The Great Journey
A/N: More changes in perspective. As you can see, and as I have said before, I am slowly drifting away from the typical, well-known characters and viewpoints. The Chief will have to wait. And, on an unrelated note, in my fic one Covenant unit equals roughly two minutes of human time. Just letting you know, because units are used in this particular chapter.
Reviews:
Ultra Sonikku: Yeah, that is weird, but I didn't actually take off the notice, it was removed because apparently you can't post any notices as chapters. Too bad for me. And don't worry, everyone's ideas will come into consideration…
nightdragon0: Glad to see somebody picked up on that. Nice.
goldfish demon: Yep, but plot elements will have to come eventually.
NuclearMage: The Hunters' weapons would cause some interior damage, but usually warships should have interior bulkheads and such to minimize damage. The most their Fuel Beams will do is punch a hole through several walls. And the only survivors from the In Amber Clad are Johnson, the Chief (who is at Earth), Miranda Keyes, Michael Ross(the pilot of Alpha 279), and the squad of Helljumpers. Everyone else was infected by the Flood.
Link Master500: Heh, yeah, the whole chapter was basically one hallway battle. And it's good to know that readers actually have some confidence in my role with romance, even though I know virtually nothing about it.
SPECIALGUY: Well, I was planning not to get Kelly and Dr. Halsey involved, but now I am considering it. Stay tuned.
appledude211: Damn, man. I really hate to hear that. I have an older brother too, and annoying as he is, it would be sad to have him KIA. Best of wishes to you and your family. Marines rock. Long live the Marine Corps. Semper Fi.
Stalker: Everything will be considered.
BrendantheJedi: Yes.
Duke Devlin: Even I have some of those questions. Problem is, I'm the one who's supposed to be answering them.
Zanger: That's classified.
Cobra 175: I hope they make a safe return as well.
Saerry Snape: Really? Well, I didn't know that. Thanks for the info.
Much thanks to everyone listed above! You are not neglected just because I didn't say "thanks" in the personal response!
Shout outs to everyone else who reviewed: pzgr6, Warior, YamiPaladinofChaos, Spacefan, psyche, Fhulhi the Crazy, elitegrunt117, The 2 Outcasts, corkscrew737, Eminem Fan, Admiral Toto, Dark Dragoon 22, Ninjoc, The Monitor, virtual-reality, and Bob, thanks for the support, compliments, and reviews!
Chapter 8: Perspective Shift
0100 hours, February 22, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar) ♦ Covenant carrier Prophet's Flame, holding position in Earth's stratosphere.
Ship Leader Karkatus stood at the helm of the Covenant carrier Prophet's Flame, his dark beady eyes flickering over the various displays mounted on the bridge walls. The savage, muscular Brute was the equivalent of his Elite Ship Master predecessors, and Karkatus commanded one of the two carriers that had penetrated Earth's orbital defense grid.
The journey had been a harrowing one; literally hundreds of the human projectiles had been thrown at them, a wall of flame that was deadly yet mesmerizing at the same time. Out of the hundred-odd carriers that had made the kamikaze run against the human defenses, there were only two survivors, those two that were now inside the atmosphere of Earth. The Brute wondered if the Grand Fleet would be able to hold out against the withering fire of the infidels' stations and ragged fleet. Primitive though they were, the humans' weapons were nonetheless effective.
Karkatus tore his thoughts from the ongoing battle in orbit and distracted himself with a snort of contempt as he glanced at the purple-blue blood that still stained the deck beneath his heavy feet. It had been his personal pleasure to dispose of the particular Elite Ship Master of this carrier. Now, however, he had other issues to worry about. He resigned himself to surveying the bridge viewscreens.
"Deploy Third Seraph Wing to cover against oncoming human attacks," directed Karkatus. Although he knew the infidel ground weapons could hardly damage a Covenant carrier, there was no sense in being careless. However, the Brute found it more sensible to just glass the non-essential parts of the planet and pick through the remnants. The Prophet had been quite adamant in his orders not to harm the planet, however. A pity – many Covenant soldiers would be lost in the cleansing process of the objective. He watched as the only remaining Seraph wing on board the carrier took up defensive positions around the carrier, some still smoking from unrepaired battle damage. Both carriers had lost nearly their full complement of Seraphs, who had been ordered on a suicidal mission to distract Earth's defenses while the carriers punched through.
"Leader, we're descending into the planet's lower atmosphere," reported one of the bridge staff, the Officer Brutes. Unlike the Elites, who were solitary commanders, the Brutes operated like the humans, with lesser officers complementing a commander. Equipment had been set up around the circular bridge platform for the Brute Officers to man.
"Very good. Prepare the troops for immediate landing," ordered Karkatus. A secondary viewscreen activated, highlighting the African continent. The screen automatically zoomed in on a nondescript island off the eastern coast of the continent. Any human monitoring the screen would've identified the island as Zanzibar, Tanzania.
Calligraphy scrolled across the viewscreen and the island blinked red. Smaller characters appeared next to the flashing island. These symbols granted vital information to the reader, including nearby human force deployments, area defenses, and other intelligence a commander would find useful.
