Chapter Eleven: Landfall
8th July, 2533 (UNSC Calendar)
Ninth Age of Reclamation, 8th Solar Cycle (Covenant Calendar)
Slipspace transit to Fitzroy, Beagle System
CAS-class Assault Carrier Steadfast Pilgrim, Fleet of Adamant Devotion
We had to take another ride back down the gravity lifts to reach the mess hall – it was located on the same level as our living quarters, within our own barracks. Once we reached it, only then did I feel I could relax.
I would not have long – we were due to reach the targeted human colony soon. The Steadfast Pilgrim was fitted with the latest Slipspace engines, upgraded from newly unearthed Forerunner technology. The rest of the Fleet of Adamant Devotion, thanks to the latest gravity-hooks fitted to the carrier (which essentially slaved all other ships in the fleet to the Pilgrim during a slipspace jump), would be dragged through the void at the same speed.
It also helped that this human outer colony, this Fiss-roye*, was quite close to Y'Deio - almost on the border with Covenant and Kig-Yar space, in fact. I later learned that it had been discovered by our own privateers, during one of their many raids on human convoys in this sector**. The T'Vaoan contingent was thus 'rewarded' for our kinsmen's good work – by being among the first to land on its surface.
*Trau had real difficulty pronouncing the name, and it shows in my recording. I will spell it correctly from this moment onwards.
**In the early years of the war, Fitzroy and its main airbase (AB Bougainville) was a major base for UNSC counter-piracy efforts. Navy fighters based at Bougainville and frigates serviced by the Haven 12 space station in orbit conducted regular interceptions against Kig-Yar incursions in that area of space, designated by the UNSC as FLEETCOM Sector Eight.
According to the ONI records I was able to access, the Covenant Navy located Fitzroy after a single Kig-Yar raider followed the frigate Clytemnestra to the colony, in the wake of an anti-piracy action in a neighboring system. Though the raider was detected at the last minute, it escaped with Fitzroy's location before it could be destroyed. This corroborates with Trau's account of how the planet's location was betrayed. The Kig-Yar vessel was equipped with active camouflage and was found to have used a tracking probe; however, Clytemnestra's captain was promptly relieved of command and court-martialed, under the terms of the Cole Protocol.
Now, Fitzroy was well within our sights – and we would arrive within this solar day. Thus we had a few hours to eat, freshen up and prepare ourselves for what was to come. We would all make best use of the time.
The mess hall was a cold, utilitarian affair; gone was the fine history, art and decorations of the mess hall at Vara. Here there was only the purple, magenta and violet paneling of most things our Covenant built, all lit by a fluorescent, indigo light. Our lances still sat equally around round tables, with one table per lance. It was all cold, hard metal – gone were the cushioned seats and fine carved wood we had dined on back at the training grounds.
That world – my world – was truly behind me now. From now on, this would be my home – as another soldier among millions in the vast machinery of the Covenant military.
Still, it was only T'Vaoan Kig-Yar in this particular mess hall. As ever, our quarters and facilities were heavily segregated. Say what you will about that system; I would not have been able to calm myself with Sangheili or any others watching us. The presence of Unggoy might have lead to an unwanted confrontation, also.
The Ruuhtians did not have that luxury – on this Assault Carrier, their quarters were located much closer to those of the Unggoy. Although they ate and slept separately, confrontations between Unggoy and Kig-Yar were more likely to occur in the corridors around the adjacent living quarters. As ever though, our Covenant was all too happy to cram them in together. Our kind had it easier in every way – we had a corner of the ship to ourselves.
I could also take comfort in the presence of my friends. Par sat to one side of me, Vek the other. Shik, Kreth and the others I had trained with were arrayed around the circumference of the table. After an initial silence, we were settled into a healthy conversation.
The seniors – Elln, Dehn and Cahn – sat and ate with us as well. But their conservation was entirely self-contained, kept among themselves. They seemed to be keeping us at distance – which I found unnerving. Perhaps they thought we would die in the coming battle – why bother making a friend of someone who will soon pass on anyway?
I tried to ignore that thought, and focused on those who I knew would talk to me.
"I guess we're lucky to be headed to a small human world first," Vek said, somewhat nervously. "I'd expect a bigger colony would be better defended. We might have a better chance of surviving this first fight."
"Don't bet your life on it."
That was Nokh, the plantation mistress' son. During training he had been one of the quietest in our Lance – but it seemed like he was becoming more confident, at least enough to counter Vek's point.
"If some of their people are living there, the humans will fight to defend and evacuate them. I think they're going to fight hard."
"Surely they know they can't hold that world? What would be the point? They must have more valuable colonies out there to defend."
"Maybe," Nokh conceded, "but from everything we've heard of them, the humans will gladly fight and die for any piece of land they hold. Especially if it helps some of their own escape our fire."
"Their resistance is blasphemous," Kreth muttered.
Once again, Kreth caused an awkward silence to fall over the table.
"Their fate has been decided by the Gods," Kreth declared, raising his voice. "Their resistance is pointless and blasphemous, whether they know it or not. Their mission is to keep themselves and their heresy alive. Our mission is to stop them. They only delay the inevitable."
Nokh looked baffled. Kreth's narrow, dogma-filled mind tended to do that to people.
"So what if you were in their position, Kreth? Would you bow down and accept fate? Would you not try to fight back? Was our resistance in the War of the Asteroids blasphemous and pointless?"
"It was in the eyes of the Gods," Kreth replied mechanically. "We were defeated in that war. We serve the Covenant now. Those who fight against the Path and the Journey are waging futile wars. They are the ones to blame, not us."
Nokh rolled his eyes. I had already learned the hard way that debating with Kreth was pointless – the best thing to do was ignore him and let it go. But not everybody had the patience to just ignore him; Nokh's patience was clearly wearing thin.
"Well, if my family's farm on T'Vao was attacked one day, I would fight to defend my home. The humans are the enemy, so I will fight them. I'm fighting for my family and land back home, so they can have a future. But should we be that surprised if the humans do the same?"
"I'd be careful where you say that."
I was surprised the hear Elln join our conversation. I thought the Seniors were basically just ignoring us.
"You never know which rooms may be bugged," she continued. "There is a San' Shyuum Magistrate aboard this carrier. He monitors all personnel of this fleet for possible heresy. Reporting any heresy means a promotion for him, back to High Charity. He is eager for any chance at it – he is near the bottom of their career ladder. It would be wise not to give him that chance."
She then narrowed her eyes at both Kreth and Nokh.
"I wouldn't want to see you put yourselves or anyone else in danger. So hold your tongues next time. Am I clear?"
Kreth silently turned back to his food, while Nokh nodded briefly and did the same.
I felt I needed to break the awkward silence that followed – the best way to do that was to change the subject. I was surprised to hear that there was a San 'Shyuum stationed aboard the Steadfast Pilgrim – though as I've made clear, we Kig-Yar weren't going to see him up close.
So I decided to talk about something else. I cleared my throat to get the Seniors' attention, before speaking.
"I noticed that we don't have any Scarab walkers…I didn't see any in the hangar, when we docked."
Cahn and Dehn just rolled their eyes in response, but Elln gave me a snickering reply.
"Nothing gets past you, does it?"
I held up my hands in ignorance. Would I never be able to talk to her, or any of the seniors, without looking like an idiot?
"I just thought it was odd…I would have thought on an Assault Carrier, in a Legion of our size…I thought there would be at least one. So…am I wrong?"
Elln shook her head, still chuckling.
"No, you're right; there was one Scarab attached to this Legion - a Type 47B, to be exact. The only great walker in our humble fleet," She sighed wistfully. "Oh, how it will be missed."
"You mean…it was destroyed?"
"No," Dehn cackled, "the walker developed a mind of its own and stomped away from our lines one day. It got fed up of the war, decided to quit and live a peaceful life. I hear it's doing quite well!"
A bout of laughing and pointing at my expense followed, from all three Seniors. I felt my eyes widening. Vek looked nervous too.
"How did the humans destroy a Scarab?" Vek asked, his voice trembling slightly. "With a bombing run? With their artillery?"
"It was no ordinary humans that did it." Cahn muttered.
Elln hissed in his direction, no longer amused - she wanted Cahn to change the subject, or shut up. She was worried about saying too much that would worry us, clearly. But he beat her to it.
"They were Demons," he stated flatly. "It happened during our last battle. They boarded the Scarab, killed the crew and blew up the reactor. They killed a lot of good people that day."
Elln glared at him. I could see her words in her expression. They didn't need to know that. Not before their first battle.
But it was too late. Vek and I were left open mouthed in shock, as were several others.
We'd heard about the Demons; the Spartans, those infamous human super-soldiers during our training. They had a mythical, nightmarish status in the military – we named them demons for a reason, after all.
Nix and Krel had spoken of personally encountering them once, during the fighting on Arcadia two years ago. They had described the speed, strength and skill of the Demons in vivid detail; how they had laid waste to Legions, turning the tide of battle against our forces in an instant. This was in spite of the fact that they were believed to be very few. Sometimes only one or two Spartans would be reported on a battlefield – at least, by those alive to do the reporting.
The two Majors had been lucky; when they had encountered the Demons on Arcadia, Sangheili and Mgalekgolo reinforcements had arrived to cover the T'Vaoan Contingent's retreat. Many others who had met the Demons had not lived to tell the tale.
When we had first learned that the humans had such soldiers – let me tell you, it was downright unnerving. There had been recruits back in Vara who had doubted the Demons' existence, or at least believed their reputation was exaggerated. Maybe those recruits had just been comforting themselves.
