2552
Earth
New Mombasa Outskirts
12:00 am, Local Clock
Chrpchrp !
...
chrpChrpp !
Two quick bursts, spaced perfectly between themselves, puffed and spat out from the M7S' flash-guarded muzzle. There was a trace of smoke- just a few ashy wisps of it- from out the end of the weapon for a few seconds...but that was all.
For an SMG designed to chew through body armor ( alien, or not ) and pulp the flesh of the bad guys wearing it like it was a well-prepared goat rib, the compact lead-spewer's muzzle flash seemed kind of...anti-climatic, honestly
But, there was nothing lacking about the effect it had. Those two bursts each found their targets, reaching out, and violently bowling over a pair of Grunts that'd been wandering around- emphasis on " had been ". The 5x23mm anti-armor rounds saw to that, shredding the alien's crusty skin ( and their grime-coated, burnt-orange colored armor ) like titanium scissors through scotch tape.
Both fell dead, landing among the tightly packed blades of the tall grass, and before either had a chance to scream, with plumes of their glowing blood spurting high over their corpses...then raining back down. Their plasma guns joined them, lying just out of their freshly deceased owners' reach.
...Done, and done.
I believe the right word for that is...
..textbook.
Watching the scene from behind his polarized visor, Dutch slowly lowered the muzzle of his M7S, though he did not remove his finger completely from the trigger well. Rather, he pulled it back, and rested it besides, as his eyes scanned back and forth.
Ok...watch...
Watch for any others...
Oh, the joys of what endless drills, and 10+years of deployments do to you..
Everything ahead of him was a strange cross of gold-highlighted outlines ( courtesy of the VISR mode's enhanced viewing tech ), and subdued greenish-dark blue shadows, as the NVG function of the VISR carved a path through the night. It was, needless to say, a weak second fiddle to the illumination that fighting under broad daylight would give, but...then again, there were benefits to fighting under the cover of dark.
For example...
Aha !
There was one, right there. Or rather, several of them.
By " them ", that would be a bunch of Jackals- there wasn't any mistaking their gangly, crooked contours, or the perfectly straight, long-triangular outline of those wretched Beam rifles they were always carrying. Unlike the slumbering, lackadaisical, and un-attentive Grunts, though, the Bird-beaks were slightly more alert- rather than sleeping on the job, they were actually up, and on the move.
Typical of the Covenant- they would use Grunts as...well, basically as living tripwires, to give advance warning for the approach of UNSC forces. The stumpy aliens were eager enough to fulfill this job, as Dutch had often been able to sneak close enough to their positions over the past years to have had overhead them gibbering and babbling enthusiastically among themselves.
However...they just weren't very good at it. They kept falling asleep, or getting distracted by playing around with all the myriad of looted Human artifacts they'd bought from ( go figure ) the piratical Jackals...or both. As a result, they were constantly getting shot down without getting off either a shot or a report by anything from a volley of SMG fire, or ( if one was available, and subtlety wasn't a thing at the moment ), a single Jackhammer rocket. Why the Covies kept using them like this, even after 20+ years, was one of the longest running mysteries when it came to the aliens. Not that ODSTs were wont to spend a lot of their days ( or nights ) agonizing over it ( anything that made the Covenant easier to kill was ok with them ), but...when any of them could be bothered to consider it, most just went for the explanation of " That's how they deal with their B-Squad guys ".
Harsh, if true, but...then again, the Covenant had burned the whole planet of Tribute like a marshmallow to a campfire, so if harsh was all they understood, then harsh they would get back.
Speaking of harsh..
It perfectly described the nature of the wound Dutch would receive from the Beam rifle, if he wasn't careful enough to put all the Jackals that were currently ambling along right to left downrange of him right now.
The Birds were moving steadily, all 4 of them. Most likely, they'd done what they did as per Covenant protocol when a picket line of Grunts got themselves greases: Go out there, and probe around for any UNSC that definitely had just breached that section of the line. That was normal enough...but, what was kind of strange, was how they were carrying Beam rifles. Yeah, sure, they were monstrously powerful, but...
Sniper rifles...
Romeo had a point. Those things have their place...and slugging it out among heavy foliage isn't something I remember any manual telling me is what SR's are designed for..
Sure ONI would love to analyze the daylights out of that. Shame they're not here to do it themselves, because that's the only way its gonna happen.
It was a genuine treat for the mind to hurl some jabs at the aggravatingly mysterious ( and often, deliberately dismissive for no reason ) behavior of ONI, but as satisfying as it was...Dutch knew he couldn't allow himself to do it for long. Not when he was outside the wire, so to speak.
And certainly not when the enemy was so close, and moving his way. His hand was getting forces- literally, possibly, unless he could afford not to..
What will it be, then...?
Jump them ? Or not ?
I'll take that question for a thousand.
Like twin snakes, anticipation and caution- the former hot, the latter chillingly cool- began to wrap themselves around the solitary Helljumper, from legs to neck, as he kept watch on the Jackal patrol.
