As promised here we are, the next update to the story. Enjoy.
Chapter 5
Location: Delta Arcturus System, Planet Outland, Outback City
Date: March 27, 2527
Time: 1700 Hours
For the many civilians crammed into the several warehouses of the space port things had become a nightmare. Their captors had treated them without the slightest human decency, brutally beating anyone that did not do what was demanded of them or anyone that they just wanted to. They'd bared witness to the summary execution of anyone wearing a uniform, whether it be a police officer, militiaman, or garbage collector. In each of the warehouses the crying of scared children, whispers of men and women, and gruff foreign language of the Jaffa walking above them on catwalks with staff weapons aimed had gone on for hours and hours.
But there was hope starting to circulate amongst them. The sounds of gunfire had reached their ears several times. Explosions would ring out every so often, registering as dull rumbles which would vibrate the ground beneath them. They knew that when the UNSC ships in orbit had been destroyed they'd left behind their Marine contingent on the surface which now seemed to be taking the offensive. This slim hope seemed to be the only thing keeping despair from coursing through the civilians held hostage within their own city, but it was only a slim hope.
Yet none of this mattered to the Marines themselves. Their people were in danger, and now they knew where they were. So in true Marine fashion they were preparing for a do or die mission to rescue them. The odds were deemed to be at least eight to one against them, even with their Spartans and brutalized ODST platoon. However, they did have their ten Warthogs and two Scorpions, that would come in handy, especially the Scorpions and their powerful 95 millimeter cannons.
The plan was simple, the whole force with air support from the Pelicans, Longswords, Hornets, and Falcons would attack with half the infantry from above, taking the high ground and firing down onto the enemy while the Longswords and Hornets would take on any fighters or gunships the enemy may have had operating in the vicinity. The tanks would lead two different thrusts of at the head of each two platoons each with Warthogs right behind them. It was hoped the Scorpions had the armor and firepower needed to take on the enemy's known gun positions set up to guard the area. Many of the Marines had thought of it as a suicide mission, and had conveniently found a priest at a mission near their home base to do a final service for those of them who were religious, just in case.
The Marine's CO had known that his advantages were few, and went out on a limb to get one more advantage. They were attacking at night. His recon patrols had told him the enemy had no helmets, no visual aids to assist them in combat. Which hopefully meant no night vision, but each and every one of his men had night optics, and had been trained since day one to be as deadly at night as they were in daytime. So an hour after sunset the Hornets, Falcons, and Longswords were fueled, armed, and loaded to bear with full combat loadouts and a full company of Marines and the ODST platoon. Their crews watched as their ground units rolled out with the Scorpions squeezing in at least twenty men and women on top of their hulls and track nacelles. It was an hour drive to their jump off point to the north of the city where they would smash into the enemy with everything they had, but whether or not the enemy saw them and was preparing or didn't care or didn't see them at all it didn't matter. Because the whole force arrived in force, and prepared to advance from the cover of a wooded hill a few miles from their objective.
The whole force could plainly see the daunting ship hovering over the city, rotating slowly over the lone public park within the city center. There was complete silence pervading over this soon-to-be-battlefield, the chirping of small birds within the trees above them, the nervous coughs or whispering of their comrades around them was all that could be heard. Several men had their heads down against the dash of steering wheel or their Warthogs, their lips moving in a silent prayer to whichever god they prayed to. Some nervously toyed with their armor or weapons, running their fingers along familiar surfaces until they had memorized them without laying their eyes upon the crevices and bumps of their equipment. A young PFC was swatted by an older Sergeant for constantly tapping his foot against the Scorpion's armor making an annoying tapping noise. This was the worst part of the mission, before battle. The nerves and fear wreak havoc through even the toughest of soldiers, and these Marines, from officer to enlisted, were showing signs of that fear. But there were some that were not showing those signs, the five Spartans tasked to lead the troops into the battle were as stoic as ever.
"Chief?" one of the Marines called out, "Are they really armed with energy weapons?"
Master Chief looked back and saw the young Marine in question, and saw the fear in his eyes. He knew that the idea of energy weaponry was something foreign and scary to these men and women. So he knew that he'd need to calm them down.
"Affirmative, but their armor is pathetic compared to ours."
"Yours or mine Chief?" another Marine said, bringing up a good point.
