Author's Notes: Well people, its that time again! Right now, updates will be fairly inconsistent, since I'm managing about 3 fics at the same time and more are in the works for my head, so... yeah. I'm crazy. Get over it.
To UltimateKane99: About that "Flood only being on Halo" thing, I don't really remember anything saying that Halo was the ONLY place the Flood were held on. Besides, wouldn't be as great a story if I can't include the lovable little flesh balloons!
Chapter 10: So Yeah, Screw You.
Logging Trail
"Hey... El-Tee? You sure this is a good idea?"
"Since when was being able to kill off hordes of Covvies not a good idea?"
"I was talking more about the 'disobeying a direct order' thing."
"Pfft. What are they going to do? Cycle me to a desk job? I wish."
"You know, a lot of us guys don't exactly share your respect for command-"
"Because we're here to fight and to kill. So get your damn Hog into position before I decide to use it for target practice."
"Yes ma'am!"
Karla watched as the young Hog driver throttled off to the join the rest of his squad and shook her head.
"Kids these days..."
She quickly clicked her radio on.
"All squads report."
"Squad One ready and waiting."
"Squad Two is here."
"Squad Three is hot."
"Squad Four is itching for some action!"
Williams, who's Warthog was parked next to Karla's spoke up.
"Hey, El-Tee, how many were down there again?"
"Oh, about three hundred, with vehicular support. Why?"
"Just checking. Are you serious about attacking the entire force?"
"At once? Hell no. This is just to take off a chunk of that force. Give those guys over at the outpost that's not supposed to exist a decent chance."
"Ah... okay. Sorry I ever doubted you , ma'am!"
Karla nodded and checked her chronometer.
"Good. Attack starts in..."
She quickly glanced at her chrono again."
"Minus Thirty. I hope you guys still remember how to do the run-n-gun!"
There were a chorus of shouts and cheers over the radio, but Karla still kept a close eye on the slowly ticking clock.
Twenty seven...
Twenty six...
Twenty five...
UNSC Outpost 6
Sam was standing on the roof of the bunker, keeping her scope trained on the treeline fifty yards away. Leo was busy sitting farther back managing the radio.
"Any word on the Pelicans yet, Leo?"
"Just a second... still trying to work this damn thing..."
Sam heard some grunting and what sounded like a standard issue Marine boot contacting metal. Suddenly, the air was filled with the crackle of radio static.
"The radio is good to go."
Sam shook her head.
"Thanks the good old Marine way. If it doesn't work, break it some more."
Before Leo had a chance to retort, however, another voice butted into the conversation.
"Th-s is U--- Peli—n Seattle Sev-n."
"Ugh, that's some pretty nasty interference. See if you can clean that up a little."
Leo bent down and quickly played with a few more knobs and buttons. As quickly as that, the random jumble of words and static was instantly filtered into crystal clear clarity.
"This is UNSC Pelican Seattle Seven to Outpost Six! Coming nice and easy on heading five-twenty. Please confirm, over."
Leo keyed his helmet radio.
"Confirmed. This is UNSC Outpost Six. Requesting pickup. Over."
There was a blast of static and a muffled curse from the pilot.
"Negative! I repeat, negative! LZ is hot and there are bogies all over! I'm reading incoming Banshees and ground forces! Attempting evasive man-"
The radio was then filled with an ear piercing scream. Sam winced and tried to cover hear eyes.
"Oh God, Leo, turn that thing off!"
As if in response, the screaming suddenly stopped. Sam put her hands down.
"Thank you."
"Um, Sam? I didn't do anything. The signal's still broadcasting."
Inside
When Paccone clicked on his radio and listened for several seconds, every Marine around him shied away after his reaction. His eyes seemed to bulge out of his head like balloons, and his face started to turn a crimson red.
"The Pelicans did WHAT?!?!?!"
"That's what happened! The first one reported a heavy Covvie force closing in and we lost contact with it. The other Pelicans bugged out shortly after that."
Paccone gave a nice, rich curse he had learned in the Marine boot camps on Reach, and a very nasty one at that. The sound resonated through the entire bunker, and every Marine turned their head or stopped what they were doing, though most weren't completely sure why.
Outside
Sam shifted uncomfortably, as if something was disturbing her.
"Hey Leo, you hear something?"
"No, why?"
"Just wondering."
Inside
"Carter! Any word on when the Pelicans will be back?"
"Command says it'll take another two hours for them to round up the Pelicans that went AWOL. Not even beginning to say how long it'll take them to set up another extraction."
"And how big is this Covvie force?"
"Er, from what that pilot said before she got shot down... about three hundred assorted troops, six Ghosts, two Wraiths, and two Banshees."
"Private, with that kind of force, in two hours, there won't even be an outpost to go to! Do we even have any reinforcements?"