Now, we were hearing the truth from actual veterans. Once again, I felt dread grow within me – just what would we end up facing, when we finally did battle with the humans?
Thankfully, I was shaken from my thoughts pretty quickly – though not in a good way.
Or ears were filled with the blaring of alarms, which sounded like the wail of Banshee engines in the confined space of the mess hall. Elln recognized the signal immediately – no doubt she had heard it many times before.
"Everyone to the armoury! Double time!"
We didn't need much encouragement. All of us were already wearing our armour – we had all agreed that taking it off before the Sangheili came for us would have been suicide. All we had to retrieve were our weapons and ammunition. We all knew exactly where we had left those.
Thus, once we reached the barracks, we were able to arm up pretty quickly. The armoury was within our living quarters. It was literally just another set of lockers, separate from those we stored our personal belongings in. The Sangheili had a massive armoury of their own adjacent to their barracks, with a vast array of weapons to choose from. We had only the weapons we had received in training, stored in our living quarters.
Hurrah for equality…
Of course, I couldn't exactly complain about the quality of my own weapons. The Sangheili carbine was elegant and polished as ever – I had made sure to keep it that way since Champion Xen placed it in my talons back in Vara. I was privileged to own it, and I knew it. I released the Type-51 Carbine from its holding clamps inside the locker, which opened automatically when I touched the weapon.
Then I cradled the carbine, bonding with my primary weapon as I had done many times already. I checked it over briefly; the optics on the sight worked just fine, the magazine and all the other parts fitted and worked like clockwork. Once I was satisfied, I stowed it on my back. I heard the satisfying clack as the weapon magnetized to the rear strip on my armour suit.
Then, I retrieved several canisters of carbine ammunition, clipping them to the belt of my armour. Although the belt could also have carried grenades, I didn't have any. None of us did – for reasons that were yet to be explained to me, the Sangheili did not permit them to Kig-Yar troops.
Pity – but there was little I could do about it. At least we were permitted a secondary weapon – I clipped the Type-25 energy pistol to another magnetic strip on my right thigh. I'm right-handed, so this made sense. Anyone who was left-handed would be given a weapons strip on the left-thigh of their armour. Like Par, for example – I saw him stow his pistol comfortably on his left leg.
I retrieved a couple of reserve batteries for the pistol, before closing the locker and clicking it shut. I checked the heating unit on my armour – from what Fark said about the world we were landing on, I would need it. My chronometer was working fine – it would set itself automatically to the orbit and rotation of the target world. It was a fine piece of tech.
Once I was good to go, I joined the rest of my Lance – in turn, we joined the rest of 2nd File as we assembled into the lobby of our barracks. I kept close to my comrades…there was no way in hell I was going to be the odd one out again.
We assembled into the ranks that we knew completely off by heart. If a civilian had been watching us, we would have seemed like a single organism in movement, an organic machine. I felt so proud – we had come far since our training.
The Majors were there to meet us, Nix included. So were the Sangheili – File Master Hamar 'Moramee stood before us with his subordinates, fully armoured in his blood-red battledress. His hands were folded behind his back, his icy blue eyes surveying us with cold precision.
He waited a moment after we were fully assembled. Then he did something which caught us completely off guard.
He guffawed. It was not a jovial sound of laughter, though – it nearly gave me a heart attack when I heard it. It sounded like rumbling thunder, echoing from a foreboding dark cloud. His amusement was clearly born out of mockery and contempt, not levity or mirth.
"So you managed to assemble together this time." He chuckled to himself, taking a few steps towards us. I felt my heart rise into my mouth.
I heard his hands tighten behind his back, before he stopped right in front of my Lance. We were in the front ranks, so he couldn't miss us. He let out a snort at the sight of us – at me.
"I suppose you are to be congratulated," he rumbled in my direction, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "So, well done for getting your hides moving on time. You have ensured your survival – until the drop begins, that is."
His voice and expression then turned to its usual steel.
"'Navasee, 'Vataree – see to it these Kig-Yar reach the launch bay without getting lost. The Field Officer would have no patience for that."
The two Minors rumbled in amusement, before obeying the File Master's orders. They ushered us out of the lobby, their powerful voices spurring us on with all kinds of obscenities. Major Nix joined our Lance, marching at the head of our little sub-formation. The other Majors followed suit, joining their own Lances.
The Sangheili were keen to get us to the carrier's launch bay on time – they had all heard the threat of punishment Field Officer 'Kuribasamee had leveled at 4th Lance. They obviously wanted to avoid trouble – there was every chance the Field Officer would hold his own kin responsible for any failure as well.
Fortunately for everybody involved, it didn't take long for us to reach the hangar. The corridors and gravity-lifts passed me by as a blur – I was overcome with the anticipation of entering my first battle.
My mind burned with the same questions every soldier asks of themselves, before they enter combat for the first time. How would I perform? Would I be praised, or would I shame myself? Would I break down and fail in the face of the carnage? Would I let down my comrades? Would any of my comrades let me down? What kind of enemy, what kind of dangers, would I face?
Would I die the moment I stepped off the dropship?
I put my mind into lockdown the moment that last thought came to me. Crap like that could become self-fulfilling – it didn't need it plaguing my mind during the drop. Instead, I focused my attention stiffly ahead, on our Lance as we marched through the corridors.
Soon enough he reached one of the entrances to the titanic launch bay. Once the door chimed and opened before us, we passed through – and I quickly saw that we were not alone.
Within the cavernous hangar, on the vast tier which we assembled onto, the entire T'Vaoan Contingent of the Kr'evan Legion stood in their ranks. We diligently joined them; I have to say it was impressive to see our unit assembled as one strike force, ready for battle.
Ranks of armoured T'Vaoans, just like me – most in our regular grey, interspersed with the red of our Majors and the larger forms of our Sangheili officers. Before us stood the golden, charismatic figure of Champion Xen, flanked by Field Officer Veran 'Kuribasamee. His lava-coloured armour blazed like a raging fire, waiting to be unleashed.
To our right and left, other forces were assembling. Our contingent was part of the Legion's initial assaulting vanguard – which included other troops besides us. Ranks of Unggoy and their Sangheili officers stood at attention to our right. The stench of their methane breath reached us long before we saw them – they were always quite hard to miss, aside from the fact that they were assembled so close to our contingent.
Like the Sangheili, the gas-suckers were armoured in different colours, depending on their rank – though I could see that these conscripts weren't quite as disciplined as us, or our masters. Many were engaging in idle chatter, fiddling with each other's gas tanks, slapping each other over petty arguments, or simply sniffing aimlessly. I swear I even heard a whimper from one or two of them – perhaps these were scared new draftees.
I just hoped they wouldn't get in our way – there is nothing worse for a professional soldier in a combat zone than being hampered with untrained conscripts who don't know what they're doing. Such raw troops are just as likely to get you killed, never mind getting slaughtered themselves.
Alongside the Unggoy were the familiar forms of Ruuhtians – they were either interspersed with the ranks of Unggoy, or with their own units. All of them had their shield gauntlets fixed to their wrists, ready to be activated at their command. They would likely be supporting us in the coming fight – we naturally trusted them better than the Unggoy.
Further down the line to our left, there were ranks made up entirely of Sangheili, almost all in basic blue armour. These were not of our Legion – they had to be one of the two warrior crèches we were dropping with. I don't know which one, either the M'Ran or V'tar crèches – but they all looked pretty young and eager. This would be the first battle for many of those young Sangheili, as well.
On the tier below us were multiple armoured vehicles – which included several echelons of Type-32 Ghosts as well as the bulkier Wraith tanks. These were the armoured contingent of our Legion's initial strike force – they would likely be dropping behind us in support. Our standard military doctrine dictated that the infantry would always lead an assault – that was the way the Sangheili liked to fight a war.
Before us there were ranks of dropships – older DX-class Spirits as well as the latest models of Phantom. Their engines hummed in their docking clamps, filling the hangar with an undulating tone that added to the collective tension in the recycled air.
Field Officer 'Kuribasamee held overall command of our Legion's initial strike force, as well as the T'Vaoan contingent – that was obvious when he moved to address us all.
"You will all be the first to touch down on this heretic world," he boomed. "Field Master 'Modalee and his entourage will land with the V'tar crèche, on our right flank – he will co-ordinate the overall offensive from there. The M'Ran crèche shall cover our left. Our Legion will have no finer comrades to support us, in this coming battle."
I'm sure the Sangheili of both crèches were up to the task – 'Modalee obviously preferred fighting alongside them to us. I wondered why he even bothered to take command of an integrated Legion, given that it required a Sangheili officer to properly interact with the multi-culture of our Covenant. 'Kuribasamee seemed far better suited to that task.
"Follow the comrade in front of you," 'Kuribasamee continued. Even the Unggoy seemed focused, as they listened to his words. "Follow the instructions of your superiors. Follow your training, and your instincts. Keep a clear head. There will be no mercy for the enemy – for they will show you none in return. Remember all of this – and you will prevail. Let us be about our task this day. The Kr'evan Vanguard will board!"
At that final barked order, we all got moving. 'Kuribasamee was not one to waste too much time. 'Moramee and the Field Officer's other subordinates, together with our Majors, quickly led us to our assigned dropships.
"4th Lance, on me!"
That was Nix. We all responded to his bark, as one formation. Within seconds, we followed him to our dropship – which I saw to my relief was a Type-52 Phantom. The DXs looked far more cramped by comparison – they also had far less supporting firepower. Plus, their hull strength was said to be weaker than that of a Phantom. I was curious to see that most of those DX Spirits were being assigned to the Sangheili crèches. Most of the available Phantoms were going to the Kr'evan Legion. The four-jaws didn't always get the best equipment, after all.