"Both."
Several of the Marines smiled at that. They felt like they could trust the Spartans. They didn't do or say anything that made them out to be liars, or crooks, or the ONI spooks most people thought of whenever the word ONI was involved.
"All units, mission is a go. Jump off in two," the radios crackled in the ears of the entire force, "Blue Team, advance at the head of column two. Air Support en route, ETA in four mikes."
"Roger that," Chief responded, snatching his Assault Rifle into his hands to mount up onto the Scorpion that would be leading the attack, "Blue Team, mount up."
Blue winks acknowledged the order as the Spartans readied themselves for battle. Each of the half ton armored super soldiers walked over to their assigned vehicle where space was made by the Marines to let them on board in the very front so they and their armor would be between them and the enemy. Although, once the Spartans dismounted they too would be dismounting to fight right alongside them. Each column had roughly seventy men and women in it, all crammed to more than double capacity onboard five Warthogs and a Scorpion, each. It wasn't normal for them by any stretch. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
Master Chief took one last look at his tactical map, memorizing the target zone one last time before jumping off. It was in a complex of the four largest warehouses in the space port. Each was larger than a full sized football field, with long catwalks and overhead cranes within them for working and moving cargoes of refined ores dug up from the mines in the northern half of the territory. They were arranged in a block, fenced off from the rest of the compound due to their private ownership by the Platinum Mining Corporation, with a guard shack at both entrances straddling the only street that ran in between the warehouses and split the compound into two. There was a parking lot full of large flatbed trucks meant for transporting cargoes around the area which were meant to be requisitioned for the evacuation of the hostages within the compound if they were fueled. In between the warehouses was a solid twenty yards of ground scattered with crates and storage bins, with a central hub located in the center of the compound which was hanging off of the ground, suspended over the area by catwalks and tall struts so the manager could direct operations with a clear field of vision. It was a perfect place to hold a large body of people, it could keep people in very easily. Recon had shown several dozen hostiles on the roofs of each building, with an estimated five to six hundred garrisoning the compound with their large mounted cannons on the roofs of the warehouses. It was clear that their hostages meant a lot to the enemy, and they had a good place to hold them. But it wasn't exactly designed to defend against a concentrated attack from the UNSC.
The countdown went by like the clockwork it was and the force jumped off. There was no going back, They would either succeed or fail, live or die, and each and every man and woman within the force knew it too. They powerful diesels of the Scorpions roared out as their drivers disabled the limiters governing the speed at which the tanks were allowed to go. Normally Scorpions were only capable of forty miles per hour and limited to that speed to keep their wealth of torque from tearing apart their gear boxes. But disabling those limiters the tanks were able to kick up the speed to well over fifty miles per hour on smooth terrain. This allowed the heavy vehicles to keep up with and lead a high speed attack with Warthogs and still keep the Warthogs' advantage of speed on their side. The problem was the men on top had to cling for dear life to the rapidly moving tanks as they flew down the road right at their target. The road each column was tearing off to was a straight shot to their target area.
The dust kicked up was negligible at best, and the only noises that would give them away were the powerful engines driving the hulking tanks right at their targets. The Warthogs followed closely behind, spaced ten meters apart, their own troops ready for combat. The echoing howl of jet engines and chopping of propeller blades began to sound out in the night air. The night vision optics of every Marine and Spartan had long ago been activated. Their comrades were highlighted in green with their foes in red and everything else in yellow. Civilians would be highlighted in blue when they saw them, if they saw them, if they were in time.
Within the warehouse prisons the numerous civilians that were awake out of fear and uncertainty heard a noise that both alarmed them and elated them. The echoes and rumbles of jets and diesel engines along with the thudding noises of propeller blades was a noise to be heard and rejoiced upon. And they weren't the only ones to hear it. The foreign shouts of the alarmed Jaffa yelled out as the sounds grew louder and louder. Yelling and the stomps of boots echoed throughout the compound as the Jaffa rushed to their stations. They formed up behind the cover of crates, boxes, roadblocks, and walls of bags filled with refined ores and sand. The Jaffa could not see anything outside of their fenced perimeter, due to the failure of the city's electrical grid during the initial and brutal bombardment from the ship overhead. But they knew what was coming, and all six hundred Jaffa rushed to their places to fend off this coming attack.