Despite their powerful weapon loadout, he knew, from all that prior experience, that he could easily waste them after around...well...actually it wouldn't take more than one burst per bird. Fortunately, they didn't have their other ubiquitous piece of gear on hand that might've actually proved to have been the real problem- those forearm mounted energy shields that were a monumental pain to overcome. One quick burst might be all it would take...
Just one...
But...
Would letting them by be the better choice ? After all...the Covenant weren't that stupid- the more of their guys he put down out here, the less there'd be on their own Comms net, not to mention back at wherever their FOB ( Forward Operating Base )...and that would tip off their commanders that there were UNSC moving around out there.
Beyond their wire. And then...who knew how much heat would come down on them after that ?
Then again...he didn't have much leeway around here. Those Grunts from before had been the first thing he'd collided with after having changed course for the whole group from going right through a camp of Brutes...which would've been way worse, needless to say. It'd been a glaring lesson that this whole forest that they were currently traipsing through was fully Covenant territory, and they weren't being shy about doing some nature appreciation of their own.
With plasma guns, that is. And a mission to kill anybody they saw. And then probably ( for the Brutes, that is )..eat them.
It was a bad fix, for sure. The weight of it sat like lead on Dutch's armored shoulders, as he continued to observe the ambling Jackals.
Nobody's here' beak-faces...
Nobody at all. Just find somewhere else to be...
Be grateful its 1 versus...however the heck many of you there are around this place. Otherwise, I'd have ventilated your spiky heads already...
Finger resting by his M7S's trigger, Dutch glided its muzzle along, as the Jackals kept going...
...and found, that...
Hmm...
...Their course was...taking them away from the group. They were marching toward the northwest, and not even really watching their flanks all that much. It was surprisingly lazy for a patrol, even for the Covenant, and they didn't seem to be altering their tactics whatsoever.
...Ok...
Ok...that's promising.
Electricity danced up and down his spine, as Dutch's gun muzzle stayed leveled at the aliens on their march. They kept going, headed along a ( literal ) path that took them down, and slightly off toward the right of Dutch's position, before slowly descending out of his field of view among the tightly packed shrubs and trees..
And, just like that, the Birds were gone.
A stiff breeze whipped up just then, though Dutch did not move from his one-knee stance. He continued to watch and keep a vigil over the area, scrutinizing the layout of the trees, hanging vines, and other assorted fauna for the fresh arrival of more of the aliens...
There was no other choice. Not just for himself, but for the others as well. Especially for them, actually. Borderline entirely defenseless, after all, and even a gaggle of Grunts could do some serious slaughtering if they got a shot at them..
Or, God forbid...
A plasma grenade. The result of one of those getting stuck to you like you were coated with velcro, then detonating...
No.
Dutch would not let that happen...no way. Those grenades were a freaking menace, and lethal enough when they were going boom against one's armor...let alone when all you had on was a t-shirt and jeans. The Covenant knew that all too well, and they'd long ago showed great delight with lobbing those things at any civvy that they got a chance to.
Except when they got shot to ribbons before they could get that opening, though. Or, even better...if they didn't even know that there were any around at all.
It was for that reason, that Dutch stayed where he was for several more minutes, constantly scanning and checking the landscape. If there were any more Covies on their way, about to go strolling by...they'd have to deal with him first. Or, he'd have to get the first sighting on them , not the other way around, so that there'd be no plasma-grenade surprise for the group.
Take the Covies out ? Sound the alarm ?
Frankly, either one is ok with me
Granted, that was just the worst that the Covies could do- getting shot up with plasma bolts didn't leave you any less alive, as did getting punctured by Needler shards or Spiker spikes, but...anyway.
Well...painful ways to die aside, it soon became clear that nobody else was coming.
Not a hint of movement was to be found...other than the way the leaves, branches, and tendrils of the forest plants moved around the way all plants did. There was no alien movement juxtaposed against it, though...and that's what counted.
...Is that all, fellas ?
Really now...?
...Ok. So be it.
At long last...
Dutch allowed himself to stand. There was the usual rush of blood, as circulation came roaring back to full after having a leg bent for so long, but...the sensation was good. Helpful, even. Helped to stay alert, because out here...
...alert was life.
One you could lose with a second if things went wrong, or if you weren't careful, but...life anyway.
Having gotten upright again, Dutch didn't waste any seconds. Maintaining his grip on the M7S, though lowering the muzzle, he turned around...
...and with one final glance, that was drawn out to where it could barely be called glance, checking for any more Covies...
...he left.
Jogging away, through the night.
" Jackals, Corporal...?! "
Shock, surprise, a dusting of hate , and palpable relief all mixed together across his face, Kivec absorbed the news that Dutch had brought back with him.
" Hey...calm down, kid. They don't know we're here ", Dutch firmly assured him, gesturing with a downward-facing palm to drive the point home. The truthfulness of that statement made the confidence that was going along with it even more genuine, which could only boost the Private's morale.