I didn't give it another glance, though. We were all quick to board the Phantom, settling into assigned positions on the starboard side of the troop bay. Major Krel and his 5th Lance joined us, having been assigned to the same dropship. They took their positions on the opposite side of us.
To my shock, they were followed by File Master 'Moramee, along with the Minors 'Navasee and 'Vataree. The latter was a brown-skinned Sangheili with unusually reddish eyes. I'm not sure what region of Sanghelios that indicated he was from – if he even hailed from their homeworld.
"Welcome aboard the Electric Kesh," 'Moramee boomed, as he took up his own flight position. "As File Master, you will be accompanying me on this engagement as my entourage. Do not fail me. You all know the price for failure, now."
He glared at me, as he uttered that last sentence. I felt a pit of dread growing in my stomach. The Sangheili hadn't been lying when they said our Lance would be under greater scrutiny. 'Moramee had evidently chosen to make that scrutiny very personal – by conducting it himself.
I tried to take my mind off it – and settled myself into the magnetic restraints. I was lucky enough to be positioned just near one of the Phantom's small port-holes. I would get a clear view of what was happening outside. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing, though.
The voice of the Electric Kesh's pilot boomed over the announcement system. He was a Sangheili too.
"All troops, prepare for departure. Deployment is imminent…stand by."
We were all secured, magnetized to the restraints in the troop-bay. The Phantom shuddered with a clunk and whirr of machinery, as it released itself from the docking clamps. I felt the craft turn – then suddenly pick up speed.
By the time I got a look outside of the portal, I could see that we had already departed our carrier's hangar – we were now in the vacuum of space. We were not alone, either – I saw the other Phantoms, together with the Spirits, escorted by Seraph and Banshee fighters (the latter were obviously the space-bourne variant). We were flying in this vast formation, an invading armada descending upon the enemy colony world.
I could see it now – the curve of the planet lay before us, decorated with swirling, stormy clouds. I could just make out a vast ocean, but nothing of the single continent where we would make touchdown. Fitzroy was an uncomplicated world, aside from its climate and conditions. T'Vao had a similar reputation for stormy and extreme weather – but it wasn't like that all the time. Fitzroy's weather was apparently almost unchanging.
I wasn't worried about the weather on landing, though. I was more worried when I saw a cluster of distinct shapes in the distant space, just above the planet. As we got closer, they slowly magnified into blocky, metallic looking craft. Many of them looked, for all the universe, like flying cannons. They were centered around what looked to be a large military space station.
They were Human warships. I could also see that there were formations of small specks deploying from them. Fighters.
I felt a surge of adrenaline rush through me. I tuned into the battlenet – surely the pilots had seen the human fighters and were taking action?
Sure enough, I could hear their conversations – but they didn't seem overly concerned. When I looked out of the portal again, I saw why.
The vast, majestic form of the Steadfast Pilgrim filled my view, as it ploughed towards the human fleet. I quickly made out the other, smaller vessels of the Fleet of Adamant Devotion, flanking it like devoted peons. Ours was a small fleet, but it included four CPV Heavy Destroyers, as well as a CCS-class Battlecruiser. Together with the attached escort of frigates, corvettes and a detachment of Kig-Yar raiders and storm-cutters, it made for a light yet potent force.
The human fleet looked slightly larger than ours – but I knew they wouldn't stand a chance. Even when they outnumbered us, naval engagements with the humans ended in a Covenant victory more often than not. The Ministry of Resolution recorded few naval defeats. There was little reason to think this battle would be one of those.
The Sangheili Fleetmaster also knew what he was doing – I could see how the fleet was deployed. The four heavily armed destroyers formed the front of the formation, directly forward of the Assault Carrier and the CCS cruiser Perdition's Fire, while their escorts took up the flanks. The CPVs were built for intense combat – they would serve as the line breakers, clearing the way with their long-range energy projectors and torpedoes. The Pilgrim and the Fire would support them in the centre of the spear-tip, with their even heavier weapons. Finally, the more nimble frigates and corvettes would sweep in from the flanks, sowing as much damage and chaos as they could in the wake of the larger vessels.
The pattern of our fleet's formation became clear, as they charged towards the human fleet in the distance. The humans had almost no countermeasures to our fleet's strategy, or the weapons of our vessels. Their best hope lay in the giant magnetic accelerator cannons their larger vessels sported – but these were cumbersome weapons, out-ranged by our energy projectors. They would only be able to get a few shots before plasma burned through their unshielded hulls.
We might lose a few smaller vessels, but otherwise I had supreme confidence in our ships. The only vessels vulnerable to the enemy were the raiders and cutters of our kinsmen. If they had any sense, they would be staying away from the main battle. The Kig-Yar ships were probably contributing to our dropships' escort, right now.
Re-assured in the superiority of our fleet, I rested back into my restraints. Par and Vek were positioned either side of me. The former gave me a confident grin, while the latter had his eyes closed. Perhaps he was trying to picture what lay ahead – or praying for protection.
Suddenly, the pilot's voice boomed into the troop bay again.
"Attention! Human starfighters have slipped through our fleet's pickets – they are heading straight for us! Our escort is moving to engage – we will be making an early atmospheric entry to evade. Stand by!"
We all felt the lunge of the g-force as the Phantom powered its engines to maximum. We plunged into an emergency descent, along with the rest of our formation. Braving a glance out of the porthole, I saw a flight of Seraphs racing past, charging at some unseen foe.
After a minute or so, the g-force became even greater and was joined by a heavy turbulence. Looking out the porthole again, I saw that our craft was engulfed in the flames of atmospheric entry. The other dropships in our formation also glowed with the fires of the intense friction. We were like a hailstorm of red-hot meteors, descending upon the enemy below.
The pilot had said we were entering the atmosphere early – that meant we would be spending more time in the skies of this planet, in order to reach our destination.
I tried not to think about how vulnerable that made us. Instead, I resolved to check over my armour, making sure for the uptenth time that my weapons and ammunition were where they should be.
I then looked around the troop bay again, as the hum of the Phantom's engines dominated the tense silence. Some of my comrades were checking their kit over as well, though their faces also betrayed trepidation. Kreth, who was clamped in just near Vek, had his eyes closed in concentration, muttering his usual psalms. Yet his posture betrayed no fear – he was still the same emotionless, uncompromising Zealot.
The veterans among us, like Nix, Krel and Elln, stood rigid in their positions, their eyes fixed in a steeled expression. 'Moramee and the other Sangheili were the same – I found I was getting better at reading their expressions. They all knew what was coming.
The turbulence leveled out – that meant we must have completed re-entry. I dared another glance through my porthole. I was amazed to see that we were flying in a beautiful night sky, illuminated by the glow of Fitzroy's twin moons. Stars filled the sky in alien constellations – I would have taken all the time in the world to admire the scene, had it not been for my current situation. Our landing zone was in the current night-side of the planet – that meant a night assault. We had done night-fighting exercises during our training – but such a battle is never easy.
I was also more concerned with the layer of cloud below us, which our formation was gradually descending into. I could see dropships further along our formation, disappearing into the cloud ahead of us. As they did so, something odd happened.
The cloud deck suddenly became illuminated by violent flashes, like sporadic outbursts of lightning. Something was happening down there. We could hear it within the troop bay, too, since we were now in atmosphere. It sounded like constant claps of thunder, rhyming with the flashes.
What scared me more, though, was the sound of the Battlenet. I could hear panicked calls from the pilots at the head of our formation, who had descended before us. It didn't sound good – so I turned my receiver off and tuned out of it.
"Are we flying into a storm?"
That was Vek. His voice betrayed his frayed nerves. Minors 'Navasee and 'Vataree simply laughed in response, allowing their heavy rumbles of amusement to echo through the dropship. File Master 'Moramee mirthlessly smiled, baring his sharp white teeth.
"A certain kind of storm, Kig-Yar!"
Vek gulped. I gave him a glance, tapping my talon on his armour. My glance told him all he need to know: keep your head. He just managed to get it together.
The view out of the porthole was now obscured, as we descended through the cloud. But I could hear the storm below getting louder and louder. When the view finally cleared and we re-entered open sky, I immediately wished we hadn't.
Without warning, the Phantom shook and bucked like it was being pummeled from all sides, like a giant hand had grasped it and was trying to shake us out of the troop bay. The interior lit up with fiery flashes from the external view-ports, while echoing with furious, booming thunder. We were shaken around like coins in a cash-tin. I felt myself being thrown back into my restraints; that, or I instinctively flinched from my view-port.
When I braved another look outside, I nearly yelled out in fear.
The night sky was lit up by a colossal storm of hostile fire. Flak exploded all around us, lighting up the sky with brilliant flashes, leaving black clouds in the wake of the airbursts. Long streams of orange and yellow tracers peppered the sky, seeking out their targets. Missiles, their engines turning the blackness orange with their fiery trails, shot up from the surface below. It all combined into a terrifying barrage, an awesome display of human firepower.
No – it was more than a mere display. The humans had us on their radars, and were determined to bring as many of us down as they could before we landed. The flak got heavier the closer we got to the surface, matching our steady descent. One of the Surface-to-Air missiles struck a nearby Spirit, hitting the dropship in the starboard prong.
