Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews, you guys rock!!! Here's the next chapter for your reading pleasure, the longest one in the whole story. ;-) Hope you like it, please remember to leave reviews after you read (they are pure awesomeness!), and peace!
Chapter Forty-Two: Flight Without Wings
0215 Hours, March 7, 2552. Phase Two, City of Cote D'Azur. "The Scars of Battle," Planet Sigma Octanus IV. Day Twenty of the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV
I was born the middle child in a family of five kids. I had learned at a young age what it was like to be both a follower and a leader, because I had two older siblings and two younger siblings. I also knew what it was like to fight for the essentials of life---back when I was a kid, that meant things like breakfast cereal, my own room, and attention.
Even now, years later, I was surprised to find that things weren't much different. I still fit nicely in the middle ground, commanding and obeying various groups of people. And, since our supplies had started running out yesterday, there was still that fight for life's essential materials.
This time, however, we would actually die without them.
I'd ordered the company into reduced rations of food a few hours ago. Now, whenever we'd send out patrols, the Marines were under orders to loot any homes or buildings they passed for useful equipment. Operations to purify water from the Lumiar River had also begun, and we were doing ok in the food and drink area so far. The only things we couldn't get more of at the moment were medical supplies and military gear.
As it was, I'd spent the last six days toting around my silenced pistol. The personal sidearm was my only defense against hordes of aliens after that Brute had chucked my rifle and I. Looking at my web belt, I discovered that I had another problem: there was just one clip of pistol ammo left in my cartridge pouch. Once I finished the three rounds I had in the chamber, I was going to be pretty well screwed.
"Corporal Garian," I said on a private COM channel. We were both currently on perimeter duty, and he was on the opposite corner of the city block I was on.
"Lieutenant?" he answered promptly.
"I need more firepower, so I'm heading to the supply closet to see what I can scrounge. Watch my side."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Don't worry, Gary. Be back in a flash."
I walked slowly away from the forward lines, then started to run as fast as my various injuries would allow. There was no way in hell I was going to use a Covenant weapon as long as there was a tiny chance I'd be able to find a human one. But deep down, I knew that in the days to come, I would perhaps be forced to make such a decision in order for Bravo Company to survive. After all, we couldn't very well hold the lines without guns and bullets.
With help from the map on my HUD, I was finally able to find the building where we'd been hiding our rapidly depleting supplies. We'd changed the location a few times, just to keep the Covenant guessing in case they thought they'd found our cache. The strategy was working for the time being; our storage areas had gone undetected so far.
Entering the building---a small apartment complex---I immediately headed to the far side of the lobby. Once there, I opened the door to the stairwell and jogged down the steps to the basement. Before I walked into a hail of lead from the armed guard inside, I knocked three times on the door.
Our identification system was primitive, but it served its purpose. Three knocks meant the commander, two knocks meant a changing of the guard, one knock meant trouble outside, and no knocks, of course, meant Covies.
The door was opened a few seconds later by the current guard, Corporal Rachel Simmons. Her partner, Private Tom Foster, stood just behind and to the left of her, aiming his submachine gun at the entryway. I'd told Bravo Company previously that when they were on guard down here, they were to take no chances.
"Lower your weapon, Private, it's just me," I said, stepping into the room.
"Yes, ma'am," Foster replied, slinging his gun over his shoulder.
"What brings you down here, El-Tee?" Corporal Simmons asked.
I removed my helmet and ran a hand over my hair. After weeks without a shower, it wasn't exactly looking its best, but I was able to take small comfort in the fact that no one else in the company had been able to clean up, either. "What I really need is a new gun, Corporal. But, since I know we don't have that, I'll settle for some ammo for my pistol. I'm down to just a few rounds, and if I get in a tight spot, I'm cooked."
Simmons exchanged a look with Private Foster, and they grinned.
"What?" I asked.
"About that gun, Lieutenant," the corporal said, glancing sideways at Foster.
"You said to pick up anything useful when we were out on patrols, ma'am," the private began. "Well, I was on patrol yesterday, El-Tee, and we went back to where we had that skirmish a few days ago." His expression grew somber for a moment. "We managed to pick supplies off those three dead Marines, ma'am. Two of the Marines' weapons were part of the wreckage, but there was a lone and functioning MA5C nearby. One Marine had four clips of ammo for it on him, and we still have some in here."
For a moment, I was torn between being happy that I'd found a weapon and being sad for the way I'd managed it.
Finally, I shook my head. "I can't believe we've resorted to looting our own for equipment," I said. But shit, we really need it, I added silently to myself.
"I-I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't…you said…" Private Foster stammered, misinterpreting my statement.
"You did the right thing, Private. That's exactly what I told you to do." It's still just a little hard to accept, I thought. Sensing the young Marine's discomfort, I gave him a smile. "Thanks, Foster. I have a feeling I'm going to owe you my life for this."
