative was a little too tough to be ignored, and especially after the dosage he must have given me. I was knocked out for about 6 hours, a long time for just a little operation like the one I had. I stumbled around the corner where I saw a fire had been set up, and a few of the marines had all gathered around to celebrate. I moving in a slurred style toward the fire, and took a seat near to a few of the Marines. "Hey man, how ya doing?" said one. I don't think I knew him, but I said that I was doing fine nonetheless, welcoming any friendship that I might find. "Yer that guy that murdered those Elites out there, good job, you made a mess of this one! Nice work? HQ got it back here; it was a real mess sir!" "Wait a second, sir?" I replied no one was lower than a private, why did he call me sir? "Yeah, look at your shirt; you have the insignia of an officer." "Hmmmm." I pulled on the chest of the shirt, and saw for the first time a nice little badge of honor. "Wow, I didn't even realize it, must be the sedative." "Well, glad you could join us. See what in the fire sir?" "You can stop calling me sir, it nothing to me, see?" I turned my head and looked into the fire. It took a second for my view to catch up and clear up, but when I saw what was in the fire. "It yer boy, remember him?" "Yeah, my favorite kills ever." I replied still staring, almost in shock, almost wanting to retaliate for the destruction of it, my badge of honor. "Well, there it is." "No kidding" I replied, zoning out staring into its eyes. The marine and I talked, as I told him every little detail, every emotion that I felt for even a fraction of second. He listened intently, as if he had been a pupil of mine for as long as either of us could remember. I don't know how he recognized my face either; I couldn't see his at all in the dim light of the fading fire. A few hours later, I had done little more than tell him of my story since the base had collapsed, and yet he was still treating it as if it were the most action packed story he had ever heard. I stopped talking around one AM and went to my bunk again, to wait till a later time to eat. I awoke the next morning at around 5:30 Military time. The way out of the tent that I was resting in was again a simple trap of a sort. I sat up in my bed, if you could call the stone like bunk that I had a bed. It was still very dark in my tent, and I assumed that it was some time around sunrise. The tent was barely lit, and the floor uneven. I put down one bare foot on the cold ground, and allowed the jagged ground to greet my foot with every sharp ridge that it had. My second step was much more welcome, and it was almost as if the surface of the ground was fit just for my foot. I rose from the bunk and walked to the center of the tent, and felt up and down the column in the center of the tent looking for some switch to turn on the lights. I found it after about a second of searching and quickly activated the light switch, leaving the formerly mysterious ground now revealed, and the Commander disgustingness of my tent unveiled. The tents floor was covered in filth, nothing of my destruction though, but of the messes of material that the surgeon had left. It was as if my tent had become his, as payment for the debt I owed him in return for the medical care I had received; I was hoping that a dept of honor would be good enough though. I stumbled, despite the light in the tent over to the crate near my bed, and fumbling with the content of it. It all seemed to be the same set of cloths, and though each one was the same I still found it supporting to search to my hearts content, hoping to find a shirt within that was not the drab mixture of Grey that the UNSC had found suiting for us. Almost needless to say nothing was found, being that few of us had even enough to get by with. I grabbed a grey shirt and slipped it on over my head. Quickly exiting the tent, I got outside in time to see the sunrise, something that I rarely ever took the time to do before the invasion. The suns crest broke the horizon, and my eyes adjusted to the sudden increase in light. I watched it boil over the horizon, melting the darkness of the night, bearing with it warmth that was universally loved. I was realizing also that this may be the last time that I ever see the suns titanic body force its way across the sky, something of a Juggernaut itself, though all the same a gentle beast, and one that I could respect, despite the obvious shortfalls that it was not a being. This however was a minor setback, seeing as to that in a day or two it would not matter what anyone though of anyone in this world. The horizon began to weaken, as the sun smashed its way up its eventual path and into the sky. But before the last part of the sun was able to cross over the horizon and into our view people were already moving, ready to fight. I realized that no one besides me seemed to have much on their minds, probably the next fights. I heard a loud crash next to me, and I saw a set of armor and guns next to me. Standing above them, beaming with pride was Skip, who had managed to drag two full battle suits out to me, quite a compliment being his leg wound was probably getting worse. "Hey man, you going on the mission today?" he asked, a surprisingly bright tone to his voice. "There's a mission today?" I said, replying with my own question. "Yeah, briefing in." He looked at his watch "now, let's get going." We walked along between the tents while I slid on my armor and talked bout what would happen to us in just a short while. "So, the Covies are gonna glass us huh. Well, can't say I could expect much better." "Yeah, but maybe we can force an early withdrawal of the ground forces, maybe get a blockade runner going and get out of here." "You're kidding right?" replied Skip, a beam of hope in his eyes. "Nope, but where would we all go, there would be nowhere left to run eventually." "Well, hopefully not hell." he said, more believing in religion than me. I guess that I thought that if no one believed in religion that the Covenant would leave us alone. "Ah sure, whatever you say, but we are the good guys, we can go to hell!?!" I said jokingly, really not sure where I was going. "Well, cant wait for this mission can you. Are you gonna maul some more Elites?" He said, forcing me to remember the events. "Ill give it a shot." I said, with a hidden desire to kill every last one of the Covenant. I don't really know how secret it is though, being I beat the crap out of 2 Elites and a Grunt yesterday, and I am sure everyone who had heard expected me to continue. "Well--" Skip was cut off the Commander, who was letting the last of the volunteer Marines for the mission into the tents that we were holding the briefing in. "Get on in here Johnson, thanks for grabbing him Skip." I noticed how the Commander called him Skip, his nickname. The Commander must be trying to make up a little to get into heaven despite his encounters with Skip earlier. "You guys in?" His unusual lack of formal military-style speech astounded me. I guess he figured there was nothing they could do. I mean, the planets gonna blow, what are they gonna do, court martial him? "Can we see the briefing first?" Skip said breaking the ice between the three of us that lasted for what seemed like a minute or two. "Oh, sorry for my lack of formalities, of course." He gestured into the tent, where about 40 seats were resting on the bare ground. Set up on one side was a white cloth about 6 feet across and at least that tall to become the view screen upon which we would project the images for our tactical maps. Most of the seats were full, a good sign that there was great support for this mission. I ducked underneath the fold of tent that was the door, and slipped along the back of the room into a seat on the left. The commander walked up to his podium and cleared his throat, "Gentlemen. At approximately o' six hundred hours yesterday we lost contact with the Magmata battle group which was defending our peeper interfaces. As you know a peeper is one of our tiny orbital spy satellites, and the only Intel we have in this operation. It is imperative that we regain communication with the Magmata battalion, and do whatever is needed to liberate the dish." He paused scanning our faces for any confusion, resuming just a few seconds later continuing his briefing. "Alright, Here is our location" he gestured at a map which was now projected to the screen, "Our first nav point is a clearing near to the base of the hills. The satellite is approximately 300 meters across, and set into the side of the mountain. The control room is set towards the far side of the dish along the face of the mountain. We will meet up along the edge of the clearing and scan the base for visual activity. We will eliminate any opposition and advance at all costs. Once at the control room we will call in a team of specialists to set up comm. Links with all the Marine bases around the planet, transferring an encrypted channel with the orbital paths of the peeper network. Our peepers will the provide us with the intelligence we need to complete the operation." Again he glared around the room searching our faces, and almost our souls for any sign that we were confused. His glare was again finished quickly, and he looked that the white cloth on the wall. He lifted a hand with a small remote unit and clicked the button on it once to change the slide that was projected on the wall. The second image came up along with it a hand. "Yes Sergeant Sanders?" A low pitched voice replied with a thick south earth side accent, "Yeah, why send in a large ground invasion force ground force when we can just send in a few special forces to use surgical tactics to remove a few from the control room?" he paused, and seeing the glare on the Commanders face added "sir." He must have been trying to look like the average space cowboy because he had a toothpick in his had, which he placed in his mouth in line with the molars on the left side of his mouth. "There is a reason behind all of this. We don't know the Covenants control over the functions of our base or the damage that it took. But for all we know the flak batteries are fully intact, and they could rip a Pelican and a valuable team of Special Forces tam to shreds instantly. You see any reason to allow us to loose a valuable asset in a hopeless fight?" "Yes sir, I do. Do you believe that the well being about a half dozen Green Berets is worth the lives of a dozen Marines?" The Commander shot him a glare that told him his answer without any verbal communication. Sanders reeled from the visual blast and realized just what a dangerous man he was talking to. "Sir!" he replied, sitting back and beginning to look less like a Marine and more like a technician, a passive state unfamiliar to any veteran. "Now resuming the briefing that Sanders so rudely interruption, something that will hopefully not be repeated. After our regrouping the 15th artillery battalion will commence the bombardment of the nearby Covenant vehicles. This should set the table for us to mop up the rest of em pretty quickly. The Marine mobile artillery infantry division will then cover the advances of the Commander infantry division. The G.I.'s will secure the base, regardless of the costs." He stared at all of us, not in the same style as before. Some of you will not come back. "I would venture the guess that there will be a fifty to sixty casualty figure. This isn't going to be a pretty operation by any means, but if we are to have a chance at surviving this war we will have to cause maximum damage to the Covenant in just a short period of time. We don't have much more than 3 days left. I will understand if you want to back out of this operation."
