Headlong Into New Mombasa
"Wind speed, eight kilometers per hour," the spotter whispered. "Target is one-point forty six kilometers from the Tree House." The 'house' was of course the sniper duo's current position. The 'tree'? A twenty-six-story office building in the business district of New Mombasa. "Obstructions in line of sight. Chance of a hit is less than thirty percent." The sniper continued to follow his target. "Enemy convoy approaching the target. They appear to be transporting cargo – vehicles." The elongated Covenant ground vehicle dropped off two Ghosts and a few tightly contained plasma batteries. After the unloading was complete, it hovered along toward the east.
If there was a shot to be made, it had to be now. Attempting to hit a walking target is hard enough at this distance. A running bogey takes plenty of experience to pick off. But a speeding Ghost was out of the question. The blood-red colored Elite signaled to his compatriots, a small squad mixed of Jackals and Grunts, to accompany him. The target was leaving and it had friendly eyes on him. If any of those Jackals see the Elite taken down by sniper fire, not only do you have counter sniping, but you also have Grunts alerting the others. Something had to be done - fast - and there couldn't be any stragglers.
"Target is approaching the vehicle", the spotter said anxiously. "Mark?"
"Mark", the sniper replied affirmatively. He placed his crosshair directly in front of the Elite's face. The shot was fired, and the Elite flinched and staggered to keep its balance before dropping to the floor. The sniper made no haste and aimed for the batteries containing super-condensed plasma energy. The second shot eliminated the entire squad of fodder with a chain of detonations. It was messy, loud. But in the end, it would either be messy and loud or no success at all. UNSC ground forces are to be approaching on word that the area is clear, and those targets were the only resistance that would stop them from proceeding with their mission. That mission was to clear a designated section in the city of Covenant forces, and all units were to initiate their respective missions simultaneously. It was a losing battle, however. The Covenant had cruisers in the air, continuously reestablishing their presence on the surface.
"Always the hard way with you, isn't it?" said Corporal Maynard.
"I don't even need a spotter, Corporal. My scope tells me everything I need to know." Carlyle quipped, tapping on his rifle for emphasis. "But I appreciate the company."
Carlyle activated his comm. channel to Theta Team, waiting below the skyline for their call.
"Tree house to Theta Team; the road is clear. Repeat, the road is clear."
"Roger, Tree House; Theta Team moving into position. ETA: five minutes."
No matter where you went in New Mombasa, inside or out, it was at least one hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit. As Maynard wiped the sweat from his forehead, he equipped his helmet – a standard-issue marine design. Carlyle's face was as red as the clay on the outskirts of Africa, but he showed no signs of acknowledging his condition. He pulled down the opening of his helmet, and then looked to Maynard. "Shall we proceed?"
"By all means, Sergeant: You first."
The elevators in the building were not functional because they had received heavy damage from nearby conflicts. The carts were disconnected from their cables, meaning of course that they had to take the stairs. An exhausting task considering the amount of weight they're burdened with as well as the temperature. Theta Team is arriving in five minutes, and it took Tree House thirty to climb those sets of stairs. Theta Team can't wait.
Maynard and Carlyle returned to the stairwell, looking down through the small rectangular gap between the winding flights of stairs. It was a straight drop. Maynard mounted a cord onto the side of the railing, and then released the end as it uncoiled on its way down.
"You know the deal: Don't hit the sides or you'll be a broken, tangled mess" said Carlyle.
"Sir, the cable isn't long enough; it's only fifty meters. We've got at least an eighty-five meter drop. Tying our ropes together isn't going to help, either. They could easily cut loose." Maynard replied.
Carlyle thought to himself for a moment. "Well, go as far as you can and grab one of nearest rails. I'll repel down after you and we'll start over from there."
Maynard latched himself onto his cable and slid downward to the eleventh story rail. After grabbing onto it, he climbed over and signaled to Sergeant Carlyle to make his descent. The Sergeant followed as swiftly as Maynard had predicted, with expertise and confidence. The last cable was secured to the rail, and they both began to make their way to the ground floor.