Leader Karkatus already knew his orders. They were surprisingly general: clear human forces out of the area, secure the island, and await the Prophet of Truth's arrival. With that in mind, he yelled for one of his Officers to initiate communications with the last remaining High Prophet's Forerunner vessel.
The hovering dais, weathered gray face, and serpentine neck of the High Prophet appeared in the center of the bridge platform via a holograph projector. "Yes, Leader?" the Prophet asked, with the air of someone who was used to contemptuousness of others.
The Brute bowed low, not daring to rise until ordered to. "Holy One, the Prophet's Flame and Pure Spirit have penetrated the infidels' orbital defenses. We are currently en route to the primary objective and will arrive in a matter of minutes."
"Excellent. Proceed as planned. The fleet is preparing a mass attack on the humans' defenses. Before long I shall be able to join you on the surface. Now, I have matters to attend to." The Prophet's holograph winked and disappeared-conversations with the Prophets never lasted long. Karkatus rose from his prone position and glanced at his Officers, swiveled in their chairs and waiting for orders.
"What are you waiting for?" Karkatus barked, abandoning his tone of reverence. "You heard the Prophet. Get us to the objective!"
"Yes, Leader," responded the Officers hurriedly. The Brute in charge of engine functions fired the Prophet's Flame's main thrusters, and the carrier rocketed towards Zanzibar.
The viewscreen that mapped the planet's surface flashed. A purple line traced the map onscreen, indicating the relative path of the Prophet's Flame and its partner. It showed the pair of carriers nearing Zanzibar Island. The massive ship slowed as it neared its destination. The carrier's engines gave a final rumble and the ship came to a stop. With a quick snap of his fingers, Karkatus had the Seraphs pulled back into their launch bays for the purpose of clearing the airspace for his next command.
"Begin the assault," Karkatus ordered. His subordinates nodded, and relayed his orders on to the Brutes, Jackals, and Drones, already on station inside their Phantoms. The peaceful, sunny day in eastern Africa was shattered by the high whine of fifty Phantom engines as they roared across the sky, sunlight glinting dully off of their polished surfaces. The dropships accelerated towards Zanzibar Island, dark shapes like birds of prey swooping down on their helpless victims.
The game was on.
0100 hours, February 22, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar) ♦ Defense Installation AC-E (African Continent, Eastern), part of the UNSC Earth Defense Network.
Brigadier General Alexander MacArthur restlessly paced the command room of the African Continent Eastern complex. He had been charged with the defense of the entire eastern portion of the continent, and so the General had been sent to the African Continent Eastern HQ. The heavily-protected complex was the center of command for all defensive operations in East Africa. Along with 3rd Earth Defense Brigade, comprised of some 5,000 Marines with armor and air support, he was to protect the area from any Covenant incursion.
Now, the General stared at the two red silhouettes of Covenant carriers, holding position not two hundred kilometers off the coast of Zanzibar Island. At least fifty smaller dots, most likely Phantoms, were headed straight for the island. He was confused as to why the massive carriers didn't just glass the area or send a wave of Seraphs in. MacArthur pushed the speculation out of his already troubled mind and turned his attention to the more important task of dealing with these unwelcome visitors.
"Sir, those Phantoms appear to be converging on EAP Wind Power Station 7. The first dropships are probably a kilometer from the beach as we speak," said one of the command staff. "They should be engaging Dog Company of Second Battalion, Third Regiment within minutes. The carriers are pulling back, two thousand kilometers out over the Indian Ocean, sir."
MacArthur nodded, then asked, "Who's Dog Company's CO? Captain Summers, correct?" When a staff officer nodded, the General continued. "Warn him that he's got company inbound, lots of it, and they should get ready. Tell the Captain to ignore the carriers, because they seem to be ignoring us. Have Charlie Company standing by in Pelicans for backup. Get an aircraft carrier battlegroup into position in the Seychelles archipelago to give Dog Company air support."
The COM staff gave an affirmative and sent the General's orders out. Though their CO was quite inexperienced, his family had a long history of brilliant military commanders, not the least of whom was Douglas MacArthur – the most decorated officer in the United States military's history. Other MacArthurs served in Jovian Moons Campaign of 2160 and Interplanetary War of 2164, all earning many medals and climbed to a high step in the military ladder. This gave the ones who were educated about the MacArthurs an expectation for intelligent tactical and strategic command.
The Brigadier General had lobbied for the deployment of surface warships on Earth since the beginning of 2552. At first there had been much opposition to the plans, which were regarded as "antiquated 20th and 21st century warships" that had no place in a modern combat situation. When it became clear that a Covenant invasion was imminent, MacArthur got his wish.
Modernized battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and aircraft carriers of their ancient 20th and 21st century counterparts were deployed to strategic points around the globe. Of course, these would be useless if the Covenant glassed the planet, but from the example of Reach and several other occasions when human colonies were invaded instead of glassed from orbit, some high-ranking military officials recognized that the warships could be of some use and quickly implemented MacArthur's ideas.