"Just keep in mind Marines that we cannot force you to go on this mission. I wouldn't be disappointed at all if none of you wanted to go. You after all do have the right to live the last few days of your lives in peace." The Commander said, giving us a new look, one that seemed almost caring, "Volunteers please speak out now." "I will volunteer to go on the mission. I believe that to live our live in peace is to help others to. There is no sanctification in living in spoil while your comrades fight and die. I will join these operations, and I will request that you all feel the duty to your fellow Marine to join the ranks of Marines in their resistance efforts." I looked around the room realizing that this was Skip who had volunteered first. I was amazed at how well spoken he was. He always used slang, making himself sound outspoken, and never really knowing what was going on. What if Logan was like this too? What if all this time I had assumed Logan was dumb when he was really more intelligent than me? I didn't have time to answer my question before an awkward silence filled the room. Skip sat down, leaving behind a trail of eyes all centered on him as if he were the sun. "I too will volunteer for this mission. I would rather die a hero than a coward. If I die I would rather die a horrible death in combat than a cowardly quick death." The accent was familiar and I realize before I even looked that he was the man, Sergeant Sanders that had picked a fight with the Commander earlier. As I could see everyone in the camp was aiming for retribution for former acts, all knowing that the obvious death that they had awaiting was getting much closer as time drew on. I stood up before Sanders sat down and he shot me a quick glare as he sat, I was infringing upon his territory, "I will volunteer, I feel more tied to you guys than most the other surviving people on this planet and would be damned if I were to let one of you take the place of a damn monster on deaths waiting list." I sat down, and was greeted by the warm seat, something that comforted my decision artificially simulating to me acceptance for my decisions. The room was quiet, the screeching of the crickets, now fading as the bottom of the suns circular mass flipped itself over the edge of the horizon. This silence was cut in and out of by the sporadic voices claiming their own heroic deeds were the last saving grace to cross the humans of Lunar 4. I knew that every one of these men were the bravest of the brave, faced with a lethal situation, staring it in the eyes with the ferocity of a beast holding onto the last bit of life it had. I eagerly awaited the sight of more people standing and volunteering to join us on the mission. As I walked to the camp I noticed a group of three men dressed in the armor of the Mathean Guard. As I passed by one of them who turned to glare at me. The second managed to say something. "Damn Arrels! No Doubt it's you that lured the Covenant here. I can smell you from a few miles away, no wonder they could smell your stench from galaxies away." He poked the other two and challenged them to join in. Arrel is a racist slur used to degrade the Easterners on Lunar 4. "Yeah, you get your Mathean ass off that chair and pay me back. I'll bet they'll smell your blood from a few miles away too!" A nearby Marine added. He walked over and stood by my side as an ally if they were to try to attack me. "Calm down, we have bigger problems now." I replied. "Bigger problems the Arrels brought to us." One of the Matheans replied. "Bigger problems like kicking our ass in so many wars?" another Marine replied. Two more Matheans moved in to defend their friends. "No, bigger problems like the Covenant! Calm down!" I shouted. It was no use. "Oh, the coward Arrel wants peace. Makes sense you fat Rahnok eating- -" the man flew back, a trail of blood following his face across the bar table. I noticed two of his teeth clatter to the ground. A marine stood overhead shaking his hand. "Well, that was easy en--" suddenly one of the Matheans grabbed the mans abdomen and tackled him to the ground, holding him and hitting him in the face. I had no choice. I owed the man a debt of honor. The Mathean that formerly held him down slid across the ground and it was my turn to shake my fist. Another few Marines ran to fight the other Matheans when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my gut. One of the Matheans withdrew his foot from my stomach. I keeled forward as a set of balled fists flew upwards into my face. I was knocked backwards and rolled over just in time to see my assailant. The man who had made the first comment now stood, a set of his teeth missing, and he began to fight with the man who saved me before. I stood up wiping the blood from my mouth and tried to decide what to do. Before my logic could return I had already hit the Mathean nearest to me in the chest twice and was moving onto the next. I grabbed him by the neck with both of my hands and headbutted him quickly, dropping his unconscious body to the ground. Suddenly a series of gunshots penetrated our brawl. The commander stood waving his rifle in the air. "MARINES!!! ACT LIKE THE FINEST OF OUR NATIONS!!! FIGHT AS ONE, NOT A BUNCH OF RACIST BASTARDS!!! GET YOUR ASSES TO THE BARRACKS!!" I looked around me at the bloodsoaked Marines and saw how one little thing started it all. After 50 ears of peace our alliance was falling apart. Most marines head's hung low. I hesitated and dragged the body of the Mathean that I had knocked out to the tents. **************************************************************************** ** With the volunteering completed only a few cowardly Marines waited at the camp, all sitting lazily and almost depressed, knowing that they may be sending their colleagues to death. Myself I stood up, knowing that I was ready to kill the monsters that threatened our existence, and hopefully live to tell about it. There was almost nothing I could do to escape. I had only one method to survive, find a blockade runner and get lucky. Blockade runners only made it through every once and a while. Still, some hope is better than none, and I was willing to give every ounce of strength and will that I had to get a ride out of here, before I became a puddle that is. The Covenant ships are all armed with powerful laser type cannons. Once they defeat our orbiting ships the planet is unprotected, leaving us on the surface defenseless. Their ground forces goal was to take out all capable airfields and missile silos, occupying most of the planet while they were at it. After that they would begin to fire upon the planet from space. The lasers would heat up the planet to the levels where no human could survive, hence the name, a glassing. Ground forces of course would be pulled out long before that, usually a day or two before the ships were able to heat the planet up to a lethal level. Right now we had been under attack for two days. We probably didn't have more than four days left. We were all almost guaranteed to die; only about 200 would survive if even that. What we are doing is a heroic last stand. We want to make sure that if we die we will scar the enemy. Maybe someday these last few battles will be remembered as heroic deeds. Either way it felt like summer on this planet and just a few days ago it was winter. There wasn't much time left. "You ready man?" Skip asked. I had had my head down thinking and hadn't noticed his arrival into the APC, "I guess so, just thinking. Are you ready to die?" "I am never ready to die if I could live" Skip replied a little quick; he must have had this on his mind "If I have another day to live, I want to see it, but if I have nothing left I will gladly die." "Wow, those are pretty brave words, do you think you have another day to live?" "Yeah, I believe that I won't die here, I have more to accomplish. Beside I still gotta get the love of god in ya!" He attempted to shift the topic to my lack of religious faith, something about death making him uncomfortable. "You know I'll never follow this religion stuff." Secretly I wished I had. My lack of faith had got me nothing so far, and given here were no negative effects I will do anything. "But you should, why don't you? Do you think that it will be too much dedication?" "Nope, I just tend to avoid faith in anything that can't be proven." "Well, one of these days I'll get through to you. Till then, I will just keep trying. This book isn't as bad as you think." He waved a small bible which he had produced from a pocket near to his heart. "You carry one with you?" "All the time, if I am going to die for it, I might as well have it. Now listen, this is a holy war, at least for them, and if I am already guilty for reading this book I might as well follow through with it." "Myself I can't see what good it really does. You can't guarantee that it does anything." "Does it matter? You don't have to believe, but you don't have a good reason." "Wait" I was cut off. "End of conversation, no stress before the battle, right?" "Fine, but" "DENIED!!!" He yelled back in a jokingly way. "okay. Well, here we go again, another operation. You feel nervous?" I acknowledged the feeling in my stomach. "Nah, aside from religion I also put my faith into me. I believe that I am able to do this, and I do. Like how I was able to limp 2 miles on a leg that had been shot. Remember that?" I thought back to the time we went to clean up that patrol, we walked for a long distance, but I wasn't sure that it was two miles. He had a bloody bandage wrapped around his wounds, but he was still able to limp his way to the tiny battlefield. "Why, are you?" "Have to admit that I am. I haven't fought in any large scale operations like this." "Don't worry, it actually makes it easier. Besides, this isn't a real bad operation, probably not more than twenty, maybe two vehicles. They won't be expecting this attack, too much of an unpredictable action for them to possibly anticipate it." "So you think that the Commander overstated it a bunch?" "Yeah, he just wants us to be ready to fight incase we have to. Nothing of that sort should happen." "I hope so, I have already fought enough despite the fact that I know I will be doing a lot more of it." "Well, here." He handed me a gun. The gun was a large pistol with a tremendous silencer. It was the gun used by the Saber Patrols, and was a rarity. As I looked around the APC we were in I saw that most of us had one. Not a good sign that there were any Sabers that managed to live, but a good sign for us nonetheless. I may sound very evil in this statement, but myself I would rather live than a bunch of strangers, and a better gun only helped my chances of survival. A saber Patrol unit was a kind of Special Forces officers that were trained in stealth combat tactics. With a near to silent gun and years of training these men could give and receive even the most precise of instructions with only hand signals as well as defeat any enemy within a shot or two. They were sent on missions when things were suppose to die, and one of the few infantry soldiers that could replace entire platoons on the battlefield with just a few men. They were in many ways the only true equal to the Maroon Berets, and a worthy match at that. "An MKA-15?" I asked, knowing the answer but instead asking almost where he got it. "Yeah, there was enough to go around so we all got em. But if you see any on a dead soldier make sure to grab em, they will be a great help in later fights." "Wait a second, aren't you all the 'bible is good, don't disgrace the dead' and stuff?" I said half laughing and half serious. "This is an exception; I am sure that if god were in this situation he would do the same thing." He replied seriously despite the overall joking nature of my question. "Everyone please sit down, buckle up and hold on, our operation is commencing in 3." The engines whirred in synch with the pilots voice, "2. 