Sorry when I said that I was the second to post a story, I was wrong. I think I was the fourth or fifth. Though some people published simple recitations of the final lines of the game, I only counted those stories with 2 or more chapters. I apologize for my lack of knowledge because I read most of the stories, but I can't read the 10-15 works that come out everyday.
You take something that is broken, and then make it better than before. I wrote the original in 2 days, but this one took something more like 5, so I promise I wasn't giving up or something. That's the same idea that's behind my rewriting of this chapter after it was mysteriously deleted from my computer. That's why it took so long to write it again.
You may be wondering why I have not introduced the Master Chief yet. That's because I think he is difficult to introduce as a result of his inherently mechanical character.
Chapter 3 – The Captain
Captain Daniel Stuart of the 20th Infantry Division, Alpha Company dropped his combat gear to the ground in exhaustion. He had not slept in the last 20 hours while fighting the Covenant. The sweltering New Mombasa sun beat down on the pavement in its death throes before it receded below the horizon for the night. On the distance, a group of storm clouds loomed, a sign of the West African Monsoon. For now though, the city remain dry and safe from the storm's ferocity. A warm breeze blew through the streets of the deserted city. Before the battle, the citizens had been evacuated to temporary shelters maintained by the UNSC. A normally busy time of day, the hour of dusk was punctuated by complete silence expect for the blowing of dust in the street. A few bullet-ridden streetlamps struggled to light their sodium vapor bulbs. Stuart stared blankly down the road with sweat dripping down his face from the heat.
The Captain himself was about 1.85 meters tall and moderately muscular. His hair was dark brown, but it was shaved according to the military's sanitary regulations, as were all of the UNSC Marines'. The long hours of combat had turned his skin into a dark brown color. A long plasma burn ran down the length of his lower left arm, a result of a glancing blow from a plasma rifle. Although an old wound, it was marked by dark purple scar tissue. It still shot pain up his arm when he put pressure on it. Stuart wore the standard Marine powersuit, which ran on a small fusion pack on the back of the armor. His face was stern and grim, and it lacked much of the enthusiasm that new recruits brought with them when they joined the war. The Captain had spent much of his adult life on the front lines or in the military academy, and he knew what war was really about.
Rows of run-down buildings lined the narrow street in a harsh comparison to the high-tech skyscrapers that were only several miles away. Even before the battle for New Mombasa, the city was in a horrible condition. Despite all his combat experience, the Captain had never seen such poverty on his home planet. It made him wonder why the UNSC was colonizing other planets when there was still such horrible life at home. He had always been taught that in the rush to unify, some had been left behind. Yet Stuart never believed it to be true until he had seen it in person.
In response to the Prophet of Regret's ill-timed invasion of Earth, the UNSC had sent in three corps of Marines to destroy the Covenant landing force at New Mombasa. While the small Covenant Fleet was destroyed by Earth's orbital MAC cannons, the landing force was far tougher to dispatch. They were the best in the Covenant military, including Spec Ops Grunts, Elites, and Jackals, and the two new races, Brutes and Drones. This Special Operations team was only one third the size of the human's attack force, but they were equipped with latest vehicles and weapons, including the towering Scarab. The mechanical beast alone cost the lives of hundreds of soldiers. In total, over 20,000 Marines died at New Mombasa at the hands of the Covenant.
The Captain's Alpha Company was involved in the killing fray as well, and they were one of the first troops in the African Theater of Operations. The 20th division was dispatched from the UNSC's Mediterranean command center at Gibraltar under the Third Corps of Marines. They swept in through the Atlantic with support from Helljumpers from the cruiser Prowess. There were rumors among the troops that a SPARTAN was involved in the battle, but like many of the rumors that circulated within the Marines, they were difficult to confirm because of ONI's incessant meddling in military intelligence. The Captain personally did not take the words at face value because he knew what Section Three was capable of: assassination, blackmail, and torture. He knew better than to get in their way.
"I have the latest casualty reports from the medics, sir. I ask you to confirm them and update High Command on the status of our company." A Sergeant walked up to him, one of Stuart's assistants. The NCO held a data pad out to the Captain.
"Thank you, Sergeant." The Captain scrolled down the list of casualties. In comparison with previous battles, the losses suffered on that day were particularly high. Out of 150 men, 10 were killed, 15 severely injured, and 20 more slightly injured. Almost everyone had minor scratches and the like, but they didn't report it to the medics. Stuart himself had a piece of shrapnel puncture his left leg, and it was now covered up with biofoam. He didn't bother to report it because he disliked the way bureaucratic administration handled its business. The wound would have to reported, the conditions logged, and he would be forced to go to a field hospital for a checkup. When Earth itself was under attack, there was no time for that.
In the corner of his peripheral vision, Captain Stuart saw somebody move. The figure stepped down from the edge of the street to the center at the Captain's side. He was Lieutenant James Stevens, the captain's best friend in the corps. They fought together through many engagements against the Covenant.
"Reach is gone, Captain. We are now alone, the only planet that stands the way of a Covenant victory. There is no place left to retreat. If we fail, then Earth and subsequently humanity will be wiped out." The importance of the UNSC's defense could not be more emphasized in the Lieutenant's words.
