Chapter 12: Shiela
Old Mombasa
"I think you owe me twenty dollars." Sam smiled as the Pelican shook.
"I was kind of hoping that we crash and die, just so I don't have to pay you." Kumi grumbled.
"All right ladies and gentlemen!" Paccone yelled as he stepped out of the cockpit. Somehow he managed to stay standing, even though the Pelican and bucking and shaking from the vigors of atmospheric reentry. "The kind folks in UNMC Command have decided to reward our hard work defending the Cairo by dumping us onto Earth and defending this little corner of nowhere called Mombasa."
Paccone tapped several keys on the side of the ship and a mini holo-projector activated, representing a likeness of the city of Mombasa.
"As you know, like most modern cities, Mombasa is dividing into an old and new section. Satellite scans show that the majority of the Covenant are focused around New Mombasa, but there are still quite a number them running around Old Mombasa. The plan here is that the bulk of the Marine forces land in Old Mombasa, sweep it clean, and then close in on New Mombasa." Paccone glanced at his squad, who still stayed silent.
"But apparently, landing in Old Mombasa is just too good for us." He continued on, "Our superiors, with their infinite knowledge, have decided to dump us in the middle of New Mombasa to assist the In Amber Clad Marines already in there and relay information back to the main assault force."
"Uh, sir." Leo raised his hand. "Any word on the numbers we're facing?"
'Were you not listening to what I was saying for the last three minutes?"
"You don't know, do you?"
"You sound surprised, Private!" Paccone grinned and shouldered a large rifle case. "Besides, I'd like to see the lack of intel as something of a challenge."
"There we go." Barfbag yelled as the Pelican slowed to stop. "We're right over the insertion point. Now get off of my ship, you damn freeloaders!"
The small squad of Marines quickly exited the hovering Pelican, hauling their equipment with them. They had been offloaded on an abandoned parking structure. There were still dozens of derelict cars scattered about. Sam waved as Barfbag's Pelican pulled away, but not before waggling the craft in a sign of farewell. Sam then noticed the large rifle case Paccone was hauling and asked, "Sir, what exactly is that?"
Paccone looked up. "Oh, this thing?" He patted the side of the case. "It's a little surprise for the Covvies prancing around down there."
"Speaking of Covvies." Kumi glanced over the edge into the street below. "I see them. Lots of them."
Lower Old Mombasa
"I can't believe we got stuck with a scrapheap like this." Blair Cowall shook his head as he glanced at the dirty, scraped up, and obviously worn-down Scorpion tank sitting on the dusty parking lot, his thick Scottish accent hiding none of his disgust. "I'm already missing Amanda. A good tank, she was."
"Hey, as long as its got a giant gun that works, I'm not complaining." The girl standing next to Blair, Karen Zimmerman, grinned as she eyed the Scorpion's cannon. "Looks to be about 120 mil, just like Amanda."
"That's easy for you to say." Cowall sniffed. "All you do is point and shoot. You're not the one who's got to actually drive the damn thing."
"Shut it, both of you." Tank Captain Adrian Wrall snapped as he walked up. "With the manpower and equipment shortages Major Mackenzie's been dealing with, we're lucky to even have a tank."
"I'd rather be given a stick and walk into battle than get myself stuck in that metal deathtrap."
"It can't be all that bad." Shion Cumberland said hopefully.
Adrian sighed as he took another look at his "new" tank. Most tank crews usually nicknamed their tanks, such as how he and his crew had named their last tank Amanda. Hidden under a layer of scorched and chipped paint, there was a barely legible word that revealed the tank's name when it served under its previous owners. Shiela was an ancient Scorpion model M1A1. They were a very popular and advanced line… if you lived about twenty or thirty years ago. Hell, Shiela was probably older than half his crew. Most of the Scorpions today were brand new M4A3 models, just three years old. Too keep up with the times, Shiela was apparently heavily modified and upgraded with both standard and nonstandard equipment that gave her odd performance capabilities.
Another strange aspect of Shiela was her service record. Over the past few decades, she had passed through numerous crews and owners, but never staying with any single one for very long. Many of the superstitious tank crews believed that Shiela was cursed, and that any tank crew stuck with her was doomed to an ugly fate. Adrian and his crew contemplated investigating further into Shiela's past, but later agreed that some things are better left unknown.
But Adrian couldn't help but smile. If any crew could get Shiela to perform well, it was his. Blair "Scottie" Cowall was the best driver he had ever seen. He always knew where his tank could and couldn't go, what terrain would suit him best, and even if there was the likelihood that the ground was mined. He also took any damage to his tank as a personal attack against him, often cursing and screaming when they took a hit. Blair also despised the nickname "Scottie", but with his amusing Scottish accent, it was just impossible to call him anything else.
There was lovable old Karen "Kazi" Zimmerman. She was loud, abrasive, sarcastic, and rude to the extreme, but always in a good natured way. She was also one of the best gunners Adrian knew and could fire a tank shell with accuracy and lethality like you could never believe. Unlike Scottie, she didn't mind her nickname, and was often seen laughing in genuine joy, brushing her long brown hair out of her eyes as she watched her target explode.