1. Welcome to operation Black Shadow, I wish you the best of luck, and may you all have the blessing of survival." "Real reassuring!" Someone shouted from the middle of the craft up towards the front area where the pilot sat. The speaker crackled again "You know what guys, I want you to all make sure that he is if nothing else a 'friendly' fire casualty. okay?" The pilot chuckled as he turned off the speaker. "Yeah, well, here we go man. Better hope yer ready, because there's no turning back now." Skip said with an emotionless stare. "You have just volunteered to risk death and to skirt the edges of death, good luck to ya man." The radio interrupted his talk, the pilot obviously feeling very comfortable after his last joke said "This is your captain speaking, we have now reached our cruising altitude of about 3 feet, please refrain from standing if the seat belt light is on and remember that tampering with any UNSC property is a violation of no codes at all. Still please don't do it. Locate your only emergency exit and make sure an able bodied male is seated in the nearest seat. Enjoy your flight." His newest comic creation was greeted by an array of laughs and I could almost feel the emotional warmth that these men shared. "Heh, pretty good one right Jacob?" Skip said, "Just like the Legacy!" The Legacy was the starship we all flew to Lunar on, packed to the brim with soldiers most of which were dead now. The starship wasn't meant to be a transport but was used as one because at the time the transports were all tied up with border conflicts. The legacy was the last of its kind and the leader of the 342nd UNSC Stellar Navy Corps, leading our ships in orbit when battles were to arrive. "Yeah, just like it. Besides the whole uh, 3 feet thing." He stared back into my eyes, no one laughed. "Or not." "Yeah. Well, you locked and loaded?" He gestured to his own gun and flipped it to me showing the underside was with a magazine in it. The safety was on. I tossed it back to him and slid my guns off the empty seat next to me on my lap. Again with the pocket ordeal I reached for the clippers, this time with out the futile gnawing. Easily extracting the ammo I slid it into the base of the machine gun and set it back down on the seat next to me with a grunt of approval towards the gun. I then drew the MKA-15 and fumbled in the pocket. No ammo for it. I pulled the pocket open a little more and peeked inside, still no ammo. "Um." I cleared my throat holding up the gun. "Ah, right." He grabbed the small sack he had and produced 3 magazines of ammo, 40 rounds each. He reached out across the APC and fell out of his seat as we hit a bump. Quickly scrambling back up he crawled back and forth across the transport giving me the packages and crawling back to his seat. "There ya go. Anything more you need?" "Shouldn't be. Thanks again man." I clipped the package open with the clipper and slid the two others into the pocket I had along with two more magazines of ammunition that was for the assault rifle that I had. My armor was the standard grey UNSC metal with a Grey rubber looking suit beneath it. I also had a helmet, personalized with some green and brown paint, etched on the front my last name, Smalthers. Painted on the shoulder of my armor was the UNSC flag, a rough representation being that I am not too adept with the paint brush, but still able to be recognized. "You proud?" I hesitated "Yes, I am. UNSC Officer Jacob Johnson and I am proud to serve among the finest of all men to ever walk the face of any planet!" I repeated it as if it were forever burned into my mind, it actually was though. The UNSC code of honor. There was a lot more to the lines but those weren't about pride. Something along the lines of "never leave a man behind" and similar things. "Well just remember, Skips got yer back, when you are pinned down, 30 guys on ya just wait for the cover fire, who knows what happened to the rest of my buddies, so for now you're all I've got." He grinned looking up at the ceiling "so what do you think happened to them?" I sighed and replied, unsure of what to say, I had repressed these thoughts before, "Well, as for Logan, they probably got him alive. He's too much of a fighter to die, but Mac on the other hand was probably killed. Logan was back a little off the front lines you know. He would have a greater chance of living." I looked over, he looked stressed which was to be expected from anyone in his position, "But you lived, a good chance they both made it out too." My statement was rejected, nothing could break this silence. Neither of us knew what to say and we looked up at the ceiling and down again randomly, something that we had picked up somehow. "Well, in the horrible spirit of death let's make a bet. You think that I'll outlast ya?" I looked up "What kind of a question is that? What are you a monster?" I stared back for a second "You're on. I will outlast you, how's a hundred credits?" "Um UNSC to Jacob, we will be dead soon, remember, the glassing? Hate to tell you this, but money doesn't matter any more!" "Oh, yeah, didn't think of that. Well, for the pride then! Who cares any more!" "Me." "That was a rhetorical question." "Oh. Still." "Marines, ready for departure, we are in position for operation Black Shadow. Why'd they call it that?" The announcement came over the small speaker in the ceiling. "Oh, it was because of the shadows in the pit. Don't ask me, no one really knows." Some random Marine said. "Real conclusive. Well, anyway, make sure you don't fall down the pit and remember, wait for the mortar rounds to stop before moving in unless you want to become a smoldering crater. If you do get stuck in the field move to the facility, we won't hit it just the nearby area, we can't damage the dish. It's too fragile to get pounded by the BAP's (Bipedal Artillery Pieces). So keep in mind that you need to draw an enemy or two out if at all possible. The Snipers will be on the other side of the dish as the control room and they will shoot any tangos moving outside. The most resistance you can expect is according to this preliminary status report is. Um. OK, a Jackal Honor Guard and maybe an Elite or two." He chuckled, "All this for those, probably not more than 20 of em in there. Well anyway, good luck." He lowered the ship and turned off the hovering abilities of the APC. A reverberating crash shook us and forced the light to flicker. As they came on the back panel pivoted downwards to the ground forming a ramp and we unloaded. Suddenly the dish exploded near to the door to the control room. A scream could be heard, even here, hundreds of feet away. The body of the Jackal was tossed through the air where it limply flopped down to the ground. Another shot rang out of the barrel of the BAP as it launched a mortar shell into the cliff edge above the control room. Through the jungle I saw the cliff edge drop a boulder onto a clump of bushes near to a pack of alarmed Jackals. I silently surveyed the sights of the battlefield through the forests dense trees. Around me the Marines from my APC were setting up whatever they were required to do to complete their roles as the 15th artillery battalion blasted the enemy forces. By now the bombardment was near to completed, all of the remaining enemy forces were dead or within the base. "Alright, listen up Marines, your divisions call sign is Delta, you have been briefed on you mission. You are to enter the base and secure it at all costs. There is no retreating, there is no dying, do either of those and you will fail. So, best of luck to you all." It was the pilot of the vehicle "Welcome to the operation, I hope you all make it out, just get back to this location when you are done. I'll get ya back." The air was thick, it was getting uncomfortably warm on this planet. You could tell that right now the Covenant ships were sitting in orbit, firing their cowardly lasers upon the planets just waiting for us to all boil. I raised my rifle and placed my hand on the handle of the pistol I had to make sure it was still there. I waited for the others to form up near to the tree line and joined them. We were assembled in three columns of four Marines in each. Skip took the rear left flank, while I was diagonally one person away from him in the second column, third person. This formation, no matter how useless was still able to bolster our confidence, knowing that someone had our back. We moved quickly through the dense forest to the other side where in front of us lied the massive dish. The dish was about 900 feet across and was supposed to be the first telescope that could spot a Covenant battle group to give us warning of an assault, it clearly failed. The dish arced into the ground like a crater and at the pit of it contained a drainage pipe to make sure the telescope didn't become a trillion credit puddle. We walked counter clockwise up the hill to the control room, where we took positions at the entrance. I sniffed in the air twice, there was the scent of death trailing through it. Two Marines were on either side of the door, and the rest of the column carefully progressed up the hallway, which wasn't meant for combat and was unsatisfactorily narrow. The hallway was also dimly lit, power reserves were low with no one to maintain the generators. The grey hallways had an indentation along either side of the wall that was supposed to be used as a handle for walking, something that we would not use, logic sense speaking for itself in this case. The ceiling was made up of airy cardboard type, foam like squares that were in some places fallen as a result of the gunfights before. We crept along the wall to the next hallway, which crossed perpendicular to the hallway we were currently in. Flipping my gun around the corner, followed by my body I made sure the hallway was secure. The building was like a maze, and all of the corners had a new place o go, something that was common of current Marine bunkers, making our defensive lines erratic to the enemy but crystal clear to us. At the next crossing of the hallways we could see the wall was coated in a thin layer of blood, dried, a sign that this exit wound was from happenings which occurred days ago. "God, whats that smell!" Some random Marine barked out this remark before he stepped around the corner and saw the large exit wound on the walls. A trail of blood led around the corner, to where the Marines dead body probably lies. Bodies, after decomposing for even short times leave a recognizable stench in the air, one I did not welcome to my nostrils. Now it was my time to take flank, flipping around the corner in the opposite way and gesturing with my hands for the remaining Marines to move into the hallway. They progressed around the corner and a Lieutenant proceeded with my former job of carefully slipping around the corner. This one however he looked down in disgust at what I was safely able to assume was the body of the Marine whom had his blood plastered along the wall and floor that we had seen. He gestured the hallway was all clear and we all progressed forward, passing by the body of the Marine, his face was frozen in horror as he was fatally clutching his chest, also the location of a hole in his chest plate which was covered in blood, a good sign that he suffered for a little while before he died, something that enraged us all a little more. We pressed on two more hallways until we encountered a division of five Jackals. The Marine who had