Chapter 13
Highway 495, Thracia Province, Actium
May 6, 2545
0953
Marcus
An obnoxious ringing noise filled his ears. Marcus didn't know what it was, nor could he figure out where it was coming from. He felt so sluggish at the moment, like his brain wasn't firing on all cylinders. He didn't know what was going on; the feeling was almost like, he was in a state of absolute exhaustion, similar to how it felt after he had just pulled an all-nighter. He was awake, but not all the lights had been turned on just yet.
"mmm, grrmop."
Something began mixing in with the ringing. It sounded like someone was shouting only, it was like they were shouting on a really windy day and so while he could tell someone was saying something, he just couldn't make out the words.
ratatatata.
Now there was some other noise getting added to the mix. Well, not noise exactly. It was more of a feeling on his skin. It kind of felt like he was standing next to a really loud bass speaker: he could hear the bass, but the feeling of the noise on his skin drowned out all of his other senses.
He felt something warm touch his neck, contrasting all the cold air he felt elsewhere on his body, and he let out a small moan of contentment. The warmth was followed by more muffled yelling, but he ignored it, lost in the comfort the warmth provided. Abruptly, he felt it disappear from his neck and he groaned, tilting his head in its direction, searching for its heat.
"MARCUS, GET UP!"
Marcus coughed, then slowly picked his head up. At once the ringing in his ears disappeared and everything hit him at the same time.
Dresden was leaning towards him, screaming in his ear. Behind him, he could see Orlović's legs sticking out from the cabin roof. Orlović spun around in place, and then Marcus heard the sound of a machine gun going off, feeling the reverb of the muzzle blast against his body. Overhead, he could hear some inhuman shrieking which left chills going down his spine.
"Is he dead!?" Orlović was screaming. "Did we fucking lose our driver already!?"
"No, he's up!" Dresden yelled back. To Marcus, he said, "Marcus, you alright? Need you to shake it off buddy!"
"Sarge?" he weakly groaned, taking a look around.
He was sitting behind the wheel of a HEMTT. The HEMTT was currently sitting, with its engine running, on some sort of five lane highway. About five meters in front of them in the middle of their lane was a nasty looking pothole, but the HEMTT wasn't pointed directly forward at their lane. In fact, it was pointed slightly to the left, looking directly at the side of a tractor trailer. Actually, it almost looked as if the HEMTT had crashed into the tractor trailer. Or rather, Marcus had crashed into the tractor trailer.
"What happened?" Marcus asked. There was another screeching noise overhead, causing him to flinch. "And what's making all that noise?"
"Covenant Banshees. Look Marcus, I get that you're still a bit dazed, but we really need to get moving again," Dresden replied with poorly concealed impatience. "I'll explain later; drive!"
Marcus nodded. He grabbed the clutch and shifted the HEMTT into gear.
"Orlović, we clear in the back!?" Dresden yelled up.
"YEAH MAN! BACK IT UP!"
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
The HEMTT's backup alarm sounded as Marcus carefully backed the vehicle up until he was clear of the tractor trailer. Then he drove forward, carefully easing the vehicle through the small gap left between the front of the tractor trailer and edge of the pothole, which he was beginning to realize wasn't a pothole but in fact a blast crater. More screeching overhead caused him to duck, but he continued to barrel forward down the road.
"Voodoo 6-1, Voodoo-6, give me an update on your status, over!"
"Voodoo 6, 6-1, we're on the move again!" Dresden yelled back into the radio.
"Copy that, we're Oscar Mike!"
Further down the road, Marcus could see a 6x6 Warthog(1) variant pull back onto the highway and take off.
"Hey, follow the Lieutenant's vehicle!" Dresden barked and Marcus nodded, shifting the vehicle into gear. Outside, he could see a number of Banshees in the air, but they all seemed to be departing from the area.
"Voodoo-6 to all 6 vehicles, looks like the Banshees are sodding off for now! All vehicles, continue pushing towards our objective, over!"
He jumped slightly when Orlović abruptly slid off his harness and landed inside the cab.
"Fucking cocksuckers!" he viciously spat out.
"Orlović! You good?"
"Yea, I'm good," Orlović replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The real question is: is he good?" He pointed at Marcus. "He's not going to faint on us again, is he?"
"Yeah, he's fine," Dresden snapped before Marcus could reply. "Marcus, ignore him and just keep driving."
"Yes sir," Marcus murmured.
Glancing out the window, further in the distance and at a much higher altitude than what the Banshees were flying at, he could see a number of purple-colored, teardrop shaped aircraft passing by overhead, being chased by all sorts of tracers rounds, but none of the shells seemed to have been fired from anywhere nearby. Most of Marcus' attention though was on the sheer number of civilian vehicles in the breakdown lanes and on the sides of the highway, all of which had been seemingly abandoned.
"Where is everyone?"
