CHAPTER EIGHT¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

0810 Hours, January 26, 2535 (Military Calendar)/ Lambda Serpentis System, Upper Atmosphere, Jericho III

'Plague'

Plague watched as Wrench, engulfed in flames, jumped off of the drop ship and toward the small ghost. Because he, the ship and the ghost were all falling, he seemed to simply float across the gap and grab onto the ghost. Looking back, he signaled for Plague and Brute to follow.

Plague made his way to the edge of the ship and then he too, pushed off and glided over to the ghost. Wrench had already jumped to the second one, and Brute was right behind him. He took a seat in the ghost and prepared to turn it on. They were approaching the clouds now, and didn't have much time before they hit the ground.

Plague turned back and signaled for Brute to jump onto his vehicle. He did, and crawled around Plague so that he was on the front of the ghost.

Plague turned to look at the Covenant ship. Its weapons were charged, and once again it fired.

"Go!" yelled Plague, and he and Wrench both activated the ghosts simultaneously. The anti-gravity of the two hovercrafts kicked in and both slowed significantly, making both the large and small ships seem to suddenly fall out from under them.

The plasma bolts that had been fired a second earlier struck the drop ship, setting fire to and destroying it. They had activated the ghosts just in time. Below them, the large Covenant ship passed through the clouds, along with the burning wreckage of the drop ship.

"We'd better get down there so we can see where it crashes," said Plague.

"Let's go," replied Wrench, and deactivated his ghost.

Plague did the same, and they both dropped quickly through the clouds. Far below, the ship was getting lower and lower. Finally, it crashed near the base of a small mountain, causing a massive amount of dust and smoke to be sent into the air, hiding it from view. A few seconds later, a swarm of small purple dots came rushing out of the dust cloud, and straight toward them.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Wrench, "Incoming banshees!"

"Brute," Plague said, "take the controls, I have work to do."

Brute didn't reply, but took the controls after Plague had climbed out onto the front of the ghost. He readied his sniper and peered through the scope. Three banshees were leading the pack, with at least another five behind them. It was a fairly large attack, and Plague planned on making it a bit smaller.

He targeted the lead banshee, and waited until he had a good shot. The flyer turned slightly to his right, exposing his side just a bit. Plague fired, and cockpit hinge on that side popped off. The cockpit cover raised up, having only one hinge in tact. A second later it broke off completely, leaving an exposed, but working banshee, and its surprised pilot. He didn't have long to ponder what had happed though, because Plague's next bullet found its way to his head, and his limp body slipped out of the flyer.

Plague aimed his rifle at a second one, but it rolled to the side and opened fire. He spun himself around and off the side of the ghost's wing, grabbing onto it so that he was below the ghost, which gave him a straight shot at the oncoming fighters.

Hanging on with one hand, he leveled his sniper with the other and zoomed in on the banshee, which had just come out of its roll. He aimed quickly and fired. The shot hit the left anti-grav pod and the flyer spun out of control and down toward the planet, which they were approaching rapidly.

They were now completely below the clouds, and only had a few seconds remaining. Plague pulled himself back up on top of the ghost so that he wouldn't be crushed upon impact. Looking around, he saw the remaining banshees approaching, and saw his chance. He bent his knees slightly, getting ready to jump.

"What are you doing?" yelled Brute.

"Change of plans," replied Plague, "I'll catch up with you guys later."

Neither Brute nor Wrench had time to reply before the lead banshee flew directly over Plague's head. He jumped, caught a wing, and pulled himself up so that he was hanging on underneath the banshee, using his feet on the back of the craft for support as well.

His weight forced the banshee to dip lower, and it fell to only a hundred feet or so above the ground. Plague knew that he could easily survive that fall without any major injuries. He pulled out a plasma grenade and activated it, then stuck it to the bottom of the banshee.

As quickly as he could, he released his grip and pushed himself off of the banshee and toward the ground. He watched the flyer as he fell. It continued for a second then burst into a giant ball of blue plasma.

He turned his head and looked down, and the ground came up to meet him very quickly. His forward momentum carried him further though, and he slid through the dirt for twenty feet before finally coming to a stop right in front of a hunter, with its gun charged and aimed at his head.

'Brute'

Brute watched with shock as Plague jumped up and caught the wing of the passing banshee. He wished he could have seen what he planned to do next, but the situation at hand was more important.

He gave his attention to the remaining five banshees, which were still a very immediate threat. They had all opened fire, and Brute had not problem doing the same. However, being in a ghost, he couldn't maneuver very well or dodge any fire, which meant that if he just continued to spray them with fire, they would win.

He couldn't allow that. There is always a way. There is always a way, but not this time. He had not cover, not additional fire power…

Wait! That was it, fire power. That was what would turn the tide. He released the controls, stood up, and brought out his rocket launcher. He wished he could have had a nice target tracking feature, but unfortunately that was still in the development phase at some top secret UNSC weapons research facility. He would have to make do with what he had.

He took careful aim, a difficult thing to do when being splashed with plasma fire, and fired. The banshee, which was very close by now, tried to roll but wasn't fast enough.

Brute adjusted his aim, but lowered his rocket after realizing a better option. One banshee flew over him, and he readied and threw a plasma grenade. It stuck, and a few seconds later, the destructive fighter was a harmless pile of falling debris.

There was only one banshee left because Wrench had taken out two just using his ghost's weapons. The last one would be easy. He adjusted his aim and fired another rocket. This banshee attempted to dive out of the way, but the rocket clipped one wing, destroying one whole side of the vehicle. What was left simply fell to the ground.