The warhead exploded, tearing the Spirit into two pieces, with the right-hand fork severed from the rest of the craft. For a moment, the two halves of the wreck seemed to hang in mid-air, as if the Spirit could not comprehend what had happened to it. Then, as if accepting its fate, the Spirit's two separate pieces parted company, descending lazily from the flak-filled sky to the surface below.
I was sickened at the sight. But worse was to come.
A stream of fiery tracers suddenly struck the Phantom immediately beside us on our starboard, hitting the port turbine, which immediately caught fire. Our Sangheili pilot had seen that as well – I could hear him from the cockpit, yelling into the comms for his fellow pilot to engage the dropship's extinguishers.
It was too late. The fire must have reached something critical when the turbine exploded, setting the entire Phantom ablaze. That wasn't the worst of it, though.
The burning Phantom began to list heavily to port. Towards us.
"All troops; brace for evasive maneuver!"
The pilot banked the Electric Kesh wildly to port, the second he bellowed out his warning into the comms. Once again my stomach did somersaults, as I was thrown into my restraints by the resulting g-force. As the pilot banked away from his stricken wingman, I dared another look through my porthole.
I got a perfect view of that other Phantom, flames pouring from its turbine and troop bay, plunging to the surface in a fiery, spiraling descent below us. To my utter horror I saw that the side deployment doors had been opened – the poor bastards on board that ship were trying to escape, even as their transport brewed up and the flak thundered around them.
Once their Phantom was hit, those aboard had only two choices: burn alive in the air, or jump to their deaths below. I am always thankful to Chu'ot – or any higher force that truly exists in this universe – that I never had to make that choice during the war.
From those open doors, I could see figures jumping from the burning craft as it spiraled downward…Kig-Yar, Sangheili, Unggoy…I just couldn't tell. Some of them were alight…writhing in flames as they fell…
In that moment…as I saw that scene…that was when my war began.
I had never been so terrified – so filled with horror, revulsion and fear – in any other moment in my life before that moment. I had seen death in my training – but not like this. There would be many other times in the war when I was completely scared shitless – but this was the first such time. And believe me, the first time you see war is not a moment you ever forget.
I threw myself away from the porthole, screaming and swearing at the top of my lungs.
"FUCK! FUCKING HELL!"
I managed to be heard over another huge explosion outside. It was louder than the normal flak – perhaps another dropship had been hit.
"Silence yourself, KIG-YAR! BEFORE I RIP OUT YOUR TONGUE!"
That was 'Navasee. He was about to jump out of his harness and follow through with his threat. For the sake of my survival I managed to bind my jaws shut.
"Keep it together, all of you!"
That was Nix. He fixed his gaze upon me too – but unlike 'Navasee his expression held no threat of violence. It was a calm, soothing expression – one which I had never associated with the Major before. Somehow, he knew exactly how to look at any of us, in order to bring calm to our souls.
I felt myself taking deep breaths, as I fought to keep my panic down. Seeing that I was calmed, 'Navasee huffed and settled back into his harness.
We were one among dozens, hundreds of dropships in this formation. The humans couldn't shoot them all down – a good percentage of our ships had to get through.
What were the odds that the Electric Kesh would be downed? Statistically, I told myself, we might have a chance.
Then that thought proved premature.
Several tracer rounds punctured our troop bay, in a cacophony of furious clangs. This was followed by a rush of air through the newly-made holes in the hull. I closed my eyes, thinking that this was our end. Soon, our ship would join the wrecks of the others who had been blasted out of the sky.
No…we were still flying. It didn't feel like we were going down. Then I heard Nix yelling above the ongoing din.
"Anyone hit!? Anyone injured!?"
"I'm fine!" I called out, and everyone else, the Sangheili included, confirmed that they were fine too. No-one had been hit by those rounds. A bloody miracle, if you ask me.
I wasn't ready to be relieved yet. I wanted off this Phantom as soon as possible. Ground combat would be no paradise, but at least there I would have a chance of being able to influence my fate.
In this dropship, trapped in the sky with enemy fire all around, I could end up dead without ever having fired my weapon; there would be absolutely nothing I could do about it. Up here, I would have to rely on luck alone – and the skill of our pilots.
When I looked around my comrades again, I could see that they were as eager to get out of this as I was. Vek was shaking and whispering to himself in shrill terror, while Par was gritting and grinding his teeth like mad.
Salvation soon came. We heard the distinctive baritone of Field Officer 'Kuribasamee's voice over the battlenet. He was addressing all units in the Legion's vanguard force, over which he held overall command. No doubt he was passing down an order from Field Master 'Modalee, who held authority over all the landing forces, including the two attached warrior crèches.
"All vanguard units; we are approaching the landing zone now. Prepare for rapid deployment; all troops stand-by."
As his channel tuned out, I was left amazed by how calm and unruffled the Field Officer sounded. It was his job to remain calm, of course – but he must have been involved in many planetary assaults before this. He did not sound unnerved by the enemy's AA barrage in the slightest. Sangheili were said to be fearless in battle – but 'Kuribasamee's cool head seemed unnatural even by their standards.
It gave me a boost of confidence that our contingent commander seemed to know what he was doing. Just then, File Master 'Moramee barked an order to the pilot, making himself heard over the constant thunder of the flak.
"Restraints off!"
I felt the magnetic harness release its grip on me. Majors Nix and Krel then removed themselves from their restraints and marched down the troop bay, bringing their respective Lances to order.
"4th Lance, assemble!"
On Nix's command, we stepped out from our harnesses and assembled into our two-line formation. Major Krel's 5th Lance did the same.
"Ready your weapons! Make an equipment check!"
I removed my carbine from my back, cradling it in my talons. Once again, I checked the sight and ammunition count, before checking my armour, plasma pistol, chronometer and battlenet com system. Everything was in place.
"Ready!"
I yelled out the confirmation, as my lance-mates did the same, in response to Nix's request to sound off for the equipment check. The pilot then announced that we were approaching our designated landing zone, which was labeled 'Red Two'.
The landing zones were colour-coded; the Blue LZs, on our left flank, were where the M'Ran crèche deployed. On our right lay the Yellow LZs, where the V'Tar crèche deployed, together with Field Master 'Modalee and his Evocati shock troops. We were deploying on a narrow isthmus of land, so the Sangheili crèches would be advancing along shorelines.
We of the Kr'evan vanguard, however – Kig-Yar, Unggoy and our Sangheili officers – were being deployed inland, right in the center of the line, in the LZs designated 'Red'. Red Two was exclusively for us T'Vaoans; the others were being deployed in Red zones one and three.
The center would no doubt contain the heaviest human defences. Field Master 'Modalee was deliberately deploying what he saw as his weakest troops in the center, while he and his fellow four-jaws would be attacking from the flanks. That indicated a strategy of some sort – but I had no time to ponder it.
"Prepare to touch down!"
Nix's voice brought me into the here and now. As one, both rows of our Lance turned to face the starboard deployment door. I clutched my carbine like I had clutched the vines back in Var'ka'mar – it would be life, my key to survival.
"Move, beak-heads!"
The shrill, high-pitched voice sent a surge of irritation through my being. It was a green-armoured Unggoy, one of the dropship's two door gunners. He pushed his way through us, reeking of the methane he breathed; until he reached the starboard Type-52 plasma cannon which lay folded and attached to the door. His fellow gunner, a lower-ranked subordinate, did the same on the port side.
Their fire would be key to our safe deployment and survival – so we let the slight pass.
With a shudder, I felt the phantom come to a halt. The sound of the AA fire had now been joined by new rattles and explosions outside – we were deploying into a free-fire zone.
With a click and a whirr of hydraulics of machinery, the doors opened, letting in the roaring rush of the winds that constantly blew across Fitzroy's surface. As I had predicted, we were dropping into darkness – though what was taking place lit up the scene outside.
It was no comfort – the scene was absolutely hellish. Human tracers and flares lit up our landing zone and the sky above, their AA guns rattling away somewhere in the distance. I saw to my horror the reason why we were deploying at night.
The landscape was entirely without trees or large bushes – just waves of rough grass (I believe humans call it 'tussock') that undulated in the never-ending wind, interspersed with gullies of gorse, outcroppings of rock and boggy-looking ground. It was bare moorland with open fields and rolling hills, which granted a perfect field of view in every direction – completely exposed with barely any cover.
In other words, the kind of terrain every infantry commander hates. Had we dropped in daylight, the humans would have massacred us. Attacking at night would reduce our casualties – though not by much. That was what we were dropping into.
Yet the Majors spurred us on. They had confidence in us, and I swore that we would reward them. We would show the Sangheili that we were not weak cannon fodder, to be simply expended to human fire.
The Unggoy door gunner acted quickly, springing up the plasma cannon from the open door. He engaged the weapon, letting out a stream of suppressive fire at some target that lay forward of the Electric Kesh, to cover our deployment.
That was our cue.
"Here we go people!" Nix yelled, before leaping out of the Phantom. We followed him as one, eager to get out of that damn ship.
Our kind's natural talent for leaping served us all well. I landed on my feet in a perfect crouch, as did everyone else. No one came crashing down on their asses during that drop. The Sangheili followed us – I heard the wet thuds of their larger feet, making contact with the grass and gorse on the ground. The other Phantoms landed around us, depositing the other lances of 2nd File. At least, those lances who had made it down to the surface.
The other T'Vaoan files were no doubt deploying too – I'm sure some of them got mixed up with us in the confused and harried deployment. But there wasn't time to think about that. File Master 'Moramee bellowed a command to us all the moment we touched down, brandishing his glowing plasma rifle. 'Navasee and 'Vataree drew their weapons alongside their superior.