Not that it was flagging- they were, both of them, those kind of soldiers- UNSC Marines, and they were built sterner than most. That aside, though...good news was always a truly welcome gift.
Along with a Pelican, or an Armor company showing up...but..
I can't give him those, sadly...much as I want to..
" There'd be hydrogen beams carvin' up the forest otherwise ", the Corporal went on. " Plus a lot of squakin' "
Kivec didn't say a word by way of response to that, though. Not at first.
He glanced off to one side, still dropped on one knee with his rifle balanced across it, just an arm's length away from the ODST. With the need to keep the group's presence as best hidden as they could from any nearby roving Covenant, there was no form of light around, save for the low-vis, pale-emerald hue of the Private's helmet's HUD' lenses. It cast shadows down to his chin, and couldn't even illuminate the tightly huddled civilians behind him, at the bottom of that shallow gully.
Was he nervous ? Afraid ? It didn't look like it...from what Dutch knew about fear, anyway. If he was going to call it anything at all, he'd put his guess on it being some kind of deep seated memory of the Bird-Beaks vaporizing someone with one of those wretched beam rifles of theirs...
They were cruelly good shots, those Birds. Dutch had long ago stopped considering how many good men and women were gone now because of them..
If that's what this is...
If it is...then I bet you knew one.
If it wasn't for how they were especially outside the wire they were right now, on top of the heavy alien presence here ( all but saturating the area ) , and the Civvies they had to guard, Dutch would've focused more on getting to the depths of what might going on with the younger man's head...maybe find out for sure if that apprehension linked to fresh news of Jackals on the prowls had something to do with a nasty past encounter. But...
..Marines were Marines. They didn't always have that luxury.
Such as now.
So...
The Canadian thought about that for few seconds, but finally..
"..Yeah...good point. ". Kivec slowly nodded.
He breathed out, then bit his lower lip. " Just...can't shake the thought of them getting a bead on us when we can't get one on them. After sundown is perfect.."
" Speaking of good points, there's one right there ", Dutch accurately observed.
It most certainly was. Jackals may have been some of the most undisciplined, rough-around-the-edges, wildly-behaving hooligans there were across the whole Covenant Army, but...they were still masters at landing a shot right though your head. Or upper torso. Worst of all...they were able to do so even while it was dark out. Then again, of course they could- the Covenant were able to practically dance through slipspace as if they'd been born there, so equipping their army snipers with the tech needed to accurately go sniping without the sun up was trivial, at best.
Owing to it, the men had arranged themselves accordingly. Dutch was facing west, with his field of view covering the civvies, while Kivec was facing out toward the mass of trees, looking the other way. His optics may have been less advanced, but no so much that he couldn't have a decent chance at spotting some distant purple lights- dead giveaway of a Jackal sharpshooter.
At first, that seemed like a forlorn hope to spot a sniper ( just...look around for them ? ), but then again...Jackals. As good as they were at accuracy, they could quite quash that " Gotta get on the enemy's head, and breathe right down it " urge, and/or their knack for just making way too much noise.
Breeahh-ahh !
Yaj-yak yak !
Yeah...real stealthy, fellas- if you were doing your impression of having a 5 year old..
A saving grace, for sure. But...
...there was still that accuracy. A beam of purple-white hydrogen, just slicing through solid metal like it was cardboard...
Dutch would freely admit that it was keeping liquid nitrogen pulsing through his blood ( as well as turning his spine to pure ice ) , and all his situational awareness cranked up to 11. His M7S was held tightly by both hands- not crushing it, but it wasn't going anywhere. His life was counting on it...
Our lives are...
All of us.
...his mind, and his body, to all be perfectly synced up.
The latter was certainly ready, as always, and the former...
Well, also ready, but differently. Going a mile a minute, to put it bluntly. Which, as an ODST, Dutch preferred it that way.
...Ok...
Let's...size things up around here..
Ok. First off:
Jao ? She's torn up pretty bad. BioFoam won't last another few hours, and we can't raise anyone on the Comms. UNSC could be rolling up with the biggest army they've ever been able to field, and we wouldn't know...!
Basically, we really are more than " completely on our own..". Might be the first ones on Earth after the Covies got here to achieve it...God bless.
...Well...
Onto the 2nd.
The M12 LRV ? Bricked. Tank wasn't that full to begin with, and now its drier than the Sahara. Same goes for the M41 on the back...its tapped out as well. All that thing's good for now is offroading, and hauling ass over long range with a fireteam of 3.
...Which we don't have. With Jao down, we're left with myself, and Kivec. A 2 vs...
...God alone knows how many the Covies have, that is. Frankly...that's about par for the course when it comes to ODSTs. Still pushing it, though...
...And, then there's the Civvies.
That's the worst of it, for sure. Seen more of them die on Tribute than I would even consider counting, and now...now we have more of them right here and now to get out of harm's way. Its 2 guys between them and not just dying, but getting butchered like cattle. Or...wait, no. Covies don't take prisoners. Tribute was proof of that...as I needed it by then..
They need us. And we can't fail them...
Easier said, though, than done.