At the present time those ships would prove to be very useful indeed; though the MAC-equipped battleships couldn't shell the island because of their incredible firepower that would undoubtedly kill UNSC forces as well as Covenant. However, the Apache carrier battlegroup would provide vital air power that would supplement aircraft launched from land bases. In addition, the miniaturized MAC guns on cruisers and frigates could put precise yet devastating fire onto almost any Covenant LZ. The smaller MACs had less punch than a battleship's massive 18" magnetically-accelerated cannons.
Alex McArthur leaned back in his commander's chair, sighed, and rested his hand on a clenched fist. The situation was very nearly out of his hands now; he had done all he could for the human cause. As a commander confined to a building with limited battlefield awareness, his orders would probably be less appropriate for the battle than a front-line CO's. Also, it would be difficult for him to reinforce those positions; the majority of his troops were scattered all over Africa. By the time a relief group of Marines arrived, Zanzibar was likely to be taken already. Now it was all up to the surface ships, aircraft, and most importantly, the men and women of Dog Company.
0105 hours, February 22, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar) ♦ EAP Wind Power Station 7, Zanzibar IslandTanzaniaAfrica
Captain Elliot Summers watched through a sniper scope as the Covenant Phantoms approach the beach to Wind Power Station 7. Encased inside a two-meter shell of concrete reinforced by two more meters of instacrete, erected on a rocky bluff overlooking the power station, the commanding officer of Dog Company and his staff in the CP had a commanding view of the area. AA guns also ringed the high bluff, preventing any Covenant from landing up-spin of the station. Summers and his Marines had been sent to the position more than a week ago, when the Covenant made their first attack on Earth, and they had erected all their fortifications during the course of the week.
The Captain had no idea as to how Earth HighCom had figured out how the Covenant would attack such a seemingly worthless position, but he gave thanks for the early warning as he surveyed the heavily reinforced seawall that the majority of his Marines were occupying. His eyes flicked over the bunker and trench system set up as a secondary perimeter if the seawall was breached. As he watched, the Captain listened in to the local COM traffic through the command freq.
"This is SeaHawk Wing Alpha…we are making our approach run on the Phantoms, bearing 0-0-1. Hang tight, Dog Company, get ready for some fireworks." As soon as the pilot finished speaking, a flight of twenty gray-blue SeaHawks, multi-role carrier-launched fighters, streaked into view at over Mach 4 with an earsplitting roar.
The fifty Phantoms turned their plasma turrets to face the SeaHawks, one hundred and fifty cannons all told. They unleashed a torrent of plasma on the oncoming fighters, who broke formation and easily avoided the sluggish plasma charges. The turrets on the Phantoms couldn't track the highly nimble fighters, and they swiveled madly in vain to target their enemies.
The SeaHawk wing formed up again in attack formation. Plumes of white and orange appeared on their wingtips as they launched Sidewinder-XII missiles at the hapless cluster of Phantoms.
With a series of blinding, red-orange explosions mingled with blue, the missiles found the Phantoms. Four or five were utterly destroyed by the high-explosive warheads. Another three sustained damage, trailed smoke, and lost altitude. Most of the dropships had also lost a few plasma cannons to the barrage, but they were useless against the SeaHawks either way.
The fighters swooped in for another pass, with a turn so tight that a 21st century pilot would've passed out. However, the SeaHawks had modern equipment that prevented the pilots from being knocked unconscious by the incredible G-forces of such a turn.
SeaHawks dived at their enemies, launched their remaining missiles, then deliberately strafed their opponents' plasma cannons with 40mm rotary cannons. The 40mm cannons were mounted two to a SeaHawk and could spit out 1,800 AP-HE rounds a minute. Plasma turrets flew off from their mounts from the assault, hung limp as their couplings were destroy, or exploded from missile impacts.
The results were devastating. Three more Phantoms were lost, but the important detail was that barely any plasma cannons left. This meant that the Covenant wouldn't be able to strafe Dog Company and kill off the majority of the Marines before their troops' feet even touched the ground. Also, the Phantoms would be forced to put down on the beach, because the interior of the station was filled with heavy machine gun turrets, or HMGs, along with the AA defenses ringing bluffs over the Marine fortifications. Without covering fire from their dropships to make the humans keep their heads down, any Covenant soldier landing in the interior would be cut to pieces in milliseconds.
"Hope you enjoyed the show. Alpha Wing…over and out." Summers smiled and clicked on his own COM. "Thanks for the fireworks. Too bad we didn't get popcorn to go with it."
The wing leader laughed, did a barrel roll just for kicks, and peeled off with the rest of his wing, back towards the aircraft carrier Apache.
"Now, boys and girls," said Captain Summers, in a statement directed to his own soldiers. "Thanks to those SeaHawks, the Covenant will have to land on the beach, not right in middle of the station. We don't have twenty M297s trained on the shore for nothing. As soon as those bastards' dirty feet touch the sand, open fire. Not just you with the MGs, everyone. Don't stop firing unless the order is given, and hold your positions on the wall. If the Covenant breach the seawall, we'll have to pull back to our secondary lines, and we'll lose a lot of men in the process. I want Fourth Platoon in the bunkers facing the seawall entrance. That's a big gaping hole in our wall; don't let anyone through it. Oh, and, one more thing. Kick some damned alien ass! Clear?"