"The humans cower on the hill before us! Forward!"
The hill was impossible to miss – it was a long, low, sloping upwelling that stretched into the east and west, dominating the northern horizon in front of us. On top of that hill were the first human lines we had to break. The humans loved to base their trenches and bunkers on crests and inclines like this, to make an assault as difficult for us as possible.
We would suffer casualties at their hands – but I swore we would also meet their challenge. A simple hill would not stand in the way of the Covenant military.
With 'Moramee and Nix at the lead, we of 4th Lance advanced, joined by the multiple other T'Vaoan lances, and our Sangheili masters. It was difficult to find footing – not only were we blown right and left by the constant gales; the ground was also saturated, boggy and uneven. It made for slow going – but still we advanced.
However, we had deployed from the Phantoms in open ground – the humans could never have missed us. So their response was immediate, literally within seconds of our landfall.
Directly in front of me, the grass, gorse and peat was churned up and torn to pieces – some of it was even set alight by the burning, red hot tracers of furious rifle and machine-gun fire, which lit up the scene all around, whistling and whining through the air.
I threw myself flat on the wet, sodden grass and gorse, my ears filled with the sound of enemy weapons fire, of the shouts and screams of our troops. I heard men and women screaming and crying out in pain. There were probably quite a few who were not screaming, courtesy of the humans.
The battlenet was also filled with confusion, in addition to the noise of the battle – so if anyone was trying to give me orders via the comms or through good old-fashioned yelling, I didn't hear it.
Right now, I was on my own – I wasn't thinking about the rest of my unit, and I couldn't afford to. I had to keep myself alive. I pressed myself down into the peaty tussock grass as low as I could – but I knew I couldn't stay here forever.
When I dared a glance upwards, I saw that the enemy was not just putting up a blind barrage. The human machine guns were firing in pre-set arcs of suppressive fire from carefully selected points on the hill, which combined into kill zones of crossfire. Our troops would be slaughtered whenever they entered these overlapping arcs of lethal bullets. It was a favoured tactic of the humans, one that we had been warned about during our training. This was not the last time I would see it used against us.
That wasn't all – deafening explosions thundered around us, sending up hellish mushrooms of fire, smoke and earth all over the open moorland. Soil, rock and other debris rained down across the battlefield, wherever the shells and bombs struck. Human artillery – either light mortars or their main cannons further back, behind the hill. The enemy wasn't messing around.
The darkness would not protect us forever. The humans were firing off bright tracers and flares to light us up. I was also sure that they had night sights on their weapons, along with other visual equipment.
Then, right in front of me, I saw two men from Krel's lance caught in the arcs of crossfire. They were cut down in seconds by the heavy machine-gun rounds, their bodies torn to ribbons, their blood spraying the grass around them purple. Then they fell, like puppets without strings, onto the exposed ground we were advancing through.
Wake up, Trau…THIS IS REAL!
The first thing I did was spring for whatever passed for cover around here. I found it in a cluster of small, low gorse bushes, bent and twisted by the winds. It lay just to the right of my position – I leapt to the bushes reflexively, faster than I had ever done before, my instincts taking over. The humans would not get a shot at me.
Sure enough, I landed safely behind the weathered gorse bushes. It wasn't the best cover, but enough to lie flat behind, without being seen.
I was so focused on my own survival that I almost didn't hear our forces returning fire. When I looked up again, I saw the streams of green and blue plasma from our weapons, and the arcs of glowing blamite needles. I looked around, seeing Kig-Yar and Sangheili alike opening up on the human-held hill. Our fire grew in volume and ferocity, steadily matching and exceeding that of the humans.
That was always the advantage of our plasma and energy weapons – not only could they cause immense damage, their fire created a display that frightened the hell out of the opposition. Seeing streams of burning plasma charges, needles or fuel rods heading straight for you would definitely make you think twice about leaving your cover.
The human tracer fire had a similar psychological effect – though I would say said effect was not quite as strong as that of Covenant weaponry.
Especially now, as our Phantoms hovered overhead to provide support. The let fly with their prow-mounted cannons, while Unggoy door gunners sprayed the human lines with their fiery streams. I saw that the prow-cannons were in slow-fire mode – this setting fired larger, more explosive plasma charges that could destroy protected targets. The enemy trenches would not last long against this aerial barrage.
Realising I hadn't fired my weapon yet, I joined in. I sighted down my carbine towards where the human gunfire was coming from at the top of the hill, as the sound of their mortar bombs boomed around me. They didn't hit my position, so it wasn't worth thinking about.
I had set the carbine's sight to night vision – but I couldn't make out anything distinct in the enemy positions. There was just too much fire and interference.
I didn't need a specific target, however. I pulled the trigger several times, the high-pitched sound of the carbine's discharge ringing in my ears, as I sent a three-round burst of radioactive fire towards the human hill-crest. I shifted my aim right, to another part of their line – and fired another three rounds in quick succession.
My intention wasn't really to hit anything – I was laying down suppressing fire, in order to keep the humans' heads down. No doubt everyone else was doing the same thing – taking too long to find an obvious kill would just give the humans more chances to fire on us.
As I shifted to another part of the enemy defensive line, laying down some more radioactive rounds onto the stubborn flat-faced bastards, I felt a surge of confidence. I wasn't terrified or cowering under enemy fire anymore. I was a soldier, firing back at my foes, even when under fire.
When I shifted my aim again, I saw that our advance had resumed – my fellow T'Vaoans were pressing to the foot of that damn hill. We were not alone – our Phantoms glided forward to support them, pouring punishing fire from their weapons. I could also see some lances of Unggoy and Ruuhtians among our contingent.
Their dropships had probably been separated from their formations on the way down – which would have been broken up by the flak – and ended up in the wrong drop zones. Such confusion is inevitable during a battle – no plan survives contact with the enemy.
No matter – I wasn't going to complain about extra firepower. Just so long as those Unggoy didn't fuck up and get in my line of fire. I saw some of the gas-suckers firing fuel-rod guns – that made them a worthwhile asset, at least.
I was about to shift to a more forward position, hoping to join our advance. Then I was interrupted by a searing hiss in the air above me. I flinched upward, seeing the orange trail of a human rocket. It slammed into one of our supporting Phantoms, striking the portside doorway. The Unggoy door gunner simply vanished in the explosion, his gas tank igniting, his plasma cannon blown to smithereens.
Oily black smoke poured out of the Phantom's port side. The pilot tried to gain altitude and escape – but then I saw another rocket flaring upward from the top of the hill. There was no sign of a SAM battery up there, so it had to be from a shoulder-fired weapon.
That second rocket struck the Phantom in its chin, severing off the prow gun in a shower of flaming wreckage. That second explosion must have reached the cockpit, killing or incapacitating the pilot. I could tell, because within a few seconds the dropship plunged into the ground, created a blinding explosion that lit up the whole battlefield.
I pulled myself from my shock. Taking advantage of the illumination, I traced the smoky trails of those two rockets – and found the one responsible for the deed.
I saw him as clear as day through my sight, thanks to the night-vision and the light of the explosion. Within the trenches at the top of the hill, a large figure – unmistakably human – was stood upright, a heavy weapon mounted on his shoulder.
There was no mistaking it – it was a rocket launcher. I saw the human wield it almost without effort, as he ejected the spent rocket canister and reached downward for another.
I did not give him that chance.
That human's features – his dark skin, his helmet and battledress, his night-vision shades, his tall, muscular form – were clear and distinct in my night sight. They remain etched in my mind to this day. For when I pulled the trigger of my carbine twice, I claimed that human as my first kill.
The two green, glowing rounds punched straight through the human soldier's helmet, as he bent over. He looked like a tough one, so I made sure to give him a double tap. The human toppled forward, his rocket launcher falling out of his hands and tumbling to the ground.
I didn't have long to celebrate. The other humans had found my position – they traced my shots just as I had traced their dead comrade's rockets.
I threw myself down once again, as a stream of bullets tore the bushes apart and whistled above my head. I began to think that rocket soldier would be my first and last kill – so I consoled myself, remembering that at least that human wouldn't bring down any more of our Phantoms.
Then I heard a shout in my direction.
"Trau, over here!"
The voice was female – I turned my head right and saw Elln, along with Dehn and Par. They were taking shelter behind a large rocky outcrop, ahead and to the right of my position, not far from where the Phantom lay burning. It was a precious bit of good cover in this miserable land – I kicked myself for not noticing it earlier.
"Trau," Elln yelled over to me again, "Come over to us! We'll cover you!"
She then raised her needle-rifle (she was an irs-van, just like me) and let fly, while Dehn and Par loosed streams of shards from their needlers, towards the humans who were firing on me.
I did not need any further encouragement. I sprinted towards the outcrop of granite where my friends were gathered, diving into the cover while I still had the time.
"Nice job with that rocket-jockey, nestling!"
Senior Dehn was obviously impressed, so I nodded his way in acknowledgement, even as I was panting with relief behind the newfound cover. I was about to return with a witty reply – but I was denied the chance.
"Celebrate later!" Elln barked, firing off several more pink shards over the left-hand edge of the outcrop.
She then ducked and dived downward as a furious, rattling barrage of heavy bullets slammed into the rock, sending up showers of stony, chipped debris which rained down on the four of us.
"There's a flat-face heavy machine gun up there, right ahead of us," Elln growled, picking herself up and brushing the rock debris off her armour. "It's got this whole stretch pinned. We're not getting out of here until someone takes it down."