By about a thousand..
...
...Well...
...That about covered it...more or less.
...Still, though...
...It was...
Well, it one heck of a fix, honestly. Perhaps the worst Dutch had found himself confronted by- aside from the fiasco at Tribute. More or less a perfect storm of things arranged against them, lowering their chances of success down as low as they could go..
Which was technically was ODSTs were designed for, actually. They were supposed to be surrounded ! As the paratroopers of the age, this was they were bred for: To be dropped right among where the enemy's army was strongest. They were supposed to be here...
..Well, they were, at least. The same couldn't be said for the Civilians , though.
They were at so much risk here. Dutch had to move them...
And he had to do it soon. The longer they lingered, the higher the chances of their own deaths.
So, to that end...
" Private ! ", he addressed the Canadian, making a point to look right at him, so as leave no doubt to how much he was committed to what was about to happen.
" Corporal ? "
" Get 'em ready to move. We're leaving, understand ? "
Both of the Canadian's brows rose at that, and the rest of his face showed plenty of surprise as well. " ...Moving, Corporal ? "
" You heard me, Marine. We're moving on, and we're doing it now. "
Kivec glanced around, sweeping the dark forest yet again.
"...Right now ? "
" You got that right. "
"...But...the civvies ! They're just...I mean...you know what they say about ' out of every 100 '..."
Dutch nodded subtly; he was all too aware of that longtime saying..
' Out of every 100, 10 don't deserve to live. 80 are targets, deserved or otherwise. 9 are real warriors, but...the 100th is the real champion, and he will bring the others back. '
True enough. It was something Dutch had learned the hard and violent way over the past 20 years. The Covenant weren't fighting a real war- they were fighting a campaign of extermination. To them, the whole human race was just like cockroaches filling your kitchen- something to be slaughtered en masse. They'd light up a bunch of civvies as soon as any UNSC solider, and aiming to sneak a bunch of them out past the guns of a whole Covenant battalion was nothing short of a tall order.
Once again, though...ODSTs were manufactured for that. Weapons, really. Designed for the heaviest and nastiest dilemmas...
Dutch depolarized his visor, and pointed a gloved finger at Kivec. " You are one of the 9, Private. Heck, maybe you're even the 100th. But, there's only one way to know for sure..."
With that, the ODST stood, gesturing for the Canadian stand as well. Promptly and snappily, he did exactly that.
" Besides...let's remember you got your own reason for pushing through all this,", Dutch added, as Kivec automatically glanced down at his weapon, checking the pale cyan numbers that showed how many rounds it still held.
He raised his head then, to offer a response, right as an unmistakable ( yet distant ) booming echo of a thunderclap sounded from somewhere over yonder. The ground itself vibrated like a rolling wave of sound had shot through it, as the air abruptly took on a slight ( but noticeable ) chill to it...
....A storm ?
A storm, now ?!
..Yeah. Yeah , it is.
Well...now that adds a whole new layer of complexities we going to get saddled with, doesn't it.
Speaking of chills, more of them now began merrily traveling up and down Dutch's spine, as his subconscious reacted to, and then analyzed, what a sudden weather change this was. It drew from his years of experience, as well as the knowledge of how the elements could affect one's ability to navigate the outdoors- especially when said outdoors was a battlefield. Badly muddied terrain, noise cover for both enemy and friend alike, even potential landslides... they were all among them.
His conscious mind, though, was living with the here and now. It had no choice.
"...Suppose I shouldn't be surprised you figured that out ( ooo ) ", the Canadian finally admitted, as he quickly performed another scan of the area via a muzzle sweep.
" You're right: You shouldn't be. ", Dutch chided, shaking his head. " Kids today- you couldn't be more obvious if you tacked it up with neon lights ! "
" Now, get your hide moving !, he firmly added.
A slightly vague response, yes...but the ODST hadn't missed the signs earlier. It wasn't as if he was looking for them on purpose, but...it'd been impossible to ignore, even if the wounded Filipino hadn't been lying prone nearby, on a makeshift stretcher cobbled together from the branches of the trees around them, and the loosest, most voluminous outer clothing items kindly donated from the other civvies .
Which she was, though.
Right then, just past the Canadian, Dutch could view her. She was right there, perfectly still upon her back, with at least two of the civvies- a tall, bald man dressed like he owned a whole floor of one of the upscale downtown apartment buildings ( minus the suit-jacket ), and a frizzy haired woman who, bizarrely, actually still had her purse still with her ! Both were kneeling by Jao's side , cautiously- tentatively, even- examining her wrists and neck to check that her pulse was still going strong. Her torso armor had been discarded long ago, with that gaping hole punched through it rendering the thing useless anyway, and they'd been forced to strip off her uniform's top to have ready access to her wound- the wound that resembled a crevice on the ocean floor. Just a ( literally ) bloody trench on her back, where that shard of debris had gotten stuck...
All the medical gear the Private and the Corporal had been able to get ahold from the M12, and their personal gear had been tasked to her- and it wasn't 100 percent enough.