"Crystal, sir!" his soldiers roared back. The words had hardly left their mouths when the leathernecks looked up. The first Brutes were drifting down from the Phantoms. One hundred and sixty Marines roared battle cries, and opened fire.
The fanatic first arrivals paid dearly for their overenthusiasm. The twenty or so Brutes barely even knew what hit them as thousands of armor-piercing rounds poured in from every crevice, hole, and firing port on the walls. Their unrecognizable, bullet-ridden corpses had just hit the sandy earth when more Covenant drifted down from the lifts. The pattern of Brutes and Jackals landing and being slaughtered continued for quite some time. The M297 SAWs, Battle Rifles, and Sniper Rifles of the Marines overwhelmed the helpless aliens. Before long piles of bodies began to accumulate.
In an attempt to end the ongoing slaughter, a flight of Seraphs streaked overhead, strafing the human positions with miniature pulse lasers. There weren't enough of the aircraft to do much damage, and even had there been, Dog Company was dug in too well. Still, it distracted the M297 gunners, who angled their machine guns upwards and sprayed the alien fighters with the help of computerized leading/tracking scopes built into their M297s. Shields on the Seraphs flickered, but they shrugged the damage and arced around for another pass. This was a mistake on the part of the humans, one that Captain Summers quickly corrected.
He keyed his mike and yelled angrily, "What do you think you're doing? Your .30 cal rounds won't do a thing to those Seraphs! Concentrate your fire on the landing Covenant troops – they're the main threat! Let our AA guns handle the Seraphs!"
Quickly, the machine-gunners whipped their M297s back to face the beach, but the damage was done. The landing Covenant soldiers were only faced by seventy Battle Rifles and ten Sniper Rifles, which were powerful weapons but slow-firing, which meant that they couldn't deal with forty Phantoms dropping troops at the same moment. The Jackals formed a shield wall impervious to the Battle Rifle 9.5mm rounds, which were higher-caliber but shorter and overall less powerful than the 7.62mm M297 rounds. Brutes behind this temporary barrier set up stationary shield generators similar to the Jackals' shields for even more protection. These could ward off even the heavy rounds of the machine guns and the snipers.
Marines tossed grenades over the stationary shields, but Jackals angled their shields upwards and the frags ricocheted off of the energy barriers. Only a few actually detonated in the enemy formation, causing few casualties. The soldiers of Dog Company picked off those still coming out of the dropships' lifts, but the majority had already made it off already thanks to the quick-deploying Phantom lifts.
Captain Summers had a quick and easy fix to the problem. "First Platoon, Second Platoon, get to those Rocket Launcher caches behind the seawall! Show the Covenant that their shields aren't impenetrable! Stay low, watch for Seraphs!" There was a sonic boom over his head as a Seraph flew overhead, dropping an explosive form of plasma near the command bunker. The four-meter thick combination of concrete and instacrete took the brunt of the blow, and nobody in the command staff was injured. Quickly, more instacrete was poured into the hole created by the explosive.
The rock beneath the Captain rumbled as a nearby 88mm repeating antiaircraft cannon opened up. The weapon, sitting on a powered mount, could rotate quick enough to track a Seraph and with the built-in targeting computer, the gunner could lead the shots with great accuracy. Combined with the powerful 88mm HE shell that could be fired twice in a second, the twelve AA guns soon proved to be deadly for the Covenant fighters. Despite this, their usefulness was limited as they could not angle low enough to hit the Phantoms over the beach, which were actually at a negative elevation compared to the high, rocky bluffs the AA guns were perched on.
A Seraph gained altitude after peeled off from covering the landing forces. This proved to be a fatal mistake. Twelve 88mm shells pounded into its shields and armor, easily penetrating both. The fighter's fuel cells detonated and swallowed the remnants of the Seraph in blue flame.
The Marines on the seawall dropped useless Battle Rifles and shouldered the M19 Rocket Launchers. Thirty 102mm rockets streaked down onto shore, detonating upon impact with the shields that the Covenant had constructed. With a series of rapid explosions, the energy fields winked out, and the Marines quickly fired the second rocket in their launchers' tubes. Bodies and weapons were thrown about as the rockets struck, along with a large cloud of dust. The rocket-wielding Marines hastily ejected empty tubes, slammed fresh ones in, and fired twice more to clear the beach of any survivors.
When the swirling dust, sand, and smoke finally cleared, all that remained were the blackened remains of Brutes and Jackals, strewn about like leaves in the autumn gale, along with a section of beach where the sand was mysteriously missing. The rocketeers, free to direct their fire anywhere they chose, concentrated fire on one Phantom at a time. The empty dropships quickly fed more power to their engines and drifted upwards, straight into the fire vector of the 88mm AA cannons.
