CHAPTER THREE
The fighting went on for the rest of the day and as the first bloody tinges of sunset brushed the horizon the Covenant decided to charge. The attack was preceded by a barrage of fuel rod cannon fire that flattened the dunes the SPARTANs had sheltered behind. As the remaining soldiers grabbed dirt Elites armed with a plasma rifle and energy swords rushed the embattled soldiers. Merek gritted his teeth as he loaded last shell into his shotgun, this was it. Rockets from Thunder team sent fountains of purple into the air as Elites disintegrated under the barrage SPNKR missiles. In response the charging Sangheili sent up a massive flood of plasma fire that charred the sand around the SPARTANs into back glass.
As the massive horde closed Merek and his counterpart on Thunder opened up with their shotguns. Their buckshot tore thought Covenant flesh and dropped Elites by the dozen. It still wasn't enough. As the last shell smashed an Elite onto his back Merek threw aside his shotgun and drew his Magnum. A combat knife stuck in the ground beside him the SPARTAN kneeled, picking his shots to target knees and ankles to stagger the Elites. As the clip ran dry he slapped a fresh one in and yanked his knife free of the sand. It was time to get personal.
As the first Elite cleared the dune Merek lunged forward, ramming the barrel of his Magnum into the aliens throat. The high velocity Magnum round tore free from the barrel in a welter of blood. The Elite folded back under Merek's momentum and the SPARTAN continued his charge. Two more rounds burst forth from his pistol, one flattening an Elite to his left, the other grazing it's sword hand. Dropping the empty clip he inserted his last full one. Seven rounds left.
Leaping a dune he blasted his attacker back down the slope.
"One," he shouted. Six rounds left.
Rolling under a strike from a sword he carved his knife across the back of the Elite's legs, dropping it to it's knees. Placing the gun on it's forehead he snarled, "You'll be number two!" Five rounds left. A shout from beside Merek jerked his head around to see three Elites, two Majors and an Ultra, making a beeline for him. Dropping to a knee he fired once and put one of the Major's over on his back.
"That's three," he cried. Four rounds left. Another shot punched into the Ultra but he didn't fall instead he drew a pair of plasma rifles and began to return fire. Three rounds left. Merek bolted to the right as the white-hot plasma charred the sand where he had stood. Firing again Merek put his shot into the remaining Major's Eye slit. The massive Covenant soldier halted and brought his hand up to where the round had left agory crater in his face. He shuddered once and collapsed, staining the sand indigo. Two rounds left. "Number fou…." he shouted as a burst of plasma spattered across Merek's armor and threw him onto his back. It was like being hit with a white hot sledge hammer. Agony seared through his body as his plates superheated before cooling.
Dazed and gasping, the SPARTAN fought to get his vision under control as the Ultra stalked towards him. Raising the Magnum he fired once, the large bullet glancing off of one plasma rifle, one round left. His hand shook as the pistol came back up. Centering his HUDs targeting reticule over the Elite's faceplate. Too thick. Then he noticed that one of the plasma rifles clutched in the Sangeili's Three fingered hands had redlined with heat. That was his target. Placing the circle of the reticule that had become the extent of his world directly on the glowing lines. A feral grin split his features as he hissed, "Number five." The recoil of the gun tore the weapon from his hand and sent it spinning across the ground to disappear.
The bullet streaked towards the plasma rifle in what seemed like so motion as Merek fought to stay conscious. As the .50 caliber Armor Piercing Cartridge smashed into the overheated gun the result was nothing short of spectacular. A small spider web of cracks burst from impact and a small blue pulse flowered out. The crack spread and more plasma bloomed from the stricken weapon as the Elite made to throw it away. Too late. With an almighty explosion the plasma rifle detonated with the force of a dozen plasma grenades. Merek at last sank into blackness as the burning wave rushed over him.
A hand slapped his face, his face not his helmet. Groaning Merek cracked his eye open and immediately shut them again as sand blew into them. The hand slapped him again accompanied by a stern voice, "C'mon Merek. Wake up dammit!" Opening his eyes again Merek croaked, "Five more minutes mom." Hands hauled him to his feet and someone pressed a helmet into his hands. He nodded his thanks, vision still blurry. Hands slapped his back and people cheered as Merek sealed his helmet and coughed sand from his throat. He nodded again as Cryss who had been slapping Merek's face tossed him a shotgun and a box of shells shouting, "See if you can find some use for those. Take your time, we've got a minute. The Covies are regrouping. Never seen Elites loose morale like that but man…after you 'sploded that Ultra, they were gone. Unfortunately they're coming back so gear up SPARTAN."