"Section Two cannot make up anymore lies about this war. The cloak of deception will be pulled off of the eyes of the people. All of these civilians are going to have a rude awakening when the Covenant decapitates them in their sleep." Stuart gestured toward the empty city. The skyscrapers that would have normally been lit up with lights, today they remained dark. In the dusk light, the metallic shells of the buildings gleamed in the sunlight, but the windows were filled with darkness, a void.
"It is not their worst act. They have created a worse fiction. That is the fiction of the SPARTAN program. Those freaks are seen among the foolish as saviors, heroes against the Covenant advance. Yet they have done little real damage in this conflict. Almost all the fighting and dying was done by the all-natural UNSC Marines, not one of Halsey's science projects." Stevens' words were frequently repeated within the military, even in the high-ranking officers. Many resented the attention and treatment the SPARTANs received and their false claims of victory.
"Their reputation was made with the lives of our men. Our blood has been spilled from their training to the battlefield. We have been made targets, decoys, and even human shields for that program. On Jericho VII, the Marine Division stationed there was completely destroyed at the hands of an overwhelming Covenant Fleet. For what? For the fun and games of Section Three's pet project! The Division commander was forced into a defensive action instead of retreating in order to protect the SPARTAN retreat. Damn them and their 'greater good'!" Stevens, taken aback at the fury in the Captain's comment, turned away. Stevens knew better than to interrupt Stuart when he was angry. The Captain could become very unpredictable. Leaving the man alone, Stevens left for the squad headquarters to meet with others under his command.
A flash of lightening cast a harsh streak across the darkening sky, illuminating the city for a split second in white light. The thunder was still too far off to hear, but the towering clouds of the storm were fast approaching. The floodlights of the troops camped throughout the area began to flicker on in the growing darkness.
Stuart remembered the day he joined the UNSC military academy when he was nineteen over twenty years ago. Enticed by the news of the fleet's victory against the Covenant at Harvest, he anticipated a quick victory against the aliens. Like many of his friends, he had eagerly signed up to tour the Outer Colonies and at the same time, kill some Covenant on the way. What he saw was death, destruction, and mindless slaughter. What he saw was the truth.
As the Captain sat down on the edge of the street to think, more memories entered his consciousness. When he first arrived at the academy, he was ordered to take the oath of allegiance to the UNSC. Although he had quickly memorized for presentations to the superior officers, many of the words were now lost to his memories of combat. He still knew the introduction. He could never forget those first few sentences that made him the eternal guardian of mankind.
You are now a soldier, bound to the code that is to follow. If necessary, you will make the ultimate sacrifice for mankind. Nothing else is important. Your life is now devoted to protecting humanity. Remember at all times that you have sworn to defend for the good of the people of Earth.
While it first seemed like petty idealism, he knew that there was a meaning far deeper to the document he had spent his entire adult life fighting for. In his mind, though, what justified the ultimate sacrifice? Was the loss of millions of innocent people in the machinations of ONI really for the greater good? Indeed, what defined the greater good at all? The governing body of the UN really had no right to fool with the lives of the people in their strategies and decisions. There was a point to which killing for the betterment of others became plain murder.
Then the senseless deaths of the people on Reach, Sigma Octanus, and all the other planets that had no knowledge of the impending threat were murder as well. Section Two, the propaganda division of the military, had kept the populations of the Inner Colonies under a cloak of false information. Not anyone, even Stuart's civilian friends, knew that the UNSC was being decisively defeated in the war against the Covenant. To them, the forces of Earth were crushing the puny aliens under their boot. But nobody, not even Section Two could explain why the list of UN outposts grew shorter with each passing year.
Above him, high in the African night, the first raindrops began to fall from the heavy clouds. The fat drops fell slowly at first, coming down in a sparse pattern. One of them plinked off the Captain's helmet with a metallic clang and splashed water into his eyes. In contrast to the docile weather in temperate areas, the tropical rain came down in giant torrents that looked as if some one had turned on a high-pressure hose in the sky.
Lightening crackled and thunder sent an earth-shaking rumble throughout the city as the storm broke overhead. The shower soon became a solid waterfall that washed through the streets. Stuart jumped up from his seat and ran quickly towards the warmth and dryness of the sheltered command post. As the storm grew in intensity, the rain reflected off of the metal roofs of the numerous shacks that lined the street to form a cacophony of noise.
Inside, the Captain ate, joked, and told stories with his men. They complained about the hard nutrient pills that were issued to them by the UNSC, talked their life at home, and joked about themselves. After long years at war, they had all become close friends and cared for each other in battles. Stuart joined in with their conversation and tried not to think anymore about war.
Thousands of bodies lay in the street as a remnant of the fighting that occurred during the day. Without time for a burial detail, the corpses of both Covenant and human alike lay in stacks, ignored and decomposing. Shards of shattered armor and millions of fragments of shrapnel were scattered everywhere. The torrential rain mixed with the bodies and seeped through the skin of the dead. During the time the marines relaxed from the latest battle, the rainwater continued its work by slowly intermixing with the blood of the dead. By the time it was finished, the streets ran thick with red. It was a horror that the Marines, occupied with their meals, failed to observe. The blood made its way to the sleeping quarters of the Marines, and by the morning it was visible to all.