Just as they exited the T-Lynk-branded office building, a transport-Warthog skid its way onto the rendezvous site. Commander Jya'hil hopped out of the driver's position and approached Carlyle and Maynard, followed by Corporal Frey and the two other marines riding in the back.
Jya'hil looked at the scene where the Elite and its peons lay dead. He turned again to glance back at Sergeant Carlyle. "Next time, Sergeant, please clean up after yourself. You just might get a ticket from the Superintendent."
"Sir," Carlyle knew the commander wasn't much of a complainer, noting his sarcasm, but he never cared too much for a mess. The commander also wasn't keen on naming his marines by their rank. Carlyle bit his tongue.
A true-blood African, Jya'hil had a thick accent that never faded, even after his exposure to western and eastern-English accents through the Corp. Where he lacked in distinguished medals and plaques, he sufficiently gained in his relationship with his marines. Although rank was to be respected, Commander Jya'hil was not the type of man that would enforce that respect. He never expected to be addressed as 'Commander' or 'Sir' every minute of the day. What he did expect was to be taken seriously when the time presented itself. During the moments when the Brass weren't keeping watch, the conversation was loose. Similar to a trusted mentor, anyone under his command could say anything to him. With this high level of comfort, marines found that displeasing Jya'hil had a similar effect on the conscious as disappointing one's own parent.
Jya'hil addressed the marines. "I know it doesn't seem like much, but these were just scouts patrolling the perimeter. The Covenant controlling our assigned sector are a quiet bunch, and they are not going to reveal themselves to make it easier on us. Estimated head count is between forty and a hundred."
"I'm sorry, but do they honestly expect six marines to clear out one hundred Covenant troops?" Maynard asked.
"No. That's why they gave us these." Jya'hil reached in the back of the transport Warthog for a long, green box of satchel explosives. Each was a small and rectangular slab that could latch onto just about any hard surface. Primarily used for city construction and demolition purposes, the marines were puzzled as to why they were using them.
"We'll be doing some controlled demolition today," Jya'hil said.
"And who is doing the demolishing? The Covenant isn't just going to let us blow down their house," asked Maynard.
"That's my job," Frey said with a malicious grin. She was always itching for the chance to use the most destructive tools the UNSC could give. She wasn't an expert; none of them were. But she was the most daring of any soldier that went under Jya'hil's command. Though some may argue her daring nature is simply a part of her insanity, no one argues with her ability to get a job done. She hardly ever spoke, only when she voiced her desire to take action over planning.
"Right," said Jya'hil, "Frey's going to arm the charges while we keep those Covenant distracted," the commander ordered. "But again, we keep things quiet. Any large offense is going to keep them looking throughout the entire primacies. Now, Maynard, you're pairing with me. Carlyle, you'll take Rodriguez. Milia will back up Frey while she's setting the explosives. Fair warning: this could get ugly."
Every marine gave the affirmative.
They each seated themselves in a vehicle and began their short trek to the eastern market district. Intel was spot on. The only sound to be heard was the rustling of torn sheets where small shops were once set up. These establishments are in stark contrast to the monolithic buildings that loom overhead. It was a little piece of old Africa, and of the old world, that remained while the city became a bustling metropolis.
Phantom dropships cruised in the air opposite the direction of the marines. Either they had just dropped off some cargo, or they're transporting troops from this site elsewhere. These stingray-shaped vehicles are extremely effective at locating ground targets, with three plasma cannons keeping watch of the terrain below. However, the marines noticed that these ships in particular had a strange flight pattern to them, as they completely disregarded any search efforts. Each Phantom moved faster than the one before it.
"Eyes up, marines" said Commander Jya'hil. "They're getting restless."
The squad found a canopied area to park their vehicles, out of sight from any Covenant on the lookout. They had to make the approach on foot now. As discussed prior to their arrival, the marines split up to cover a broader area, pairing into their respective teams. Jya'hil and Maynard made up Team One, Frey and Milia formed Team Two, while Carlyle and Rodriguez formed Team Three.
Each team split off into their given paths; Team One under the occupied building, Team Two inside the tight corridors and Team Three ascending to the helipad upstairs.