Not one of them had ever witnessed a human civilization as advanced as the one they now came to blows with. The architecture seemed beyond even their own. The technology was as foreign as the magic of their gods, and the tenacity of their opponent so far had surprised them from the outset when one of the Hat'aks accompanying them to conquer this world had been destroyed in nuclear fire at the hands of a perceived to be inferior vessel. Then they'd taken the city and bore witness to the savage retribution brought upon them by the defenders of this world. A patrol had been massacred, arms, legs, legs, and heads simply blown off, their armor rendered into pieces. This was thought to be the work of poor leadership on the part of the Jaffa captain and swept aside. But then, word of a full scale battle had reached them. Word was that a full vanguard had been utterly wiped out by these humans and several Death Gliders brought down by aircraft of sufficient power to challenge them head on. But, worst of all, were reported sightings of monstrous humans garbed in green armor that moved with speed and strength enough to kill a Unas without difficulty. These reports and rumors leaked into the minds of these warriors as they bravely stood and faced the coming storm, and hoped that what they had heard was the work of fear, and not reality. But as the ground began to rumble beneath their feet and the air itself seemed to stir they knew they would be in for a battle unlike anything any Jaffa had been in before.
In the sky above all of a sudden lances of fire and light flew into them. Bullets and rockets from the hidden flight of eight Marine Hornets ripped into the Jaffa frontline. Explosions sent bodies, shrapnel, and wreckage out in all directions as bullets impacted their foes and sent the Jaffa scrambling for cover. Then lances of fifty caliber rounds from the side mounted turrets aboard the four Falcons of the Marine forces streaked overhead, aiming for the plasma cannons mounted on the roofs of the warehouses. All four Falcons carried the ODST's of the platoon that had engaged their foes head on that very day outside the city. The Falcons flew in low, allowing their gunners to sweep each roof clear of Jaffa who were just now beginning to see the enemy flying machines through a whirl of dust and wind. The four of five ODST's in each Falcon jumped the four feet to the ground with weapons locked and loaded, and instantly began engaging any Jaffa that the gunners had missed, and quickly cleared the roof of each and every one of the warehouses as the Jaffa within the buildings worriedly looked up as the sound of screams, plasma fire, and gunfire roared above them.
It was now that the worst came to pass for the Jaffa. Most had run to the very edge of their compound, and had been too preoccupied with the attack from above that seemed to devastate their initial line of defense. But not very many turned to see the sparkling of gunfire right outside. One Jaffa who had been watching all of a sudden became quite aware of the rumbling in the ground and looked closely to see a large silhouette, lighted only by the flames now burning within the compound approaching him at high speed. He fired at the behemoth but his staff was no match for a tank coming right at him at forty miles per hour. Around the tank were other silhouettes, Warthogs and Marines, led by the Spartans themselves ran at full tilt behind their vehicles which now united together and pushed forward as a solid line of one hundred and fifty troops and twelve armored vehicles. The ground force now joined the battle, firing from less than thirty yards away from the fence that provided no protection for the Jaffa. The two Scorpions firing was the most devastating bar none.
As single Jaffa fell to the assault rifle rounds from the infantry and heavy machine gun rounds of the vehicles entire groups of Jaffa, running from the other side of their perimeter, were tossed about like rag dolls by the Scorpions. The lack of night vision now came into play as the few Jaffa to now swing their powerful plasma cannons around could do little but aim wildly at things that may or may not have been a target while the UNSC Marines and Spartans were engaging at will. But, with so many troops, and so much firing, there were casualties and damages.
As the Master Chief advanced to the side of one of the Scorpions as it passed him a Marine to his right was thrown into the air as a staff blast struck him in the chest. A Warthog to his left took a hit to the corner of its front end, mutilating the titanium armor with extreme heat and nearly making the vehicle lose control as it plowed into the chain link fence, emerging on the other side with guns blazing.
