The Price of Victory
A Fanfiction by Keystone
Disclaimer: I own only what you know to be mine
Author's note: Ok, chapter two, well, actually, chapter one. Anyways, this is where the action begins, so you can all sit back and relax. And I noticed a serious typo in the previous chapter. There will be 43 ships, not 49 in the fleet, I tried to correct it, but in case it does not work, there should be 43, not 49. Okay, enjoy the read.
Hostiles Inbound
"Shit!" Private McClosky had just used his last grenade, and no matter of checking would bring it back. So he picked up his rifle and kept on firing, hoping to score some lucky shots before he bit it. Well, maybe he could take a few Brutes with him.
A small clearing on the forest floor held this Marine and a few others while they held the fight of their lives. Their line was thin and bodies made several protective barricades. Of the two platoons holding this region, only eight men remained. Luckily, they had the advantage of a Spartan. A useful advantage under any circumstances.
Normally, McClosky would have loathed working with the half machine, all alien humans. But today, his death had been prolonged just a little longer because of one. Of course, over on the left flank, his survival was not a thing to be guaranteed.
No matter, he thought to himself, and resumed firing. Aiming low, knowing the tendency of his SMG to kick upward while firing, he made his presence known. So many bodies filled his view of the battlefield, and most of them wore issue-green. It made his heart hurt to see so many of his slain comrades. Every imaginable form of death, and strewn in all possible locations, the massive quantities of them covered the ground in the tiny clearing.
Cursing the cause of it all, he braced himself as one of the many Brutes in front of him hurtled through the air and landed right on top of him, Brute Shot blade first. He barely had time to process the thought of damning the creature before he died.
Next to him, a PFC hurled a grenade at the beast in panic, and then fired his SMG as the bomb detonated at the shocked hulks feet. With a wet thud, the bullet riddled form fell to the ground, covering Private McClosky in a gory blanket.
Turning back to face the swarm of furry horrors in front of him, the PFC caught a glimpse of red plasma lancing towards him. Reacting quickly, he dropped to the ground and covered his head as the flurry of super heated gas sizzled against the wooden barricade and over him. His natural instincts for survival kicked in and he cradled himself against the hard walls of the shelter, and whimpered into his hands.
A sudden buzzing in the air caused this man to look up and locate their source. Phantoms he saw, two of them, coming in low over the treetops, fast and sleek with their cannons glowing red.
"Chief, there's two Phantoms coming in behind us!! We're screwed, sir!!" The marine ran next to the armored titan next to him and pleaded for his attention. Thinking they were for sure about to be totally overrun from both sides, the Marine could only look at his Chief in despair.
"I know, Marine. They're friendlies. Here, keep fighting." The Master Chief replied to the shocked young man, tossing him a SMG while he continued firing on the group of Brutes advancing on his position. One of his shots seemed to be guided by God, and struck a Brutes bandolier, igniting and detonating his store of grenades. The ensuing explosion wiped out the few Brutes unlucky enough to be standing next to him.
The Marine looked wide-eyed back at the Chief, who just kept firing on the rapidly advancing squad.
Behind the rapidly faltering, thin line the Phantoms came to an abrupt stop and hovered a few feet off of the ground. They fired their three plasma batteries each and killed six of the attacking Brutes instantly. Then, as the remaining alien gorillas dove for cover a contingent of Elite Converts dropped down, weapons ready.
The startled Marine watched as the usual blue and red armored warriors drifted down the gravity lifts. Then with awe watched as a pair of SpecOps elites, their white commander, and even a mighty golden Zealot. These were the finest warriors in the Covenant army before it split, and now here they are, ready to fight and die for the human's cause. He naturally was suspicious of them at first, and still felt all the resent towards them for nearly eradicating his whole species, but for now, he was grateful for their timely arrival.
Behind them, and known only to the Master Chief, one other Spartan dropped down after the last Elite exited the ship. One of the three who was not on board the Pillar of Autumn's ill fated journey. The Spartan's third in command, under Fred, and recently promoted to his rank. Senior Chief Petty Officer Spartan 346.
The 16 total Elites ran to the shattered human line and vaulted over it, firing their plasma rifles and carbines into the Brute ranks as they regrouped and charged. Many fell dead before they could even bring their own weapons to bear under the plasma and radioactive slug downpour.
But the two SpecOps Elites, their leader, and the Zealot each brandished the most fear inspiring weapon in their arsenal: the mighty energy sword. The crisp, flattened fields of plasma could take fully armored soldiers out of this realm and could even cut apart the battle armor on mighty armored vehicles.
With these awe inspiring weapons held ready the four of them rushed the freshly trounced Brute group of five. Roaring challenges into the remnants of the squad the three black and white Elites swiftly cut down two of them, sending their bodies crashing to the ground in bloody, tangled heaps. They then stepped aside as the final three Brutes squared themselves, their Brute Shots turned upright so the wicked blades slung underneath faced out.