Marines on the seawall winced as shrapnel rained down on their positions. Five Phantoms fell to the beach with a sand-muffled thud, flames licking at their sides and large holes smoking in their side armor. The remaining Covenant dropships quickly turned tail, fired thrusters, and jetted off towards the safety of their carriers in the distance.
Captain Summers watched the enemy craft disappear, in the direction of the distant, silvery specks that marked the Covenant carriers. The absolute stupidity of the Covenant appalled him. Here, the aliens had lost nearly two hundred soldiers on the beaches, plus fifteen or so Phantoms, when they had the firepower to annihilate the power station without a single casualty. There must've been something located at or under this position that the Covenant were worried about damaging.
The Captain nearly laughed. Covenant…worried about damaging human real estate? He had a better chance of destroying those carriers with a Battle Rifle loaded with rubber bullets than the Covenant not taking an opportunity to destroy human territory. He took off his cap and ran a hand through his short brown hair. Something bigger was at work here. And generally, when a front-line soldier ran into something bigger than he was used to, it was custom to let the asswipes in HighCom to sort things out.
He surveyed the seawall with his sniper's scope, assessing the damage to the installation. There hardly was any, aside from numerous plasma burns and scorched sections of concrete. Only one Marine had lost his life to a Jackal sniper, and about fifteen had been wounded by stray plasma fire. The battle had gone well, far better than Summers had dreamed. However, if he knew the Covenant tactics, which he certainly did, the aliens didn't give up easily. There was sure to be a second assault. There were definitely more than a few hundred troops aboard those carriers.
In the meantime, however, it appeared that the Marines had time to prepare for an assault. With the enemy most likely hesitant to attempt another dropship insertion, due to the disastrous first attack, it seemed that a seaborne invasion would be the Covenants' choice. The other alternative, a rather nasty one at that, would be having the carriers swoop in, activate grav lifts, and drop hundreds or even thousands of soldiers at once, while incinerating the Marine positions with pulse lasers and plasma.
That didn't seem very likely; the Covenant obviously would've taken a stab at that before. So, Captain Summers ordered three-quarters of the Marine sniper contingent on the seawall to lug their gear and packs of 14.5mm ammunition up the carved ramps that led to the cliffside bunkers. These bunkers were placed farther out from the command bunker, with the sea literally lapping at the cliff's feet ten meters down from the fortifications. This strategic position gave the sharpshooters a clear field of fire on the beach and any incoming landing craft, as well as increased protection compared to hunkering down on the seawall.
The snipers stripped off the armor plates that covered their chests, backs, arms and legs, because the bulky armor restricted a sniper's movement and was quite useless due to level of protection that the concrete shell offered them. They stacked the armor in a corner, propped up their snipers on bipods, and commenced the waiting game.
Spray from the pounding surf below misted on the snipers' faces, and a refreshing African breeze blew through their shorn hair. Seagulls wheeled and squawked overhead, returning after being chased away from the sudden exchange of gunfire. Some of the Marines reflected on their situation, thinking that it might not have been such a bad place to be, except for the fact that they were sitting on wanted territory.
0127 hours, February 22, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar) ♦ Covenant carrier Prophet's Flame, holding position in Earth's stratosphere.
And wanted territory it was. Ship Leader Karkatus fumed silently on board the Prophet's Flame, pacing the bridge restlessly like a caged tiger. Bridge officers began to piece together the exact account of the near-complete failure of the attack on the human "Zanzibar" area as dropship pilots gave their reports. There were conflicting accounts, but for the most part, the story was the same: the assault on the installation had resulted in the loss of every Covenant soldier that was landed on the shores, while the humans had taken little to no casualties.
In addition, all pilots reported that they had been attacked by a wave of human aircraft, and harassed by anti-aircraft fire, which caused the loss of several Phantoms. Clearly, an airdrop was now out of the question. But what other ways did the Covenant have of attacking the location? The bridge officers had conducted an analysis of the ship's status, and concluded that an insertion via the carriers' grav lifts was implausible; the lifts had been temporarily disabled in orbit by the electromagnetic pulses of the humans' nuclear weapons. The lifts would come back on line, but it would take time.
Waiting was out of the question, as well. Karkatus had a schedule, and he intended to keep that schedule – for the purpose of keeping his head. How was he supposed to abide by the Prophet's timeframe, without any means of attacking the humans?
As if the dilemma wasn't bad enough, the bridge communications officer notified the Ship Leader of an incoming transmission, which Karkatus quickly barked for the officer to put on the main holoscreen. It was the Prophet of Truth.
"Leader…Karkatus, is it? How goes the assault on the infidels?" asked the Prophet, carefully inspecting his robes as if he considered speaking to Karkatus a secondary concern.
"Very well, Excellency," lied Karkatus smoothly. "The human installation will be in our hands and prepared for your holy arrival within sixty units."
"Perfect. Complete your task successfully and you will be greatly rewarded, as will all who stand by me when the Great Journey begins. Failure will not be tolerated. It is not an option." With that ominous threat still hanging in the air, the image of the Prophet vanished from the viewscreen.