remarked on the stench of the dead Private was taking point and slid around the corner, instantly yelling "Tangos, five, round this corner." Almost instantly the Marine was ct down by gunfire, as his last glances escaped his eyes he fell forward onto his knees, he looked up at us with a glare that begged us to get vengeance for his death. His eyes looked up at me, his dark hair flopping in the air. He lie down on the ground, clutching onto life by a thread. "Sir" he said, his voice weakening, "I have died a Marine. If you make it out, give this to" he coughed up a quantity of blood "my family, let them know" more coughs followed "How I went" His hand slid along his armor to a place right above his hearts. He pulled off a small pin from his uniform, the USMC badge. "okay Marine, but don't worry, you will be able to tell them, Medic!" I raised my hand to signal for a Medic to move in and help us out. "No sir, there is none, just" he coughed up a bit more blood "Just go get them for me. Sir." The sir in the sentence was a bit detached, and it showed that faced even with death a Marine was willing to show dedication to the cause of his death, the UNSC. "Wait, give this." He coughed again, this time he didn't look at his hand to check for blood, knowing that it was there. "Give this to whomever wants it." He lifted an arm to his neck and slid his hand down the breast plate of his armor, pulling it out along with a dog tag. He ripped, with all the strength that a dying man could muster upon the dog tag, breaking the chain and handing it to me too. I clutched the dog tag in my had, focusing my vision in on it, and in the unfocused background of my vision I witnessed him die. First time that death had such a close tie to me. I leapt around the corner and with the assault rifle and fired fiver rounds into the shield of a Jackal where they were harmlessly deflected, something that disappointed me, but only briefly. Skip was at the other side of the hallway, where he pulled a grenade off his belt and rolled it around the corner. I watched it roll slowly over of the clump of Jackals. "Fire in the hole!" he yelled two second prior to the explosion. The Jackals let out a howl as they realized that they were dead. A body flew down the hallway and smashed up against the wall above the dead Marine. Three of us slipped around the corner and as the smoke cleared we walked steadily around the corner, bracing at the corners. As the smoke cleared we counted two bodies. "Three tangos down, two unknown!" we braced at the corners steadily and with a swift motion flung ourselves around them, where we saw the empty hallways. I looked back over my shoulder. "Is he dead?" I said. A Marine stood up pulling up two bloody fingers that he had used to check the pulse of the now dead Marine. "No, he was killed almost instantly." "Well, I made him a promise." I held up the fist of mine that was smeared in his blood "I will fulfill it. Come on, we have to get the others." The Marine stood up, "Sir!" Three Marines rushed by me at double speed and curved to the right through the hallway. I could hear them marching off as all the rest took up flank besides Skip. "Well, what do you think Jacob? So far so good?" Skip asked, sweat beading down his forehead. "I guess, but seeing that Marine die right before my eyes was pretty scary. Made me realize, if I was point then, I would be dead right now. Probably won't sleep too well tonight though." I replied. "Don't worry, we're almost done, just about here more hallways to the control room, and once we get the security systems up we will know where they are, just take it easy." I was now sure that Skip was saying this just to reassure himself tat he would live, but I played along, didn't want any fight fright to creep up on us. "Well, we had better catch up, don't want to get left behind." "Right." He replied, beginning to move down the hallway. We moved quickly through another blood splattered hallway and into the next hallway, where we heard a shriek and a few percussions of rifles being fired. The shots echoed down the hallway, and I heard the Jackals body thump to the floor. After the death came the reassuring sound of a voice, a human voice saying "Tango, one down, one alive. It's on the run boys, let's mop em up!" "3rd column, take flank!" I shouted, the 3rd column, which was 3 surviving members and they turned around, making sure we were all clear behind. "1st and 2nd move!" We all began marching down the hallway to catch the last Jackal. Around a corner we heard a shriek, not of pain but of language. The shriek was followed by a deep voice. The voice was that of an Elite. It spoke a few quiet indecipherable words to the Jackal. "Wot wot wot!" it yelled, one of the few Elite words I knew. It meant go go go, and is what we heard shortly before the Elite brought a squad of Covenant around the corner. "Marines, brace for attack!" I shouted ready to shoot anything that moved around the corner towards us. We were lucky this whole base was a maze, it gave us cover. A Marine rushed towards me, too late, an Elite flung around the corner and fired off a few rounds at him. I returned fire with the rifle, thing it with about 10 rounds. Its shield took the full blow and it swayed around the corner to recharge its shields. I paced forward slowly down the hallway. I could hear him breathing around the corner, something that I aimed to stop him from doing. I continued to pace forward as a few beads of sweat ran down my forehead, tickling my face. I ignored it and reached down to my belt, I had 2 grenades. I carefully pulled one of them out of the belt and got ready to pull the pin. I listened, I could hear its shield recovering, it was near to done. I threw the grenade around the corner with a snap of my writs and listened for the sounds of death, only to hear the startled shout of a Grunt who yelled something. I don't know what, being that the grunts have no real common dialect, but I knew it saw the sparking mass at its feet and ran. "Wot, waaaaaahhhhhh!" The elite yelled as the grenade exploded near to it. I crept around the corner. There was a crater in the floor, and I there was elite blood everywhere, even on the ceiling to the hallway. It dripped down into the pit as I got on my knees. I stuck my head around the corner so that only my eyes showed, the Elite was on the run, with a strong limp. I slid around the corner and fired off about 10 rounds at its back, watching it escape. I looked around and saw the Jackals body lying near to lifeless on the ground, cling on to the last strands of life that it had. Its shield lie next to it and its gun was no where in sight. I walked over to it and stood by its body. I put a foot on its chest. I aimed the rifle down at the Jackal and fired the remaining 30 or so rounds into its chest. The Jackals arms twitched with every shot and when the magazine was expended the furious clicking of the firing mechanism did not stop. He was one of the ones that had gunned down my comrade, and he would pay, as he did. The marines were just staring at me, terrified of what I had just done to the dieing Jackal. "Come on, let's get moving, we can't wait for them any longer, we have to take them all down and reactivate the defenses!" I slid the other magazine I had into the gun, popping the other out the bottom of the rifle where it clattered to the ground. The rest of the Marines fearlessly advanced through the hallway. Skip looked at me, and reluctantly turned to follow the rest of the group. I looked at the Jackal; its chest was ripped to pieces, its head nothing more than a bowl of blood, its face shot into its skull. The bottom of my pant legs were splattered in Jackal blood, and my gun was splattered is small amounts of blood, speckling it with the life fluid of my enemy. I looked away and set off down the hallway following about ten paces behind the Marines. Around the next corner lie the Elite and Grunt, I knew it. "Stand clear Marines!" They lined up on either side of the hallway. I walked through them. I slid around the corner, gun first. The Grunt mumbled something, I fired. I hit the Grunt with a quarter my magazine, missing him with half my shots. The grunt turned up at me, breathing its last breath and it threw a plasma grenade in my direction. The elite ran over the fallen Grunt into the next hallway while the grenade arced towards me. I was frozen in terror, a Plasma grenade thrown at 10 feet was nothing to be proud of, and it would probably frag me. I held up my arms in defense, ready for the burn of a plasma grenade, but felt none. I looked down; it had clipped to my gun. Screaming I quickly whipped it away from me and threw it down the hallway. It impacted the floor twice then spun to a stop. I bolted behind the corner as the blast blew up my gun. Chunks of the floor and wall slammed up against the nearby wall, and fell to the ground leaving delicate smoke trails. I lie there covering my head on the ground, two cuts on my arm from the blast, still pumping adrenaline through my body. I could feel every heartbeat. Skip stepped around the corner expecting to find me as he new wallpaper of this hallway, and was surprised to see that I was fine. He fired a round down the hallway in celebration, and then got on his knees to me. He tapped me on the back and I sat up on my knees. It was then that I noticed a searing pain in my leg. My right leg across the upper leg there was a large plasma burn from the Grunt. I hadn't even noticed yet that I had been shot, which amazed me, but I was sill better off now than I was. "Here, let me handle that" he said, addressing my leg wound. "okay, I said, here, do you need medical stuff?" I reached up for my back pack, which contained a few rations and a medic kit. "No, I got my own, all you need is a painkiller and a bandage right?" he said, opening a compartment in his leg armor producing some bandages and a jar of painkillers. "Yeah, just fix me up quick. We can't let them get away, they might begin to destroy the control room!" "Relax; they already know we are here." My vision blurred and I placed two of my fingers on the side of my head. "Whoa." I wobbled a little and my vision sharpened again, soon blurring though. I collapsed to the floor and I heard Skip saying that I was going into shock and felt them begin to lift my feet.
