Chapter 16: Everything Hits the Fan
Outskirts of Robles
So far, the patrol had been generally quiet. Sam and her squad had already checked out four potential "hot spots" for strange activity, but as of yet, there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Most of the squad members were now getting slightly agitated and impatient as the seemingly pointless patrols dragged on, and were starting to brag about going back on the front and facing Covenant head on.
Leo, meanwhile, was up front as the pointman. Leo always hated to be the one in the lead, since, statistically, the Marines who took up the front suffered more casualties than any other position on a squad per squad basis.
Shaking off his nervousness, Leo scaled a shallow ridge and brushed aside some low branches.
What he saw was enough to have him starting sprinting back to his sergeant.
Mackhall Airbase
Holy stared glumly at his new armor. During the past hour, Karla and several Marines had taken his protective suit and spray painted the crimson red into a dark UNSC Marine Green. In his head, Holy knew that the new color scheme served a practical purpose. It would improve his camouflage rating and lower the chances of a human accidentally shooting him. But Holy still couldn't shake the feeling that some of his honor and pride was being covered up as well. The Elite was used to having the bright colors displaying an Elite's power and status within the military, and being painted green was considered an insult or punishment by most Elites.
Karla seemed to catch Holy's unease with his new color and decided to pry a little.
"Hey Holy, why are you so glum? Green not your color?"
The Elite tilted his head towards Karla and shrugged.
"I understand the practical applications for such a change, but my unease is caused mostly from ceremonial and traditional beliefs."
"Really? Like what?"
Holy took a deep breath. He would have some explaining to do.
"As you know, in the Elite military, all rank is based on the color and type of armor they wear. Blue Elites signify the lowest rank. Red for higher ranks, Black for special operations, Gold for Field Masters, and Silver for the highest rank possible."
Karla frowned at the explanation.
"I thought Gold Elites were the highest."
Holy shook his head and continued.
"Silver Elites have more authority than Field Masters, but rarely ever go onto the field. They mainly stay behind the lines with the Prophets. They act as personal bodyguards, aides, and representatives of Prophets, and their authority in Elite society is second to none. As for their title, it is a little difficult to translate it into your English, but the world roughly translates into 'Knight of Heaven'."
"I'm still not seeing how Green Elites come into all of this."
"Well, the Elite military used to have an official class of Green Elites. Originally, there were meant to be scouts and pathfinders, though most Field Marshals and Knights were too conservative to be able to understand the role these units played. They were grossly misused, which resulted in extreme casualties, failed missions, and eventually, the disbanding of all of the scout units. After that, the color green was associated with failure and humiliation. Most instructors today would garb an unruly trainee in such colors as a form of punishment."
Karla winced at the little history lesson of Elite culture.
"That's horrible! You Elites take color that seriously?"
Holy nodded.
"It's an integral part of our society."
Karla then started to mumble under her breath.
"And I thought Humanity had problems dealing with color..."
Holy tilted his head in confusion.
"What?"
"Long story."
Outskirts of Robles
"It's a Pelican alright."
Paccone examined the wreckage strewn about the forest clearing. Judging from the state of decay on the metal, and the body parts, lying around the clearing, the dropship had been here for quite some time already.
"One of ours, sir?"
Paccone shook his head.
"No, private. See that color scheme? That ain't normal UNSC camo. Marines never paint Pelicans black. Too conspicuous. My guess is, it's probably some sort of civilian variant or something..."
"Sir! I found something here!"
Paccone turned to where Leo was. The Marine was holding up a large chunk of metal. It was worn, scratched, and burnt, but the insignia painted on the metal was unmistakable.
"Well I'll be damned. What the hell was ONI doing out here?"
Before his question could be answered however, there was a sudden rustling in the bushes behind him. Paccone and the other Marines spun around.
"Carter, Jennings, check that out. Wellings, you cover them."
The three Marines nodded and slowly inched their way toward where the rustling occurred. Seconds seemed to drag into hours as they drew closer to the bushes, until something poke its head out. Jennings sighed in relief.
"Christ, it's just a damn dog."
At that moment, the dog bared massive, rotting teeth and leapt at Jennings. The Marine shrieked as the creature landed on his chest and started to tear his throat out by the mouthful. Leo quickly let off a burst of assault rifle fire, which blew the mad dog back five feet. Sam knelt down to check Jennings, but it was a wasted gesture. The Marine was already dead.
One of the Marines behind stared gape-jawed.
"What the FUCK was that?!?"
"Shut it, private! Carter! Wellings! Grab Jennings' tags, then we can get the hell out of here!"
Wellings took one look at what was left of Jennings' throat. The dog had torn off so flesh, that the Marine may have very well been decapitated.
"But sir-"
"Do it NOW, Wellings! We're not sure how many of those things are-"
Before he could finish his sentence however, one of the Marines yelled.
"Holy crap! The damn thing's alive!"
Paccone whipped around to look, and sure enough, the dog was already trying to scramble to it's feet, growling and barking. It seemed to have trouble getting back onto its feet, but the dog was definitely alive.
"Impossible!"
Just then, there was more growling and howling coming from the forest. A Marine screamed as another dog leapt out of nowhere and landed on his back, tearing into his spine. Paccone turned and fired three shots from his pistol. He saw three direct hits, but the dog wasn't even phased.
"The hell-"
Soon, five more dogs emerged from the bushes, teeth bared and ready to attack. Paccone and the a couple of other Marines opened fire with their assault rifles, but it didn't seem to have much affect. The dogs would merely just fall over and get back up again. Seeing that there was no way they could bring these dogs, or whatever these things were, down, Paccone snatched a grenade and yelled.
"Everybody! Fall back! Back to the Pelican!"
He didn't need to say it twice. In an instant, the remaining Marines took off back into the forest. Paccone stayed behind for a few seconds, long enough to throw his grenade into the middle of the pack of dogs tearing away at what was left of Walter's corpse...
Sam nearly skidded to a stop when she heard a loud bang come from the clearing. She thought the worst had happened until she felt something slam in her back, pushing her forward.
"Keep moving, goddamnit! KEEP MOVING!"
The Marines kept running back to their pickup point. Just a few more feet away, and they would be back to the relative safety of the Pelican.
Unfortunately, the unearthly howls and groans behind them began to grow louder.