Karkatus was perspiring slightly and shaken from his brief exchange with Truth. He quickly masked this by yelling at the crew to resume their work, which was mostly pointless as there was no real task to be done.
The Brute Leader sat and racked his miniscule brain. There had to be some method of attack that was available. For a good five minutes, Karkatus mentally went over nearly every Covenant battle plan he had learned. He muttered a Brute curse to himself. I have nothing but infantry, useless Phantoms, and vehicles. Even my remaining Seraphs have been destroyed.
Karkatus's mind was drifting on to the next thought when it abruptly spun in reverse. Vehicles-that's it! the Brute thought ecstatically. The Covenant vehicles were all equipped with the wondrous anti-gravity engines of the Forerunners. On board the Prophet's Flame cavernous holds, there were hundreds of Ghosts, Spectres, Wraiths, but most importantly, Shadows. The Shadows were transports, each capable of holding up to eight of the various types of Covenant, in addition to a driver and a gunner. They were they perfectly suited for the amphibious assault Karkatus had in mind.
Hurriedly, the Brute Leader and his Officers outlined a rough battle plan. The Shadows would form the bulk of the force, filled with Covenant soldiers. They had plasma cannons mounted onboard, but it was obvious that more escort was needed. This was mainly provided by Spectres, which would be doubly useful for the attack because of their ability to carry three additional warriors per Spectre, excluding the driver. Wraiths would bombard the human defensive position to rubble before the troops were landed. Finally, Banshees would defend against aerial attacks, even though they were designed with support against ground targets in mind. The Ghosts were held in reverse, for the reason that they were far too vulnerable to take part in the primary assault, and were essentially useless compared to the Shadows and Spectres that had firepower, armor, and multiple crew capacity. The Ghosts' only advantage was speed, which was deemed as unnecessary by the Brute command.
Now Karkatus relaxed slightly as his pilots and soldiers began the arduous task of loading up the vehicles, attaching them one by one to the remaining Phantoms on board the Prophet's Flame so they could be dropped on the calm Indian Ocean waters. Normal procedure would have the Shadows, Spectres, and Wraiths lowered through the grav lift, but the lift was not operational at the current moment. The crew of the second Covenant carrier, Pure Spirit, did likewise. Within half an hour, a formidable armada was assembled in the shadow of the two carriers.
Leader Karkatus's voice rang out from the vehicles' communications gear. "Soldiers of the Covenant, the High Prophet of Truth has called upon you to cleanse in the name of the Great Journey! Succeed in your mission of conquest, and salvation will come to all! The mighty Covenant will never be stopped by these mere humans!"
The army assembled below the carriers roared out in approval, the vehicles' propulsion kicked in, and soon all that was left below the Covenant warships was the sea, upset by the assault force's anti-gravity engines.
Karkatus watched white foam swirling around in the restless sea through the Prophet's Flame's main camera. Brutes were not especially religious, but at that moment he offered a quick prayer to the Gods for the success of his mission. Prayers and hopes wouldn't win the coming fight – overwhelming numbers and crushing firepower would.
0131 hours, February 22, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar) ♦ Defense Installation AC-E (African Continent, Eastern), part of the UNSC Earth Defense Network.
"General, you'd better take a look at this." The statement broke the silence that had prevailed in tense HQ command room. The Brigadier General, who had been standing motionless facing the main TAC screen, did not turn.
"Put it on, main TAC," MacArthur said crisply. A portion of the semi-holographic morphed to a radar readout. From the two large blobs that were the Covenant carriers, a much larger, solid blob had emerged, and it was headed straight for Zanzibar Island.
General MacArthur's back went even more rigid than it had initially been. "Can we get a satellite photo of…whatever that is?" he asked his COM officer. The officer bent over his station, sent out a few point-to-point messages, then shook his head.
"No, sir, many of the satellites dedicated to the African region have been disabled by Covenant fire," the officer said.
"Reconnaissance aircraft?"
The officer bent back over his console momentarily, then lifted his head again. "Done."
The Brigadier General waited nervously while an unmanned aerial reconnaissance craft was launched from the carrier Apache. It flew to the target area nearly instantly at a speed of Mach 8, snapped a few high-resolution photos with varying lens magnification, and returned to its parent carrier.
Within seconds the photos had been transferred to the AC-E HQ complex's database and flickered to life onscreen. There was a slight intake of breath around the command room staff as they viewed the scene captured by the UARC, but for the most part the staff kept themselves outwardly calm.
MacArthur did not move a muscle, but he felt his mouth dry. "Get a message through to Captain Summers, now. Priority Alpha. Notify him that he has at least a battalion-strength Covenant force heading his way, but most likely a regiment-strength force. The attack force is completely mechanized, with support artillery and aircraft." His COM officer understood the urgency of his message and hurriedly send out word of the impending attack.
The General tapped the icon of an airbase on the main TAC screen. The airbase located on the coast of Tanzania, perfect for sending reinforcements to Zanzibar Island. The icon lit up and characters scrolled next to it, reading "Charlie Company," along with several available commands underneath it. He tapped one of these command icons, opening up a secure channel with the airbase. The icon flashed several times and then turned solid, indicating the channel was active.