I awoke a while later, flipping up quickly breathing WAY too fast and sweating. That was one of the side effects of the knock out drug the Marines use. The only advantage to it was you were able to use it to knock them out instantly, something that makes field operations a lot easier. My breathing started to slow to a normal pace, and my vision became sharper. I looked at my arm, and it was bandaged from the elbow up in a tightly wrapped material. The arm was numb, something that was caused by the bandages to allow me full movement with no pain. I stood up and looked around. I was in one of the tents at our camp. The tent was very dark, just barley lit up enough to see where I was going. I reached the pole after tripping over something and fumbled along the central support looking for the light switch to illuminate thee room. I grabbed it and flicked on the light. It was brighter than I would have thought and I had to shield my eyes while I adjusted to the light. I sat back down on the stretcher, and grabbed a shirt from the nearby rack. It was the generic gray color of the Humans, despite everyone's desire for it to be green as to blend in better. About the time I finished putting on the shirt the medic stepped in again, aware that I was awake when he saw the tent glowing. "Pain killers wear off yet?" he inquired, knowing that they hadn't. Medics are very bad at making small talk, this being the perfect example. "Not yet", I said feeling a little queasy. "Hmm, give em about 4 more hours. Till then, why don't you just" his voice trailed off as I flung from the bed and towards the edge of the tent, vomiting the horrible lunch that I had eaten before my fight. The weird thing was that it looked better now than it did when I ate it. This confused me for a second, but I then remembered the rations. The tings were these soggy attempts to make cereal, and they all tasted like crap, something of which I hope the Marin Corps were proud. Military food has a long history of being bad, and I guess the recent war is no exception. "Not doing so well, huh?" "You could say that." I replied sarcastically. The taste of my own vomit was disgusting. I had only thrown up once or twice before that I could remember, but it felt as though I coughed up some of my stomach lining along with most of my meals since yesterday. I stumbled outside after the doctor left to try to find some food. I looked left and right, scanning the camp for people. My vision was lagging, as if I were only seeing about five frames a second. I saw a glow coming from around the corner of the next tent in the line. I took a step forward, al most tripping foreword but catching myself and shaking my head in a motion that you can usually use to clear your head. It did not work this time, the sedative was a little too tough to be ignored, and especially after the dosage he must have given me. I was knocked out for about 6 hours, a long time for just a little operation like the one I had. I stumbled around the corner where I saw a fire had been set up, and a few of the marines had all gathered around to celebrate. I moving in a slurred style toward the fire, and took a seat near to a few of the Marines. "Hey man, how ya doing?" said one. I don't think I knew him, but I said that I was doing fine nonetheless, welcoming any friendship that I might find. "Yer that guy that murdered those Elites out there, good job, you made a mess of this one! Nice work? HQ got it back here; it was a real mess sir!" "Wait a second, sir?" I replied no one was lower than a private, why did he call me sir? "Yeah, look at your shirt; you have the insignia of an officer." "Hmmmm." I pulled on the chest of the shirt, and saw for the first time a nice little badge of honor. "Wow, I didn't even realize it, must be the sedative." "Well, glad you could join us. See what in the fire sir?" "You can stop calling me sir, it nothing to me, see?" I turned my head and looked into the fire. It took a second for my view to catch up and clear up, but when I saw what was in the fire. "It yer boy, remember him?" "Yeah, my favorite kills ever." I replied still staring, almost in shock, almost wanting to retaliate for the destruction of it, my badge of honor. "Well, there it is." "No kidding" I replied, zoning out staring into its eyes. The marine and I talked, as I told him every little detail, every emotion that I felt for even a fraction of second. He listened intently, as if he had been a pupil of mine for as long as either of us could remember. I don't know how he recognized my face either; I couldn't see his at all in the dim light of the fading fire. A few hours later, I had done little more than tell him of my story since the base had collapsed, and yet he was still treating it as if it were the most action packed story he had ever heard. I stopped talking around one AM and went to my bunk again, to wait till a later time to eat. I awoke the next morning at around 5:30 Military time. The way out of the tent that I was resting in was again a simple trap of a sort. I sat up in my bed, if you could call the stone like bunk that I had a bed. It was still very dark in my tent, and I assumed that it was some time around sunrise. The tent was barely lit, and the floor uneven. I put down one bare foot on the cold ground, and allowed the jagged ground to greet my foot with every sharp ridge that it had. My second step was much more welcome, and it was almost as if the surface of the ground was fit just for my foot. I rose from the bunk and walked to the center of the tent, and felt up and down the column in the center of the tent looking for some switch to turn on the lights. I found it after about a second of searching and quickly activated the light switch, leaving the formerly mysterious ground now revealed, and the Commander disgustingness of my tent unveiled. The tents floor was covered in filth, nothing of my destruction though, but of the messes of material that the surgeon had left. It was as if my tent had become his, as payment for the debt I owed him in return for the medical care I had received; I was hoping that a dept of honor would be good enough though. I stumbled, despite the light in the tent over to the crate near my bed, and fumbling with the content of it. It all seemed to be the same set of cloths, and though each one was the same I still found it supporting to search to my hearts content, hoping to find a shirt within that was not the drab mixture of Grey that the UNSC had found suiting for us. Almost needless to say nothing was found, being that few of us had even enough to get by with. I grabbed a grey shirt and slipped it on over my head. Quickly exiting the tent, I got outside in time to see the sunrise, something that I rarely ever took the time to do before the invasion. The suns crest broke the horizon, and my eyes adjusted to the sudden increase in light. I watched it boil over the horizon, melting the darkness of the night, bearing with it warmth that was universally loved. I was realizing also that this may be the last time that I ever see the suns titanic body force its way across the sky, something of a Juggernaut itself, though all the same a gentle beast, and one that I could respect, despite the obvious shortfalls that it was not a being. This however was a minor setback, seeing as to that in a day or two it would not matter what anyone though of anyone in this world. The horizon began to weaken, as the sun smashed its way up its eventual path and into the sky. But before the last part of the sun was able to cross over the horizon and into our view people were already moving, ready to fight. I realized that no one besides me seemed to have much on their minds, probably the next fights. I heard a loud crash next to me, and I saw a set of armor and guns next to me. Standing above them, beaming with pride was Skip, who had managed to drag two full battle suits out to me, quite a compliment being his leg wound was probably getting worse. "Hey man, you going on the mission today?" he asked, a surprisingly bright tone to his voice. "There's a mission today?" I said, replying with my own question. "Yeah, briefing in." He looked at his watch "now, let's get going." We walked along between the tents while I slid on my armor and talked bout what would happen to us in just a short while. "So, the Covies are gonna glass us huh. Well, can't say I could expect much better." "Yeah, but maybe we can force an early withdrawal of the ground forces, maybe get a blockade runner going and get out of here." "You're kidding right?" replied Skip, a beam of hope in his eyes. "Nope, but where would we all go, there would be nowhere left to run eventually." "Well, hopefully not hell." he said, more believing in religion than me. I guess that I thought that if no one believed in religion that the Covenant would leave us alone. "Ah sure, whatever you say, but we are the good guys, we can go to hell!?!" I said jokingly, really not sure where I was going. "Well, cant wait for this mission can you. Are you gonna maul some more Elites?" He said, forcing me to remember the events. "Ill give it a shot." I said, with a hidden desire to kill every last one of the Covenant. I don't really know how secret it is though, being I beat the crap out of 2 Elites and a Grunt yesterday, and I am sure everyone who had heard expected me to continue. "Well--" Skip was cut off the Commander, who was letting the last of the volunteer Marines for the mission into the tents that we were holding the briefing in. "Get on in here Johnson, thanks for grabbing him Skip." I noticed how the Commander called him Skip, his nickname. The Commander must be trying to make up a little to get into heaven despite his encounters with Skip earlier. "You guys in?" His unusual lack of formal military-style speech astounded me. I guess he figured there was nothing they could do. I mean, the planets gonna blow, what are they gonna do, court martial him? "Can we see the briefing first?" Skip said breaking the ice between the three of us that lasted for what seemed like a minute or two. "Oh, sorry for my lack of formalities, of course." He gestured into the tent, where about 40 seats were resting on the bare ground. Set up on one side was a white cloth about 6 feet across and at least that tall to become the view screen upon which we would project the images for our tactical maps. Most of the seats were full, a good sign that there was great support for this mission. I ducked underneath the fold of tent that was the door, and slipped along the back of the room into a seat on the left. The commander walked up to his podium and cleared his throat, "Gentlemen. At approximately o' six hundred hours yesterday we lost contact with the Magmata battle group which was defending our peeper interfaces. As you know a peeper is one of our tiny orbital spy satellites, and the only Intel we have in this operation. It is imperative that we regain communication with the Magmata battalion, and do whatever is needed to liberate the dish." He paused scanning our faces for any confusion, resuming just a few seconds later continuing his briefing. "Alright, Here is our location" he gestured at a map which was now projected to the screen, "Our first nav point is a clearing near to the base of the hills. The satellite is approximately 300 meters across, and set into the side of the mountain. The control room is set towards the far side of the dish along the face of the mountain. We will meet up along the edge of the clearing and scan the base for visual activity. We will eliminate any opposition and advance at all costs. Once at the control room we will call in a team of specialists to set up comm. Links with all the Marine bases around the planet, transferring an encrypted channel with the orbital paths of the peeper network. Our peepers will the provide us with the intelligence we need to complete the operation." Again he glared around the room searching our faces, and almost our souls for any sign that we were confused. His glare was again finished quickly, and he looked that the white cloth on the wall. He lifted a hand with a small remote unit and clicked the button on it once to change the slide that was projected on the wall. The second image came up along with it a hand. "Yes Sergeant Sanders?" A low pitched voice replied with a thick south earth side accent, "Yeah, why send in a large ground invasion force ground force when we can just send in a few special forces to use surgical tactics to remove a few from the control room?" he paused, and seeing the glare on the Commanders face added "sir." He must have been trying to look like the average space cowboy because he had a toothpick in his had, which he placed in his mouth in line with the molars on the left side of his mouth. "There is a reason behind all of this. We don't know the Covenants control over the functions of our base or the damage that it took. But for all we know the flak batteries are fully intact, and they could rip a Pelican and a valuable team of Special Forces tam to shreds instantly. You see any reason to allow us to loose a valuable asset in a hopeless fight?" "Yes sir, I do. Do you believe that the well being about a half dozen Green Berets is worth the lives of a dozen Marines?" The Commander shot him a glare that told him his answer without any verbal communication. Sanders reeled from the visual blast and realized just what a dangerous man he was talking to. "Sir!" he replied, sitting back and beginning to look less like a Marine and more like a technician, a passive state unfamiliar to any veteran. "Now resuming the briefing that Sanders so rudely interruption, something that will hopefully not be repeated. After our regrouping the 15th artillery battalion will commence the bombardment of the nearby Covenant vehicles. This should set the table for us to mop up the rest of em pretty quickly. The Marine mobile artillery infantry division will then cover the advances of the Commander infantry division. The G.I.'s will secure the base, regardless of the costs." He stared at all of us, not in the same style as before. Some of you will not come back. "I would venture the guess that there will be a fifty to sixty casualty figure. This isn't going to be a pretty operation by any means, but if we are to have a chance at surviving this war we will have to cause maximum damage to the Covenant in just a short period of time. We don't have much more than 3 days left. I will understand if you want to back out of this operation."
