Forests of Cyrus VII
November 9, 2557
There was no way I could ever get into the Spartan-IV thirty seventh special shock division on my own.
Not by an application, no recommendations, not even a job opening online. They would find you.
And find me they did.
I heard that there had been many controversies surrounding the unit, requirement of a relationship meaning a discharge if it wasn't fulfilled, stricter guidelines than its cousin units. That sparked a huge debate that lasted weeks, ending up with it being removed, but it still was a touchy subject, as many had believed that its repeal took away the unit's unique nature.
Hell, if they even removed it, it still didn't take away how dark our operations go.
This was supposed to be a "walk in the park" especially for my first time taking a squad out. It's always like those times whenever you study hard for that history, science or math test and still screw up.
Cyrus VII was a moderate planet, being one of two in the Cyrus Theta System. Much news after the war against the Covenant Empire involving here was non-existent. Mostly because this place was completely out of the way of most major settlements, one of the closest to the galactic center, but not by much.
Well it was a very bad day to be living here, especially when closer to smaller cities and rural areas.
Multiple loose organized syndicates basically dominated any wilderness area, involved in any black market stuff. Drugs and weapons trafficking, check. Armed insurgency; check. What made the place even worse was that most of these groups were fighting one another all the time. The UNSC had negotiated a cease-fire long ago, but it was violated by the same group we were hunting now. Add a few stolen Spartan Laser rifles to the stuff stolen and you've got a priority thing with urgency. Those lasers would incinerate any vehicle, tank, aircraft, you name it.
"Pine, what's your status?" I shouted over the gunfire erupting from the thicket ahead. That was followed by more gunshots coming from behind me.
"Established a proper overwatch at the tallest tree. Thermal signatures advancing on your position. I see SMGs and shotties over."
Oh that's right. I forgot to tell you about myself.
My military designation is Eon Lead but my real name and rank is Captain Jacob Oliver Bowman. I previously was in the Navy operating as a multi-terrain Special Forces operator or MTSFO. It wasn't as famous as ODSTs or SEALs, but then again, we weren't a very large unit anyway. We still fought the Covenant to a bloody end in unconventional circumstances.
I was found by the unit's founder and placed in this Fireteam Eon, one of the four-man teams in the Thirty Seventh Special Shock Division. Training commenced the day I accepted.
Then before I could even get my bags on the floor of my barrack quarters, I was whisked away on a Pelican heading for a UNSC frigate along with the other three members, bound for this hell-hole of a world, at least for the backcountry that is.
I wear a standard Warrior MJOLNIR GEN2 armor in the same colors as the rest of my team, jet black with a cyan colored visor. The commander had said that the techs would be able to help me request more suitable armor components afterwards. My armament was my preference MA5D rifle as well as an M6J handgun.
That gunfire was the response of the C7DF or the Cyrus Seven Development Force. They were the elite-counterterrorist force of the colony, funded and run by the local CAA, since UNSC personnel was bare-minimum here. We were assigned to work with about a dozen of their operators after the air traffic radar had spotted a registration number that was on the watch list and had known ties to several elements both good and bad. It was headed to an airstrip just outside of a small city.
The cargo was rumored to be a product called "Pumpkin" Normally; it would be beneficial, as this was produced originally in medical labs to help cure a few complex named illnesses. However, one bright syndicate leader had decided to mix it with one of the common explosives. Guess what? Yep, it just about multiplied its destructive power. It's unique and truly alarming fact was that it was a bit reminiscent of plasma arms used by the Covenant. Thus, they had the potential to make plasma explosive based weapons.
"Austal, retrieve the drone before it gets damaged!" I shouted. Crouching down in one knee, I fired short bursts at the opposite muzzle flashes. My HUD tracked the hostile's movements, even informing me as I continued to drop my targets. The hostiles were clothed with barely any body armor and fought like they were just given a rifle and told to take cover and shoot.
"We got em on the run!" Eon Four shouted. "Hit em!"
A thunderstorm of shots rang out from my left, one of the C7DF carrying a machine gun and raining suppressive fire. The belt fed weapon had up to a hundred and fifty rounds and was devastating with a portable bipod whenever crouched or lying prone on the ground. The stability of it makes it much more accurate, as recoil would thrash the user around and put a lot of strain to put well-placed rounds downrange.