"Hiding in the woods for safety," Dresden tersely replied. "We're under attack- well, I say 'we' but it's not us specifically, just the general area. Banshees and Seraphs were passing through the area on their way towards the city when some nearby AA battery just opened up, only apparently they didn't know how to use their range finder. Totally missed their target and like they say, 'what goes up, must come down;' their shells started hitting the highway. Stupid Colonial Militia morons and their stupid training and their general lack of discipline!"
"Dude, we're Colonial Militia," Orlović pointed out.
Dresden blinked as if he was suddenly realizing that fact for the first time. "Oh. Right."
More howling overhead caused Marcus to flinch once more, but not as badly as the first time. He must have been getting used to the noise. "Shouldn't we be shooting at them?" he couldn't help but ask, even though that was probably the last thing he wanted to do.
"They're out of range. At this distance, if we wanted to engage, we'd need at least a 12.7mil heavy machine gun to reach them. Maybe even a 14.5mil. No, our priority is to focus on getting to our objective so Marcus, if you can speed it up some, that'll be swell."
Marcus nodded and pushed down on the accelerator. In the distance ahead of him, he could just barely make out the skyscrapers that made up the skyline of the city of Byzas on the horizon. All sorts of explosions were going off overhead in the sky as the Covenant focused their attack on the city itself.
"So... what did happen?" Marcus finally asked.
"Some missile, an Argent, I think, hit the road right in front of us," Dresden informed him. "You swerved to avoid it but I guess you didn't see the tractor trailer abandoned there because you crashed right into it. Hit your head on the steering wheel, knocked yourself silly."
"And that's why we wear helmets," Orlović said in a singsongy voice. Dresden ignored him.
"You weren't out for long, but as soon as we can, I'd like you to get checked out by a medic and scanned for concussions. For now, just let me know if you feel funny."
"Yes Sergeant," Marcus said, nodded his head again. All of that sounded familiar. He remembered freaking out when the first shell had hit, thinking they were under attack, but after that, it was just a panic blur. Knowing it was just a mistake somehow made him feel a bit better, but only just. Though he did just have one more question.
"Why aren't the Covenant attacking us now?"
"We're a target of opportunity," Dresden explained. "We're a relatively defenseless supply convoy so we're not a priority objective for the Covenant; the defensive hardpoints in the city are. But once they hit those, the Covies will come back around and start to shoot at us in earnest, which is why we really need to get off the highway, if not the road, before that point."
Marcus inclined his head in acknowledgement, but he was slightly distracted by the sight of Orlović messing around with something in the seat beside him. It took him a few moments to realize Orlović was removing a bunch of ammo belts from their cans and linking them together.
"Orlović, what's your tracer loadout," Dresden demanded to know.
"Just the standard: every fifth round," Orlović distractedly replied as he continued to shove rounds into the belt.
"Make it every tenth round," Dresden ordered. "You in particular, I've noticed, when firing at a target at that range, have a tendency to try and use your tracers to lead your target. I keep telling you: it's an optical illusion, you're not actually hitting the aircraft with your tracers; the tracers are passing behind it. Maybe this way will convince you to use your sights more."
Orlović twitched and glared at Dresden. "I just got finished with all of this," he protested, raising the three belts he had already linked together to show him.
"Well, now I'm telling you to do it again," Dresden snapped. "You should have checked with me before you started working."
"Man, try to show some initiative around here," Orlović grumbled, but nevertheless began to do as he was told.
"And hurry it up; I got a feeling the Covenant are going to be coming back around in a few minutes, and I want you back on that gun and ready to fight back before they do," Dresden commanded.
"6 Actual to all Voodoo 6 vehicles. Uh, keep sharp guys, we should be coming up on our exit soon, over."
"Roger that, 6-1 acknowledges," Dresden said into the radio. "You got that Marcus? Keep an eye on the Lieutenant's Warthog, he should be turning any moment now."
"Got it Sarge," Marcus replied.
Ahead of him, he could see the Warthog drifting to the far right hand lane, slowing down as they approached the next exit. Marcus moved to follow them, when a slight whistling noise filled the air, and then a green streak dropped straight out of the sky and slammed into the Warthog.
KABOOOM!
"OH MY GOD!" Marcus squealed as the Warthog exploded.
"Son of a BITCH! CONTACT! Did anyone see where that shot came from!?" Dresden yelled.
"Covenant Banshees, left side, LEFT SIDE!"
"Covenant Banshees, left side, up high!" Dresden repeated out loud. "Orlović, get on your gun and fire it up! Go go go!"
"I'm on it!" Orlović yelled back as he scrambled back into his harness, dragging the belts of ammo with him.
"6-1 Actual to all Voodoo 6 victors, be advised, Voodoo-6 is down, I say again, Voodoo-6 is down!" Dresden screamed into the radio as the shrieking of incoming Banshees filled the air once more.
RATATATATATATATA!
"SARGE! HEY! I GOT BANSHEES UP HIGH AND DOWN LOW! I'M GOING AFTER THE ONES DOWN LOW!"
"BILLY! Make sure there are no friendlies down in the beaten zone before you do! 6-2, 6-1! We got Banshees on our left, up high and down low! We're going for the low ones, you go for the high ones!"