"Just keep in mind Marines that we cannot force you to go on this mission. I wouldn't be disappointed at all if none of you wanted to go. You after all do have the right to live the last few days of your lives in peace." The Commander said, giving us a new look, one that seemed almost caring, "Volunteers please speak out now." "I will volunteer to go on the mission. I believe that to live our live in peace is to help others to. There is no sanctification in living in spoil while your comrades fight and die. I will join these operations, and I will request that you all feel the duty to your fellow Marine to join the ranks of Marines in their resistance efforts." I looked around the room realizing that this was Skip who had volunteered first. I was amazed at how well spoken he was. He always used slang, making himself sound outspoken, and never really knowing what was going on. What if Logan was like this too? What if all this time I had assumed Logan was dumb when he was really more intelligent than me? I didn't have time to answer my question before an awkward silence filled the room. Skip sat down, leaving behind a trail of eyes all centered on him as if he were the sun. "I too will volunteer for this mission. I would rather die a hero than a coward. If I die I would rather die a horrible death in combat than a cowardly quick death." The accent was familiar and I realize before I even looked that he was the man, Sergeant Sanders that had picked a fight with the Commander earlier. As I could see everyone in the camp was aiming for retribution for former acts, all knowing that the obvious death that they had awaiting was getting much closer as time drew on. I stood up before Sanders sat down and he shot me a quick glare as he sat, I was infringing upon his territory, "I will volunteer, I feel more tied to you guys than most the other surviving people on this planet and would be damned if I were to let one of you take the place of a damn monster on deaths waiting list." I sat down, and was greeted by the warm seat, something that comforted my decision artificially simulating to me acceptance for my decisions. The room was quiet, the screeching of the crickets, now fading as the bottom of the suns circular mass flipped itself over the edge of the horizon. This silence was cut in and out of by the sporadic voices claiming their own heroic deeds were the last saving grace to cross the humans of Lunar 4. I knew that every one of these men were the bravest of the brave, faced with a lethal situation, staring it in the eyes with the ferocity of a beast holding onto the last bit of life it had. I eagerly awaited the sight of more people standing and volunteering to join us on the mission. As I walked to the camp I noticed a group of three men dressed in the armor of the Mathean Guard. As I passed by one of them who turned to glare at me. The second managed to say something. "Damn Arrels! No Doubt it's you that lured the Covenant here. I can smell you from a few miles away, no wonder they could smell your stench from galaxies away." He poked the other two and challenged them to join in. Arrel is a racist slur used to degrade the Easterners on Lunar 4. "Yeah, you get your Mathean ass off that chair and pay me back. I'll bet they'll smell your blood from a few miles away too!" A nearby Marine added. He walked over and stood by my side as an ally if they were to try to attack me. "Calm down, we have bigger problems now." I replied. "Bigger problems the Arrels brought to us." One of the Matheans replied. "Bigger problems like kicking our ass in so many wars?" another Marine replied. Two more Matheans moved in to defend their friends. "No, bigger problems like the Covenant! Calm down!" I shouted. It was no use. "Oh, the coward Arrel wants peace. Makes sense you fat Rahnok eating- -" the man flew back, a trail of blood following his face across the bar table. I noticed two of his teeth clatter to the ground. A marine stood overhead shaking his hand. "Well, that was easy en--" suddenly one of the Matheans grabbed the mans abdomen and tackled him to the ground, holding him and hitting him in the face. I had no choice. I owed the man a debt of honor. The Mathean that formerly held him down slid across the ground and it was my turn to shake my fist. Another few Marines ran to fight the other Matheans when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my gut. One of the Matheans withdrew his foot from my stomach. I keeled forward as a set of balled fists flew upwards into my face. I was knocked backwards and rolled over just in time to see my assailant. The man who had made the first comment now stood, a set of his teeth missing, and he began to fight with the man who saved me before. I stood up wiping the blood from my mouth and tried to decide what to do. Before my logic could return I had already hit the Mathean nearest to me in the chest twice and was moving onto the next. I grabbed him by the neck with both of my hands and headbutted him quickly, dropping his unconscious body to the ground. Suddenly a series of gunshots penetrated our brawl. The commander stood waving his rifle in the air. "MARINES!!! ACT LIKE THE FINEST OF OUR NATIONS!!! FIGHT AS ONE, NOT A BUNCH OF RACIST BASTARDS!!! GET YOUR ASSES TO THE BARRACKS!!" I looked around me at the bloodsoaked Marines and saw how one little thing started it all. After 50 ears of peace our alliance was falling apart. Most marines head's hung low. I hesitated and dragged the body of the Mathean that I had knocked out to the tents. **************************************************************************** ** With the volunteering completed only a few cowardly Marines waited at the camp, all sitting lazily and almost depressed, knowing that they may be sending their colleagues to death. Myself I stood up, knowing that I was ready to kill the monsters that threatened our existence, and hopefully live to tell about it. There was almost nothing I could do to escape. I had only one method to survive, find a blockade runner and get lucky. Blockade runners only made it through every once and a while. Still, some hope is better than none, and I was willing to give every ounce of strength and will that I had to get a ride out of here, before I became a puddle that is. The Covenant ships are all armed with powerful laser type cannons. Once they defeat our orbiting ships the planet is unprotected, leaving us on the surface defenseless. Their ground forces goal was to take out all capable airfields and missile silos, occupying most of the planet while they were at it. After that they would begin to fire upon the planet from space. The lasers would heat up the planet to the levels where no human could survive, hence the name, a glassing. Ground forces of course would be pulled out long before that, usually a day or two before the ships were able to heat the planet up to a lethal level. Right now we had been under attack for two days. We probably didn't have more than four days left. We were all almost guaranteed to die; only about 200 would survive if even that. What we are doing is a heroic last stand. We want to make sure that if we die we will scar the enemy. Maybe someday these last few battles will be remembered as heroic deeds. Either way it felt like summer on this planet and just a few days ago it was winter. There wasn't much time left. "You ready man?" Skip asked. I had had my head down thinking and hadn't noticed his arrival into the APC, "I guess so, just thinking. Are you ready to die?" "I am never ready to die if I could live" Skip replied a little quick; he must have had this on his mind "If I have another day to live, I want to see it, but if I have nothing left I will gladly die." "Wow, those are pretty brave words, do you think you have another day to live?" "Yeah, I believe that I won't die here, I have more to accomplish. Beside I still gotta get the love of god in ya!" He attempted to shift the topic to my lack of religious faith, something about death making him uncomfortable. "You know I'll never follow this religion stuff." Secretly I wished I had. My lack of faith had got me nothing so far, and given here were no negative effects I will do anything. "But you should, why don't you? Do you think that it will be too much dedication?" "Nope, I just tend to avoid faith in anything that can't be proven." "Well, one of these days I'll get through to you. Till then, I will just keep trying. This book isn't as bad as you think." He waved a small bible which he had produced from a pocket near to his heart. "You carry one with you?" "All the time, if I am going to die for it, I might as well have it. Now listen, this is a holy war, at least for them, and if I am already guilty for reading this book I might as well follow through with it." "Myself I can't see what good it really does. You can't guarantee that it does anything." "Does it matter? You don't have to believe, but you don't have a good reason." "Wait" I was cut off. "End of conversation, no stress before the battle, right?" "Fine, but" "DENIED!!!" He yelled back in a jokingly way. "okay. Well, here we go again, another operation. You feel nervous?" I acknowledged the feeling in my stomach. "Nah, aside from religion I also put my faith into me. I believe that I am able to do this, and I do. Like how I was able to limp 2 miles on a leg that had been shot. Remember that?" I thought back to the time we went to clean up that patrol, we walked for a long distance, but I wasn't sure that it was two miles. He had a bloody bandage wrapped around his wounds, but he was still able to limp his way to the tiny battlefield. "Why, are you?" "Have to admit that I am. I haven't fought in any large scale operations like this." "Don't worry, it actually makes it easier. Besides, this isn't a real bad operation, probably not more than twenty, maybe two vehicles. They won't be expecting this attack, too much of an unpredictable action for them to possibly anticipate it." "So you think that the Commander overstated it a bunch?" "Yeah, he just wants us to be ready to fight incase we have to. Nothing of that sort should happen." "I hope so, I have already fought enough despite the fact that I know I will be doing a lot more of it." "Well, here." He handed me a gun. The gun was a large pistol with a tremendous silencer. It was the gun used by the Saber Patrols, and was a rarity. As I looked around the APC we were in I saw that most of us had one. Not a good sign that there were any Sabers that managed to live, but a good sign for us nonetheless. I may sound very evil in this statement, but myself I would rather live than a bunch of strangers, and a better gun only helped my chances of survival. A saber Patrol unit was a kind of Special Forces officers that were trained in stealth combat tactics. With a near to silent gun and years of training these men could give and receive even the most precise of instructions with only hand signals as well as defeat any enemy within a shot or two. They were sent on missions when things were suppose to die, and one of the few infantry soldiers that could replace entire platoons on the battlefield with just a few men. They were in many ways the only true equal to the Maroon Berets, and a worthy match at that. "An MKA-15?" I asked, knowing the answer but instead asking almost where he got it. "Yeah, there was enough to go around so we all got em. But if you see any on a dead soldier make sure to grab em, they will be a great help in later fights." "Wait a second, aren't you all the 'bible is good, don't disgrace the dead' and stuff?" I said half laughing and half serious. "This is an exception; I am sure that if god were in this situation he would do the same thing." He replied seriously despite the overall joking nature of my question. "Everyone please sit down, buckle up and hold on, our operation is commencing in 3." The engines whirred in synch with the pilots voice, "2. 