The Warthogs accelerated through the fence with ease, making entry ways for their infantry as the tanks rolled on through, firing as they ground forward, slowing down to now provide cover for the infantry. Now reinforcements were streaming into the fray, firing and yelling as they charged forward. A Warthog gunner was thrown from the gun of his vehicle as a plasma round hit him right in the head, sending him toppling to the ground where he fell on top of and broke a pair of wooden crates. The same Warthog continued forward, not realizing its gunner was gone and proceeded to run over a group of Jaffa who tried firing at it until they were run over or sent smashing over the hood. But that success was short lived, as a powerful staff cannon fired, and hit the Warthog head on, detonating its hydrogen fuel cells and sent the hog airborne wreathed in flames. The Spartans saw this as a bad omen, but fought forward nonetheless.
The Hornets and Falcons all of a sudden had bigger fish to fry, as the howling of the enemy fighters began descending on the battle. The radar on the UNSC aircraft allowed them to see the flight of more than twenty enemy fighters coming and each broke off their ground attack to engage the Death Gliders. At this new entry the four Longsword Interceptors that had not a week ago belonged aboard the UNSC Until Death, now wreckage above them, swooped in, firing their missiles from afar to engage the enemy head on.
The roar of battle was now indescribable. Explosions, yelling, screaming, gunfire, plasma fire, the rumble of engines, the thudding of all of that hitting metal, wood and flesh, everything rang out as loud as endurance could handle, making a loud case for itself. Bodies of several hundred Jaffa now lay upon the ground in heaps and scattered about. The bodies of fallen Marines now began to add to the death toll in alarming numbers as the flight of five Pelicans now screamed in, firing their missiles and cannons as they descended to fifty feet over the battlefield. Ropes fell from the rear and middle of their troops bays with Marines fast roping rapidly to the bottom to join the battle. Among them was their commander, Captain Spears.
An infamous man, he was known for his brilliance of command and brutality of discipline. It was now that this man would make a command that would either send he and his men into legend or the afterlife. The battle had now degenerated into a standing engagement with the Marines and Jaffa forming lines roughly twenty yards apart from each other with both sides taking cover behind boxes, crates, vehicles, and really anything that could stop a bullet or plasma bolt. The Scorpions by now had taken serious damage, their titanium hulls riddled with mangled impacts from the plasma hits being sent their way. But they continued firing and fighting. Captain Spears took all of this in with expert calm and looked up at the roof of the warehouses in front of them and saw the shapes of the ODST's firing down into the ranks of the enemy Jaffa.
"Lieutenant Motuno," the Marine called out, "Make forced entry through the skylights and secure the hostages, now!"
"Roger that," the ODST officer responded, and instantly the shapes of the ODST's disappeared from on top of the warehouses. Each of the teams split into two man elements, moving to a glass skylight and tied a zipline to anything they could find and moved into position with weapons reloaded and ready. Each of the ODST's winked their ready lights which registered on Lieutenant Motuno's HUD and allowed him to make the order. Each ODST was standing on the glass window right above a catwalk twenty feet below and at the signal stomped on the fragile glass and felt their resisted fall down into the building. Each landed back to back, and started doing battle with the handful of Jaffa hat were patrolling the dark warehouses. Glass rained down from above the troopers fell into the warehouse. Yelling and screaming echoed within every building as the people instantly looked upwards and saw that their rescuers were here. The appearance of the all black ODST's from above surprised them, and allowed a split second for the UNSC elite to engage, but it was no cake walk.
Lieutenant Motuno landed practically on top of one Jaffa who instantly ran to engage him in hand to hand combat. He side stepped, ducking under the Jaffa's attack and swung his own fist into the Jaffa's chin. But that hardly fazed him and received a blow to his head with a back handed slap that sent Motuno over the railing where he stopped his fall by grabbing the grated catwalk floor. But his team mate was right there and charged himself into the Jaffa and both men proceeded to fight. The ODST smashed the butt of his SMG into the Jaffa's armored neck area, spinning him around and tried to wrap the weapon around the Jaffa's neck to strangle him in the heat of the moment. The Jaffa gagged as he felt himself being choked and threw his elbow into the ODST and stunned him with the blow and grabbed him by the helmet and yanked him up and over him onto the grating with a hard clang. Motuno pulled himself up and saw another Jaffa running up the stairs towards him and pulled his SMG into his shoulder and fired sending sparks and bits of metal from the chest armor of the Jaffa and made the warrior fall and tumbled down the steep stairs. He whirled around to see the Jaffa yank a knife from his belt and try to stab down on the ODST but was blocked as the Helljumper crossed his arms over his chest and blocked the power attack at his chest piece.