"Roger that! Hey 6-1, make sure you check where your rounds are landing, we got friendlies all over the damn place!"
"Yeah yeah, we're on it!"
Brass casings and metal links began showering Marcus' windshield and tracers filled the skies as Orlović started firing.
RATATATATATATATATATATATATA!
Dresden abruptly punched the ceiling. "Orlović, short steady burst!"
"SHUT UP THEO, I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!"
RATATATATATA! RATATATATA!
"Voodoo Actual to 6-1, give me a sitrep, over!"
"Voodoo, this is 6-1," Dresden said into his radio. "We have been engaged! Voodoo-6 is down, I say again, Voodoo-6 Actual is down! No sign of any survivors, we are proceeding onward to the mission objective area, over!"
"Copy that 6-1, let me know when you've arrive, over!"
"Wilco! 6-1, out!"
The convoy barreled down the road, all guns blazing. Marcus flinched as two Banshees roared past, strafing the road with their plasma cannons, but all they hit were a couple of abandoned cars on the side of the road, both of which promptly burst into flames.
PSHHHHHHHHH! BOOM!
"Ahhhh!" Marcus let out a clamor of alarm as a nearby pickup truck was hit by a fuel rod cannon, which exploded, scattering burning car parts all over the highway. A flaming tire in particular was launched at high speeds, hitting the side mirror of his HEMTT and causing it to break off.
"Keep driving Marcus, keep driving! Orlović, keep those Banshees off us!"
"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M TRYING TO DO!?"
RATATATATATATATATATA!
Marcus quickly moved to the right lane and started to drive up the exit ramp, but as they reached the Lieutenant's Warthog which was still burning merrily away, he started to slow down.
"No no, don't slow down! What are you doing?" Dresden yelped.
"Aren't we supposed to check for survivors?" Marcus asked even though admittedly, that was the last thing he wanted to do.
"A, the chances of anyone surviving that are next to none and b, we are sitting ducks out here! We can't -"
One of the doors to the Warthog suddenly burst opened, and a flaming figure came stumbling out. He fell to the ground but then clearly started to try and pick himself up.
"Holy crap!" Dresden yelled, clearly startled. "Never mind, forget what I said! Stop the vehicle Marcus! 6-1 to all Voodoo 6 victors, 6-1 is stopping to rescue survivors from the CO's vehicle! All Voodoo 6 victors, push past 6-1! Push past, push past! Do not stop! Push past 6-1!"
Marcus brought the HEMTT to a stop a couple meters behind the burning Warthog.
"Get the fire extinguisher!" Dresden bellowed as he grabbed something from the door and hopped out of the vehicle.
As Marcus struggled to remove the fire extinguisher from its mount, he could see Dresden running up to the burning man and throwing a fire blanket over him.
Marcus was finally able to free the extinguisher from its mount and was just about to hop out of the cab when he was almost run over by another HEMTT. He had forgotten his side mirror was broken. He waited as the rest of the platoon quickly streamed passed him, with the Banshees following closely behind. They apparently weren't interested in a lone HEMTT sitting all by itself as they completely ignored Marcus and the Rig, giving them a slight reprieve.
"ORLOVIĆ, BRING ME THE MEDKIT! MARCUS, HELP ME!" Dresden demanded and Marcus hastily hopped out of the cab as Orlović abandoned his spot at the gun.
Marcus ran up to the pair with the fire extinguisher, only to find it was no longer needed as Dresden had managed to smother the flames with the blanket. Unfortunately for Marcus, all the lack of flames did was expose just how bad the damage was.
The man's back was completely charred to the point where it was impossible for Marcus to tell what was flesh, what was clothing, and what was armor. The man must not have been wearing his helmet, as his hair had caught fire, leaving third degree burns across his scalp, leaving his skin stiff and leathery looking. While Dresden had been able to smother the fire before it could affect the man's face too badly, the sheer heat alone was enough to cause second degree burns, causing the man's face to break out into blisters. Presumably the man also had burns across his arms and the back of his legs, however Marcus couldn't tell as the man's uniformed seemed to have melted into his skin.
And then there was the smell.
Dresden gently removed the blanket from the man's shoulders as he slowly lowered him onto his back so he could begin medical treatment. The man was too far gone to notice the pain, but the removal of the fire blanket caused the acrid scent of burnt flesh to fill the air. Marcus' nostrils flared as the smell of something so nauseating yet sweet, so putrid yet so meaty, burned the inside of his nose. He felt his stomach turn over, and his mouth began to fill with saliva as the urge to vomit started to overwhelm him.
Bending over slightly at the waist, Marcus hastily turned away from the sight of the injured man, slapping a hand over his mouth as he did so. He was busy doing his best not to puke when Orlović ran up with a medic kit.
"Oh shit, is that Arty McArthur?" Orlović gasped as he somehow recognized the poor man lying on the ground despite his injuries.
"Yeah," Dresden bluntly replied as he removed the man's front armor plate. "Orlović, give me the biofoam. Marcus. Marcus!"