Suddenly, Brute's ghost hit the ground. The shock forced him to his knees. That would certainly have killed any marine, but the Spartans weren't just any marine. That was why they were Spartans. That was the exact reason they were created. They were better, and they were better by far.

Brute stood up again, and reloaded his rocket launcher. He had landed no more than half a mile from the ship, but there was not sign of hostiles anywhere. Even with his enhanced vision, he couldn't see any in the distance.

"Well," said Wrench, as though having read his mind, "There's no one here. I guess we had better get to their ship."

"All right," replied Brute, "let's go."

It took them only just over a minute to run the half mile distance to the ship, a good time, even for a Spartan. They stopped a few hundred feet away though, and hid behind a few large boulders that had been turned up by the ship's crash.

"Well, we have no way to contact Plague, so we won't have a sniper to cover us," Wrench said.

"I have an idea," said Brute, "just do as I say."

Wrench blinked his acknowledgement light.

Brute peeked around the corner of the boulder. He could now see a few surviving Covenant patrolling the area. They were near the back of the ship, close to where the engines had detonated. The entire back portion of the ship was charred wreckage, and an easy entrance. They knew that the Spartans were there, they just didn't know where.

Looking around Brute spotted a Wraith mortar tank, still in working condition a few hundred meters away. If he could get there, he could use it to clear the way, and they could move into the ship if needed.

"I'm going to make a dash for that Wraith," he said, "Can you give me cover?"

"Why don't you use the ghost?" asked Wrench, motioning to a nearby ghost lying on its back.

"Too much noise. If I go on foot they won't notice me until I'm already half way there."

"How about a distraction?" asked Wrench.

"Works for me," Brute replied.

Brute took off, running for the Wraith as fast as he could. There was no hiding his dash. The tank lay in the direction of the downed ship, so he was heading almost straight into the enemy. He ignored the squeals of surprised grunts, and the squawks of mad jackals, and focused all of his energy on running toward the tank.

An explosion sounded behind him. Brute could only imagine what Wrench was doing, but he hoped that it would work. It seemed to, because Brute made it almost all the way to the Wraith without getting hit. Now however, a group of three grunts standing in his path opened fire.

He quickly pulled out his shotgun and shot it in the face as he dashed by. With one swift motion he brought the butt of the gun down on the second's head, and ran past the third.

The remaining grunt was surprised that he had survived, and let out a high-pitched yell of victory. It was cut short however, by Brute's grenade, which he had dropped as he ran by. A second later, all that was left in the grunt's place was a small crater.

Brute was nearly to the tank when an elite seemed to come out of nowhere. It saw him, screamed, and quickly climbed into the tank. Brute stopped running, only about thirty feet from the tank, and stood almost perfectly still, not daring to move.

As he figured was inevitable, the Wraith fired, and a giant, blue projectile was launched toward him.

'Wrench'

As Brute took off running, Wrench quickly prepared his distraction. He flipped the ghost right side up and pulled out two frag grenades. He wedged the two grenades between the seat and the side of the ghost, and with his fingers through the loops on the pins, activated the ghost.

The vehicle flew forward and the pins where pulled out of the grenades, which remained safely in the ghost. A group of Covenant turned toward the noise to see the makeshift hovering time bomb flying straight for them. They tried to dive out of the way, and would have been successful had the grenades not been there. As the ghost passed by them, the grenades detonated, sending their bodies flying in all directions. The wreckage of the ghost continued on for a few meters, sliding along the ground, then stopped.

It had worked perfectly. Nearly all of them had been killed, and now other groups of enemies were running toward the spot at which the ghost had exploded. The best part was that none of them knew where he was or what had caused it. Not for long though.

Wrench stepped out from behind the boulder and fired his assault rifle a few of the approaching Covenant. That gave away his position to them, but that was just what he wanted. As they came closer, he began to climb up and over the rock.

By the time they got around it to the spot where he had been, he was on the other side, unnoticed. The boulder was massive, but he knew he could roll it easily. His enhanced strength was many times that of a normal man.

With a little effort, he rolled it and heard a number of cries from the other side. Apparently his plan had worked. However, he still had to deal with the survivors. They came around both sides of the boulder, three elites and a number of grunts. It wasn't anything too big.

By the time the first elite had a clear shot of him, he had his pistol in the air, and the elite walked right into it. Wrench shot at point blank, and the bullet penetrated the enemy's shields then skull. It let out a short, startled scream and fell to the ground.

Two more elites were behind him. One tried to hit him in the back, but he side stepped and it brought its rifle down through the air next to him. Wrench grabbed the weapon and twisted the elite's arm breaking it.

The other elite began firing into his back, but he quickly spun around, still gripping the other elite's arm, and forced it between himself and the fire. The broken-armed elite took a number of shots in the chest before his ally let up. It was too late though, he was already dead, and Wrench let his body slip to the ground.

He was still holding the elite's plasma rifle though, and he brought that up and fired. The elite dodged it and rolled behind the boulder. A second later however, he came around the other side. Apparently he had learned his lesson when Wrench had crushed his buddy earlier.

Again the enemy used melee tactics. Wrench easily dodged it, but this time it was a pulled attack. The elite did not follow through, and so was able to pull back and fire directly into Wrench's faceplate.

Wrench spun to the side, moving out of the fire, and pushed his elbow back, catching his opponent in the side. The elite yelled and stumbled back. Wrench drew his pistol once again, and before it could come back at him he shot it in the face and it too fell.

The grunts were already running away. Pathetic, Wrench thought, and proceeded to pick them off one at a time.