But without missing a beat the ODST grabbed his wrist then slung the Jaffa forward, making him fall down with head and back on the ODST's chest. The man then proceeded to snap out with his feet, wrapping them around the Jaffa's waist to hold him steady as he wrapped another arm around the Jaffa's throat and with his other hand reach for his Automag. As the Jaffa struggled again he didn't even feel the cold steel of the silenced pistol at his temple.
"Nighty night mother fucker."
Once the ODST jabbed the barrel against the Jaffa's head he pulled the trigger, and sent a spray of red mist over the side of the catwalk and practically covered his chest and visor in blood, bits of bone, and brain matter. He shoved the body off and over the side, sending it to fall to the floor near a group of civilians cowering next to a crate. As he got up he found his vision completely relied on the Friend or Foe targeting in his helmet as he, Lieutenant Motuno, and the other ODST's proceeded to clear the area with grim precision. The civilians below watched in wonder and horror and their saviors fought tooth and nail to rescue them from a foe that now seemed very much mortal.
But outside it was now becoming a battle that Captain Spears did not want to fight, a slugging match. He and his Marines still had the upper hand, but he now realized that if the fighting continued he would probably lose more Marines and vehicles than he could afford. So he called the CO of his deadliest troops.
"Master Chief! Our entry teams can't get those civvies out until we clear the area, but most our hogs are too shot up to chance a charge, and the Scorpions are liable to accidentally fire into the warehouses and kill the hostages if we get close. Suggestions Spartan?"
Without missing a beat Master Chief responded, what he said nearly made the entire UNSC force stop what they were doing.
"A bayonet charge sir. Get in close and force our way through the enemy and make a corridor for the Warthogs to set up a perimeter at the entrances to the warehouses one at a time and lead them to the trucks and drive them out with the Scorpions covering ."
"You know what you're asking us to do Spartan?" one of the other officers asked, "Going out of cover is suicide."
"It's suicide to stay here and slug it out sir. We have to advance," the Chief said.
"He's right, we don't have time to sit here and fight it out. Spartans will lead," Captain Spears ordered, "Vehicles will cover until we've made contact. After we do they'll run around to the entrance to objective Alpha."
"Roger that sir," Chief said.
Captain Spears then lowered his head and then prepared to make an order that all field officers dreamed of making in combat, "Fix bayonets!"
The calls went up from other officers and NCO's repeating the bone chilling command. Within the forward half of the MA5B Assault Rifle was a slit an inch and a half tall and a centimeter wide. Within was a spring loaded self-contained steel blade one foot long with diamond rollers that gave the bayonet one last minute sharpening before it was to be used. Hardly anyone had made a bayonet charge in the entire four hundred year history of the UNSC Marine Corps, and this had turned into one of those rare and opportune moments that set one above the herd in the annals of military history. So at that order, each Marine and Spartan reached forward, clicking a lever that let the long sharp bayonet jet out of the end of their rifles and lock in place. The clean black steel shimmered in the fiery light cast from the burning wreckage as the Marines waited, their weapons silent.
But then a tremendous roar echoed from in front of them. The Jaffa, seeing the lack of firing from their human enemy, had thought now of all times was the time to mount one last do or die charge. The machine guns and cannons from the Warthogs and Scorpions roared out, thinning their great ranks quite a bit until the air was filled with another roar.
"Charge!"
A tremendous battle cry went up from the Marines as they answered this charge of staff weapons of naquadah with a charge of cold steel. With bayonets forward, Spartan and Marine charged side by side, head on into the swarm of Jaffa who had not expected such a charge from their foes. It was a sight to behold, massed ranks and waves of soldiers running at one another, roaring and yelling at full speed as ten yards became five, and five became one, and feet became inches. Then with a tremendous crash both sides then collided as the Spartans continued to plow through the Jaffa, sending their bodies practically bouncing off the juggernauts that slashed and stabbed and clubbed anything and anyone in their path. Marines and Jaffa collided into a vicious hand to hand struggle that devolved beyond any control.