And then there was sweet little Shion Cumberland, with her shoulder length red/brown hair and pinkish-brown shaded eyes. Adrian had the suspicion that Shion illegally signed up, because just taking one look at her, you could bet money that she was fourteen or fifteen. Regardless, Adrian still didn't know much about her personally, as she was a replacement for his last loader, Loran Kris, who died along with the Amanda back on Aeola. As a loader, Adrian had seen that she was perfectly able to handle the demanding duties as a loader by monitoring and handling the Scorpion's autoloading systems.
Overall, Adrian had the makings of a good crew. The only wild card here was if Shiela could perform up to their expectations. He had hoped to have some time to try out Shiela under controlled conditions, but the needs of war meant he and his crew had to go in uncertain of what their tank would do. Fortunately, the mission was simple enough. He and a squad of three other Scorpion tanks were tasked to support a Marine Mechanized Company as they drove into New Mombasa.
"Alright. Let's get this baby fired up and ready to go. We're heading out in fifteen minutes."
Meanwhile, just several hundred feet away Karla was busy getting her company fired up for the coming battlefield. She was aware of the fact that she was going to be working with armor in this run, but she didn't mind. She had fought with Scorpion tanks before, and knew that she could count on them for heavy support when she needed it. She also liked the fact that Scorpions were magnets for enemy fire, which drew most of it away from her more vulnerable Warthogs, though she never publicly voiced this view.
"Get them rolling, Captain Wellings." Major Mackenzie's familiar voice crackled through the radio. "We're on the timer here."
Karla motioned to her platoon leaders to start moving and quickly radioed the tank squad commander to get his tanks moving as well.
"Captain Colan just given us the go." Adrian announced, closing the tank hatch. "Let's get this girl moving."
Adrian could hear the familiar hum as Shiela's engines began powering up, until there was an ugly shrieking sound that sounded like metal being crunched like cornflakes. Of course, something like that was often very very bad, and was confirmed by Scottie's cursing.
"Goddamn piece of junk!" Scottie slammed his fist down onto his control console and began to pry open the driver's hatch. "Stupid engine's stalled!"
"Well, we're off to a great start, aren't we, Captain?" Kazi grinned.
Adrian sighed and glanced at Shion, who only smiled and shrugged. He had the sudden and disgusting feeling that they were all going to die in this tank.
New Mombasa
Mako growled as he stood by Field Marshal Shelamee along with his fellow officers. Personally, Mako despised Shelamee and would like nothing more than to stab his plasma sword into his chest. However, Shelamee was the ranking Elite here, and Mako was nothing more than a lowly Junior Marshal of a Displaced Individual Unit. However, it wasn't like he had any personal dislike for the Elite. Mako hated Shelamee because of his inept tactical planning and strategy. He was very "direct" in his tactics, often leading his forces into headlong charges at the enemy lines, and he often preferred to use vast legions of forces in large, compact formations. His tactics were similar to those of the human general dubbed "Napoleon", and Mako felt that those tactics were just as old and useless as the dead human general.
Now, it wasn't as if he was concerned with the loss of his DIU. They were all expendable anyway. What really concerned Mako, however, was the fact that his tactics often wasted the lives of perfectly honorable and proud Elites as well, who deserved a better chance at living. Mako realized that Shelamee's current tactics were suicidal. They were in an urban environment where it was difficult for Shelamee's legions to move, and as history proved, the humans specialized in urban combat where their low numbers and inferior technology were not major detriments.
What also kept bothering Mako was the fact that it always felt as if Holy was there watching him, as if he were standing behind his back. Mako wasn't quite sure what to think of it. On one hand, Mako respected and loved Holy as a brother, and as an individual who shared his own personal views. On the other hand, he felt nothing but contempt because he took those views too far and turned heretic.
"And that is our overall attack plan. We shall hold this position and sweep the humans here off the face of existence." Shelamee finished, snapping Mako back to attention.
"But Field Marshal," One of the Elites stepped forward. "We still have forces stranded in Old Mombasa. What shall we do with them?"
"Nothing." Shelamee sniffed. "They will fight to the last and occupy the human troops while we secure the Prophet."
Mako's contempt for Shelamee rose a few more points that day.
New Mombasa Parking Structure C
"That's… quite a lot of them." Scohar said, looking over the side. There were easily over two hundred Covenant troops marching in formation in the street below them, with armor support.
"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Scohar." Kumi rolled her eyes.
"Ha, just more targets." Sam laughed as she polished her scope and took a firing position.
"Plan, sir?" Leo asked, a slight hint of anxiety in his voice.
"We kill them all, Private." Paccone said simply, prying open the supply crate Barfbag dropped for them. He reached in and hauled out a Jackhammer rocket launcher. "It's just that simple."
"So I guess that whole 'recon' thing is moot."
"At least you understand the meaning of the word, Carter." Paccone laughed. "Me? I'm not so good at doing subtle."
"Shouldn't we be like, counting their numbers or something?" Sam asked as she steadied her rifle.
"You can do that once we start counting the bodies." Paccone checked to make sure the Jackhammer was loaded.
"Let's do this, then." Kumi grinned.
"You have the honor of taking the first shot, Wellings."
"I love this job." Sam beamed. She slowly took aim, making sure her crosshair was hover just above the head of an Elite riding a Wraith tank.She slowly exhaled, relaxed and fired.