When the three Elites stepped aside, they revealed to the Brutes the real threat. Their golden captain. In all of his honor and glory, he waded in between his warriors and faced the three Brutes before him. Raising his blade in challenge to them, he growled out his intentions and the Brutes replied in kind.
The Brute in the head of the formation rushed him, his weapon held high over his head and with the intent to slam it down on the Zealot's helmet and crush him to dust. Running full speed towards him he abandoned his inherent agility for power and slammed his hands down at the last second.
Watching him rush to him, the Zealot held his ground and waited until the last moment and then tensed his legs and pushed to his left. Springing to the side he dodged the heavy handed strike and flicked his wrist around and shoved, hard. The strength of his arms pushed the blade clear through the Brutes chest. To finish him off the Zealot then calmly slashed to his left and pulled the weapon out from under the Brutes right arm.
Staring down the other two Brutes, the Zealot stood ready as the two Brutes watched their captain fall to the ground a gory mess. Then abandoning their weapons, both charged the Zealot head on, preparing to crush him under the sheer weight of their massive muscles.
As his rank would indicate, the Zealot was no coward, and he did not shy away from this confrontation. He met their charge with one of his own and kept eye contact with the enemy the whole while. His Elites under him roared their approval of this fight and their commander as he fought the Brutes face to face, with honor as his weapon.
The first Brute swung a massive fist at the nimble fighter's head and was greeted with an unexpected event. The Zealot ducked under the raging swing, and dug his shoulder into the Brutes midsection. The force of the Brutes momentum carried him up and over the Zealot and sent him crashing down to the ground.
In his moment of disorientation, the Zealot seized the initiative and stomped on the Brutes chest to prevent him from rising and then staked him to the ground by way of plasma sword through his neck.
Witnessing his final surviving teammate die, the last Brute went into a blind berserker rampage. He stomped at the ground, pounded the earth with his fists, and grunted as he rushed the Zealot. Not even thinking logically, he blindly charged with the intent of total revenge and decimation.
Ready and waiting, the Zealot ran towards him and ducked low under a wicked right hook. He grabbed the scruff of the Brutes left leg and slid himself behind the Brute. With the speed and agility of the wind he hopped up on the massive beasts' shoulders and stabbed straight down. Piercing his spine, the blade came right out of him as quickly as it went in and the Zealot wielding it shoved off the Brute, pushing him to the ground, dead, and landing in a perfect stance.
When the last Brute fell, and as the Elites howled in victory, the Senior Chief moved up next to the Master Chief and reported in.
"Sir, Senior Chief Petty Officer 346 reporting, sir!" He snapped a crisp salute and took his stance of attention while the Master Chief turned and returned the gesture.
"At ease. What can you tell me, Michael?"
"All that you can handle, sir. First off, a little present from Sergeant Johnson." He opened a large satchel he had slung over his shoulder. He took the large black sack off and set it on the ground and stooped with the Master Chief to examine its contents.
The Senior Chief pulled out what appeared to be a standard Battle Rifle at a quick glance, and tossed it to the Master Chief. Giving a low whistle, he held it and turned it around in his hands, getting a feel for the new weapon. "What exactly is this, Mike? Other than very nice."
"Sir, that is the new special edition BR120 Spartan Rifle. Sergeant Johnson made a comment to Admiral Hood that Spartan soldiers deserved Spartan weapons. Said everything just looked puny in our hands." They laughed and the Senior Chief tossed his superior a magazine.
"These new models are roughly thirty percent larger and heavier, and feature some useful new gear. For example, the old Battle Rifle has a standard two time zoom ability, but this model features up to a five time zoom capacity.
"Additionally, it holds a 72 round magazine, and can fire on full automatic, three to five round bursts, or single shots. All selectable via the neural network between your armors computers and the weapons internal computers. The slugs themselves are higher caliber, but only two millimeter larger. She packs a nice punch and works well in just about every situation. Johnson was rather proud of it." The Senior Chief explained.
Walking back to a series of crates dropped by the Phantoms, the SC continued to give the Master Chief the intel he had. "We also thought it may be a good idea to bring in some ammo and supplies for the Marines here, but looks like we brought equipment for a group of troops, but now we could probably just send most of it back."
"Marines, come and re-equip yourselves! There's no telling when the Covenant will be back." The Master Chief yelled out to the surviving human soldiers. He himself grabbed some frag grenades and refilled his empty storage bins.
On their way to pick up some much needed ammo and supplies, a few of the Marines stopped to converse with the Elites, and swapped a few jokes amongst themselves. One just stared at the Zealot, mouth agape, and looked back and forth between him and the fallen Brutes.
Naturally, they refilled their ammo rucks and grabbed some fresh MRE's before taking the much needed time to grab some relaxation. They had to have a few minutes to just sit and enjoy the temporary peace to its fullest. Their numbers bolstered, and in the presence of some truly amazing warriors did wonders to calm them.