By now, the Jaffa's ranks were so depleted by the sheer firepower of the UNSC unit that the odds were now one to one. It was no longer a question of numbers, it was a question of who could kill who faster and better without being killed. The battle degenerated quickly with single combat becoming the rule of the night as the battle scattered into the complex of warehouses. There were no lines anymore. The enemy was anywhere and everywhere at once. The screams and yelling of men fighting tooth and nail to simply survive were droning out the smashing of armor against metal as Jaffa staff weapons collided with Marine armor, and the sound of flash ripping as bayonets and knives cut through cloth and chain mail. Blood stained the ground, the ground was slick with the escaped life force of Marine and Jaffa alike. The shimmers of the fiery orange light cast a gruesome light upon the spectacle of ferocious combat. All semblance of control was lost as officer and enlisted both fought side by side as equals in this cataclysm of battle. But this fierce stage of the conflict was short lived.
The battle was decided however, the moment the call to charge was given, the Marines quickly gained the upper hand. Their deadlier, bladed weapons and ability to still fire without pause was coupled with their brutal training and discipline as the Jaffa went for a glorious win instead of a sound kill. Then, there were the Spartans.
These walking death machines were in their own league. They tore through entire swaths of Jaffa, sending dozens to brutal and sudden deaths. Blood splattered across their armor as they met and bested every Jaffa brave enough to step up to the plate only to be stabbed, cut, clubbed, punched, crushed, kicked, or thrown to death. Fred took to simply attaching his AR to his back, and drew his twin trench knives, killing dozens of Jaffa with absolute impunity to their own attempts at hand to hand combat. Linda did similarly, but instead of drawing a knife, she acquired an enemy staff, and twirled around, crushing skulls and breaking limbs with such skill that even the most experienced of the Jaffa could marvel at before they too fell to the green armored juggernauts. Even Sam used his great strength to his own unique effect. He simply threw things of great weight and mass at anyone he couldn't reach with his own bare hands. Boxes, crates, and even the dead were used as his projectiles. But Master Chief did not allow himself to become lost in the adrenaline of massed hand to hand combat, and together with Kelly advanced through the masses of enemy and friendly troops to where the nine Warthogs and two Scorpions had now set up their first stronghold to prepare to escort the civilians to the trucks and safety. There were already Marines breaking off from the fight to join this position as the Jaffa were now whittled down and forced to beat a panicked and hasty retreat.
"We need to get ready to move, now," Chief ordered, getting a nod from the Marine officer.
"Okay, let's move 'em out! Chief, can you-oh shit…"
The Marine had paused, and he an every Marine had looked skyward to see something that, in the head of the moment, they'd forgotten about. The enemy ship was now rumbling towards them, spinning counterclockwise as it menaced everyone below with its sheer size and power.
"We can't escape that thing, the moment we try to evac we're dead, we're dead!" a Marine shouted weakly.
The Chief glared at the enemy ship, taking it in, sizing it up as he would any foe. His conclusion was not a good one. That is, it wasn't until he saw several familiar red dots on the hull. There were perhaps thirty of them all together, all making a circle when connected. And they were coming closer and closer together. The smoke and cloud of the battle and night sky illuminated a red line of light jetting off behind Chief. Then, the dots connected, and a bright light nearly blinded everyone looking upon the ship as a powerful mass struck the ship out of nowhere. The orange shield of the vessel flashed, and the ship staggered back as another shot impacted right after. The familiar crack of a ship mounted Magnetic Accelerator Cannon roared out as the ship's shields seemed to begin to fail, and made the ship start to rise in the sky to escape. Plasma bolts began jetting from the enemy ship as missiles and tracer hammered the ship mercilessly. The Master Chief watched as dozens of Archers hit the shields, draining them further and was elated to see two Paris Class Heavy Frigates soar overhead, banking to steer clear of the enemy ship that now began to forget fighting and start running.
However it would not get far. A monstrous crack sounded through the night as a third, much larger MAC round rained down from the sky, parting the clouds with its powerful shockwave. And when it hit, it hit like a sledgehammer from God. The ship seemed to shatter as the round struck the tip of the pyramid section and blossomed into a tremendous explosion far away from the city. Flaming wreckage rained down into the hills outside the city as the UNSC Marines, Spartans, and ODST's watched with unprecedented glee. Cheers went up from the Marines as the Frigates banked to take up position over the city as the sky was then swarmed with what appeared to be dozens and dozens of Pelican and Albatross Dropships. Then their radios crackled with a message over the open UNSC military channels.