"Can you really trust Frey with those things, sir?" asked Maynard. "She's a loose cannon. There's no telling when this place could blow with those tools at her disposal."
Continuing to hustle down the halls, Jya'hil chuckled, "A loose cannon, she is. But I've known her long enough to know that she'll do just about anything to ensure that her comrades are safe." He smiled, "No matter how dangerous that method may be."
Team Three found a functional elevator to speed up their trip to the rooftop; however it stopped just a few stories short of the top. The doors began to slowly open, revealing an unaware squad of Jackals looking over and out the windows. A 'ding' from the elevator sounded, and the Jackal squad turned in surprise. Just as soon as both parties could equip their firearms, an explosion ripped through the room. It killed the Jackals and knocked Carlyle and Rodriquez off their feet. The room filled with smoke, and the comm. channel crackled.
"I know we were supposed to keep comm. silent, but what the hell was that?" said Carlyle. Jya'hil's voice broke through the static. "I can't say for sure, but something tells me that wasn't UNSC firepower."
"Agreed," Rodriguez said, coughing. "It definitely seemed like Covenant ammunition breaking through here."
Commander Jya'hil called for Team One to check their status. "Team One, are you still in operation?"
There was no response for several unnerving seconds, until Milia could be heard. "This is Team One! Goddamn Covenant took Frey with them; I'm pinned down!"
"Team Two is en route to your location. If you can get to a safe position, get there." Jya'hil closed the comm., signaled to Maynard, and they both bolted to the underground electrical floor of the building.
Once they had arrived a few minutes later, the fighting there had seized. Milia was clearly wounded, but after administering a canister of bio-foam, her condition stabilized.
"Now, you said that the Covenant took Frey. How did this happen?" asked Jya'hil.
Milia replied, "I didn't see it happen, but she just disappeared after they attacked. I tried scouting her out amongst the chaos, but I couldn't find her. I did see a Spirit take off just in time though, so I thought she must have been taken."
"Good, Milia. We're going to get you some help. You did extremely well." said Jya'hil, holding her hand.
"One more thing, Commander; Those Covenant Elites were fighting something else. Their fight poured into our location. Who they were fighting, I couldn't tell. But something isn't right here."
He smiled, "Is anything ever?"
Rodriguez came through the comm. again. "Team One, we advise that you relocate to our position. This is big."
Commander Jya'hil murmured under his breath, "That formal talk is going to get him in trouble one day… Team Two, we read you. We're on our way."
Milia could barely run, but she managed to keep pace with Team Two.
Both teams converged to a room with a wide view to the outside, still high above the ground. Carlyle had his sniper rifle set up on a rail in front of the window facing the buildings opposite of them.
"Take a look" said the sergeant. Jya'hil peered though the scope and witnessed a fight taking place between two groups of Covenant: Brutes and Elites. After only watching for a few seconds, it was apparent which side was winning.
The commander said nothing as he stepped back from the scope. The squad waited for a response. Carlyle asked, "So do we continue with the plan?"
"There's not much else we can do."
"But the explosives, sir? Frey had them before she was compromised." Maynard replied.
Jya'hil's eyes widened. "Damn… Everyone head to the helipad."
He opened his channel to the command of transportation. "Echo Six, this is ground team zero-four-A. We need extraction via Pelican; we'll be waiting on the roof. Out."
"Roger that, zero-four. ETA: fifteen minutes."
Perplexed, Maynard asked for an explanation. "Was it something I said?"
Jya'hil spoke firmly, "Yes, and you were right. Frey's going to finish the mission, which means we need to get the hell out of here."
The squad grabbed what little equipment they needed and headed for the top, which, fortunately, wasn't but three stories above. Once they reached the LZ, however, they were greeted with the roar and growls of a pack of Brute minions. Their skin and fur was primal, but they were outfitted with celestial armors with shining blues, purples and greens. They each carried a single Spiker rifle, which threw out small, super-heated shards of metal at a terrifying rate.
Taking cover behind the exposed air conditioning systems, squad zero-four managed to hold the fight against the Brutes. The pinging sound of steel chimed as the Brutes' ammunition made contact with their surroundings. The battle drew on for nearly ten minutes, with an ungrateful end in close sight, but the comm. system gave good news.
