The rocket careened towards the planet's surface. Its particles splitting in the air, the atmosphere acting like a blanket of spines as it cut the carrier's hull apart. There was no oxygen left in its tanks, and the crew had now placed their emergency suits on as they careened downwards. Fox hands trembled, the Carrier fighting against him like a violent creature. The ship's controls shook violently in his hands, as it attempted to spiral out of control. Jothem was at his side, working the shields with a rapid panic – attempting to protect himself and the crew from gamma rays and heat exposure.
There front glass cracked, their hull crumpled, and behind them enemy rockets screamed in pursuit, splitting into millions of smaller projectiles, hammering themselves into the ship's shield in a violent wave of explosion and thunder. Fox felt the blow, and the carrier began a violent spin. It tumbled out of control as they plummeted to the planet below them.
Fox turned to Jothem, "We have to abandon ship!" He shouted, violently rocking in his seat as another wave of splintered rockets hammered across the ships surface.
Jothem grit his teeth, "We can't yet! We're not low enough for a Halo jump! We need more time!" He violently worked against the G-forces around him, still trying to maintain turbine, thruster and shield.
"How much time?" Fox replied, trying again to steady the ships decent.
"Forty seconds!" Jothem shouted back, speaking over the crack of released shells and rockets. Fox looked to the dying computer, its last messages spewing over the screen before going permanently black. Several Ork ships eagerly pursued them to the earth's surface, all their weapons firing hot at the damaged ship.
Fox shook his head, stabilizing the carrier before attempting to evade their pursuers, "You have ten seconds, maybe. The second volley of rockets will do us in. We need to drop now!" Jothem didn't reply, but instead punched buttons and commands in a violent panic. Fox shot a glance at him, "Jothem! Now! We need to drop now! Open the hatch!" as Fox spoke another loud siren blared overhead, a thunderous clap was heard as another wave of splinter missiles speed towards the wounded ship.
Jothem shook his head, still pressing buttons frantically, "W-we'll die if we jump! The suits can't take it!"
Fox let out a growl and unbuckled his seatbelt, the auto-pilot failed, and now the carrier began descending at a violent, screaming pace. Fox made his way to the back of the carrier, passing the remaining crew, "We're jumping!" He shouted to them, reaching for the emergency trigger for the carrier's drop doors, "Suit up! Gear up! Now!" Shrapnel flew in every direction, and the splinter missiles closed in. Jothem, upon seeing Fox's removal of the doors, unbuckled himself in a hurry, making his way to the back with great effort.
The four remaining survivors followed Fox's lead, all jumping soon after the other – into violent space, into fiery war. As the last of the group fell from the carrier, the missiles closed in behind, swallowing the ship in fire. With visors on, and rapid decent in motion – the explosion was but a whisper in the depths of space, and now Fox's eyes rested towards the planet below him. Jothem was the closest to him, their bodies still numb to any feeling as they slowly began to enter into the planet's atmosphere.
Fox steadied his breathing, still keeping his mind on task as he felt the sensation of wind and material begin to hit against his suit. Then came the rounds from behind – the Ork ships still attempting to shoot the evacuators of the carrier. Fox looked to where Jothem was, now surprised to see a great separation between them. He looked over to his other side, but was unable to spot any of the other crewmen. It was Fox, and the sound of his steady breathing in the safety suit. The wind picked up around him, and began to thrash his body violently. He passed through a storm cloud, and saw the stream line of bullets circle around him. As he drew nearer to the ground, he attempted to start his onboard computer – but found the gamma radiation had fried it. Fox realized then his Halo jump would have to be done manually, and soon began to adjust his flight pattern.
As he redirected his fall, the Ork ships dispatched from Fox. He looked to his right, to find that they had now brought their sites onto one of the mercenary crewmen. Unlike Fox, the mercenary's suit had ignited; damaged from the preliminary fall. He frantically attempted to douse himself, but before he could, the Orks were upon him – and tore his body apart with a hail-storm of fire. Fox only observed the sight for a moment, but quickly brought his attention back to the task at hand. He needed to slow his decent, and his computer was not online to initiate his anti-gravity thrusters. Fox turned himself over, and pulled a handle on his chest. There was a snap of ignition, and Fox pulled it again. The gravity thrusters ignited, and Fox steadied himself as his decent neared its end. The Ork ships didn't turn on him, and for that he was grateful. Soon, there was a harsh thrash on his back, and Fox's body was whipped across the ground. For his sake, it was only damp soil. He braced himself as the suit took the impact of rock and brush, until he finally came to a stop – his visor cracked and oxygen tanking leaking.
Fox stood, his balance off and eyesight impaired. For the moment, within his confused gaze, the area seemed clear. Fox pulled his helmet off and detached his landing thrusters. He looked at his suit, disappointed to find that no web gear had been attached. During his decent from the ship, he had forgotten to take any weapons or survival tools. For now, all Fox carried was the atomic knife along his suit's belt. Fox inspected the black suit closely, disappointed to find all of its effective gadgets completely destroyed. There was no communicator, no cavity support or thermal heating. It seemed that even the armor had been compromised by the plummet. All the suit did now was protect his body from the elements. Fox tried to stable himself, doing his best to overcome motion sickness and oxygen deprivation. Fox vomited, but then quickly began to make his way to a line of trees only a little ways off from his position. They swerved and pivoted in his confusion, and then there came the sound of screaming Orks.
It was a sound alien to Fox, but one he knew meant trouble none the less. He took no time to turn, and survey the scene – he only kept moving for the tree line. There was a wave of gunfire from behind him, Fox collapsed to the floor as he heard a bullet skim past his shoulder while another hammered into his lower rib cage. Fox stood again quickly, running his hand over his back to assure that the bullet had not punctured the suit. There was more fire – the crackling of weapon discharge behind him. Another bullet careened past Fox, and another slammed into the armor along his calf. Again, no puncture, but the shock of the report caused Fox to slip in the mud – and in a moment of panic he turned to see what pursued him. To his horror, it was six large Orks. The largest of which pointed at him with a Bolt Pistol.
"Etz a sticken fuzzey Uman!" The Ork Shouted, raising in the air a large cleaver, "Kill da Uman!" The other Orks agreed, and sent for another wave of bullets. They missed Fox, and so he continued his retreat to the tree line. It wasn't far now, and while his body was moving with great difficulty, he soon found himself among the brush.
But another report came from the rabble of Orks, and this time several bullets landed into Fox's back; all in succession, the last of which penetrating through the plates of multi-fiber armor, sinking into his flesh, and puncturing his right lung. Fox gasped, and dropped to the floor, now struggling to breathe. He began to crawl in the grime and mud as bullets streamlined through the mist and fog of the wood. Fox looked desperately for an exit, for any escape, but there was none. Behind him, the trampling feet of Ork could be heard, and Fox quickly rolled to his back. He pulled his atomic knife out to the ready, and then the Orks descended upon him with violent screams.