Marcus jumped. "Sir?" he weakly asked, doing his best not to glance at the injured man.
"Go get the stretcher! It's in the tool box on the driver's side of the Rig!"
"Yes Sergeant!"
Grateful for the distraction, Marcus quickly ran back to the rig and located the tool box in question. He found the stretcher, folded up in a bundle. He struggled to open it, fumbling with the straps because his hands kept shaking, but eventually he was able to get it. He quickly dashed back, only to see Dresden holding a rather wicked, medieval-looking, torture-like device in his hand. The device was about fifteen to sixteen centimeters long and had a red cylindrical handle that was about four centimeters in diameter. Most notably, it had ten wicked-looking needles arranged in a circle sticking out from one end and by the looks of it, Dresden was about ready to stick the device into Arty's chest.
"Ah... what... what the heck is that?" Marcus nervously asked.
"It's an introducer for a sternal intraosseous infusion system," Dresden answered as he hastily cleaned a spot just below Arty's sternal notch with an alcohol swap.
"Really? Arty has only ever calls it a Fast1," Orlović commented, anxiously waiting with a couple of IV bags in hand.
"That's the name for the overall kit. This is just one specific piece."
"And... what's it for?" Marcus couldn't help but ask.
"I need to get an IV into him, but his arms and legs are burnt to hell and I can't find a vein," Dresden distractedly reported as he took out what looked like an almost triangle shaped bandage and slapped it against Arty's chest. "Only way now."
"Um… shouldn't we wait for the medic first?" Marcus suggested as he eyeballed the needles.
"Arty is the medic."
"Oh... oh JESUS!" Marcus squeal as Dresden abruptly jabbed the introducer into Arty's chest. He flinched and turned away as Dresden promptly pulled it out, expecting to see all sorts of blood gushing out, but there wasn't anything like that. Instead, all there was, was some sort of clear plastic tube sticking out from the impact area.
"IV!" Dresden snapped, tossing the introducer aside and attaching an even longer tube to the one already in Arty's chest. Orlović held out one of the IV bags as Dresden attached the other end of the tube to it. "Hold that! Alright, let's get him on the stretcher! Marcus, grab his legs!"
Marcus took that as his cue to toss the stretcher on the ground. Reluctantly, he took up position by Arty's legs.
"Ready? On three! One… two… three… lift!"
Marcus grabbed Arty by the ankles, but as he started to lift, his hands slipped, peeling a layer of… something away from Arty's legs, exposing bloody looking flesh underneath it. Arty let out a scream of pain and Marcus stared horrified at his hands as he realized that "something" had been Arty's skin. The urge to puke became overwhelming.
"Marcus! MARCUS! God dammit. Orlović, switch with him!" Dresden snapped as Marcus finally lost his battle, leaned to the side, and hurled.
Orlović rudely shoved Marcus aside and Marcus was vaguely aware as the two of them lifted Arty up and gently placed him on the stretcher.
"Theo, Arty's got to get to a hospital otherwise he's going to die! But we ain't got no room in the Rig for him!" Orlović warned.
"I know! We're either going to have to strap him to the roof next to the turret, or wait for someone to happen to come by!"
As if on cue, the loud rumbling of an approaching heavy vehicle filled the air, and Marcus looked up to see another 6x6 Warthog vehicle come roaring up the ramp.
"Hey! Stop that vehicle!" Dresden bellowed. Unsling his rifle from around his shoulders, he recklessly ran out in front of the vehicle with his rifle pointed straight at the driver's seat. With his free hand, he gestured for the driver to stop. "HEY! STOP THE VEHICLE!"
The Warthog thankfully rolled to a stop, and the driver side window was lowered. A woman wearing a military uniform and the insignia of the Actium Army stuck poked her head out.
"What the fuck Theo!?" the woman demanded. "I would have stopped for you! Why the fuck are you pointing a fucking weapon at me!?"
"Where's the rest of your platoon Standish?" Dresden demanded as he ran up to the vehicle. "No, actually, forget that! Do you have any room in the back of your 'Hog to take a stretcher? What are you carrying?"
"Cans of 20mil. Why, what the hell is going on?" Standish reported as she climbed out of the Warthog and froze at the sight of Arty laying helplessly on the ground. "Holy shit! Is that Arty McArthur? What the fuck happened to him?"
"Banshees! Look, he's going to die unless we get him to the hospital! We don't have any room on our rig, can we put him in yours?"
"Yeah yeah! But I got to get these cans out!"
"They for the evac zone?"
"Yeah!"
"Throw them on our rig, we'll take them if you can get Arty to the hospital!"
"Sounds good to me!" Standish yelled, running to the back of her Warthog and throwing open the hatch.
"Orlović, come on! Marcus! You still with us!"
Marcus wiped his mouth away and jumped to his feet. "Yes sir!"
"Come on then!"
Marcus dashed over to the Warthog. Grabbing a massive can with each hand, he ran back to the Rig and lifted it up to Orlović, who began strapping them to the roof the vehicle.
