Section II

Earth

Hard Drop

The Pelican slowly descended, soaring above New Mombasa. Zoë stood by the hatch, looking out over the bright city. Vic Doyle sat silently, beside four other Marines. I quietly poked the BR55 I held in my hands.

"Who was first contact?"

"405th out of Diego Garcia - but don't expect a big welcome. Covenant ground forces wiped most of them out before they hit the ground."

I listened to the chatter between Sergeant Stevens and the pilot anxiously. Plasma bombs exploded around the Pelican, causing it to rock now and then. Even from this altitude, I could hear the sound of gunfire and Longsword fighters making air strikes. I glanced out the hatch behind us, and saw the street rising up to meet the Pelican. Below, several tiny Marines were suppressing a group of Jackals, but we left them behind.

The dropship began to slow, and the landing gear unfolded. It turned slightly, giving us a view of our LZ - several dozen Marines, including at least ten Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. Beyond, down the street, Covenant troops were being pinned down. A Warthog had been flipped over, along with quite a few civilian vehicles.

Zoë Stevens dropped out of the Pelican, and the Marines followed. I slid out, and followed the sergeant major as she trotted down the sidewalk, heading towards an ODST that seemed to be giving out orders. The concrete beneath us was cracked in several places - no surprise there - but I could also see where the road had buckled on a street heading towards the city-center. Only something big could do that.

Vic fell in behind me, and we jogged up to the ODST. The soldier's face was disguised beneath a black helmet with a black visor, and their body covered by a black protective suit. They looked like mini MC's to me.

"Colonel!" Zoë said, saluting. The ODST turned and muttered "At ease" in a deep ethnic voice. The black visor turned to me, and I noticed both Vic and Zoë were still saluting. I did, too, snapping my hand to my forehead. The helmet nodded, and we three relaxed.

"What're our orders, sir?" Stevens asked him. He did seem to have a pretty good grip on the battle, and he told me to follow the sergeant to reinforce the fire teams, while Vic went with an assault team. I recognized the antiquated "Find, Fix, Finish" strategy as Sergeant Stevens led me to a group of Marines firing from behind a red F-2000 pickup truck. The team was dousing suppressive fire on the pinned Covenant, which were taking cover behind a barricade of vehicles.

A Marine with a comm backpack and the nametag "Banks" told us to aim for the sides. I noticed they were each focusing on different areas of the barricade. The man was a good leader.

As I unloaded my precious ammunition, I watched from the corner of my eye as Vic, and ODST, and two Marines moved into position. Apparently, the Covenant did not notice them as they ducked behind a fallen billboard for a French restaurant. Another assault team flanked from the other side, and took cover behind a dumpster. Banks pulled a frag grenade from his belt, and another Marine with a Cuban accent told me that was the signal. Banks threw the pineapple over the pickup truck and behind the barricade. Several Covenant threw themselves into our line of fire, and the assault teams instantly sprang from their positions. I helped take out the panicking Grunts out in the open, while Vic and the other team whittled away the Elites. Once they were dead, our force joined up again next to the commanding ODST.

"Good job," he told us without much gusto. "Sergeant Banks, take Corporal Perez and several men to secure that building -" he pointed across the street - "and use it as a CP." He then turned his finger towards Zoë, then Vic, then me. "You three, take that Warthog and reinforce the platoon on the bridge."

Without further ado, Zoë grabbed my arm and led Vic and I to the Warthog. He took the side seat and I took the gunner's - Stevens drove. I took note that my friend Doyle held a S2-AM sniper rifle.

The Warthog sped away from the designated CP. We went around a corner, where I immediately spotted two Elites having a friendly, weaponless conversation at the other end of the street. Vic picked them off before I could warm up the vehicle's chain gun. Stevens turned again, and we went past an artificial waterfall and out into an open park.

XXX

It all seemed utterly peaceful when we pulled up next to the Marine platoon. Zoë dropped from the driver's seat and approached the group, and took up a conversation with one of them. I glanced around: we were on a high bridge, looking out over the waterway and the two Mombasas. Plasma bombs still floated through the sky occasionally, but all was peaceful. And the ODST commander had said "reinforce this platoon"?

