Forests of Cyrus VII

November 9, 2557

Five minutes of firefighting later, the team had pushed the rebels back to the airfield. Nobody was present, at least out in the open. However, the fighters quickly scrambled up a fence that surrounded the compound, their gloves and boots designed to negate the electric shock that it was transmitting. While it was a problem for the Cyrus troops, the Spartans easily shrugged it off thanks to their shields. Austal and Bowman snipped a good man sized hole in the side and advanced through.

A chatter of gunfire suddenly brought them up. At the other side of the strip was a mounted machine gun, spewing lead. Rounds began to stitch the two Spartan's shields as they wordlessly ducked and sprinted back into the forest.

"Shit." Bowman looked out again, automatically keeping his head down as bullets struck the nearby tree trunks. "What the hell are we gonna do now?" He keyed his comms to the C7DF captain, a man named Valdez. "Captain Valdez, we're under heavy fire by enemy nest. Requesting a diversion."

"Roger that Captain." Valdez drawled, "I'll send em over."

Movement caught Bowman's eye as he watched the C7DF move to their right, firing a few bullets. The machine gun responded in kind, spraying a hail in that direction. Away from the Spartans.

A sharp crack came from above as Pine had centered his aim onto target and sniped the gunner out.

"Austal, get the drone over the airfield and scope out any hostiles. I want to know where they ran off to."

"I'm on it."

"The rest of you on me. Watch your sectors."

Like silent phantoms the Spartan and his joint operators emerged from the thicket. Silence was over the airfield thick enough to be cut with his folded razor knife. Dark clouds loomed above and by the time he entered the perimeter, he could see fat drops of rain pelting on his armor. The C7DF soldiers' breath began to condense, as if they were dragons with steam exhaling out of their mouths and nostrils.

"Boss," Austal came back online, "No sign of the rebels. They may have fled back into town. Storm's making it hard to see anything."

"Okay." Bowman replied, "We'll check out our target vehicle. Have Fowler rendezvous with us back."

"Roger."

The field didn't support any commercial transport and its small size made it adequate for short range vehicles headed around this world or to a couple of neighboring planets.

Judged by his waypoint, he found the target inside the open hangar, abandoned but all cleaned up and ready for her journey. Still, he held back when he saw a couple of pings coming from inside the closest door. Hostiles.

A grenade was tugged free and he was about to pull the pin.

"No!" Valdez cried.

He charged the larger Spartan, with enough determination to tackle him over. The grenade slipped out of his hand minus its pin and it rolled towards the engine.

In one swift motion, one of the C7 guys scooped it up and hurled it straight out the open doors of the hangar. It detonated as soon as it hit the tarmac, showering bits of metal and concrete over the area and leaving a three foot crater in the center.

"What the hell?"

Valdez got up, casting a dark look at the door. "I saw it too. Trust me, you don't want to open it."

The teams gathered around the hold and Valdez quickly yanked the hatch open.

At least twenty containers held hydrogen fuel and even more containers of their target.

Pumpkin was brownish white in appearance and had the consistency of coarse salt. Volatile stuff.

A gunshot, let alone a grenade was enough to send them into the sun.

"Well it certainly isn't making vodka."

"Damn it." Bowman threw his arms in frustration, "This is bullshit."

"Mind filling me in?"

That was Brett Fowler, a volatile mouthed Spartan who always questioned stuff. It didn't even matter if he was talking to the head of ONI. Needless to say, Fowler's attitude and Bowman's by-the-book ideals were like oil and water.

"This was a diversion. The Pumpkin isn't the objective, but we need those Spartan Lasers."

"Any idea where they could have gone?"

"Maybe into town. This is the only fast way out of the area for at least a hundred miles."

"Can we get an extract?"

Valdez met him at the doorway, just as local police began to arrive. "We can't get an LZ with this weather if it holds. Which it isn't. There's another storm coming."

"Then we go by hogs." Austal could scout ahead with the drone while they went en route. The rebels would have had a head start, as moving them towards the airfield made it a bit longer to navigate out to the country again. The nearest spaceport was in a metro area hundreds of miles out and they were on the far side of that.

"Alright. Get Fowler up here."

It's double update day! I posted another update for my separate project which is a short chapter as well. More to come soon.

Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.