"Alright, load up Arty and let's go!" Dresden barked. He glanced at Marcus. "Are you going to be able to help this time?"
Marcus nodded and to demonstrate, he grabbed the stretcher by the handles.
"Okay, on three! One, two, three, lift!"
With Standish's help, they loaded Arty and the stretcher onto her Hog. Hooking the IV bags to the crossbars over the top of the cargo bay, Dresden hopped out before Standish slammed the hatch shut.
"Drive as fast as you can, do not stop for anything," Dresden ordered. "I'll talk to your CO, let her know what's going on, copy?"
"Yeah, okay! Hey, good luck!"
"Yeah, you too!"
Standish quickly reversed down the ramp, cut a u-ie, and took off in the direction they had come from. In the meantime, Dresden had grabbed Marcus by the vest and shoved him in the direction of the Rig.
"Mount up! Let's go!" Dresden barked, raising his index finger over his hand and spun it in a large, horizontal circle.
Jamming the vehicle into gear, Marcus slammed down on the accelerator, causing the large vehicle to jerk forward. They slammed into Arty's now burnt out Warthog, shoving it out of the way, and barreled down the road.
"Sarge? I don't know where I'm going," Marcus admitted. Dresden lifted his hand and pointed forward.
"See all those explosions in the sky a couple klicks down the road? That's where the airport is, that's where we're headed. Go in that direction," Dresden snapped, and Marcus nodded.
As he drove, Marcus couldn't help but wonder if Dresden was mad at him, as he hadn't looked in Marcus' direction yet. "Sergeant Dresden? I'm sorry about puking back there and not being able to help out."
"Don't worry about that now Private," Dresden commanded. "We'll discuss it later. For now, just focus on driving as fast as you can, copy?"
"Yes sir."
The sound of the explosions steadily grew in pitch and intensity as they drew nearer and nearer to their destination. As they got closer, Marcus begin to make out individual Banshees over the airport itself, making strafing run after strafing run on unseen targets on the ground. They didn't appear to be all that effective though as ground forces were shooting back with everything they had. Furthermore, higher up in the sky, Marcus could see a number of sleek looking fighters engaging the teardrop shaped Covenant fighters he had seen passing by overhead earlier, preventing them from assisting their smaller brethren out.
On the road surrounding them, Marcus also began seeing a lot more people around. All sorts of civilians were running towards the airport, many of them carrying their belongings in a number of suitcases, some of them carrying their children and pets in their arms, and others carrying nothing but the clothes on their backs. All sorts of public transportation vehicles were around to, bus and taxis and trams, filling the roads and bringing with them even more civilians. Directing the traffic and urging people along were what seemed to be just about every single cop in the county.
"Take this next right," Dresden commanded.
Marcus hastily turned to the right, but at the same time, a crowd of civilians suddenly decided they wanted to cross the road and Marcus was forced to slam on the brakes to avoid running them over.
"Damn civilians!" Dresden yelled. "Honk your horn at them!"
Marcus reached up and grabbed the cord to the HEMTT's horn.
bwAAAAHHP bwAAAAHHHPP!
"Hey, get out of the way!" Dresden yelled, poking his head out of the window.
Fortunately, a nearby police officer came running up, and quickly herded the civilians off the road.
"Let's go!"
They headed down the road where it ended at a chain link fence gate guarded by a team of nervous looking soldiers. Just beyond the fence was a large open airport apron. Sitting on the concrete apron were a number of surface-to-air missile launchers, firing their missiles at targets much higher in the sky than Marcus couldn't see.
"Drive us through the gate and get us to those launchers," Dresden instructed as the gate was hastily opened by the soldiers there.
Passing through the gate, Marcus was immediately confronted with a soldier waving his arms. The man dashed out in front of them, forcing Marcus to slam on the brakes as the man gesturing at them to stop. The man stepped to the side and impatiently waited for Marcus to come to a complete stop beside him before running over to Dresden's window. Dresden opened the window.
"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS CARRYING?" Marcus heard the man yell over the sound of explosions, gunfire, and the rumbling of the Rig's engine.
"I got four ASRGAM 10xs and about fifteen cans of 20mil!" Dresden replied. "Where do you want them Technical Sergeant?"
"TAKE THE 20MM CANS AND LOAD THEM INTO THAT WARTHOG OVER THERE!" the Sergeant ordered, pointing at a 4x4 Warthog sitting parked a few meters away from the gate, sitting behind a pile of sandbags. "WE DON'T HAVE ANY SCYTHES OVER HERE, BUT I'LL TAKE THEM OVER TO WHERE THEY'RE NEEDED MYSELF! TAKE THE MISSILES, AND BRING THEM OVER TO GUN FOUR AT THE END OF THE ROW! A CYCLOPS IS DOWN THERE ALREADY; THEY'RE WAITING FOR A RELOAD!"
"You got it Sergeant!" Dresden yelled.
The Sergeant abruptly pressed his hand to his ear and took Marcus a few seconds to realize the man was trying to listen to his headset.