The Senior Chief activated his helmet's com line and gave a few orders, and a squad of five Grunts deployed from the bay of the Phantoms, each carrying one of the Converts portable rapid fire plasma turrets.
The five green armored minuscule aliens moved to the two Spartans, who were now joined by the Zealot, and saluted. Their pack leader stepped forward and spoke his commands to his new leaders.
"Excellencies, we are ready to deploy. Where would you have us make ready?" He spoke loud and clear for such a small soldier. His squad was going to e used to set up a perimeter defense grid, and they were known as being quite the shots with their automatic cannons.
"I want you to set yourselves up in a rough pentagon around the line. Set yourselves up at the various locations that you individually see fit as the most fortified, and don't limit your fields of fire. I want at least two guns being able to target any Covenant who enters this zone." The Master Chief directed the Grunt squad. "We may be here for some time"
The Senior Chief turned to his superior and spoke through an encrypted channel. "Excuse me sir, but I believe we should stay mobile. There is a large installation about fifteen miles from here that is of some strategic value. I think we ought to try to retake it from the Covenant. My original mission was to come here, reinforce you and these platoons, and then retake the installation with your help."
"Who all is at this facility?" The Master Chief inquired.
"A number of Marines, and plenty of Convert soldiers. They were taking a Forerunner center and attempting to turn it into an air base and mission command center. Intel gave me figures of almost seven hundred friendly personnel holed up inside it." Answered the Senior Chief.
The Master Chief linked his com with the AI Lajon aboard the Iron Respite, and had this information transferred into his systems. Confirming it, he also noticed the large amount of Covenant warriors around it. The entire center was crawling with Covenant soldiers desperately trying to reclaim the Forerunner ruin for their Prophets.
"It looks heavily guarded. Intel shows over a thousand Covenant infantry, including armor and close air support. Battalion strength or more. We'd need some reinforcements if we plan on taking it back. I'd say the best option is wait, but we can hardly handle this with just the two of us."
"Agreed, but I have an idea," the Master Chief said. He turned and headed over to where the white Ultra Elite and the two black SpecOps soldiers were.
Turning to recognize him, they stood and took a defensive formation, the Ultra up front with the two SpecOps in a "V" formation behind him.
"What is it, Demon?" The Ultra spoke, obviously still showing his former religious fear and hatred of the former scourge of the Elites.
"We have an operation in mind, but it will require you and your special forces to accomplish." The Master Chief replied, ignoring the term.
"What sort of mission do you have for us, human?" The Ultra inquired, his interest piqued.
"An infiltration. Covert movement and hard insertion. We plan to rescue some trapped soldiers and engage an entire Covenant battalion. You and your Elites expertise will be very handy."
Turning and facing both of his black armored soldiers, the Ultra faced the Master Chief again and nodded. "Very well, we shall accompany you on your mission."
The Master Chief looked at the rest of his men, the Elites and Grunts preparing defensible positions and his remaining Marines restocking and making themselves ready to hold ground. They would have to stay behind and ensure their landing zone would be kept and to keep the him and his team from being overrun from behind.
"They'll be fine, sir. With the Zealot leading them they will fight harder and more efficiently." He looked over his shoulder at his Spartan brother, and new he was right.
"Gear up then, we'll be leaving shortly."
He himself grabbed one of the newer rifles the Senior Chief brought with him and two hand fulls of magazines, then secured a sniper rifle and several clips of ammunition and stowed them in his ammo slots, and slung the rifle across his back.
The Senior Chief also grabbed one of the new rifles and a similar number of magazines and slug it over his shoulder. He then grabbed himself an M90 Shotgun and fed shells into his armors vault like ammo slots. A few grenades later he was all prepped and ready to move out.
The Ultra and his Elites stowed their blades, and withdrew their own personal weapons of choice. The Ultra withdrew a beam rifle and primed it, then moved to face the Chief. The two black elites drew out a carbine and a plasma rifle, respectively, then moved as well next to their commander.
The Chief took the opportunity to go and brief the Zealot of his upcoming mission, and he was understanding and took charge of the rest of the soldiers in the field. The Chief knew that as long as this capable warrior was present on the field, then things would stay green.
Facing the line of four soldiers, the Master Chief walked across them giving each of them a specific designation. "Blue two," he stopped at the Senior Chief, "Three," the Ultra, "Four," the carbine wielding Elite, "And five," at the plasma rifle holding Elite. "I will be designated Blue one."
"Move out!" He shouted to his troops and turned to face the woods behind him. One by one the five disappeared into the trees.
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Hope you all enjoyed chapter two. It was quite fun to write, and longer than I anticipated. I had to cut the amount of action in half of what I originally wanted when I saw how long it was. Oh well, you'll just get the second installment of it in the next chapter. Well, until then, keep on reading and making this fun!!!