Private Foster straightened and quickly put a serious expression on his face. "Just doing my job, ma'am."
Corporal Simmons gave the private a look that said, "Kiss-ass," though I knew she'd never utter the words in my presence; I could tell Foster was going to catch hell for his line later on. Noticing the silent exchange, I was barely able to keep myself from laughing. Sometimes, I thought life in uniform would have been more entertaining if I'd been an enlisted Marine rather than an officer.
But, then again, it was much more fun to be a goof-off and in command.
"All right, let's check this baby out," I said.
"Yes, ma'am," Foster replied, turning around to face a shelf full of boxes of supplies. Laying across the top shelf in the back was the assault rifle; the private lifted the weapon and handed it to me.
Cradling the gun, I took out the magazine and did a quick inspection. MA5Cs were lighter than their predecessor (the MA5B) and each clip held a little over half the number of rounds. While this made the MA5Cs both more portable and more maneuverable, they also required more frequent reloading. I wasn't sure if the trade-off would end up working in my favor, but right now that didn't matter. I had a powerful weapon in my hands again, and that was good enough for me.
Satisfied that the assault rifle was clean and seemed to be in working order, I slapped the magazine back into the MA5C and checked the safety a second time. It was still off.
I held the gun in my left hand, barrel facing the ground, and took the four clips Foster had salvaged. Placing the magazines in my cargo pockets, I looked back at the two guards. "Carry on, Marines."
"Yes, ma'am!" Corporal Simmons and Private Foster exclaimed in unison.
As I walked back up the stairs, I thought briefly about test-firing the assault rifle. With no silencer, however, I didn't want to panic the Marines or tip off Covenant lurking nearby. So, I'd just have to pray it worked when the time came.
I was almost at the entrance in the lobby when I thought of something else. I'm here now, so might as well, I thought to myself. I turned around and headed back to the stairs, this time going up one level. First door on the right, I reminded myself. When I reached it, I rapped my knuckles against the door three times, as I'd done below.
As soon as the door opened, I felt my heart collapse.
"Lieutenant Cooper! I was just trying to hail you, ma'am," third platoon's medic, Petty Officer First Class Erika Calden, said in a rush. Her face was ashen as she swallowed hard. "The captain just…just died, Lieutenant."
I stood there in the doorway for a long time. Somewhere in my mind, I was hoping I hadn't heard right, that this wasn't really happening. But I knew. That damn rational brain of mine knew, and it took me a moment to get over the initial shock.
"Shit," I finally said.
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It was interesting, really: the morning it stopped raining was also the morning Captain Jeremy Kingston breathed his last. At thirty-seven years old, our captain was now just another name on a growing list of casualties in the Covenant War. Petty Officer Calden said Kingston had received a skull fracture that day in the parking garage, and after so long without treatment, his body finally succumbed to the trauma wound.
The death of our true and trusted company commander hit Bravo hard. When I heard the news, I couldn't decide what I wanted to do more: scream in rage or cry in grief. But, in the end, the Covies made the choice for me when they attacked second platoon's part of the perimeter. Now I could let my anger loose and do something useful with it, like protect my company.
"How many are there, Lieutenant?" I asked over the COM channel to Second Lieutenant Frederick. I ran down the stairs, raced past the lobby, and exited the building where we kept our supplies.
"I don't know, El-Tee," Frederick answered. There was the sound of the officer's battle rifle going off, then his voice returned. "A fucking lot, that's for sure."
"Can you hold them off, or do you need reinforcement?"
"An extra squad would be nice, ma'am."
"All right. I'll be there. Cooper out."
I quickly cut the connection, took my new assault rifle off safety, and opened a new channel. "This is Lieutenant Cooper. First squad, first platoon, I want you on me. The rest of you plug the hole that leaves in the perimeter. Double time it, Marines." I uploaded my location to their respective HUDs, then started sprinting through the streets to second platoon.
The gunfire and plasma flying through the air was thick by the time I reached second platoon's position.
"Came outta nowhere a few minutes ago," Lieutenant Frederick said on a private channel. "Looks likes a reinforced patrol, ma'am. Probably trying to break through our lines to do a little recon."
"We need to deal with those Ghosts first, Lieutenant," I replied, surveying the scene with my night vision field binoculars. "Do you have any ordnance left?"
"Yes, ma'am. One rocket, if I remember correctly."
"We're out, Frederick. You're going to have to improvise for the other two Ghosts."
"Understood, El-Tee." He paused for a moment, then added, "Ma'am, there's also a second patrol team staked out in that department store."
"I see it. Two buildings down on the left, three stories?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Lieutenant, I want those Ghosts and the patrol on the street taken out. First squad and I will deal with the Covies in that building."