"This is UNSC Everest to any and all surviving UNSC forces on the planet Outland. Please respond over."
"This is Sierra-one-one-seven, we copy," Chief responded as he began to see the waves of UNSC craft swarming overhead, descending into any open landing zones that could be found.
"We got word of what was happening and arrived as soon as we could, looks like you could-," the radio cut off, "Stand by Sierra we have incoming! Looks like your friends called for support."
Location: Unknown Planet, Unknown Location
Date: March 27, 2527
Time: 1700 Hours
O'Neill was not having a good day; he was cold, wet, and separated from his unit. All in all, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. He was still floating down an aqueduct in freezing cold water without much chance of getting out because of the lack of handholds frozen over by ice. But he was at least being given quite a nice tour of the city this thing was built in. He'd been able to peek over the side to see open markets with people wrapped up warmly in fur coats and thick woven jackets. There were items of every type and description being tailored to the throngs of strange people underneath fixed wooden sales stands or pop-up tents. He was hearing quite a bit of language that he hadn't ever heard before, which got him to wishing it had been Jackson not Carter that had gotten dropped through a hole in the ground.
Speaking of Carter he hadn't seen where she'd been floated off to before losing sight of her. But was still able to track her location with the IFF system in his helmet and was relieved to see that the Stargate was relatively close. But for him that meant that the gate and his team was within fifteen miles. He'd also located Sergeant Hastings, the man who'd gotten dropped down into the underground river first and the whole reason they'd found themselves here in this strange yet amazing place.
As O'Neill continued floating towards Hastings's location he was astounded to see there were several massive temples scattered on top of a hill with a pair of massive pillars topped with a golden embellishment of a chariot with four horses. There were large buildings with faces of marble and balconies that he saw people moving about on. He wasn't seen at all, and hoped that he didn't have to be seen until he found his missing team mates. But he needn't have waited long.
Jack saw that the aqueduct went right into the back of a large building on a cliff face overlooking the city with a large set of windows watching over the view. It was a grand building, with marble columns and decorative minerals and art all along the face of it. There were wagons, carts, and other things decorated with fine silks and other items that could only belong to the rich elite of this city. There was a bunch of smoke stacks over to the side, nearer where he was going to, with white smoke rising into the air. Naturally O'Neill was very curious about this building and why it would have an aqueduct dedicated completely to it.
"Colonel?! Is that your IFF coming right at me?" the radio barked out as he got closer.
"Affirmative, what's your status?"
"Oh I'm just fine Colonel. It's quite nice in here sir. Just a warning sir, be careful when you get dropped into the heated water. That first drop's a doozy. And take the center pipe to get to me."
"Heater? What the Hell are you talking about?" O'Neill asked.
"You have to see it to believe sir."
Before O'Neill could respond he felt himself drop straight down into a stark difference of temperature. He'd been on the verge of losing all feeling in his fingers and arms but once he hit that warm water it was almost painful because of how different the temperature was. He could hear, through his splashing and breathing, the sounds of shovels hitting piles of coal and the roar of furnaces that were obviously right below him. However there was another noise in the background, it sounded like music, played on a harp with voices and laughing calling out occasionally. But he kept going forward, aiming for a circular pipe barely big enough for him to fit into. It was now he could see the proximity alert of Sergeant Hastings's IFF chip popping up onto his HUD and dove right through the copper pipe and felt a sensation not unlike the sensation of falling through a water slide. But it wasn't a very long trip, practically as soon as O'Neill was in the pipe he was out of the pipe and totally airborne.
He fell fifteen feet straight into a steaming pool of water probably ten to fifteen feet deep and dove right into it. Here it was well lit and once the bubbles surrounding him rose to the surface O'Neill could see several things he did not expect, especially here. The forms of people swimming in the water were scattered around him. However, these figures were all those of women! And each and every one of them was as nude as the day they'd been born.
"That's different," O'Neill said out loud as he stared at the strange sights.
"Colonel, you alright, probably should have told you to come in feet first."
