HALO: HELLJUMPER
By M. Cartwright
A/N: This chapter was a bit longer than I had originally intended. Near 5k.
Lemme know what you think of it. Reviews is like spaghetti... and I like spaghetti.
SECTION II: "DAGGER" BASE
CHAPTER VI: AN UNEXPECTED REUNION
0311 Hours Local Time, July 6th, 2550 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \
Aboard D77-TC Pelican drop-ship en route to ONI Installation 0026,
Codename "Dagger Base," Crystal Highlands, Crystal
If you would have told Jonathan Ward that he and his team would be aboard taking them to an ultra top secret Office of Naval Intelligence base located in the highland mountains of Crystal… he'd have probably laughed at you.
Then scoff. Then walk away.
However, after being briefed by an ONI Spook from Section III about where they were headed and why the secrecy was necessary, he would've probably apologized to you afterwards. Sitting at the rear of the troop compartment looking out at the passing scenery of trees, hills, and mountains lit only be the twin moons of Crystal, was the Staff Sergeant. He was contemplating the order of events that had led them to where they were. How did the Office of Naval Intelligence know of them?
That was easy; they would likely have files kept on troop movements for military intelligence purposes. The second question, however, he couldn't seem to find an answer for.
Why Charlie Six?
What was so special about his team that some ONI officer would personally request that his team be ferried across the continent to the distant highlands along the southern coast to help reinforce his base's defenses? And why only one team? The defense of a base as large as Dagger Base was described would need more than a six-man squad of ODSTs. Helljumpers were force multipliers, yeah; but they weren't Spartans.
The rest of his team had largely remained quiet since the Pelican had picked them up near the now-destroyed Covenant HQ. Every now and then the troopers would mutter something to one another or engage in casual conversation, but, no where near as much as usual. The Staff Sergeant was certain they were thinking the same things he was. And he was damn sure they weren't coming up with any answers either. He could tell by the looks on their faces.
Everyone had opted to take off their helmets when they had climbed aboard the bird. No one liked wearing the ODST full face helmets for extended periods of time. It wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't seal their suits; however, out of habit, most of them did. A sealed suit could be a life saver in case of a chemical or biological attack. The apparatus built into the helmet filtered the air and processed it. This meant that the wearer was only breathing clear oxygen. And in the case the ODST were to be subjected to the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space, every set of armor came with a fifteen minute reserve tank of oxygen.
It also helped when the wearer was under water.
Private First Class Colin MacDoyle, who was closest to the hatch that led into the cockpit, rapped his fist against it through times. "Hey! How long 'til we reach the ruddy base?!" he asked with his thick Irish brogue.
"We're eight minutes out," the pilot replied, sounding annoyed, over the intercom.
"Oi," Petty Officer Third Class Bradley Cooper mumbled. "I wanna get off this tin can before the Covies decide we're a target worth shootin'."
"Amen," Corporal Thomas said. "Now shut the hell up."
An uneasy silence settled in the troop compartment, much to Ward's dismay. The idle chatter helped distract him from thinking over the logic of things too much. The silence that had fallen just seemed to mock him; to make him contemplate things harder than he had before. Finally, he sighed exasperatedly and craned his head towards his subordinates. Sensing their commander's eyes upon them, all eyes turned to him. He paused for a moment as he tried to organize his thoughts; wondering himself what he wanted to say.
Finally, he decided. "I want everyone to stay on their toes," he said in a serious tone of voice. "We don't know what we're being dropped into."
"When do we ever?" inquired Private First Class Tyler Owen.
"Owen…" Ward started, but was cut off by his subordinate.
"Shutting up, Staff Sergeant."
"Good man."
Corporal Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His expression was not as amiable as it usually was. Ward raised a brow at him, his attention focused solely on the corporal now.
"Staff Sergeant, I think what we're all wondering is-"
"... Is why ONI requested us and only us to reinforce their security forces on the ground," the Staff Sergeant finished for him.
"Well… yes, Staff Sergeant."
Ward sighed and tried to think of something to say. He knew just as much as they did about the situation. And he didn't understand the reasoning behind their sudden transfer either. Answers would only come once their feet were solidly planted in the dirt of the compound and he could talk to someone that could get him into contact with the base commander.
That is, assuming, the base commander didn't meet them when the Pelican landed.
The sudden crackle of the intercom coming to life startled Ward out of his thoughts. He looked out at the scenery beneath him and noted small silhouettes of Covenant cutting paths through the forest and up the slope of a mountain. He assumed this was the mountain the base rested atop of. "Eyes on Dagger Base; they're takin' a beatin'."
As the Pelican made a pass over the base Ward saw Covenant troops assaulting the base in droves. Ghosts and Spectre transports engaged squads of Marines and any human vehicles they came across. Plumes of smoke rose into the air from one of the metal outer perimeter fences—a hole massive enough to fit Covenant troops in groups of three through it—and a lance of aliens headed towards it. Whatever was in that base, the Covenant wanted it, and they wanted it bad.