1. Welcome to operation Black Shadow, I wish you the best of luck, and may you all have the blessing of survival." "Real reassuring!" Someone shouted from the middle of the craft up towards the front area where the pilot sat. The speaker crackled again "You know what guys, I want you to all make sure that he is if nothing else a 'friendly' fire casualty. okay?" The pilot chuckled as he turned off the speaker. "Yeah, well, here we go man. Better hope yer ready, because there's no turning back now." Skip said with an emotionless stare. "You have just volunteered to risk death and to skirt the edges of death, good luck to ya man." The radio interrupted his talk, the pilot obviously feeling very comfortable after his last joke said "This is your captain speaking, we have now reached our cruising altitude of about 3 feet, please refrain from standing if the seat belt light is on and remember that tampering with any UNSC property is a violation of no codes at all. Still please don't do it. Locate your only emergency exit and make sure an able bodied male is seated in the nearest seat. Enjoy your flight." His newest comic creation was greeted by an array of laughs and I could almost feel the emotional warmth that these men shared. "Heh, pretty good one right Jacob?" Skip said, "Just like the Legacy!" The Legacy was the starship we all flew to Lunar on, packed to the brim with soldiers most of which were dead now. The starship wasn't meant to be a transport but was used as one because at the time the transports were all tied up with border conflicts. The legacy was the last of its kind and the leader of the 342nd UNSC Stellar Navy Corps, leading our ships in orbit when battles were to arrive. "Yeah, just like it. Besides the whole uh, 3 feet thing." He stared back into my eyes, no one laughed. "Or not." "Yeah. Well, you locked and loaded?" He gestured to his own gun and flipped it to me showing the underside was with a magazine in it. The safety was on. I tossed it back to him and slid my guns off the empty seat next to me on my lap. Again with the pocket ordeal I reached for the clippers, this time with out the futile gnawing. Easily extracting the ammo I slid it into the base of the machine gun and set it back down on the seat next to me with a grunt of approval towards the gun. I then drew the MKA-15 and fumbled in the pocket. No ammo for it. I pulled the pocket open a little more and peeked inside, still no ammo. "Um." I cleared my throat holding up the gun. "Ah, right." He grabbed the small sack he had and produced 3 magazines of ammo, 40 rounds each. He reached out across the APC and fell out of his seat as we hit a bump. Quickly scrambling back up he crawled back and forth across the transport giving me the packages and crawling back to his seat. "There ya go. Anything more you need?" "Shouldn't be. Thanks again man." I clipped the package open with the clipper and slid the two others into the pocket I had along with two more magazines of ammunition that was for the assault rifle that I had. My armor was the standard grey UNSC metal with a Grey rubber looking suit beneath it. I also had a helmet, personalized with some green and brown paint, etched on the front my last name, Smalthers. Painted on the shoulder of my armor was the UNSC flag, a rough representation being that I am not too adept with the paint brush, but still able to be recognized. "You proud?" I hesitated "Yes, I am. UNSC Officer Jacob Johnson and I am proud to serve among the finest of all men to ever walk the face of any planet!" I repeated it as if it were forever burned into my mind, it actually was though. The UNSC code of honor. There was a lot more to the lines but those weren't about pride. Something along the lines of "never leave a man behind" and similar things. "Well just remember, Skips got yer back, when you are pinned down, 30 guys on ya just wait for the cover fire, who knows what happened to the rest of my buddies, so for now you're all I've got." He grinned looking up at the ceiling "so what do you think happened to them?" I sighed and replied, unsure of what to say, I had repressed these thoughts before, "Well, as for Logan, they probably got him alive. He's too much of a fighter to die, but Mac on the other hand was probably killed. Logan was back a little off the front lines you know. He would have a greater chance of living." I looked over, he looked stressed which was to be expected from anyone in his position, "But you lived, a good chance they both made it out too." My statement was rejected, nothing could break this silence. Neither of us knew what to say and we looked up at the ceiling and down again randomly, something that we had picked up somehow. "Well, in the horrible spirit of death let's make a bet. You think that I'll outlast ya?" I looked up "What kind of a question is that? What are you a monster?" I stared back for a second "You're on. I will outlast you, how's a hundred credits?" "Um UNSC to Jacob, we will be dead soon, remember, the glassing? Hate to tell you this, but money doesn't matter any more!" "Oh, yeah, didn't think of that. Well, for the pride then! Who cares any more!" "Me." "That was a rhetorical question." "Oh. Still." "Marines, ready for departure, we are in position for operation Black Shadow. Why'd they call it that?" The announcement came over the small speaker in the ceiling. "Oh, it was because of the shadows in the pit. Don't ask me, no one really knows." Some random Marine said. "Real conclusive. Well, anyway, make sure you don't fall down the pit and remember, wait for the mortar rounds to stop before moving in unless you want to become a smoldering crater. If you do get stuck in the field move to the facility, we won't hit it just the nearby area, we can't damage the dish. It's too fragile to get pounded by the BAP's (Bipedal Artillery Pieces). So keep in mind that you need to draw an enemy or two out if at all possible. The Snipers will be on the other side of the dish as the control room and they will shoot any tangos moving outside. The most resistance you can expect is according to this preliminary status report is. Um. OK, a Jackal Honor Guard and maybe an Elite or two." He chuckled, "All this for those, probably not more than 20 of em in there. Well anyway, good luck." He lowered the ship and turned off the hovering abilities of the APC. A reverberating crash shook us and forced the light to flicker. As they came on the back panel pivoted downwards to the ground forming a ramp and we unloaded. Suddenly the dish exploded near to the door to the control room. A scream could be heard, even here, hundreds of feet away. The body of the Jackal was tossed through the air where it limply flopped down to the ground. Another shot rang out of the barrel of the BAP as it launched a mortar shell into the cliff edge above the control room. Through the jungle I saw the cliff edge drop a boulder onto a clump of bushes near to a pack of alarmed Jackals. I silently surveyed the sights of the battlefield through the forests dense trees. Around me the Marines from my APC were setting up whatever they were required to do to complete their roles as the 15th artillery battalion blasted the enemy forces. By now the bombardment was near to completed, all of the remaining enemy forces were dead or within the base. "Alright, listen up Marines, your divisions call sign is Delta, you have been briefed on you mission. You are to enter the base and secure it at all costs. There is no retreating, there is no dying, do either of those and you will fail. So, best of luck to you all." It was the pilot of the vehicle "Welcome to the operation, I hope you all make it out, just get back to this location when you are done. I'll get ya back." The air was thick, it was getting uncomfortably warm on this planet. You could tell that right now the Covenant ships were sitting in orbit, firing their cowardly lasers upon the planets just waiting for us to all boil. I raised my rifle and placed my hand on the handle of the pistol I had to make sure it was still there. I waited for the others to form up near to the tree line and joined them. We were assembled in three columns of four Marines in each. Skip took the rear left flank, while I was diagonally one person away from him in the second column, third person. This formation, no matter how useless was still able to bolster our confidence, knowing that someone had our back. We moved quickly through the dense forest to the other side where in front of us lied the massive dish. The dish was about 900 feet across and was supposed to be the first telescope that could spot a Covenant battle group to give us warning of an assault, it clearly failed. The dish arced into the ground like a crater and at the pit of it contained a drainage pipe to make sure the telescope didn't become a trillion credit puddle. We walked counter clockwise up the hill to the control room, where we took positions at the entrance. I sniffed in the air twice, there was the scent of death trailing through it. Two Marines were on either side of the door, and the rest of the column carefully progressed up the hallway, which wasn't meant for combat and was unsatisfactorily narrow. The hallway was also dimly lit, power reserves were low with no one to maintain the generators. The grey hallways had an indentation along either side of the wall that was supposed to be used as a handle for walking, something that we would not use, logic sense speaking for itself in this case. The ceiling was made up of airy cardboard type, foam like squares that were in some places fallen as a result of the gunfights before. We crept along the wall to the next hallway, which crossed perpendicular to the hallway we were currently in. Flipping my gun around the corner, followed by my body I made sure the hallway was secure. The building was like a maze, and all of the corners had a new place o go, something that was common of current Marine bunkers, making our defensive lines erratic to the enemy but crystal clear to us. At the next crossing of the hallways we could see the