"Thanks for the warning Hastings," O'Neill said, pushing off of the cement floor towards the steps and where he could now see Hastings himself through the water sitting on a couch with perhaps a half dozen women huddled around him. His SR99 Sniper Rifle was placed next to him within a foot of his right hand, ready to go.
As he breached the surface and began walking towards him Hastings held out his arms in welcome, "Glad you could join me in paradise sir!" he chuckled over his helmet speakers.
O'Neill looked around and saw what he meant. Everywhere was marble, gold, ruby, and paintings that would give Da Vinci a run for his money. Statues of great intricacy and beauty were spaced evenly throughout the spacious and decorative room. There were plush couches, pillows and men walking about with trays of cheese, meats, bread, and brass goblets of wine. The room wasn't filled but it wasn't empty of almost exclusively women. Most were clothed scantily with towels or togas that didn't barely reached mid-thigh. The more promiscuous of them were stark naked, walking or lounging about conversing with one another in a language that O'Neill could not understand. There were curtains of silk and cotton scattered about the room, hanging from doorways and the ceiling with complex tapestry-work upon them. There smaller pools and spas where some women relaxed in steaming hot water as servants or slaves, it was hard to tell which, serviced them with food and drink while they talked.
"What the hell is this place, a spa?" O'Neill asked, looking around.
"I don't know sir but I like what I see thus far," Hastings replied, his helmeted head following a rather lovely pair of women getting up out of the water, walking past he and O'Neill.
"Well you've had your look-see, come on Sergeant. We have to find Captain Carter. We were separated when we fell into the aqueduct. Her IFF puts her three klicks Southwest of here."
"Oh I'm sure the Captain's found her own eye candy sir. I'm just suggesting that we do some more…" he trailed off as one of the girls, probably drunk, gently rubbed his chest plate, "reconnaissance."
"Have you at least made contact with these, people?" O'Neill asked.
"Tried several times already sir, apparently they don't speak English," he responded with a shrug.
"Oh just great, it figures we'd be separated from the only guy who can translate for us."
"What did you expect sir? It's not like these people speak a language that Jackson anyway."
As O'Neill was about to respond he heard yelling coming from the back of the room and turned to see women parting frightened as a half dozen men in silver armor and Greek style helmets came running at them. Their chest and body armor appeared to be made up of studded squares of metal two inches long and an inch wide all connected by tough binding. On their shoulders were segmented plates that went out to cover the shoulder and part of the upper arm with a long sleeved dark red shirt underneath it. Their shins and wrists were also protected by armor plates embellished with the sign of a trident etched in gold. Their shields were quite large, being about three and a half feet in diameter and colored silver with a red wide trident in colored in the center with hooks on the outside barbs. Their helmets had a red plume that was about six inches tall and an inch wide. Their spears also had a semblance to the trident theme their armor had going on. The point was in a diamond shape with a crescent underneath it with its points pointing in the same direction as the main spear point. This business end was backed up with a wooden shaft seven feet long. On their belts was a short sword in a black leather sheath beside a small dagger. To keep warm each soldier had a thick cloak with brown fur around the neck and tied around front by a golden cord. These cloaks were wet from melted and melting snow but they seemed to not mind as they surrounded O'Neill and Hastings and pointed their weapons at them.
"Tu quis es?" one of them ordered, and got a strange look from both ODST's.
"Uh…we come in peace?" O'Neill responded coolly.
"Quis est iste?" one of the men asked his comrades.
"You've always wanted to say that haven't you?" Hastings asked with an amused grin.
"Oh hell yes."
And there we are, another chapter in the books. Well I'm glad that I took some time to get this done, I sort of had to start all over after my battery died and I lost my original attempt at Chapter Five but I must say, this is actually better than the last one. Hopefully you guys think likewise, thanks for reading, and I'll see you at my next story. Remember to Review and tell me what you all think.
Oh, by the way, if anyone is interested I have just started another story that I have just had the muse for, I mean I have just cranked out two chapters in short succession, and not short ones either, each is well over eight thousand words of what I think to be some of my finest work. It's a Lord of the Rings fanfic, so if that interests any of you take a look, it's called Heirs to the Fellowship.
Next Chapter Preview: O'Neill has made contact, next it's Carter's turn. And Jackson wakes up somewhere he's not expecting. And the Outland Campaign begins and sees a surprising twist from an old friend.