Chapter Six
1635 hours, November 4, 2552 (Military Calendar) \
Foxtrot Company Base, Kericho, Kenya \
Earth, Earthian Sol System
Foxtrot Company Base of the 121st Armored Marine Division was aflutter with activity. No fewer than thirty battalions of Marines had been ordered to rally there, known as Rally Point Gamma. This was one of seven rally points from which the largest assault in Earth's history would commence.
Griffith was busy inspecting his rifle. The modified S2 AM Sniper Rifle was his weapon of choice for ground engagements. He never thought much of the sidearms issued to each officer. Still, he kept his holstered – always be prepared.
Although his instinct was to follow Harrison back to FleetCom in Sydney, his commanding officer ordered him to stay with the Marines. Griffith was not just an ace in space – he was also a top-notch sniper.
Griffith had pretended to be disappointed when his CO lifted off for Australia, but he was happy to be in his position. He long wanted to fight the Covenant on the ground, with thousands of his fellow soldiers. Now was his chance – it was in his blood.
He glanced up and saw a hulking metal figure coming down the corridor. The cyborg was easy to spot and recognize – it, or its friends, had been all over press clippings. "Heroes" in this war. A pit of disgust began to rise in Griffith's stomach.
"Listen up men," barked the newly minted Lieutenant Hendricks, "Operation Hammerfall is a go. We're going in at 1700 hours. We'll get there just after dusk. Hopefully their recon ain't great because we're gonna scare up some Covenant meat tonight!"
John frowned inside his visor. He did not like the plan. It was not his, nor was it Lieutenant Hendricks. This order came from the top brass over at HighCom. Sure, a night assault would make sense, but only if the other side was unsuspecting. He was positive the Covenant were not going to be that stupid.
It was his best shot at Truth and getting some answers, and he would take it. He had not been issued specific orders, so he suggested a plan of action for himself. Hendricks thought it was suicide, but he wanted John on the front lines with every other soldier. John knew he would be much more effective alone, but this was his best chance at scoring.
The Master Chief had flown his commandeered Banshee from Firebase V.O.I. to Foxtrot Company Base. He would take the craft into battle and fly well behind the initial assault. Once chaos ensued and Covenant aircraft were deployed, John would swoop by unnoticed, making a beeline to wherever he thought Truth was.
Sure, no problem. It's a real cinch.
The fact that he did not know where Truth was located was a major hitch in his plan. Unfortunately intel had been thin on the Covenant position, mostly due to the battle in space. There were no craft or satellites available to reconnoiter the area. He would have to improvise. This was not to mention the fact that he would have to navigate through the largest land battle in Earth's history.
Just then, a man whisked by, ramming into the MC. His shield dimly flared; the man slid off to his side and kept on walking.
"Hey, soldier, what the hell was that?" asked Hendricks.
"Excuse me, sir?" replied Griffith.
"Boy, you salute this man and beg for an apology."
Griffith was fuming. He hated John. He hated every Spartan, and he cursed the day the Spartan program was ever created. But he had his orders.
"I'm sorry, sir," said Griffith through gritted teeth, as he saluted.
John knew it was a fake apology. He had seen this before, many times. Spartans-IIs were a polarizing bunch. Before they were made public, not many people knew about their exploits. Once their achievements were made public, they gained fame – and much infamy as well. They were either hated or loved, with very little grey area in between. There were scores of activist groups against the Spartan program. Political debates centered on the morality of the issue, although they would likely have been far more heated and one-sided had the public known the whole truth. The Spartans were also bestowed many of the highest honors by the military and the media, and the general boost to military morale was immeasurable.
John knew where Griffith stood.
It was moot at this point. John would go his own way and never see him again. He doubted he would see any of these Marines again. He knew what was at stake, and that he would likely never see any of his fellow species after this battle.
The Spartan headed towards the next weapons locker. He hefted the nearest BR55, UNSC standard issue battle rifle, and checked it. He then grabbed a couple of old friends – M6D assault pistols. Since the M6C magnum had replaced the M6D as standard-issue, he had not used his old favorite for quite some time. He was fond of the high-powered assault pistol and its optical 2x zoom. He grabbed several magazines for his weapons and four grenades. He also snatched a new goodie – the PK4 combat knife. This was no ordinary knife – this plasma-imbued beauty could cut through bone like butter. He made sure it was in the 'off' position before magnetically attaching it to his leg. That was all he could afford to carry.
Fred would've loved this thing.
The nearest media terminal was abuzz. Marines were gathered around in an attempt to gather updates on the war and the invasion. Reports were muddled and made little sense. Apparently the Covenant were not the only foes the humans were fighting – the Earth itself seemed to be revolting. Volcanoes were erupting, earthquakes rumbled around the world, and the seas were either overflowing or drying up.
It was a bleak situation for Spartan-117. He was amongst thousands of soldiers, fellow humans on the same side of this horribly one-sided war. He still felt alone. Thoughts of Cortana flashed in his mind. He wished she were there, for once. He would have someone to count on in battle. He checked himself – something to help him in battle. Cortana was, after all, just a computer.
A computer he had grown quite attached to over the last several months. She was not there, though, and the Master Chief would have to deal without her.
No, I don't want to chance a remote detonation.
Cortana's words echoed in his mind. In the heat of the moment, that seemed like the only option. He had pondered the decision on his trip back to Earth. Why didn't she just copy herself like she had before? Something did not add up.
I…I….shiel…--word.
"What the hell was that?" he wondered as he shook his head.
Hendricks snapped him out of it. "Move out men!" he barked, as departure time had arrived. John booked it toward his Banshee flier.
Armageddon was just around the corner.