I joined Sergeant Major Stevens and another Marine. "You're the highest-ranking soldier here, now," he told the sergeant. She nodded, and he continued: "Everything's damn quiet now, but it won't be for long. We've had reports of a Scarab heading this way."

There were groans from the Marines. "What's a Scarab?" I asked. The other humans looked at me as if I had grown mandibles. I blinked.

"A Scarab is a Covenant armored vehicle, and it's big," Vic said, in way of explanation.

"Okay, like a Wraith?" I asked him.

"Nope." He said.

"No, it's a lot bigger," the Marine that had been addressing Zoë told me. It has four legs, two plasma cannons, and one big-ass super laser thingy." I nodded.

A younger Marine, without a helmet, suddenly ran up to us, gasping for breath. Dread iced my veins as the man breathed, "Cov'nant vehicles, approaching from the city-center. Luck'ly, they're still pretty far away, on the other side of the bridge. We've set up a mine near the middle o' the bridge, and that'll give 'em a nasty surprise."

The Marines, including myself, turned as one and looked out across the bridge. Several blue lights appeared over the arc - Ghosts, boosting - and less than a second later a plume of fire reached up into the sky. No more Ghosts, until a Wraith and several more appeared to replace it.

There was another sound from behind us, but most of the soldiers had already spread out to take their places. A few took to the Warthog, but didn't drive away with it. Most of them began stacking up behind the tollbooths or by the entrance to the bridge, which curved inward and snapped forward, so there were walls Marines could hide behind.

I glanced backwards, and saw a Pelican zoom overhead. That must be what is making so much noise, I thought, until a thick green beam impaled the dropship. The beam came from behind the bridge, on the Old Mombasa side. The Pelican disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fire that dropped into the water below the bridge.

"Ah shit!" I heard one of the Marines call. "It's a fuc-" the rest of his sentence was cut off, as a huge spherical head-like thing thrust itself over the gateway into the tollbooths. A huge plasma cannon behind it immediately began spurting out blobs of molten plasma, which burned away at the Marine that had been speaking. I immediately ran for cover as a huge leg dropped onto the bridge, and then another. "The Scarab!" someone screamed.

The Ghosts chose this time to appear. The Marines stacked up by the aforementioned walls immediately ambushed them, firing on the motorcycle-like vehicles. One ignored them and fired at the Warthog before the chain gun could fire off a volley; the thick blue plasma blobs melted through the glass and the driver's face, and soon after the gunner's chest. I watched in horror as the other Ghost turned on the stacked-up Marines.

I threw myself behind a trashcan. The Scarab had unfurled its final leg, and was now visibly charging up its main cannon. It fired another green beam, washing it over the Marines on one side of the wall - at least a half-dozen, killing them all. Despite the gunfire now bouncing off the undercarriage, it began stomping away.

"Marines!" Zoë called to get the survivor's attention. "Get a rocket volley and some 40-cal on that thing!"

The Ghosts had retreated for the moment, boosting away the moment they heard the word "rocket". The Marines picked up a few heavy weapons, including what looked like a 40-caliber gun turret they had hid in one of the garage-like gates.

The began unleashing rocket after rocket, 40-cal after 40-cal. Indeed, not twenty feet ahead of us, the Scarab turned and observed the Marines like they were a platoon of pesky mosquitoes. The plasma turret fired, and it began to charge up its main cannon. The plasma washed, again, across the Marine lines, and I winced. The main cannon fired, obliterating the 40-caliber turret and the remainder of the rockets.

I caught sight of Vic, suddenly, picking up one of the rocket launchers and aiming at the Scarab. I watched in silent panic as he fired off the weapon. Instead of boiling him alive with plasma and dissipating him with the main cannon, it took two steps forward and impaled him on one of the legs. Crying out, I closed my eyes and duck further behind the trash can. Zoë screamed, "Vic!", barely audible over the Marine's own gurgles and shrieks.