Having retrieved my breath, I decided to rise to the challenge, even as the heavy bullets continued to slam into the granite.
"Can you draw its fire again?"
Elln titled her head at me, looking at me as though I was insane.
"You're ready to put your neck on the line again? Already!?"
"We can do it together," I replied, keeping my breaths even. "You can draw it's fire from the left side of this rock – I can then take a shot at it from the right side. If it turns and fires on me, then you're open to take the shot instead."
Elln sighed, before nodding to my logic.
"Fine. But if either of us gets killed, it's on you."
I rose, getting my weapon cocked and ready. Dehn and Cahn stared at the two of us, obviously in awe of our combined risk-taking. Elln readied herself and her own weapon, before locking eyes with me.
"On the count of three then," she declared. She decided to keep things simple, though. "Three!"
She immediately shot towards the left side of the rock, while I flanked right.
Swinging from the safety of the rock, I sighted that human machine gun post, which was highlighted beautifully in my night sight. Its crew was laying down a steady stream of defiant fire – I saw them scythe through several advancing lances of Unggoy, rupturing and detonating their tanks, spraying their glowing blue blood all over the gorse gully that lead up to the hill.
Sure enough, Elln was able to send a few shards in their direction. The enemy gun crew reacted efficiently, reflexively sending another burst towards the left side of our outcrop.
I couldn't look to check if Elln survived – I had to take out that gun quickly. I zoomed onto the machine gun post, and caught the helmeted head of the gunner dead in my sights. I could see the loader at his side, feeding a belt of oversized ammunition into the chugging, rattling weapon – but the gunner was always going to be the priority target.
One pull of the trigger saw another radioactive slug in a human skull. I hit the gunner in the face, my round going through his eye and out the back of his head. He fell backward in a great spray of blood, bone fragments and brain matter. Not a pleasant sight.
I was about to go for the loader, when the unexpected happened. Another human soldier bravely rushed to take the dead gunner's place, quickly swinging the heavy weapon round and letting it loose with a vengeance on my position.
Fortunately, my T'Vaoan reflexes and agility were able to save me once more. I dived to the left, landing on my side behind the outcrop just in time. The replacement machine gunner kept up his fire, tearing up the right-hand side of the rock and the gorse surrounding it, which smoldered and burned from all those heavy tracer bullets. It felt like being stuck in a shooting gallery.
Then I heard the sound of Elln's needle rifle. She had taken my advice; while I had ducked from that revenge fusillade, she had emerged from the left side of the rock, firing three shards on the target.
I peeked out from behind the outcrop – and saw the dissipating traces of a combined blamite explosion, where the machine gun post had been. I zoomed in through my carbine's sights – the heavy gun had been blown clean off its mountings. As for that second gunner – the human's remains were probably all over the place, after Elln's shards exploded in his body.
I didn't see where the loader had gone – but I knew it would be lucky to survive that explosion. I any case, that machine gun was a twisted wreck now. No one would be firing it on us again.
It was a first small victory – I felt elated at our combined effort. I tuned into the battlenet.
"Kill confirmed – one heavy machine gun!" I reported, unable to hide my jubilation.
To my surprise, I got an instantaneous reply over the net - from none other than Major Nix.
"4th Lance; forget claiming human trophies and join our advance!"
Nix's tone was prickly, so we quickly got ready to move out from the outcrop. I locked eyes with Elln – we exchanged a nod of mutual respect, before focusing on moving forward with everyone else.
We had made a breakthrough in our area possible, by destroying that gun. When we emerged from the outcrop, wheeling past the burning wreck of the Phantom, I could see that our advance was now pretty fluid. The whole T'Vaoan contingent was now moving as one, supported by files of Unggoy, Sangheili and Ruuhtians from the other vanguard units.
The shields of our Ruuhtian brethren glowed in the darkness like simulated targets, taking fire as they loosed green plasma and shining needles at the enemy. They were literally bullet magnets. Still, they drew a lot of fire away from us.
As we moved forward to join the attack, I caught a truly inspiring sight; the elaborately armoured form of Field Officer Veran 'Kuribasamee, his energy sword activated at the head of our advance, beckoning and bellowing at us to follow him.
"Forward you dogs; we're almost through this!"
Several of our Obedientaries and their Minors were beside him, firing off their plasma rifles. One or two even drew their own swords, as they charged fearlessly into the human line of fire.
Whatever we thought about the Sangheili personally, there was no denying their courage in battle and the inspiration it provided. Truly, they were the blade of the Covenant. Of course, it helped that they had energy shields to soak up the human fire – we did not have that luxury. Yet like the Ruuhtians, they were drawing the bullets away from us.
We took advantage of this. We charged up the hill behind the Sangheili warriors, firing as we went. The Phantoms advanced in the air above us, their mounted weapons blazing away, keeping the humans in their trenches. The Unggoy fuel-rod gunners who were with us proved invaluable – their burning green fire proved to be the bane of many a human position.
I also saw something else that lifted my spirits tenfold; the hill was now under plasma mortar bombardment. The Wraith tanks in our vanguard force had landed some way behind us; they were now providing us with heavy support, sending comets of plasma crashing down onto the human trenches. The balance of power had swung decisively in favour of the Covenant.
As we got closer to the top of the hill, we could see the humans better with our naked eyes. The eyesight of Kig-Yar is superior to that of humans, well suited to night conditions.
That was what helped me to pick out a human soldier rising from the forward trench dug into the crest of the hill, raising its assault rifle and firing on one of the Sangheili minors directly in front of me. I put a round straight through that human's neck.
The Sangheili didn't thank me – not that he had time to, anyway. With the Field Officer in the lead, the Sangheili officers finally reached the top of the hill, with the rest of us charging behind.
'Kuribasamee breached the first of the enemy trenches, neatly beheading another human soldier as he leapt into it. The other Sangheili, including 'Moramee, joined him. They blazed away with plasma, mowing down the enemy before them, slashing with their swords and bringing their rifles crashing down on the skulls of any humans who got too close. I could see the golden form of Champion Xen joining them, his needler blazing away.
The 4th Lance was one of the first to enter that forward trench – but by the time we got there, the fight was already over. The news came over the battlenet that the hill had been taken, thanks to the Sangheili crèches breaking through the flanks on the east and west shores of the isthmus.
The humans had escaped in their own dropships and ground vehicles, under the cover of their artillery fire, withdrawing northward to their next defensive line at their airbase. That was where we would be headed next.
They had certainly suffered a defeat here; the trench was full of human corpses, decked out in their camouflaged, sandy-green armour and fatigues. Many lay dead at their earth-worked and sand-bagged posts, still clutching their weapons in macabre defiance. Others were torn apart and mutilated, or reduced to carbonized ashes and skeletons; the victims of the bombardment from our Phantoms, Wraiths and fuel-rod Unggoy, most likely. It was not a pleasant scene.
We later learned that these troops were an infantry brigade of the UNSC Army, part of the garrison force stationed at the big airbase. They might not have been as well equipped or trained as their Marines – but they had put up a strong fight against our initial landing. Their defences on this hill had been well planned and prepared, exacting a toll on our vanguard forces.
However, these Army troopers could not prevent our advance – especially not with the heavier Sangheili infantry pressing from their flanks. We of the Kr'evan Legion had taken losses here in the center of the line – but we had also kept the bulk of the humans' attention on us. Field Master 'Modalee had been happy to throw us at their strongest defences in the center, in order to achieve this. Meanwhile, the M'Ran and V'Tar crèches, along with 'Modalee and 'Burgdarai's Evocati, were able sneak along the shorelines virtually unnoticed, flanking and enveloping the hill.
Clearly, Ntal 'Modalee was both a skilled and ruthless tactician. He had no qualms endangering or sacrificing 'lesser' Covenant troops to achieve an objective. I couldn't argue with the end result, though; an entire human brigade had been swiftly driven back. A less gifted commander might have taken longer, or suffered more casualties, in capturing the hill.
Plus, you're still alive…
I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe this war business wasn't so hard, after all. Then I reminded myself that this was still only my first battle – and that these were only the outermost enemy defences. The humans hadn't intended to hold them for long; pulling back to their defences at the airbase, once the going got tough, had always been their plan.
Then I felt a hand slap my shoulder. I turned to see Par's grinning face.
"That was easy enough, wasn't it?" he grinned. "You handled yourself well back there. How many kills did you notch up?"
"Three. How about you?"
Par looked miffed, glaring resentfully. "Two – or one, maybe. Your lead won't last, trust me."
I looked around to see the rest of my lance – we were all together again, for the first time since stepping off the dropship. I was relieved to see that everyone in 4th Lance was still alive – though Chu'ot alone knew how. We were luckier than most of the other lances – almost all of which had suffered casualties, including Krel's lance, who took up position close to us. I saw that they were missing two of their recruits – the two who had been killed right in front of me.
Our lance's relief at being spared such death must have showed – because Nix was quick to bring us back to reality.
"Don't get complacent – this is only the warm-up round. We will be proceeding to the next human defensive line shortly, once we're all assembled. They have solid concrete bunkers up there. For now, check these trenches for any strays."
We fanned out in pairs, scouring the captured trenches for any live humans. I paired up with Par, and we trained our weapons left, right and centre for anything that moved in the darkness.
Some live ones were evidently found – I heard brief bursts of weapons fire nearby as our lances combed the captured defences on this hill. Par and I didn't find any, though. All we saw were more enemy dead. All we heard was the constant howl of the wind – and the distant sounds of war in the night.