"Um, even if there are any out this far, they're all under strict radio silence. All I keep getting is this damn automated UNSC code, which roughly translates into 'We can't answer your call right now because we're doing something faaaar more important, so yeah, screw you.'"
"Can the sarcasm, Private! We don't have time for your candy-ass talk! Keep an eye out for those Covvies and stay on that radio!"
"Yes si-"
Paccone then clicked off his radio and immediately started barking orders. Even though Captain Lupton outranked Paccone, the man was obviously more accustomed to making executive orders, not the quick, snap-decisions that a frontline Marine unit required.
"Lupton, I want you to round up every Marine, weapon, and piece of ammunition you can find!"
He quickly turned to the other Marines.
"You men! Set up barricades and form a perimeter around the bunker and get snipers on the roof! We've only got an hour at most, so get to it!"
All three dozen marines acknowledged his orders and started preparing for battle.
Logging Trail
The first shot came out quickly and with no mercy. A Jackhammer rocket suddenly seemed to materialize in the mist and bury itself into the side of a Wraith tank. 102mm missile slammed into the tank's side and exploded. The Wraith, damaged but not dead, listed to the side and attempted to fire before three more missiles reduced it to flying shrapnel.
Seconds later, the exact same thing happened to the Wraith taking up the rear of the formation. The explosion startled the Covenant troops, but that was nothing in comparison to the Warthogs. Like giant, vicious green beasts, the vehicles burst from the forest and started tearing into the Covenant.
Karla was in the midst of the battle, driving her Warthog like a maniac. She continually had her Warthog do sweeping turns, which threw off the Covvies' aim and slammed into any unfortunate troops who happened to be standing too close to the vehicle. Riley, her gunner, kept a steady stream of 30mm rounds going to pin down any troops that started getting bright ideas. Karla felt another thud when an unfortunate Elite became her next speedbump. What was even more amusing than that was the fact that because the Warthogs were literally in the middle of the Covvie formation, the troops were repeatedly shooting each other. She saw a fuel rod streak over and miss one of Squad Two's Warthogs by inches. Three grunts and a jackal paid for that Hunter's sloppy aim with their lives, and were instantly incinerated.
Suddenly, Ryan's Warthog shot past. Ryan's Hog was a special piece of work. Unlike the standard issue Warthog Light Reconnaissance Vehicle, his Hog was not armed with the standard issue LAAG or Jackhammer weapons systems. Instead, Ryan managed to find an old .50 cal anti-tank rifle from God-knows-where, tricked it out to the point where the rifle could push the heavy .50 caliber round past the sound barrier, and jury rigged it to the back of his Warthog using a modified mount from an old LAAG. The result was what Ryan proudly boasted as "an S2AM on crack."
As the Hunter began to swivel around to get a bead on Ryan's Hog, the gunner manning the heavy rifle swung around and managed to fire first. The Hunter, realizing what was going to happen, attempted to raise his shield. The Hunter was successful, or at least, partially successful in blocking the round. What he didn't take into account, though was the fact that bullets ricochet, which was quite common in conventional weaponry, but virtually nonexistent with plasma weapons and fuel rod cannons. The Hunter managed raise his shield just enough to keep it from blasting through his neck, but the round glanced off the top edge of his shield and instead speared itself straight through his chin and up his skull before his head blew open like an overripe melon. But even in death, a Hunter was still a lethal force to be reckoned with. The corpse, still standing, twitched once before it fell over and crushed a squad of hapless Grunts.
Karla looked around again noticed that now the enemy fire was getting more focused and organized. Riley shrieked as a plasma bolt struck her on the upper shoulder and fell over. Sanders, who was sitting in the passenger seat, quickly climbed over the seat with a first aid kit to check her wound. Several more plasma bolts sizzled through the air, and would have struck Riley had she not fallen over. Karla winced, the Covenant were finally starting to get it together and organize a counterattack. She grabbed her radio and yelled.
"This is Leader to all squads, break off! Break off and fall back to rally point Alpha!"
There were a number of quick acknowledgements, and she saw the other Warthogs quickly stop what they were doing, whip around, and disappear into the mist. A lot of the Navy boys, who tended to see the Marines doing this to clear the area for airstrikes, called this tactic "Fleeing into the Fog".
Before breaking off and fleeing into the fog herself, Karla took one last look at the Covvie formation. It was very apparent that even after four years of fighting, the Covenant still haven't gotten used to the "hit and run" attack. Out of the nearly three hundred original troops, here couldn't be more than about a hundred now. Every single one of their vehicles, save two Banshees, were piles of flaming wreckage. There were also several other piles of flaming debris, and Karla sincerely hoped that the flames weren't being fueled by Warthogs. Seeing the Covenant ready to fire again, she turned and hit the accelerator.