Merek nodded as he thumbed the shell into the breach of the gun. Time to finish this. Then Myka screamed and gunfire echoed over the desert. Six SPARTAN heads whipped around at the sound. Merek racked the slide on his shotgun and sprinted off at the head of the group. Over the trenches and corpses of the previous battle lay a thin layer of sand that would soon bury the signs of battle completely. Following the sounds of battle the squads vaulted over the dunes at the back of the encampment to find the source of the sounds. During the brief lull in the fighting a unit of SpecOps Elites had made their way around the encampment and surprised Myka. There she lay, bloodied and battered at the feet of a shifting man-shape. Fury pierced the haze of exhaustion that had settled over Merek and he leapt forwards, shotgun thundering. The stealthed Elite roared as it fell, buckshot tearing through its body.
As the SPARTANs engaged their attackers gunfire spat back and forth between the sides and the screams of the dying once again filled the night. The SPARTAN beside Merek collapsed a needler round punching through the visor of the man's Air Assault helmet and exiting the back. Merek added another thousand Covenant he would slay to avenge his comrade, he was already up to three thousand, Casi, Myka, and the man who had died next to him. Roaring the bloodied SPARTAN charged into the advancing Elites, the rest of his allies forming a flying wedge behind him. Merek fired his shotgun until it ran dry. Tossing away the empty weapon he scooped up two plasma pistols and resumed firing.
Firing two overcharged blasts into the horde he plucked a plasma grenade off of a fallen Elite's belt, thumbed it active and launched it. The glowing blue orb arced out over the crowd and adhered to a Major in the back. The large warrior roared in defiance as he and the two Sangheili beside him vanished in a blue-white conflagration. Merek overcharged the pistols again then tossed them aside as well. A combat knife appeared in each gloved hand and immediately disappeared hilt-deep in alien flesh. Purple blood poured onto the sand as the SPARTANs carved their path of death deep into the night. Breaking free the SPARTANs kept running. They wanted to loose the Covenant forces in the dark.
"New coordinates from command," Cryss panted over the comm. "We're to extract two miles down range. C'mon, let's g-ARGH!" Merek gestured for the other to keep running as he turned back. Most of the Elites were dead or wounded so his going was easy. Glancing at the IFF reader in his HUD he located Cryss's life signs, injury wasn't too bad. Reaching his fallen leader Merek checked him over, a plasma round had punched through his knee and sent the SPARTAN tumbling to the ground.
"Having a nice nap boss," Merek inquired as he hauled his friend to his feet. Cryss laughed though his pain and racked the slide on his sidearm, "We can't go anywhere Merek." Cross Two's head canted to the side in an unspoken question.
"She's still alive man," Cryss said softly gesturing towards Myka. Merek nodded, understanding. Since no SPARTAN was ever able to really connect with a normal person they connected with each other. Each SPARTAN team was like a family whose bonds couldn't be broken. They did not ever leave each other behind. If there was even the slightest chance that Myka was still alive they had to find out.
Walking through a field of corpses to find one was unpleasant enough as is but when the person you're looking for may as well be your sister it becomes unbearable. A lesser man would have given up and wept but SPARTANs physically couldn't cry. No one was sure why but just like SPARTANs couldn't die, they couldn't cry. Just as they were about to surrender and list Myka as MIA Merek's IFF pinged.
"Got her," he called to Cryss. There she lay blood forming a moat around her body, crimson laced with violet. Rolling her onto her back Merek yanked her helmet free from crushed clamps and placed his finger over her carotid artery. A dull, thready pulse pushed against his fingers, he bowed his head. She was alive. Running his gaze over her armor he noted the rents and gashed that marred the dull blue plates. A massive gash across her chest and stomach had since ceased to ooze blood but Merek wasn't fooled, the blood was pooling inside her chest cavity. Snapping the cap off of the biofoam canister on his belt he placed the nozzle in the wound and triggered the canister. Blood exploded from the wound as the foam sterilized the wound and sealed it. A temporary measure given that nature of the wound.
He then turned his attention to the slice across her pale neck. It looked as though the gash transected her trachea and had fused her larynx. That she was still alive was amazing. Pulling free his combat knife Merek slid the blade into the fused tissue and removed it. Ripping the tube from his own air canister he inserted it into the incision. Almost instantly a whistling noise issued from the end of the tube, a sign that Myka was breathing.
"Good work," Cryss murmured from over Merek's shoulder. He nodded absently and they took each of Myka's arms and gently pulled her back into shelter. Merek grabbed whatever weapons he could find which were not much. Two pistols, a DMR, and a functioning energy sword were piled beside Myka when his search was finished. Cryss held one of the pistols to the sky and fired their only flare into the sky, hoping the extraction ship would see it. Merek nodded and slid the remaining pistol into his holster and activated the energy sword. The loud FSHHH of the weapon echoed over the empty desert. This was it. Two battered SPARTANS protecting a third and hoping the extraction ship reached them in time. Merek lay back on the soft sand and watched the twin moons revolve slowly in the sky. It was a beautiful night to die.