"WHAT?" the Sergeant yelled. "LOUDER! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! WHAT? GOD DAMMIT!"
Lowering his hand, he turned to Dresden. "CAN YOU HANDLE THIS BY YOURSELF SERGEANT?" he asked.
"Yeah, we got this Sergeant," Dresden assured him. "Go do what you got to!"
"THANKS!"
The man ran off and Dresden immediately turned to Marcus.
"Marcus, Orlović, you guys deal with the ammo cans! Marcus, move over, I'll bring the Rig down to gun four and get it unload. Once you guys are finished, wait here, I'll pick you up, and we'll RTB for our next load. Sound good?"
"YOU GOT IT THEO!"
"Yes sir!"
Marcus undid his seatbelt and shoved the driver side door open. He started to climb out, only to almost get plastered by a heavy ammo can that fell to the ground right next to him.
"SORRY!" Orlović yelled, even as he continued to shove the ammo cans off the roof.
Checking to make sure Orlović wasn't about to throw anything else at him, Marcus hastily climbed out of the cab, watching as Dresden quickly took his spot, and grabbed a couple of the cans. He waited until Orlović had climbed out of the cab and dropped to the ground.
"You guys good?" Dresden asked as he buckled his seatbelt and shut the door.
"Yeah!" Orlović yelled.
"Alright, I'll see you in a bit!"
He drove off, leaving Marcus and Orlović standing out in the open.
"Come on bro!" Orlović yelled as he took off running in the direction of the Warthog, ammo cans in hand. Marcus struggled to follow him.
Leaping over the sandbags, they headed towards the Warthog. It was a pretty standard looking Warthog: open roof with no doors and enough spots for three soldiers. The major difference was, instead of the Gatling gun Marcus was used to seeing Warthogs armed with, this one was armed with what looked like an upscaled version of the machine gun Orlović had been using while on the Rig.
"God dammit Chair Force making us do their heavy lifting for them!" Orlović bitched as he hoisted one of the cans and tossed it into the back of the Warthog.
"Chair Force?" Marcus questioned. "You mean the Air Force? What do they have to do with anything?"
"This is an Air Force anti-aircraft artillery battery." Orlović glanced at Marcus. "You didn't know that?"
Marcus shook his head. That did explain why he didn't recognize the rank insignia the Sergeant had been wearing.
Orlović grunted and started to turn away, when he did a quick double take.
"Dude," he began, "where the fuck is your rifle?"
Marcus started, and for the first time, noticed Orlović had his rifle strapped across his back.
"Um… I left it on the Rig," Marcus sheepishly admitted.
"Are you fucking kidding me bro?" Orlović said, sounding incredulous. "Dude, in case you haven't notice, we're in a combat zone. What are you were you going to do if the Covenant started landing infantry here? You think you were going to fight back with what, bad breath and colorful language? Shit! And Sergeant Dresden even told you to keep your rifle with you at all times!"
Marcus winced and felt his face start to redden at the rebuke. He hung his head in shame. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Well, don't just fucking stand there, go fucking get it!"
Marcus jumped. He dropped the ammo cans he was carrying to the ground and started to take off.
BOOOOM!
"LOOK OUT!"
Marcus looked up to see a large Covenant gunship take a direct hit from a missile to its engines, causing them to flameout. With huge plumes of black smoke trailing it, the gunship immediately started to lose altitude as it plummeted to the ground. To Marcus' dismay and horror, the gunship appeared to flying straight towards him. Seeing such a huge vehicle seemingly headed towards him, Marcus found himself frozen with fear, his brain having a hard time comprehending what he was seeing.
"MARCUS!"
A pair of hands grabbed a hold of him and tossed him to the ground behind the sandbags. Rolling onto his back, Marcus looked up in time to see the smoking vehicle miss him by at least four meters as it soared passed him as it continued its rapid descent to the colony's surface. Hitting the ground with a loud rumble and causing the very earth to shake, it skidded along the apron, filling the air with a very loud and painful screeching noise. It continued forward, throwing sparks and metal shards all over the place as well as leaving deep scratches into the concrete, before with a loud groan of metal, it came to an abrupt halt some thirty meters away.
"Holy shit!" Orlović exclaimed as he pulled himself off the ground and perched himself behind the sandbag wall, eyeballing the crashed gunship carefully. "Did you see that? Did you fucking see that!?"
Marcus found he was shaking too much to be able to proper reply, so he merely nodded his head. As he tried to pick himself up off the ground, he felt something wet running down his legs, and he looked down to see he had accidently pissed himself. He quickly crossed his legs before Orlović could see, but fortunately he seemed to busy marveling at the near miss to notice.
"Olsen! Orlović! Come in, this is Dresden! Olsen, Orlović! Are you guys alright!"
Orlović raised a finger to his head. "Yeah Theo, we're good!" He glanced at Marcus. "You're good, right?"
Marcus bobbed his head.
"Oh thank god. Hey Billy! Keep your guard up! The Covenant crew might have survived that!"