It wasn't...it wasn't.
She was still drifting from awake to asleep...and the stretches where she was asleep were getting slowly longer and longer. There was now a real chance she take a real turn for the worse if they couldn't get her some Corpsman/ Surgical Team-level help before the next few hours were out..
Dutch refused to consider that scenario...or, at least, he refused to accept it as something they couldn't stop. There was one side of him ( the one everyone, or most of them, have ) kept the dark thought hovering around at the edge of the conscious mind of the ODST, but he was still a man who valued hope and pragmatism.
He would not let it win, and he wouldn't allow her to die without giving everything and the kitchen sink ( heck, the whole kitchen as well ) to save her.
Give me the means, our Lord.
...Please , give me the means..
On that front, some of the civvies themselves actually counted. The two Marines had given them a crash course with rudimentary lifesaving/ first aid techniques ( for the unlikely, but still definitely plausible event of them having to treat one another ), and it seemed to have already had an effect ! The two of them that'd been handling the bandage swap were nearly finished, albiet with gingerly-flowing movements..
...As Dutch had recently shown them how to do..
...minus the nervous shaking, that is. Couldn't be helped though..
Hmm...
So, they did pay attention after all...
On his way to assume position on the group's flank, Kivec gazed down at her as he went by. His back was to Dutch, so the ODST could not read his face, but...you didn't always need that to figure out what was going through someone's head, if you knew what to look for .
An educated guess, at least. Or, if you had prior knowledge ( like here ), then an even better than a guess. It was a dead giveaway that they were thinking nonstop ( whether they wanted to or not ) about their special someone's chances of survival. A reminder, of how much they were to you, and how much you wanted them by your side once again..
As Dutch returned to watching the shadowy trees, all too aware that he couldn't leave them un-watched for long, he did at least notice Kivec drop to a knee, and begin to double-check the field dressings, amid hurriedly, but also concerned murmurings from the civvies all around.
They cared. A different kind of care, but they did.
It filled Dutch, like lightning filling a bottle, with a strong- strong as Titanium A battleplate- feeling of gratitude. Plus, obligation, and humility.
For Kivec, and Jao. Top-notch, good-all rounder Marines. Lots of learning and room to grow, but they were good nonetheless. That, and they were both under his charge, and his brother and sister under arms...with their less-than-secret relationship as a special kind of extra.
He had to keep them alive, for all of that.
And the Civvies ? They were his as well. They needed him. They were counting on him
Hoping against hope, praying like a monk...that they wouldn't get vaporized. Or burned. Or clobbered by a Brute's gravity hammer...
Basically, just any way to avoid dying. Anything to avoid stopping them from at least seeing tomorrow..
That, on its own, would be plenty of reason for any Jarhead worth his salt to keep pushing on.
We all need reasons to face the fire...
Thank God that I have some real good ones.
...Perhaps...
...Perhaps, the proverbial " calm before the storm " would last longer than " just a few minutes, which seemed more like 30 seconds " after all...
They- all of them, every last one- had been pushing their way through the undergrowth for a...well...for a stretch of marching that certainly seemed longer than 30 seconds. Actually...it was closer to half an hour if you actually had a clock you could check...which the one ODST among them did. Finding how much had gone by from when they'd begun up till now , though, had been...
...Don't know If I should be grateful...
...Or deeply concerned.
Maybe a bit of both ? As he swept his gaze ( illuminated with the glimmering borders around everything, courtesy of his VISR mode, Dutch found himself automatically questioning everything he was seeing. Chief among them ? That clock reading- how could they- a pack of frightened civilians, covered by just 2 Marines- have gotten all this way without getting bounced by any of the Covies was...
...Actually rather disturbing, to be frank. It...it ran counter to pretty much all of Dutch's fighting gut feelings, which had been acquired after 20+ years of mixing it up with the aliens across dozens of worlds. Point being...it was hard to move though their territory while staying undetected, given all those Jackals ( Exhibit A being the ones he'd ghosted just before they'd set off ) , with their beam rifles and night scopes. With them alone running loose here...one of them should've found them by now...
Needless to say, obviously, that's the utter last thing any of them wanted.
Well...Dutch wouldn't mind a shot at any of them, especially as an ODST, but the civvies he was protecting took priority. After the Massacre at Tribute...
...the mere thought of which sent a Sub-zero pulse of ice racing up the length of his spine, from end to end, before his more rational self, and his faith, came to the rescue. Like throwing sand on an oil fire, they suppressed it, and buried it...keeping them down.
Keeping them down low...despite how they would eventually resurface. He couldn't afford the weight of them right now..
When he was outside the wire, and with so many civvies counting on him...he just couldn't allow it to happen.
So, for the moment, he banished them with a shutting of both eyes, a quick shake of the head...
They receded, like shadows of night when the sun came over the horizon, and he pushed on.
Onward and onward, literally crushing down and pushing aside the branches that were blocking every possible way there was to go.
If it wasn't for his NVG- VISR, Dutch would've been clumsily fumbling around through this place...