"Yes, ma'am."
"If you find you need more back-up, call up the rest of First."
"Roger that."
"First squad, let's move!" I said into the radio. The squad had rendezvoused with me as I'd been listening to Second Lieutenant Frederick's report.
By taking the alleyway to get to the department store, first squad and I managed to avoid contact with the Covenant team on the main street. Once we'd reached the back service entrance, I had Private First Class Jimenez override the electronic lock to get us in. We couldn't afford to waste any bullets or explosives on doors.
"All right, Marines. This place has three levels, and the Covies could be hiding anywhere. Keep your eyes peeled and watch those motion trackers. If you're about to bust into a room, check infrared. Lieutenant Frederick reported movement on the top floor, but we'll clear each story. Understood?"
Green acknowledgement lights winked on my HUD.
Here goes nothing, I thought, holding my rifle to bear and beginning a visual sweep of the room. As I walked through the ground level with half of first squad in tow, I could feel my heart thumping hard against my chest. Hiding behind any of these clothes and appliances could be an alien ready to shoot you dead before you even knew what was happening.
"Negative contacts, Lieutenant," Corporal Trevor Dandh breathed into the COM.
I glanced in the corporal's direction, an involuntary action. He was checking the opposite side of the floor with the other half of first squad. "Confirm on IR, Corporal," I ordered.
"Confirmed, ma'am," Dandh answered.
"Ok. Fall in behind me and proceed up to the next level."
I took point as I lead first squad up a flight of stairs to the second floor. By now, my recently battered body was really letting me have it for all the sprinting I'd done earlier, but I tried to stay focused on the task. I had to think of anything, anything other than the pain…
I had to bite my tongue to keep from grunting up the stairs.
The first thing I did when I reached the next floor was check my motion tracker. Other than the eight yellow dots behind me (Simmons and Foster of first squad were still on guard duty), there was only a blank scanning ring.
Switching to infrared as I walked deeper into the store, the results still showed nothing. Come on, you damn Covies, I thought. I know you're not all holed up on the third floor. There's gotta be someone down here, at least to sound the alarm that hostiles are approaching.
That's when I saw the eerie green glow of a plasma pistol up ahead.
"Get down!" I shouted into the radio as I went prone.
The overcharged shot sizzled above my helmeted head, and an instant later I was back on my feet. Aiming down the sights of my assault rifle, I spotted the lone Grunt crouched between a row of mattresses. Hope this thing works, because I'm very dead if it doesn't, I thought as I squeezed the trigger.
There was a sharp yelp as the Grunt's body jerked backwards and dark blood erupted from its chest.
"Search for additional contacts!" I ordered over the SQUADCOM. Creeping up to the Grunt in a half-crouch, I quickly searched the dead Covenant soldier for anything useful. Lucky for me, the little bastard had two plasma grenades on him. I strapped the explosives to my web belt, then stood to my full height.
Bad idea.
A spray of needles came hurling in my direction. As I ducked back down, I could hear the Marines of first squad beginning to fire their automatic weapons.
"Contacts! Three Grunts and two Jackals, Lieutenant!" Corporal Garian exclaimed.
With nine Marines against five lowly members of Covenant infantry, the skirmish was almost over before it began. But, in the end, that didn't matter; the brief firefight had served its purpose.
"We need to get to the third floor now!" I said over the COM channel. "Those SOBs now know we're here."
As soon as I made sure there weren't anymore Covenant on the second floor, I had my squad follow me up the stairs to the third. Sure enough, plasma and needles were already coming our way before I even reached the top of the landing.
All right, baby, do your job, I thought as I unhooked one of my two plasma grenades. The explosive glowed a bright blue as I primed it, momentarily lighting up the stairway. With only a few seconds before it blew, however, there was no time to sit there and admire the thing. I tossed it into the room, hoping it would take at least one of the aliens out.
I heard an Elite roar somewhere nearby, and then I hugged the stairs as the grenade exploded. "Move it, move it, move it!" I yelled, getting back on my feet and storming up the last few steps. As soon as I reached the top, I went into automatic mode, sighting my rifle and firing off quick, precise bursts. First I dropped a Grunt on my left, then another beside it, then another. In the meantime, my squad of Marines came up on either side of me and began doing the same.
Once we'd taken down the first group of Covenant, we stepped over the dead and bleeding corpses and marched forward. Plasma rounds started coming at us shortly after, and I found myself ducking behind display tables and mirrors. A mess of clothes were being shredded and catching fire in front of me.
"This place is about to go up! Let's finish this!" I cried.
Emerging from my cover, I let loose a long burst of fire at a black-armored Elite close by. The alien's translucent shield flickered for the first several rounds before finally giving way. With its shields dead, the Elite glared at me and leveled its plasma rifle at my chest.