"Where is 'Navasee?" I asked suddenly, as I jabbed a plasma-scorched human corpse to ensure it was dead. "I didn't see him when we stormed the trench."
"Blown up." Par said flatly. "It happened right in front of me. The fucker ran into a mortar blast. I saw that four-jaw strewn all over the place like hok-vash stew. Wasn't pretty."
"I'll bet."
That was my only reaction. It was a loss that 'Navasee would no longer be an asset in this battle – the Sangheili had proved that they were powerful allies on the field. On the other hand, he wouldn't be threatening to kill me or grabbing me by the throat anymore.
So that muted any real sorrow I might have felt about the Sangheili Minor's death. Forgive me for not feeling greater comradeship or compassion for an abusive superior.
"I saw a couple of guys killed in Krel's lance," I continued, as Par checked another corpse. "Any idea who they were?"
"Meng and Srull," Par replied, checking something on the human's wrist. He sighed, this time with genuine sorrow. "Damn it all…I really thought they were going to make it."
I knew those two recruits only vaguely. They were both kut-van, so Par knew them a lot better. By all accounts, they had performed exceptionally well in training back in Vara. Unfortunately, luck in battle is not something you can learn, even with the best training in the galaxy.
Par was still fidgeting with the dead human's wrist. I saw that it was a female, with reddish hair streaking from under her helmet. My friend had his talons on some sort of bracelet she wore, made of what looked to be jade beads.
"Seriously Par? We don't have time to waste here."
He shrugged.
"It's extra hard currency on top of our crap pay; if we can sell it once all this is over."
He finally plucked the jade bracelet from the dead woman's hand. Then, he reached for one of her fingers, easing off a jeweled ring, which he tossed to me. I caught it deftly in my talons.
"One for you. War booty can sell for a lot of fucking money, I hear. Especially human contraband."
It was an age-old tradition of Kig-Yar soldiers to loot enemy dead – sometimes for profit, other times for survival. I couldn't deny that extra money was always needed – but being introduced to the practice felt a little…disturbing. I pocketed the ring anyway.
We swept through the trenches and foxholes, but we still found no stragglers. The humans had executed their retreat quickly and efficiently – they were gone within moments of being here. Most of their forces seemed to have escaped from the hill – along with their mortars. All the mortar pits we saw were empty, with no sign of the light artillery pieces anywhere. They'd escaped with some of their heavy machine guns, too.
Apart from the machine gun that Elln and I had destroyed, of course. We passed it as we moved further along the forward trench. The gun itself was bent out of shape by the crystal explosion, still smoldering in the tussock grass where it lay upside down on the slope, after being blown off its tripod.
The crew was in an even worse state – the gunner who I killed had spilled all his brains out where he fell, his left eye burned away after my round passed through it. That was nothing compared to his replacement, whom Elln had struck with the three shards which super-combined and exploded. That human was ruptured in half, his burnt and blackened intestines strewn all over the place in a perfect horror scene. As I had suspected, the loader had not survived either – a small blamite shard from the explosion had pierced her forehead.
At least her end had been clean.
Down the slope in front of the fallen human gun crew, I saw the remains of our troops whom they had massacred. The Unggoy they had mown down littered the slope and gorse gully it led into, their bodies torn and twisted. Their fluorescent blood illuminated their remains, along with the bodies of Sangheili and our own kin, of all who had fallen in the battle for this hill.
Ruuhtians and T'Vaoans lay broken all over the slope and gully, some with heads and limbs torn off by the heavy caliber rounds…
Par and I got away from that machine gun post, not wanting to retch.
As I swept my carbine to the left again, I happened upon that first human I had killed. I was able to easily identify his body through the night-sight, thanks to his black-brown skin and the rocket launcher that lay beside him. He was also an impressively muscular specimen, much taller and larger than his fellow humans – taller than me, for that matter. Leaving Par to strip another corpse of valuables, I walked over to my first kill.
I turned him over with my foot talons, meeting his face up close for the first time. Surprisingly, he was mostly intact; save for the two scorched, bloodied holes on either side of his helmet, where my rounds had gone through.
I reached down and lifted his shades up. His eyes were shut in an eternal sleep, never to open again. His dark, clean-shaven face looked peaceful – a real contrast to the sudden violence of his death. Perhaps that meant his soul was at peace – if one really believed in that sort of thing.
I briefly wondered what his name was. Where he had been born, how old he was…whether he had relatives who would one day hunt me down…
Shut up, Trau – you moron.
I had killed a being that would have killed me, given the chance. I had shot it through the head, just as a human had done to my father. Major Fark's words had stayed with me: us or the humans. A fight to the death. Either myself or this human could have been killed at any time. I had to ensure that my comrades and I were the ones who survived. That was how I justified that death, and every other death that followed it at my hands.
Wordlessly, I turned away from my first kill. I didn't search his corpse for anything to take.
After sweeping the captured trenches, we were quick to get moving again. The cover of darkness would not last forever; there were concrete bunkers ahead and we didn't want to be storming those in the light of daybreak.
Unfortunately, the land behind that first hill was just as open and bare as it had been before. Fitzroy's landscape was entirely treeless – open and rolling. Advancing on the airfield, it got even flatter – so flat that I could finally see the shoreline and open sea shining in the moonlight, on either side of the narrow isthmus we were advancing along.
Not that I could really appreciate the view. Not when my lance and I were advancing on a line of enemy bunkers and pillboxes. Not when we were fighting for our lives and pinned down, along with everyone else, in the face of withering enemy fire.
Our advance to the edge of the airbase had been pretty quick on foot – though our Phantoms were not able to accompany us. Our commanders had judged that the human air defences around their airfield were too strong – so we had lost the air support they provided.
This time, the human line was entrenched on a flat stretch of land, where the isthmus narrowed to a tiny strip before finally giving way to the northern half of Fitzroy's lone continent. The human airbase sprawled just north of this natural bottleneck, runways stretching along the horizon.
The line of enemy trenches, concrete bunkers and pillboxes stretched across this bottleneck, blocking our access to the airbase and the northern sub-continent. The location for these fortifications was well chosen – but it was also much more exposed than their positions on that first hill had been.
Hence the reason why the humans built solid concrete fortifications here; they were giving us a real headache.
As we advanced up the narrowing isthmus, our forces were bunched up closer together. We of the T'Vaoan contingent soon found ourselves alongside even more Unggoy, Sangheili and Ruuhtians from the rest of the Kr'evan Legion, as well as the junior Sangheili of the two warrior crèches.
As you can imagine, having this many troops advancing together over such a narrow strip of land made for an easy target. The humans seized the opportunity with both hands; the moment we reached their line of fortifications and entered weapons range, they started firing.
I threw myself flat on the ground with the rest of my lance – Nix screamed at us to keep our heads down. A storm of machine gun fire rained from the nearest pillbox just ahead of us – fire also rained through the slits of the other concrete bunkers in the distance, as well through their interconnecting trenches. The whole sky above my head was dominated by arcs and lines of tracer bullets, zipping and whistling like mad.
Then the human artillery joined in, raining down their shells in a whistling and thundering storm across the isthmus. Then there came a barrage which was much more violent; which echoed across the field with a rapid-fire dun-dun-dun-dun! Dun-dun-dun-dun!
This new enemy fire sprayed rivers of shells which burst in the air above us, raining down shrapnel and air-bust fragments. A cluster of Ruuhtians to the right of us, sheltering in vain behind their shields, was caught in one such barrage. They simply exploded into showers of blood and body parts; their energy shields were blasted away like tissue paper.
I had to recover from the shock of that horrific sight to realize just what had killed them; there were anti-aircraft gun positions at the edge of the airfield, some fitted onto the larger bunkers which acted as flak towers. The AA gun crews had depressed their gun barrels to the lowest elevation, and were now firing on us.
All of this inflicted horrific casualties on our massed forces, crowded together on this strip of land. Once again, there was barely any cover available on such an open area. I heard screaming and swearing all around me, through the diverse vocal chords of every race in our Covenant. People were screaming and dying; many were probably already dead and not screaming.
Our Wraith contingents and plasma mortars did their best to suppress the humans, from their positions to the rear. They had sent hailstorms of plasma comets raining down onto the fortified enemy line. But the human bunkers were well made – I was certain they also had underground sections and interlinking tunnels, where the humans could take refuge from a plasma barrage.
To make matters worse, the Wraiths and mortar batteries were now being targeted by the human artillery at the airbase, as well as their batteries in the hills. They were now dueling the enemy batteries for their own survival. At least they drew a good deal of shellfire off us infantry.
If that wasn't enough, we were losing our cover of darkness. When I looked skyward from where I was lying pressed into the ground, I could see the tell-tale signs that daybreak was near. We had been fighting through the whole night and into early morning – now the sun of this system was slowing emerging on the horizon, as first light began to appear.
This was disastrous news. We were exposed enough as it was, even when making a night attack on this planet. Fighting in daylight, under fire from such a heavily-fortified enemy, would be a death sentence.
Then I saw something else, when I dared another glance to the right. A blue-armoured Sangheili who had been the officer of those Ruuhtians killed by the AA fire rose to his feet, blazing with his plasma rifle and bellowing a challenge to the human pillbox raining fire on our lance.
A crack of a rifle echoed through the air. What looked like a narrow vapor trail tore its way through the helmet and head of the Sangheili junior officer, who toppled backward in a shower of purple blood and gore. His head had practically exploded.
Now we were under sniper fire – from the dreaded human snipers whom Fark had warned us about. Shit!
"Trau, Vek!"
I turned my head after kissing the ground once more. Vek, who was just beside me, turned in the same direction.