"Tanzania Airbase Delta, this is Brigadier General MacArthur. Order Charlie Company's birds to lift off immediately. LZ: Zanzibar Island, Wind Power Station 7. One of my officers will transmit coordinates." The General nodded to one of his staff, who hastily did his superior's bidding.
"Affirmative, Charlie Company is off the ground and on the way," replied the COM officer on duty at Delta Airbase. The airbase's icon flashed again and dimmed.
Now, MacArthur tapped the carrier icon positioned in the Seychelles archipelago – the Apache task force. It blinked as the connection was established, secured, and an officer on the other end confirmed the connection.
"Apache carrier battlegroup. Go ahead," said the officer on board the aircraft carrier.
"Apache, this is General MacArthur. We have a major Covenant assault force en route to Zanzibar Island. It's a sea-based attack, but the Covenant are using their vehicles' anti-gravity capabilities, which means it's comprised mostly of their Spectres, Shadows, and Wraiths. Concentrate on their artillery; that is the main threat to our ground forces. Resistance should be minimal – the plasma that Covenant vehicles fire is very slow, and the reconnaissance photo shows only Banshees as air cover."
"Aye, sir, Captain de Blanć sends and affirmative and his compliments. We'll have a few UARCs overhead streaming live video to you. Tell the boys on the beaches to grab some popcorn and enjoy the show, too," said the Apache's cheerful communications officer.
MacArthur nodded to himself, turned to the row of viewscreens to the left of the main TAC screen. Four of them flickered with static as the UARC feeds were patched through. The screens cleared, each displaying a different portion of the Covenant attack force. A fifth was a radar scan of the area, laid over a digital map. There were four squares on the map that represented the area covered by each UARC's cameras.
The radar pinged several groups of contacts approaching the main blob that was the Covenant force. On the TAC the incomings were tagged as friendlies, SeaHawks.
The UARCs, operating at a higher altitude than the SeaHawks, had a clear view of the attack aircraft as they swooped down on the Covenant. General MacArthur increased the magnification on the cameras slightly. The SeaHawks dipped to very low elevations, peppering Wraiths with their heavy cannons. Tiny contrails of white smoke marked the Sidewinders, which could and had been reconfigured for air-to-ground use. The Wraiths were neatly lined up in rows, and this just made the wholesale slaughter easier as the SeaHawks moved them down like rows of corn to a reaper.
Plasma fire was lashing up in return, but just as MacArthur had predicted, most of the plasma moved too slowly for it to be effective. Covenant gunners would've had to lead their targets by insane amounts, which meant they would have to point their weapons so impossibly far in front of their targets that the weapons were useless. Only the Spectre's turret fired plasma that was quick enough to hit the fighters, but without computer-lead systems and sufficient rotation speed, they were quite useless as well.
Wraiths exploded, one after another, sending shrapnel and debris splashing into the ocean. The SeaHawks continued to pound their targets with cannon fire and missiles until their weapons were depleted; then they jetted off back to the carrier.
A second wave, comprised of forty SeaHawks like the first wave, had been circling in formation roughly four kilometers from the main action. Once the first wave had departed, the airspace above the Covenant assault force was cleared and the second wave moved in. The aliens were in absolute disarray as they threw up their arms helplessly. Wraiths continued to be decimated by the fighters without pause.
One unlucky SeaHawk pilot pulled out of a dive straight into a wall of plasma being fired by some Spectres. The fighter's armor reflected or absorbed the incoming fire, but he flew into another plasma wall being put up by a row of Shadows. His weakened armor could hold up no more, the plasma found the SeaHawk's miniature reactor, and the fighter detonated in an orange fireball.
There was no reason for the Covenant to cheer as the other SeaHawk pilots, stung by the loss of a wingmate, continued their attacks with renewed vigor. The alien drivers abandoned their orderly row formations, as this made them much more vulnerable to attack. The Shadows, Spectres, and Wraiths scattered in an attempt to minimize casualties.
Finally, a few minutes later, the last of the SeaHawks had expended their ammunition, flew rings around the Banshees that had been nearly useless against the quick human fighters, and returned to the Apache.
MacArthur, who had seen all this through the unmanned aerial reconnaissance craft, nodded in satisfaction. A full quarter of the alien force was in shambles, either destroyed outright or too heavily damaged to be effective. He could see no undamaged Wraith anywhere in the Covenant formation, for those that were left all were pockmarked with holes and glowing with blue fires. The SeaHawks had done their jobs perfectly; enemy artillery would be no threat to D and C Companies on the beaches.
0135 hours, February 22, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar) ♦ EAP Wind Power Station 7, Zanzibar IslandTanzaniaAfrica
Captain Summers lowered his binoculars from his eyes. Like most of Dog Company, the Captain had been watching the steady line of orange and blue explosions that dotted the horizon. Tiny specks, SeaHawks, were visible among the explosions, circling on their attack runs.