...Kind of how the Civvies were right now.
They couldn't be blamed for having a tough going, obviously. For them, the most psychical thing they'd done over the past 20 years had been...maybe going for stroll around the downtown park, beneath the Mukwai trees ? Or, maybe some tai chi...at most some Akkido classes there ? Good enough to keep the pounds off and stay fit, sure, but this ?!
This...this, was well beyond them. This was quite literally running for their lives through what was essentially the untamed wilderness that made up the landscape between the edge of the Preserve and the city limits of Old Mombasa. Running, specifically, from aliens...who were dead set on killing you with as much needless pain as they could possibly bring with them. Ones who had the kind of tech that you could only dream of on a lazy Sunday afternoon...and were going to use it to literally atomize you like some kind of especially demented cartoon villain...
Yeah...that would do a number on any Civvy's mind...barring the handful out of every 100 or so who were tougher minded than most..
But, then again, it seemed they might actually have some of that kind among them.
Having re-positioned himself, at the front of the column on the march, Dutch had split view of the way ahead, and the loosely organized Civvies. From here, he could see how they were staggering , and trudging, and basically just plodding along, moving like a herd of tired, badly fatigued goats...who were also climbing a hill. While thirsty.
They weren't complaining aloud...but they didn't need to. It was as clear as a pack of Twizzlers lying on a snowbank that pretty much all of them were running on empty by now. Why they hadn't just scattered and wandered off helter-skelter through the forest to find some way-anyway through it to find some place- any place- that wasn't here. Why they hadn't done that pretty much came down to having to accept that it was a total and 100 percent death sentence- with the forest as chock full overall with Covenant as it was...or at least, as it had appeared to have been, charging off like that for them was suicidal.
He knew that. He knew it all too well, as did every other ODST or rank and file Marine who still lived- or ever had.
Unfortunately, though...
" ...Hey ! Hey, Trooper ! "
...that knowledge wasn't as commonplace as it really should've been.
Even now...
...as evidenced by how one of the Civvies was yelling at him.
...What ?
Oh...Lord.
Look, I want to keep them all alive, but if this is a complaint about sore feet, there's nothing I can do about that...
Without saying a word, though, or even uttering a sigh, he dutifully turned around , dropping the muzzle of the M7S...
...and found that one of the group's women had pushed herself to roughly the front of the raggedly-edged pack of civvies. There were several outcries of annoyance, and confusion, but she didn't seem to care.
" Trooper ! ", she barked again with glaringly obvious anger, while pointing a finger right at Dutch.
Rude, kid...
Also, be real grateful you're not an officer- that's all a sniper needs.
The ODST's faceplate was still polarized, as he took stock of the upset lady speaking to him.
Judging by appearances ( which, to perfectly honest, was all he had...bad second fiddle to something tangible about her history though it was ) a sandal wearing co-ed, with bright red hair and a heavily smudged, kind-of baggy hoodie that was bedecked with the logo of the University of New South Wales ( One that depicted the city's iconic harbor bridge with an archway of stars above, and an open book flanked by quill pens beneath ). A pair of ( by now ) exceedingly muddy and utterly filthy backless sandals were what she had for footwear- hopelessly unsuited for trekking though waterlogged Earth for more than 10 minutes, let alone an hour.
Some scattered hair strands, and a emotionally-contorted face completed her thoroughly disheveled appearance.
Uh oh...
...Thanks, Gretchen, for preparing me for moments like this.
At least they were rare, though...
"...Yes ? Something I can help you with ? ", he asked, allowing how he said it to remain calm, and polite.
If only that was reciprocated, though...
" You-i-it..it...! "
It seemed, evidently, that the professional answer the ODST had provided had caught her pretty off guard- which was satisfying. It always was, whenever rudeness got stopped cold like that.
Resisting the urge to crack a grin ( polarized faceplate or not ), Dutch promptly raised his voice to, pitching it toward the crowd but careful to not be so loud it'd be an attention-magnet like iron shavings. " Everyone ! Keep on stepping ! Let's go ! Let's. Go ! "
He knife-handed somewhere down the way they'd been headed, while multi-taskingly catching the gaze of the Canadian. " Kivec !"
Between all that, it was more than enough to light a fire under everyone's soles- they definitely weren't standing around now. Not after that..
" Roger that, Corporal...! "
" Trooper..! "
And...
Now for you..
As he strode forward, setting the pace for all, Dutch finally got back to her: " We're talking and walking, ma'am. Go ahead though..."
"...You...you need to listen to me ! ", came the still-slightly-stammered-but-angry-and-afraid reply.
" Trooper ! Listen ! We...this is stupid, ok ?! We can't just keep going like this !... "
"...Expand on that ", Dutch told her. Personally, he found it darkly amusing, that of all the places over the whole galaxy that he could've encountered a ( tragically ) ignorant, pushy, and loud karen of a woman (as she had rapidly proven herself to have been ) , it would end up here: On Earth, and while the Covenant were swarming all over this section of it !