"Zero-four, can you read? Your Pelican has been delivered. Is the LZ clear?" said the officer.
Jya'hil replied in frustration, "Negative; not if that chain gun isn't in use! Repeat, the LZ is hot. We need support from that Pelican!"
As the Pelican drop ship approached, it turned its rear side toward the fight, exposing a manned machine gun turret. The operator laid down a heavy spread of gunfire on the Brutes, which dispersed them, but the energy shields they were equipped with saved their hides from serious injury. The squad now had a clear window to the loading door of the Pelican, the gunner still suppressing the Brutes.
The marines seated themselves in the drop ship, all ready to escape to safety, but Jya'hil ordered the pilot to not take off until he gave the call.
Rodriguez spoke out loudly to overcome the volume of the fighting. "Are you waiting for Frey, sir?"
"She'll get the job done; dead or alive." Jya'hil replied.
"Then why are we still here?" asked Maynard.
Carlyle replied, "Because, more than likely, she'll be alive."
After waiting three whole minutes, a Covenant Spirit infantry drop ship soared over the horizon toward their location. The pilot called to Jya'hil to reconsider his orders, or the transportation officer would override them.
"Fine, get us out!" said Jya'hil, and then slammed his fist into the wall of the Pelican. He was furious. But just as they made preparations to leave, the Spirit took a sharp turn downward, and small explosions sparked from the hull of the ship. It was taking a dive into the side of the building, and it would surely bring it down to its foundations. However, both infantry-loading doors on each side of the ship opened, and out emerged Frey. She made a leap for the helipad as the Spirit continued to descend, demonstrating an astounding feat of timing. Once her body landed on the roof, the Covenant ship slammed into the building, which created an enormous ball of fire upon impact. Parts of the roof were set ablaze, but Frey wasted no time or effort in getting herself to the Pelican. The whole squad rose from their seat to grab Frey and pull her in. She collapsed at the feet of Commander Jya'hil, who reached out his hand to her. As the Pelican took off, nothing but smoldering ash could be seen where the building once stood.
"Good show… So are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, much better actually," she responded.
Jya'hil smiled. "You were running a little late, don't you think?"
"I had to get my explosives back. The bastards took them from me. Bad move."
Maynard, in an irate fashion, exclaimed, "Well I hope you're satisfied with your cavalcade of pyromania. You put us all at risk so you could have some entertainment?"
Carlyle tried to reason with him, saying "Cool it, Maynard; she knows what she's doing."
"Damn well, she does. That's part of her problem."
"Look," Jya'hil interjected, "We're going back to central command to see what else they have lined up for us. So let's be formal when discussing what happened here. As per how these things go, I have a feeling they'll be wondering if we need to still be grouped together. I wouldn't have it any other way." The squad acknowledged the terms. "I'll see if we can get Milia back with us as well, but her injuries may stall her out of mission placement."
The Pelican docked itself into the UNSC frigate that hung over the airspace of New Mombasa. There were no grand greetings for their accomplishment. Instead, they took the elevator lift straight to the assignment room. There, they would be given new orders, and quite possibly a new team. The general assignment officer looked at the squad and gave them his report.
"The coordinated operation hasn't been as successful as we'd hoped, but with this new threat here on Earth, we are going to have to change up our tactics. Obviously, the Covenant are bringing Brutes into the fold, and it appears as though they've sided with their prophets where the Elites once controlled. There's a full blown civil war going on there, but even that doesn't really describe what they're trying to do to the Elites. It's a genocidal transition of power. But regarding your team's placement in this effort, Commander Jya'hil, we are tasking you and your marines with getting new intel from one of those Covenant cruisers. Our communications technicians can't breach through the walls of those ships. We need a few pairs of ears to go in directly to the source. Anything you can find in reference to what exactly is occurring to their civilization is to be relayed back to us immediately."
The commander and his team were dismissed from the briefing. As they walked out of the office, Rodriguez asked, "So we're picking up slack for the guys in intel?"
Commander Jya'hil replied, "Like it or not, we *are* the guys in intel now."