wall was coated in a thin layer of blood, dried, a sign that this exit wound was from happenings which occurred days ago. "God, whats that smell!" Some random Marine barked out this remark before he stepped around the corner and saw the large exit wound on the walls. A trail of blood led around the corner, to where the Marines dead body probably lies. Bodies, after decomposing for even short times leave a recognizable stench in the air, one I did not welcome to my nostrils. Now it was my time to take flank, flipping around the corner in the opposite way and gesturing with my hands for the remaining Marines to move into the hallway. They progressed around the corner and a Lieutenant proceeded with my former job of carefully slipping around the corner. This one however he looked down in disgust at what I was safely able to assume was the body of the Marine whom had his blood plastered along the wall and floor that we had seen. He gestured the hallway was all clear and we all progressed forward, passing by the body of the Marine, his face was frozen in horror as he was fatally clutching his chest, also the location of a hole in his chest plate which was covered in blood, a good sign that he suffered for a little while before he died, something that enraged us all a little more. We pressed on two more hallways until we encountered a division of five Jackals. The Marine who had remarked on the stench of the dead Private was taking point and slid around the corner, instantly yelling "Tangos, five, round this corner." Almost instantly the Marine was ct down by gunfire, as his last glances escaped his eyes he fell forward onto his knees, he looked up at us with a glare that begged us to get vengeance for his death. His eyes looked up at me, his dark hair flopping in the air. He lie down on the ground, clutching onto life by a thread. "Sir" he said, his voice weakening, "I have died a Marine. If you make it out, give this to" he coughed up a quantity of blood "my family, let them know" more coughs followed "How I went" His hand slid along his armor to a place right above his hearts. He pulled off a small pin from his uniform, the USMC badge. "okay Marine, but don't worry, you will be able to tell them, Medic!" I raised my hand to signal for a Medic to move in and help us out. "No sir, there is none, just" he coughed up a bit more blood "Just go get them for me. Sir." The sir in the sentence was a bit detached, and it showed that faced even with death a Marine was willing to show dedication to the cause of his death, the UNSC. "Wait, give this." He coughed again, this time he didn't look at his hand to check for blood, knowing that it was there. "Give this to whomever wants it." He lifted an arm to his neck and slid his hand down the breast plate of his armor, pulling it out along with a dog tag. He ripped, with all the strength that a dying man could muster upon the dog tag, breaking the chain and handing it to me too. I clutched the dog tag in my had, focusing my vision in on it, and in the unfocused background of my vision I witnessed him die. First time that death had such a close tie to me. I leapt around the corner and with the assault rifle and fired fiver rounds into the shield of a Jackal where they were harmlessly deflected, something that disappointed me, but only briefly. Skip was at the other side of the hallway, where he pulled a grenade off his belt and rolled it around the corner. I watched it roll slowly over of the clump of Jackals. "Fire in the hole!" he yelled two second prior to the explosion. The Jackals let out a howl as they realized that they were dead. A body flew down the hallway and smashed up against the wall above the dead Marine. Three of us slipped around the corner and as the smoke cleared we walked steadily around the corner, bracing at the corners. As the smoke cleared we counted two bodies. "Three tangos down, two unknown!" we braced at the corners steadily and with a swift motion flung ourselves around them, where we saw the empty hallways. I looked back over my shoulder. "Is he dead?" I said. A Marine stood up pulling up two bloody fingers that he had used to check the pulse of the now dead Marine. "No, he was killed almost instantly." "Well, I made him a promise." I held up the fist of mine that was smeared in his blood "I will fulfill it. Come on, we have to get the others." The Marine stood up, "Sir!" Three Marines rushed by me at double speed and curved to the right through the hallway. I could hear them marching off as all the rest took up flank besides Skip. "Well, what do you think Jacob? So far so good?" Skip asked, sweat beading down his forehead. "I guess, but seeing that Marine die right before my eyes was pretty scary. Made me realize, if I was point then, I would be dead right now. Probably won't sleep too well tonight though." I replied. "Don't worry, we're almost done, just about here more hallways to the control room, and once we get the security systems up we will know where they are, just take it easy." I was now sure that Skip was saying this just to reassure himself tat he would live, but I played along, didn't want any fight fright to creep up on us. "Well, we had better catch up, don't want to get left behind." "Right." He replied, beginning to move down the hallway. We moved quickly through another blood splattered hallway and into the next hallway, where we heard a shriek and a few percussions of rifles being fired. The shots echoed down the hallway, and I heard the Jackals body thump to the floor. After the death came the reassuring sound of a voice, a human voice saying "Tango, one down, one alive. It's on the run boys, let's mop em up!" "3rd column, take flank!" I shouted, the 3rd column, which was 3 surviving members and they turned around, making sure we were all clear behind. "1st and 2nd move!" We all began marching down the hallway to catch the last Jackal. Around a corner we heard a shriek, not of pain but of language. The shriek was followed by a deep voice. The voice was that of an Elite. It spoke a few quiet indecipherable words to the Jackal. "Wot wot wot!" it yelled, one of the few Elite words I knew. It meant go go go, and is what we heard shortly before the Elite brought a squad of Covenant around the corner. "Marines, brace for attack!" I shouted ready to shoot anything that moved around the corner towards us. We were lucky this whole base was a maze, it gave us cover. A Marine rushed towards me, too late, an Elite flung around the corner and fired off a few rounds at him. I returned fire with the rifle, thing it with about 10 rounds. Its shield took the full blow and it swayed around the corner to recharge its shields. I paced forward slowly down the hallway. I could hear him breathing around the corner, something that I aimed to stop him from doing. I continued to pace forward as a few beads of sweat ran down my forehead, tickling my face. I ignored it and reached down to my belt, I had 2 grenades. I carefully pulled one of them out of the belt and got ready to pull the pin. I listened, I could hear its shield recovering, it was near to done. I threw the grenade around the corner with a snap of my writs and listened for the sounds of death, only to hear the startled shout of a Grunt who yelled something. I don't know what, being that the grunts have no real common dialect, but I knew it saw the sparking mass at its feet and ran. "Wot, waaaaaahhhhhh!" The elite yelled as the grenade exploded near to it. I crept around the corner. There was a crater in the floor, and I there was elite blood everywhere, even on the ceiling to the hallway. It dripped down into the pit as I got on my knees. I stuck my head around the corner so that only my eyes showed, the Elite was on the run, with a strong limp. I slid around the corner and fired off about 10 rounds at its back, watching it escape. I looked around and saw the Jackals body lying near to lifeless on the ground, cling on to the last strands of life that it had. Its shield lie next to it and its gun was no where in sight. I walked over to it and stood by its body. I put a foot on its chest. I aimed the rifle down at the Jackal and fired the remaining 30 or so rounds into its chest. The Jackals arms twitched with every shot and when the magazine was expended the furious clicking of the firing mechanism did not stop. He was one of the ones that had gunned down my comrade, and he would pay, as he did. The marines were just staring at me, terrified of what I had just done to the dieing Jackal. "Come on, let's get moving, we can't wait for them any longer, we have to take them all down and reactivate the defenses!" I slid the other magazine I had into the gun, popping the other out the bottom of the rifle where it clattered to the ground. The rest of the Marines fearlessly advanced through the hallway. Skip looked at me, and reluctantly turned to follow the rest of the group. I looked at the Jackal; its chest was ripped to pieces, its head nothing more than a bowl of blood, its face shot into its skull. The bottom of my pant legs were splattered in Jackal blood, and my gun was splattered is small amounts of blood, speckling it with the life fluid of my enemy. I looked away and set off down the hallway following about ten paces behind the Marines. Around the next corner lie the Elite and Grunt, I knew it. "Stand clear Marines!" They lined up on either side of the hallway. I walked through them. I slid around the corner, gun first. The Grunt mumbled something, I fired. I hit the Grunt with a quarter my magazine, missing him with half my shots. The grunt turned up at me, breathing its last breath and it threw a plasma grenade in my direction. The elite ran over the fallen Grunt into the next hallway while the grenade arced towards me. I was frozen in terror, a Plasma grenade thrown at 10 feet was nothing to be proud of, and it would probably frag me. I held up my arms in defense, ready for the burn of a plasma grenade, but felt none. I looked down; it had clipped to my gun. Screaming I quickly whipped it away from me and threw it down the hallway. It impacted the floor twice then spun to a stop. I bolted behind the corner as the blast blew up my gun. Chunks of the floor and wall slammed up against the nearby wall, and fell to the ground leaving delicate smoke trails. I lie there covering my head on the ground, two cuts on my arm from the blast, still pumping adrenaline through my body. I could feel every heartbeat. Skip stepped around the corner expecting to find me as he new wallpaper of this hallway, and was surprised to see that I was fine. He fired a round down the hallway in celebration, and then got on his knees to me. He tapped me on the back and I sat up on my knees. It was then that I noticed a searing pain in my leg. My right leg across the upper leg there was a large plasma burn from the Grunt. I hadn't even noticed yet that I had been shot, which amazed me, but I was sill better off now than I was. "Here, let me handle that" he said, addressing my leg wound. "okay, I said, here, do you need medical stuff?" I reached up for my back pack, which contained a few rations and a medic kit. "No, I got my own, all you need is a painkiller and a bandage right?" he said, opening a compartment in his leg armor producing some bandages and a jar of painkillers. "Yeah, just fix me up quick. We can't let them get away, they might begin to destroy the control room!" "Relax; they already know we are here." My vision blurred and I placed two of my fingers on the side of my head. "Whoa." I wobbled a little and my vision sharpened again, soon blurring though. I collapsed to the floor and I heard Skip saying that I was going into shock and felt them begin to lift my feet.