What were the odds...
Apologies, Gretchen...
You're nothing like her after all.
The shouty sheila was just viable out the left corner of the ODST's field of view, as she staggered and struggled to keep up. That she was doing it at all was...actually only because Dutch had slowed himself down...by just a tad.
He was nice like that.
It didn't seem that she was appreciating it, though...
" Where..are we even going ? ", she exclaimed, still going full steam with a blend of anger, fear, and confusion. " There's nothing out there but forest ! And freaking aliens ! Aliens ! With...with energy guns and energy swords and God knows what else ! We can't just go...romping around through the trees while they're around ! That's gonna get us vaporized..! "
" Keep. Your. Voice. Down... "
There was a science-there really was- to keeping volume down, but not losing any punch to your words. It was something Dutch was deeply grateful that he'd finally mastered, after many years, obviously, and a lot of keen study at the elbows of ornery NCOs. It was that special kind of " only after you join "-brand of military skill that proved itself useful- again, again, and again.
Emphasis on " After you join ", though...
A sure-shot given, that one was.
"..."
Dutch didn't even look right at her, as he laid down some truth for her benefit. " Those aliens might be closer than you think they are. Pretty sure they already are, actually. Raising a racket is going to attract them, like sharks to blood. When that happens, yours will likely end up outside your body. That's a promise, but God forbid it actually happens. "
" Take it from someone who's been fighting them for over 15 years. 15. ", he added.
That...actually seemed to have silenced her- for the moment , anyway. Just as well, because, though he was sympathetic to her sheer fright, frustration, and sense of " Oh my Lord, I am getting hunted down ", to a point of how it actually kind of felt like a real tether of rope between him and them...
...that just didn't alter the nature of what she'd been pushing a moment ago.
It'd been a thoroughly ludicrous plan, and if it hadn't been born out of what was so painfully clearly just raw desperation . Dutch would've chalked it up to some tragically bad brain drain, and brushed it off, then crushed it firmly and moved them all on. As much as he cared for them, and wanted them to survive, he couldn't let their own irrational acts stop them from getting there.
And, that didn't stop him here, either. But, he choose to go for a gentler approach, rather than the maximum. She was scared out of her mind, after all.
It isn't exactly Marine Basic Training, after all. Or- God protect- ODST Basic...
Probably don't need go drop the fire on this one...but, something more than just " pretty please. "
"...But...its...we can't...!".
The sheila was stammering again- still chock full of emotions, but...slightly less chaotic than before.
Slightly.
" What's your name ? ", the ODST asked, seemingly out of the blue to anyone who didn't think deeply about it. " Leave out your last , if you want. "
"...Wh...what ? ", stammered the coed. Caught completely off guard, a staggered, stumbling response was the best she could clearly manage.
Exactly as Dutch had thought. He had her on the backfoot- now, he'd capitalize on it, so that his message would stick.
You're scared. I get it. Even from the moon, someone could tell.
But, I won't let you run off to die over this. Heck no. I didn't sign up to just let Civvies do that...
...and it goes double..after Tribute
" Your name. ", Dutch enunciated. He stared down at her, keeping his faceplate as opaque as an airport two-way mirror. " What is it ? "
Finally, unable to keep quiet any longer, the coed at last stuttered out "..I-Its...its Aleka. "
"...Ok, Aleka ", the ODST acknowledged, with a barely noticeable nod.
As names went, it was...a standout, at least.
That was something. More importantly, though... he now had even a tad of a connection with her. She'd sure turned a 180 from a boiling kettle of " What's going on ?! I'll have a panic attack any moment ! ", to "...Please, please give me something I can hold onto that counts as hope. "
...It was surreal. Truly.
Now, his point could be drive home more easily, and so, that's exactly what he did.
"...You heard of a colony world called Tribute ? "
"...Um...T-Tribute ? "
" Yes.. Tribute."
Rarely did Dutch allow his feelings, and memories , of that day to surface, let alone alter how he spoke to someone. It'd been a total, utter, and aboslute slaughterfest of a dayy, a toal massacre, and he did his level best to forget about it on a conscious level.
But...
...There were days, when it had to be remembered by choice.
However painful it might be.
Days ( or nights, technically , for this case ) when it served a purpose. Aleka here was fearful...as fearful as any of the countless civliians who'd died at the hands of the Covenant during the demise of Tribute. That crippling fear had taken control of them, like a form of programming overriding their minds. They'd taken off, helter skelter, just possed by that fear, letting it take them toward where they thought safety might be..
...But it wasn't.
It hadn't even been close.
" You know what happened there ? ", Dutch went on. Long-buried anger, bitterness hovered around the edge of the words, though he did his best to control them. Letting them get stronger might send the message he was directing them at this already-terrified civvy, and that wasn't how it should go. That wouldn't be right.
All he needed...was the point.
" Do you ?! "
He didn't give her the chance to ask what. She wasn't dictating the pace here.