It was Salz who had called us, yelling at the top of his lungs over the din of battle. This time, he was in no joking mood.
"I can see where that sniper is!" He yelled. "I'll draw his fire, so you guys can take him out!"
He rose upward, before dashing and leaping forward, firing his plasma pistol in the direction of the sniper's shots.
"Salz, get your stupid arse back here!" I yelled, trying to hammer some sense into him.
Salz turned back to me, about to reply. Then a burst of heavy machine gun fire from the pillbox hit him in the back, spraying his blood everywhere. The words never left his throat.
"SALZ!"
Vek screamed at the top of lungs. Salz remained standing for a moment, blood pouring through his armour, throat and mouth. Then he fell to his knees, before finally, mercifully, slumping forward.
"NO!"
Vek rose, screaming like a madman, firing his needle-rifle wildly at the zigzagged human trenches either side of the pillbox.
"Pigs! Fucking flat-face Bastards!"
I could see that Vek was about to rush off too, possibly to retrieve Salz's body. I pulled him back down.
"Stay the fuck down!" I yelled into his ear. "There's nothing you can do! He's gone!"
Vek nodded, though his anger and sorrow were still present on his face. I was enraged as well; we had just lost a comrade, a friend in our 4th Lance. A man whom we had trained with. Salz had high hopes for his future; he hoped to become a successful mercenary, just like his older brother. Now that future was lost forever.
He had always been the eternal optimist; he had been far too optimistic about drawing out that human sniper and surviving. He paid for that arrogance with his life. I was determined not to let Vek, or anyone else, make the same mistake.
We remained pinned down before those bunkers, only able to take potshots. I was beginning to wonder if the Field Master would relent and order a tactical withdrawal; preferably back to the hill where we could consolidate ourselves.
However, I knew that would not happen. Field Master 'Modalee seemed intent on pushing forward – he'd already demonstrated that he wasn't afraid of taking casualties, or using us as forlorn hopes. I decided it would be better not to voice any suggestion of pulling back to Major Nix.
At the same time, 'Modalee had also shown that he wasn't stupid; if he was keeping us pressing here, even when pinned down, there had to be a reason. There had to be some pieces he was waiting to play, that would force a breakthrough.
Sure enough, those key pieces in the Field Master's strategy came stomping in behind us. I turned my head backward from where I lay down – and was left completely lost for words.
A pair of hulking armoured giants strode to my lance's position, long spines trailing behind. Their giant armour plates clacked and rattled as they advanced in massive strides, their massive shields were raised in readiness for battle, their arm mounted cannons glowed green with incredible power. Major Nix turned to see them as well – and swore at the sight.
I had never seen a Mgalekgolo for myself, up to that moment. Part of me hoped I would never see them – I'd heard the stories of how they crushed and trampled over Kig-Yar or Unggoy stupid enough to be in their path. Only the Sangheili held their respect; my father often said that the Lekgolo could be dangerous, unpredictable allies.
There was no denying that they were needed here, though. So another part of me welcomed these giants of salvation with open arms. This pair was not the only one – all along the rear of our line, numerous Mgalekgolo pairs were advancing on the human fortifications. It looked like the Field Master had called in our Legion's full complement of the giant warrior worm-colonies.
Then a mighty rumble reverberated towards our lance – a voice that was felt as much as it was heard. It came from that first Mgalekgolo pair we had seen.
Their language was known to very few in our Covenant; but it was obvious that the worms were yelling at us. It was also easy to work out what they were yelling.
Get out of our way!
Their arm-mounted assault cannons warmed up for emphasis, so Nix was quick to take the hint.
"Everybody down!"
The great beams of radioactive incendiary gel roared above our heads, slamming into their target with an almighty explosion and the sound of collapsing rubble. When I peeked upward again, I saw that they had struck the front of the pillbox – which had completely caved in on itself, burying the loophole where the machine gun fired from.
Then the Mgalekgolo turned their attention to the nearby trenches, dousing them with their roaring energy streams like farmers spraying pesticide. All across the line, our giant allies laid waste to the enemy defences.
Some of the human AA guns fired back – I think they managed to bring down a couple of the Mgalekgolo. But that was a drop in the ocean – the worm colonies avenged their fallen bond-brothers by blowing the enemy flak positions sky high.
"Forward, warriors!" 'Modalee's voiced boomed over the battlenet. "To glory!"
Roars and cheers erupted across our line; we charged as one great mass, not matter our unit, species or rank. There was no formal unit organization as we charged – it was 'everyone rushes forward now', basically. The Lekgolo continued to destroy and suppress the bunkers in support.
We ran right into the enemy trenches, firing and killing as we went. Then 4th lance got up close and personal – we had all seen a close comrade killed in front of us. Believe me, we were fired up and out for blood – and it showed as my lance stormed the human position.
I saw Par leap into the forward trench near the destroyed pillbox, teeth and talons bared. My friend pounced onto the first human in his path, jaws clamped around the alien's throat, slashing his screaming foe to ribbons.
Beside him, Major Nix pounced on another human, his jaws engulfing the woman's head as she screeched in pain and terror. The sounds of human soldiers dying at close quarters echoed through their now fallen defences.
As an irs-van, I made it a point to keep to ranged combat. I stood on the lip of the enemy trench, firing my carbine on the humans fleeing back to their airbase. Vek joined in with his needle-rifle; together we killed quite a few of the fleeing enemy, shooting them in the back as they ran.
Call me a fucking coward if you want – I really couldn't care less. I was a marksman, not a gladiator. I left all that courage and honour crap to the four-jaws.
Speaking of which, they were quick to secure these defences from our flanks. It took them a while to clear the bunkers – I understand that there were still humans in the underground chambers and tunnels of their fortifications. The Sangheili of our legion and the warrior crèches had to get in there and flush them out – a very messy process.
Fortunately for the T'Vaoan contingent, we weren't involved in that. We consolidated ourselves in the rearmost human trench, behind the destroyed pillboxes. It must have been a support trench – it was filled with ammunition and food stores they'd left behind after retreating.
By now, the sun had risen over the battlefield. Morning broke over a row of ruined bunkers and trenches filled with bodies. Our own dead also littered that damn isthmus – our body count had been higher than what it was storming the hill. I decided I didn't want to know the casualty figures.
In any case, we had broken through the bottleneck. As I gazed northward over the trench we now called our own, I saw the full expanse of the airfield. The vast runways and taxiways, strewn with wreckage. The bombed out hangars, administrative buildings and control tower that lay north, on the over side of that vast flat space. That was where the humans had withdrawn to – they would be setting up their defences in and around those buildings.
Beyond the airfield, I could see the highlands to the north – mountains and hills which dwarfed the one we had stormed on landing. Human artillery fire rumbled and echoed from those peaks, their shells whistling and howling in the sky over us, raining down in a cascading thunder on our rear lines. Our own plasma artillery continued to fire towards that region in a duel of distant guns. The enemy batteries were obviously located there, in perfect natural cover.
Destroyed human aircraft and ground vehicles littered the expansive runways and concrete plains of the base. That would be the only cover we would get when we advanced to the other side of the airfield.
That would not happen until nightfall, though, surely; crossing the airfield in a daylight offensive would be suicidal. So my comrades and I settled into our new trench, helping ourselves to the crates of rations the humans had abandoned.
We also settled into some blankets they'd also left behind – they gave us some comfort from the miserable temperatures and icy winds. I'd been so focused on fighting that I had ignored Fitzroy's harsh conditions. Now, at rest, I felt the cold with a vengeance. I pulled up a human blanket, and turned my heating unit up to maximum.
We would have time to rest and recover – we definitely needed it after our first battle, after losing Salz. I could see the loss in the faces of everybody present, even stoics like Shik and Kreth. Salz's passing had affected them strongly – it sure affected me.
Just then, Champion Xen strode to our position, accompanied by File Master 'Moramee. We initially stood to attention, but Xen waved a comforting talon.
"At ease soldiers," the Champion soothed. "I'm here to congratulate you, in fact. The 4th Lance performed to all of our expectations."
He glanced at the File Master, who snorted begrudgingly. He obviously thought that we would not perform, and was now irritated at being proved wrong. He showed no sign of observation that we were one comrade short.
"Get some rest and plenty of hot food," Xen continued. "We will be moving out again, later in the day."
Nix betrayed a quizzical look.
"Again, Champion? In daylight?"
"Yes Major, again!" 'Moramee growled. "The Field Master is bringing the rest of the Legion, along with other reinforcements to this position. He expects that we will be up to full strength in the next few hours. Once full strength is attained, we will advance from this position and seize this airfield."
We were stunned into silence. I managed to stop my jaw from dropping. Xen spoke again.
"The human artillery is based in those hills and mountains – they continue to fire on us. To reach this world's capital, we will have to storm the highlands and neutralize that artillery. The only way to the highlands is across the airfield."
"Our offensive will begin this afternoon," 'Moramee concluded, clicking his mandibles in anticipation. "The Field Master wishes for the airfield to be captured today. Ensure that you are prepared to cross it."
The File Master then strode past us with the Champion in two, no doubt heading off to inform the other lances.
We were left speechless. My worst fear, first dismissed, was now a reality. We would be advancing over that vast, flat concrete expanse, in full view of the enemy.
I gazed across the great runways, the pounding thunder of enemy artillery echoing over from the mountains to somewhere behind us, the fiery comets of our plasma streaking across the sky in reply. Aside from that, the entire airfield lay silent and still, as if in anticipation.
Today could be my very last day…