I heard Spartan Ross Pine, our marksman fire across the forest from his position up top of a tree. The shots were like the grim reaper, striking doom over and over again. If the thugs didn't get the message that they were outgunned and out trained, then the sniper was sure to plant a seed of doubt in their minds.
I even doubted that I would be able to fight properly. Normally not my biggest problem, as I've fought every single type of insurrection and Covenant imaginable and more…on every single type of hellish terrain possible. However, the buzzing disease carrying mosquitoes constantly flitted around my visor wasn't the only thing making me uncomfortable. I was forced to swat at them, more for a clear sight rather than being bitten. Good luck trying to drill your way through a MJOLNIR suit buddy.
"Eon Lead, I have you covered."
"I copy Austal." I leaned out; peppering another enemy with his rounds just as a loud whoosh came from over head, followed by Austal's panicked voice.
"Boss get down!"
I broke cover and dove for the ground.
Just as the rocket curved less than two feet over my head.
Spartan Marcus Austal was about twenty feet from Captain Bowman, behind a fallen moss-coated log, mostly keeping his head out of harm's way while he operated the team's moth drone. He held a portable tablet in one hand which he shielded with his body from the rocket and an M6 pistol in the other, guiding the dual end rotor device with an attached infrared camera along with a half dozen other sensors to sniff out enemies.
His position was a bit to the right of everyone else's front and he saw hostiles closing in on Bowman's position.
He thumbed the controls, causing the moth to hover just in front of where the trio of insurgents were advancing. They moved with camouflaged clothing, something that made them undetectable to any of the Cyrus forces, but it was odd if they escaped the Spartan's sensors.
Guiding the moth right behind the moving enemies, Austal keyed the drone's integrated microphone and said something inside.
If the rebel grew up in New Corsica or another French speaking country, he would have understood that Austal said, "Your mother looks like chicken shit."
However, all Austal needed was his attention. The man raised his weapon at the tiny machine, ready to shoot it out of the air.
A flash suddenly came from the drone and the rebel stumbled, disoriented from the sudden action. His itchy trigger finger caused him to fire a couple of rounds from his automatic submachine gun. The two comrades in front also turned around to see what unfolded.
In Austal's mind, it was a perfect marriage of attention and ingenuity. Diverting the enemy for Bowman to attack.
"Get em boss!" He cried.
The lead Spartan raised his rifle and drilled nine rounds in a stream of full auto. One that dropped the trio like robots whose power supply had been severed.
He set the drone to idle and moved it above the forest canopy. The airfield was about a mile from the outskirts of the town and he could see general aircraft parked in the vicinity. No sign of the target vehicle from his perspective. But they had established a radar pattern over the area to make sure their craft was at the right place.
A rustle of leaves came to his right and he quickly put the operating datapad on his belt. The active camo module turned on and he melted into the background. He could still hear the chattering of automatic weapons and the popping sounds of the older rebel arms.
Just as two armored rebels came straight through. One of them pushed aside a branch from a nearby tree while the other had his gun aimed, ready to shoot the threat if he sprang out.
"I thought I heard him over here somewhere." One of them said as they spread out. The other knelt down where the Spartan had been controlling the drone, flinching as the sound of a grenade exploded in the distance. Austal was less than six feet away from the one searching and every moment passed by, the rebel came closer.
He had a good grip and a quick drawing reflex on his MA5D assault rifle, but the problem was that he would be gunned down as soon as he picked a shot on one of them. They were jumpy and that contributed to fast reactions.
"There he is!" One of the rebels cried.
Austal had been discovered.
Spartan Ross Pine kept his crosshairs trained on the rebel as he moved with his partner.
He knew that the two had broken off because they were aware of Austal's position. This was confirmed when he saw the younger Spartan activate his camo just in time to temporarily avoid being found. Years of sniping, both against insurrectionists and Covenant had told him to read the signs. It wasn't something that was bought or earned. It was honed by hunters from experience in the field.
Yep, it looked like the skinny New Corsican kid was dead if Pine didn't peg at least one of them. He had no idea why he was hiding. Maybe a taunt? Not wanting to compromise his location?
Even from a distance, he could tell that the rebels' body language was tense. Once they found the hidden Austal, he let loose.
The sniper rifle boomed across the forest, leaving a smoky white trail that followed the bullet as it capped one of them. This all happened just a split second after he had been made.
Austal drilled the second rebel not a moment later.
Our heroes are back! Well at least some of them are. More to come!
Thanks for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.