"Oh shit!" Orlović said as he hastily brought his rifle up to his shoulder. He glanced at Marcus, who, without a weapon, could only cower behind the sandbag wall, and then at the machine gun mounted on the Warthog behind them.
Here, take this!" he ordered. "I'm going for the big gun!"
Before Marcus could protest, Orlović shoved his rifle into Marcus' arms and climbed up onto the bed of the Warthog. Marcus could hear him racking the chambering bolt as he took up position.
"Hey, gun up! Get ready for anything!"
Marcus hastily planted his borrowed rifle on top of the sandbags, but his hands were shaking so much, he wasn't sure how good his aim was going to be.
For a few moments they sat there, waiting.
CLANG.
A panel on the side of the gunship suddenly opened up, and Marcus could see the silhouette of a small humanoid figure, maybe about a hundred and fifty centimeters talk, standing in the opening.
BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!
Orlović abruptly opened up and whatever he was shooting must have been a hundred times stronger than what was mounted on the Rig because despite his helmet's built in hearing protection, the noise of the muzzle blast was not only devastating to Marcus' hearing, it also left him terror-struck. He found himself involuntarily letting go of Orlović's rifle, letting to drop to the ground, as he slapped both his hands over his ears.
The opening to the wreck was covered in blue blood and guts as the figure essentially exploded. It wasn't enough to deter the rest of the Covenant however, as almost immediately another two creatures of similar appearance and height, though one was wearing orange and the other crimson, appeared in the opening. Marcus could see the green glow of what he assumed was their weapons.
BAM! BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!
Orlović continued to hold down the trigger, hosing the opening with machine gun fire. The figure in orange exploded before it could fully emerge from the ship, but the one in crimson was able to survive long enough for Marcus to catch sight of its hunched back, chitinous skin, and oversized forearms. As it emerged from the ship, it blinked at the sudden change of light, but realizing its mistake, tried to raise its weapon.
BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!
Orlović immediately cut the figure in half before it could fire, but the creature's death distracted Orlović long enough for another figure to emerge from the broken ship. The sight of this creature left Marcus terrified down to his very soul because unlike the other, smaller creatures, Marcus actually knew what type of alien this was: it was an Elite. Clad in matte burgundy colored armor with white accents, the Elite let out a roar of defiance, even as Orlović turned his fire against the Elite.
BAMBAMBAMBAM!
The first burst of machine gun fire was instantly absorbed by a yellow bubble that appeared around the Elite, protecting him from harm and giving him enough time to raise his rifle. The Elite wasn't given a chance to fire though, as Orlović immediately put three rounds through the weapon, destroying it completely; evidently the Elite's shield did not extend far enough to protect his weapons. Still, the Elite was undeterred as he reached down to his belt to pull out a grenade, but at that point, his shield had sustained to much damage and exploded, leaving him exposed. The Elite had just enough time to activate the grenade, when Orlović blew his head clean off his shoulders with his last round.
KABOOM!
Marcus winced as the grenade exploded, showering the ground with body parts and gore.
"Fuck this shit!" Orlović yelled, shoving the empty machine gun away and reaching behind him. To Marcus' surprise, he pulled out a grenade launcher. The launcher must have been sitting in the driver's seat of the Warthog, because otherwise, Marcus had no idea where Orlović had been carrying it.
Raising the grenade launcher up, Marcus watched as Orlović aimed it at the opening on the wreck.
"Frag out!" Orlović yelled, and then fired.
BLOOP!
Marcus watch as the grenade flew through the air, and land about ten meters shy of the actual opening.
BOOM!
Marcus could see Orlović mouthing a bunch of curses as he reloaded, and took aim again, this time actually bring the sights up.
BLOOP!
Again, the grenade fell short, though only five meters this time. Marcus could hear Orlović growling in anger as he reloaded. This time, he took his time, aiming very carefully at the hole, and then firing.
BLOOP! BOOM!
The grenade soared right into the opening, and Marcus could hear the explosion echoing through the entire ship. They both waited a few minutes, to see if anyone responded, but nothing happened.
"Bitch," Marcus heard Orlović mutter. "Hey Marcus! You alright? Bro, you look like you're about to shit yourself."
Marcus didn't want to admit it, but he was a little afraid he might have already gotten past that point. Before he could say anything though…
FWOOZ!
Orlović let out a scream of pain as a bright pink needle grazed across his shoulder, leaving a nasty looking cut, as well as knocking him over. He fell onto the top of the Warthog.
Marcus turned around in time to see another Elite, this one wearing blue armor and welding a weapon with a lot of nasty looking pink needles sticking out from the top of it, emerging from behind the crashed ship.
"Marcus, shoot him!" Orlović yelled as he took cover behind the 20mm ammo cans sitting there. He winced as a couple of pink needles slammed into the can. "Shoot that son of a bitch!"
His hands trembling, Marcus nevertheless reached down and grabbed his rifle off the ground. Pointing it straight at the Elite, Marcus took aim, and then pulled the trigger.
click
"Oh no!" Marcus wailed as he looked over the rifle for the issue. Did he somehow damage the gun when he dropped it?