Or, at least, that's what I was expecting it to do.
Instead, even as I was trying to gun him down, the Elite ducked under my line of fire and ran at me. Growling like a rabid animal, the alien hit me in the midsection with such force that it knocked the wind out of me. The Elite sent me crashing into a rack of shirts and bumped against me.
Leaning against the rack, I managed to get one of my legs free from the sea of clothing underneath us. I gave the enemy soldier a hard kick in the torso with my combat boot, and the creature stumbled back ever so slightly. Fortunately, that was all I needed.
I held up my assault rifle and fired into the Elite's chest.
Click. Click.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said, more out of complete and utter shock than panicked fear.
My clip had just run dry.
I threw the rifle on the ground and quickly reached for my silenced pistol. The Elite, however, was already coming at me. The hell? Why doesn't it just shoot me? I thought. I glanced instinctively behind me, and the answer became clear. Oh, shit. I'd finally gotten my pistol in my hands when the Elite drove itself into my stomach a second time.
I shut my eyes tight as my back crashed through the wall-sized window, shattered glass flying everywhere. When I opened my eyes a second later, I could see the Elite lying on the ground, still safely inside the building.
Me?
I was rocketing to the ground three stories below.
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Water.
That was the liquid I could feel on my face, wasn't it?
"Jesus, Lieutenant, you really need to learn when to take a break," a disembodied voice said.
"Is she coming round, Petty Officer?" a second male voice with a British accent asked.
"Yes, sir. Looks like it."
"Good. I'm not sure I could command this company like she can."
"Lieutenant Cooper? Can you hear me, ma'am?"
A wave of pain rolled through my body before I even opened my eyes, and I ended up groaning a response.
"Can't you give her any morphine? She's clearly in terrible pain."
"We don't have much left, sir. We should save it."
I finally managed to open my eyes a crack, but all I could see were two blurry shapes in front of me. When I tried to speak, a second shock of pain made me groan again.
"Easy, ma'am. Take it slow."
I shut my eyes and opened them a second time, hoping the results would be better. Sure enough, this time I could at least figure out who the blurry shapes were. After all, how could you miss seeing that burst of red hair?
"Dean?" I asked, my voice scratchy and barely qualifying as a whisper.
"You got it, mate. And your fine medic Petty Officer Reynolds, as well."
"What…"
"What happened?" Reynolds finished. "You fell three stories, Lieutenant, that's what happened."
"You're like a walking miracle, Natalie," Lieutenant Lewis added. "Well, not walking quite yet, but…"
"The water...is it..."
"Diaphoresis," the medic said.
"What Mr. Medical Terminology means, Lieutenant, is that you are perspiring."
"From the pain, ma'am."
"Hence my advocacy of morphine."
"N-no. Keep it." The blurry figures before me were finally starting to focus, and I blinked several times to get a clear picture.
"Natalie? Are you certain?" Lewis asked.
I tried to grin, but the effort was too much. "You…won't understand, boys. But after…giving birth…with no meds…"
"I can only imagine," Lieutenant Lewis said, grinning. "My wife nearly crushed my hand while our daughter was being born."
"You sure she didn't just not like you, El-Tee?" Reynolds asked.
"You'd better hold that tongue of yours, Petty Officer," Lewis replied in a mock serious tone.
"Yes, sir." The medic turned back to face me. "All right, Lieutenant, I'll give you the full report."
"I'm...curious," I said.
"Well, first, do you remember anything that happened?"
"Not...a whole lot."
"Elite tackled you out of a window. Ring a bell?"
"Now that you mention it…" All I could really remember was the sensation of falling, falling to what should have been my death. I cringed as more pain lanced through me.
"I want you to take it easy, ma'am. And this time, you have to listen to me."
"Tell me…what else happened," I said, ignoring his last statement.
Reynolds gave me a scolding look, but obeyed. "You fell out backwards. Luckily, the glass dispersed over enough area that you weren't in danger of getting sliced up. Your armor and helmet took the brunt of the force when you hit the ground, which is why you're even still here and breathing. Something must've broken your fall, but we didn't have time to figure out what."
"Your medic here had to treat you quickly. And we also had to find a new helmet for you, Natalie. Yours was in two pieces when we found you. But you needn't worry, because we found your pictures inside."
"How long...was I out?"
"Ten hours, ma'am."
"Christ. What about...the lines? The company?"
"They're being taken care of, Natalie. Now is the time to worry about yourself. You haven't yet heard your list of injuries."
I looked at Doc Reynolds for clarification.
"Well, the final tally is this, ma'am: you have one gnarly concussion, and three broken ribs. Two of the ribs that broke were the ones that had been weakened by the shrapnel on Heath. The other one is on your left side. Like Lieutenant Lewis said, you're one helluva miracle, ma'am."