" ...The Covenant literally slaughtered folks back there. Slaughtered them. I was right there, doing everything I could...but I couldn't save the ones who ran away. The ones who just took off running. That would've left the ones close to me wide open, and ripe for the taking..."
Pausing for just a split moment, Dutch went right back to it, leaning his head forward a tad to leave 0 room for doubt. A low hanging vine brushed itself against the top of his helmet, but he barely noticed.
" God forbid that happen here- but we tie our camels first, so to speak. That means that you don't do what they did. I get it- you're scared, but you need to listen to me. You need to stick close, and follow my lead. Run off through that forest, and your chances of finding somewhere that even remotely counts as safe as are low as the Mariana Trench. "
" I'll say it one more time: Stick. Close. If the Covies find us, and pray they don't...but if they do, I'll die first. You'll be gone by then. They still might get you, but you'll have a better chance even then than going alone right here and now. Do you understand ? "
Get. With. The program...
Tempted to say it, but...not yet. Not yet.
As much as he might've wanted to...he didn't.
There was no need, he knew.
And he was proven right, about a second later, as more fear- fresh fear - appeared on the face of the previously eager to run sheila. Dutch knew that look well.
He'd seen it more often from before that he cared to remember. As if he had much of a choice, though...
Then, or now.
" Do you understand how much getting burned feels like ? Or something as sharp as a razor blade going all the way through you. Either one or both of those things are what's waiting for you if you think you can slip past a whole Covenant Army by yourself. I won't let you just throw your life away. That's why I won't let you...and its why we're all going ahead... as a unit ! "
The final few words came out...a tad harder than he wanted them to, as the ODST had to admit. It wasn't exactly how he wanted it to go, but what was said was already said. That, and it'd still slammed the message home- anything less, and it might not have done the job.
But, it seemed that it had.
" I...but...we...I...oh, god..."
There it was- more fear, but also resignation, combined with that previous panic-spawned anger , all swirled across Akela's face. It literally dropped, as she stared at the ground, bit ing her lower lip.
She gripped her head with both hands, and slowly shook it. " Oh...God, oh, god..."
Her voice had begun to crack on that last few string of words, and Dutch could not help but wish he'd hadn't had to do what he'd just done. It hadn't been pretty. Civvies these days lived with enough terror without having any more of the specture of fear shoved onto or at them, even if it was for a good cause...
Sorry, kid..
I am. I really am. But I'd be heck of a lot sorrier if I just let you die.
Wouldn't be able to live with that. And you don't deserve it, either..
He was tempted, for a moment, to reach out, and put a hand on her shoulder, or something similar, like a hug. Something, more than words ( however strong they might be, ) to help lessen the blow.
Ultimately, he decided against the latter, and rather than that, he did a combo of something else.
Slowly, methodically, he reached out, and put a hand on her shoulder, laying it down just hard enough to show commitment, but not grabbing. With a few quick taps at his HUD, he then de-polarized his faceplate, which exposed his square-jawed, weather-battered visage to her.
" Hey. Hey...look at me. "
" Look at me now..."
She did, slowly and jittering-ly, practically shaking from head to foot.
Clearly more afraid than angry now. That was glaringly obvious. But, Dutch had no need to draw upon more harshness or sternness to say anything else...not anymore.
" If anyone dies today, I swear to you it will be me first ", he told her, summoning all the sincerity and honesty he could. " Just like I said. Ok ? You get me ? "
At first, the young woman did not respond.
She stared at the ground, shoulder's quivering slightly, with her emotions having done a full 180 from rage to mind numbing-nervousness at the drop of a hat. It had been quite the swerve, even for Dutch, who was used to married life by now after over a decade of it. He wished, yet again, and because of it, that he hadn't had to use such a harsh tone on this girl here...
Good cause
A good, just cause. That has to be enough. Has to remove...at least some of the edge
Perhaps it actually had, because a moment later, Akela breathed deep, slowly nodded again, and at last had something to say.
"...I...I got it. Ok...ok. "
" But...please...please don't let them find us ", she hurriedly added at a near whisper. " Please. I can't face them. I can't..."
"...No...no..."
...Tribute.
...Akela- her numbed fear, her worry, and her desperation- it was the whole debacle and massacre of Tribute personified.
It...it was. All of it...Dutch could see the whole planet's death all over her. It was as painful now...as it was then. If it hadn't been for the modicum of self-control that the ODST had aqquired after surviving it, he might've let himself hear the screams of those days right here, and right this moment.
He fought them back, though.
That was a luxury he couldn't afford..
" You won't. ", Dutch resolutely promised her.
" You won't. I will. "
With that solemn promise made, he then gestured toward the other waiting Civvies, who had been ( one or two at once, that is ) observing the entire exchange...when they weren't glancing apprehensively toward where the depths of the forest surrounding them as if they expected a bolt or beam of alien energy and/or plasma to come screaming out of it at any given second.
Which, to be honest...could easily happen, unless they moved now.
So...they would.
" Alright...go over with them. ", he directed her. " And steel yourself. "
" Hurry. The Aliens are still coming for us. We've moving out"