Within a few minutes the SeaHawks had expended their ammunition and flew off, leaving the horizon on the sea calm once again. A slight plume of smoke drifted over the darkening sky, and the beautiful azure water slowly dimmed in symphony to the skies.
A blast of hot air overhead startled him, and he jerked his head up. There were nine Pelicans hovering overhead, each loaded with Charlie Company Marines fully geared up and ready to cut the Covenant to pieces. Summers had been so preoccupied with other matters that he had not heard the Pelicans' engines.
The dropships touched down on the hastily built landing pads, overlooking the rear of the power station. Marines filed off, orders were shouted, and the two company Captains greeted each other.
"Captain Summers." Charlie Company's CO, Captain Jason Allen, nodded to his Dog Company counterpart.
"Captain Allen," said Summers, also nodding. "I assume you've already been briefed on the situation here?"
"Yes, Ace HQ send down a full transcript and battle report earlier," replied Allen, referring the African Continent – Eastern headquarters where MacArthur was stationed. The Captain glanced around, then continued, "The Marines have been taking this too lightly. I've overheard their chatter, and most think it's going to be a cakewalk."
"Well, you'd better put them in their place, and I'll do the same with my men." Captain Allen nodded, then turned away to speak with his own men over a COM channel.
Summers was an experienced commander who had seen action on both the Outer and Inner Colonies, and was considered lucky to have survived all of that. He knew the dangers of complacency and overconfidence, had seen the amount of Covenant in the UARC photos, and was going to hammer the truth into his Marines.
The Captain clicked on his helmet mic and broadcast his message to the whole company. "Listen up, men, what I've got to say is pretty damn important." His Marines stopped talking amongst each other and cocked an ear to hear what their CO had to say.
"As you all know, the Covenant have landed a seaborne assault force, which is headed straight for us. You also know that our SeaHawks have attacked this force, and knocked out their artillery support to make things easier on us. Some of you may think that because the Covenant no longer have Wraiths, handling this assault will be a cakewalk. Well, think again. The Covenant are coming in, fast and hard, hundreds – maybe even thousands of them. Make no mistake, you're all in for the fight of your lives, and few of you will come out unscarred."
The soldiers of Dog Company returned to their duties soon thereafter, noticeably subdued after their commander's somber speech. Soldiers from C Company were delegated to various duties alongside their D Company brethren. Snipers took up positions in cliffside bunkers and on the seawall. Most of the normal infantrymen, armed with Battle Rifles and M297 SAWs, linked up with the rocket jockeys and dug in along the coastline. The series of hastily dug slit trenches would serve as the first line of defense, while the seawall would be the second, and finally a row of bunkers and trenches would be the third, located behind the seawall. Men laid down sandbags and poured instacrete in front of the beach trenches for some measure of protection against Covenant fire.
Meanwhile, on the rocky bluffs, forty mortars had been set up to pound the Covenant landing vehicles and troops. The mortar teams had all set their weapons to a forty-five degree angle, giving them the maximum range. They would use electronic field binoculars that had digital rangefinders to figure out the distance between them and the incoming Covenant, calculate the time it took for the mortar shell to hit with a reference sheet, and send the shells on their way at very precise moments. The Covenant would unwittingly drive straight into the shells, and would continue to be pounded by the mortars as long as their ammunition lasted. Furthermore, instacrete had been poured in a semicircle around the mortar teams as a deterrent to sniper fire, and this all combined to create a very useful weapon against the alien attackers.
Down below, Shotguns and SMGs were left leaning against the seawall. They would be used by the Marines when the beach trenches had been breached and the Covenant were scaling the walls. Any Brute or Jackal who popped its head over the top of the wall would be greeted by either an eight-gauge shotgun blast or a stream of 5mm SMG bullets. If the wall was taken, C12 charges had already been set underneath it to quickly demolish it. Captains Summers and Allen had agreed that once the wall was in Covenant hands, it would only be a disadvantage to the humans because it would offer the aliens a vantage point to pour fire down on the Marines.
As final preparations were made, the Marines took a light meal and swigs from their canteens. There was no point in fighting on an empty stomach, but each member of the UNSC forces on the beach that day wondered if that meal would be their last.
Damn, how long did this take? Two months? More? It seems that that's going to be a habit now. I even intended for this to be longer but decided to cut the crap and finally give you something. The least I can say is that I'm sorry, been pretty busy lately and had a considerable bit of writer's block. I have other things to do than fanfiction, also, and my parents have been thrashing me more than lately about test crap (had to take GEPAs, now studying like crazy to take the new SATs). And, in my rush to get this out, I haven't edited / proofread this, so please don't start whining over some error you find. Just point it out and I'll fix it. Still, I hope you enjoyed this, or else I'll have wasted weeks and weeks churning out crap.
Now, I'm off to watch the NBA playoffs. Enough of this.
Heh, thanks to a lightning-fast update by pzgr6 (kudos / thanks to him), I was reminded that today is the 60th anniversary of the surrender of Nazi Germany. And so,
This chapter is
dedicated to all the brave soldiers who fell to ensure peace and freedom
for future generations by fighting the Nazi regime.
I get to make another dedication.