It abruptly occurred to him he had actually forgotten to remove the safety. He moved to do so but somehow, in his haste, Marcus inadvertently hit the magazine release, and he dumbly stared as the magazine slipped out of the rifle and dropped to the ground with a clatter.
"Why isn't anyone shooting!?"
Marcus looked up to see the Elite was in the process of reloading, and Marcus quickly moved to do the same. He grabbed the magazine off the ground and tried to shove into the magazine well, but his hands were trembling so badly, he kept missing. He finally got it in on his third try and yanked back on the charging handle, only to see the rifle eject a perfectly good round and he felt like smacking himself: Marcus hadn't need to bother with reloading, he had forgotten all about the round in the chamber!
Still, the rifle was finally loaded so he raised the rifle up and pulled the trigger.
click
"What?" Marcus exclaimed, glancing over the rifle to see what was wrong, only to find that, he had somehow managed to insert the magazine in upside down. "Oh no."
Marcus looked up, only to see the Elite had finally reloaded, and was now pointing his weapon directly at Marcus.
BwAAAAHHHPPPPPPPP!
The loud blare of a horn was the only warning the Elite got before an M8888 HEMTT came out of nowhere and slammed right into him. The Elite's weapon was sent flying as he was completely knocked over, before the heavy vehicle ran him over. All five wheels hit the Elite as the HEMTT complete rolled over him. But if that wasn't enough –
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
The HEMTT backed up, running the Elite over once again. The driver door opened and Dresden hopped out.
"Orlović!" Dresden yelled out. "You okay?"
"Yeah, it's just a scratch!" Orlović announced as he picked himself off the ground.
Dresden nodded, and then he zeroed his eyes onto Marcus. "Private Olsen!" he called out and gestured for Marcus to come to him.
Marcus nervously climbed to his feet and slowly towards Dresden, doing his best to not stare at the rapidly cooling body of the Elite.
"You forget something?" Dresden asked him in a surprisingly neutral voice. Before Marcus could answer, Dresden walked over to the HEMTT door and pull out an MA37 assault rifle from the pocket. "What did I tell you to do with this?"
"'To never go anywhere without it,'" Marcus ashamedly recited from memory. Dresden nodded.
"And as soon as we come into a combat zone, what's the first thing you do?"
"I forgot about it," Marcus admitted, staring at his feet. It was at this point, he sort of wished the ground would open him and swallow him whole.
"Exactly. Next time you forget your rifle, I will staple, nail, and superglue your hand to that pistol grip so you won't forget. And trust me: that is not a hyperbole."
Marcus couldn't help but flinch as Dresden leaned in close. Much to his surprise though, instead of continuing to chide him, Dresden, in a rather kindly voice, softly asked him, "Are you alright Marcus? First firefight, I know, can be rather terrifying. Are you okay?"
Marcus quickly bobbed his head, not wanted to think of how much of a disaster his first fight against the Covenant went. He could sense Dresden frowning, but before he could pursue it any further, Orlović came running up.
"Dude, that was fucking wild man!" Orlović bellowed. "Did you see that shit!? Bullets were flying all over the place, I was hosing the Covenant down with the .50cal, but they just kept coming man! They just won't stop! Holy shit!"
"Knock it off Orlović, we don't have time to celebrate," Dresden barked. "Listen, we got to get back to base, now. Word just came down through the radio: we have a lot of incoming."
"Incoming what Sarge?" Orlović gestured around him. "All the fighters have fucked off already!"
"Yeah, they left because of what's coming next!"
"Which is…?"
BOOM BOOM BOOM.
Marcus head snapped up at the sound of multiple explosions in the distance.
"What was that?" he nervously asked, looking around and trying to see what was exploding in the distance.
"Sonic booms," Dresden distractedly replied, and Marcus suddenly realized he was looking in the wrong direction: everyone around him was looking straight up into the air. He crane his neck upwards, only to see a massive number of fireballs dropping through the sky. There were hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands.
"What are those?" he gasped.
"Covenant drop pods," Dresden grimly declared as he lowered his head, allowing Marcus to see just how pale he had become.
"God dammit," Marcus heard him whisper, before he looked back up, and Marcus was startled to see his look of fear had instantly been replaced by a look of determination. "Alright gentlemen, listen up: it's time to put on your big boy pants."
"The Covenant ground invasion has just begun."
1. A 6x6 Warthog is not a canon vehicle, but one I decided my story needed as for obvious reasons, military logistical vehicles don't really get depicted all that much in science/military fiction. It's nothing fancy; I literally intended it just to be the Halo equivalent of a Deuce and a half, aka, a military cargo truck.
It's intended to be similar in appearance to the standard Warthog from the video games, only with a three man cab versus just the two, the lack of a rear mounted machine, an extended truck bed capable of carrying up to fourteen metric tonnes of cargo, and obviously an extra pair of wheels for better cargo hauling capability.