The base sat atop a mountain, on a segment that was mainly level, and its western fence line ended in the precipice of a cliff. The precipice looked out over a two hundred feet drop to the thick forest below. The only means of reaching the base were by aircraft and a wide slope that led up to the main gain from the base of the mountain. Currently, a handful of Wraith mortar tanks were climbing the slope to the base, stopping only to launch a mortar over the perimeter fence. Whether the mortar did any kind of damage depended on if it actually hit anything. The majority of the rounds appeared to simply collide with open terrain not occupied by any of the base personnel.
"Pilot, bring us down to the landing pad furthest from the fighting," Ward barked over the radio, grabbing his helmet and placing it over his head. "We'll link up with someone and find out how we can help."
"Copy, headed in!"
The Pelican shifted its nose towards the ground and steadily began losing altitude. Ward's stomach went into his throat as it descended and he almost thought to pilot was going to ram the bird right into the ground. At the very last moment, however, the pilot oriented the thrusters forward, slowing the vehicle until it was lazily hovering several meters over the ground. The Pelican lowered to just a few inches off the deck and the Staff Sergeant hit the ground running.
Grabbing the butt of his rifle and unslinging it from over his shoulder, he didn't slow down as he waved for his men to follow him. Explosions and the bark of human weapons fire resonated through the cool night sky. The Staff Sergeant briefly looked over his shoulder and grinned when he saw his men following close behind, having assumed a staggered column. He pushed past the landing pads and the numerous supply crates that dotted the area, heading towards a door that he presumed would lead them to the front of the base.
The door opened as he approached it and he swept through the room with his rifle, the others barging in right on his heels. He found himself in a dimly lit chow hall that had likely been closed for the night. It wouldn't open again until zero four hundred at the earliest, most likely. He thumbed the switch to activate the tactical flashlight built into his assault rifle and moved along the wall to the opposite side of the room. He came to another set of doors. A pair of double doors directly to his right and another door in front of him, slightly offset to the left.
He decided that the double doors probably led into the base and went with the single door in front of him. It chimed amiably at his approach and receded into the wall. The outside world was left for his inspection as he stepped through the threshold of the hatch. Three rows of Marines, organized into defensive lines, held off wave after wave of incoming Covenant troops. The night lit up with blue and green globules of plasma mixed with purple crystalline needles and green tracer fire from the human side of the lines. The Staff Sergeant had to resist staring at it in awe.
He silently issued orders to his men via hand signals and then sprinted across the open terrain to the nearest group of Marines. They were positioned at strategic intervals along either side of a Warthog acting as the center of gravity of their formation. A grizzly Marine with a bloody, wounded arm, manned the M41 LAAG turret as it spat out round after round of red hot lead towards the Covenant's forces. He quick-marched over to the guy who looked to be in charge of the squad.
As the Marine cast a glance in his direction, he froze. That Marine looked familiar to him. The short blond hair, the sparkling ocean blue eyes, the scar going through his eyebrow. Yes, he knew that Marine. The Sergeant seemed to sense something was wrong, because he titled his head at him like a dog and murmured something along the lines of "is there something on my face?"
"Furby?" Ward finally managed to murmur, stepping closer to the Marine Sergeant.
The Marine's eyes widened as he recognized the voice. "Jonny?!" he exclaimed in surprise. Ward depolarized his visor so that Sergeant Furby could see it and the Marine suddenly stepped forward and hugged the ODST tightly. Ward hugged his friend back and the two broke apart, Furby shaking his head incredulously. "I can't believe it's you! Small universe, eh?"
The Staff Sergeant chuckled. "I'm not so sure," Ward said. "I'm guessing if you're here, that means the rest of Oscar Company is here."
Furby nodded affirmatively. "Yeah. I got put in charge of first squad shortly after you left for HJS. We've been stationed here for six months."
Six months? The Staff Sergeant tried to wrap his mind around that. Crystal was a world deep within the Core Worlds and strategically unimportant aside from being a major hub for military personnel on R&R. Oscar Company was a frontline unit and had always gone where the fighting was the thickest. It was hard for him to imagine that Command would have seen it appropriate to post them here, of all places. And on an ONI base?
There were a lot of questions that didn't have answers.
His musings were cut short, however. An overcharged ball of plasma came flying directly at his head. Jonathan rolled out of the way just in time to avoid his head being vaporized by the blast. "Covenant flankers! Take 'em out!" Sergeant Furby shouted. "Donaldson, align your gun to the ten o'clock!"
The Marine manning the LAAG, Donaldson, complied and swiveled the turret around to bear on the enemy. Three lances of Covenant troops led by their respective Elite commanders rushed forward and into cover as the heavy turret spat fiery hot death in their direction. An unfortunate Grunt became target practice for the trigger happy Marine. It was reduced to a pulpy mass of blood and flesh as the bullets tore through its body like it was made of paper.
Ward snapped his rifle's sights onto the nearest alien and worked the trigger, sending a steady stream of semi-automatic fire into the Covenant line. Nineteen men, thirteen Marines and six Helljumpers, fired into the crowd of Covenant that aimed to break through their lines and infiltrate the base. Needle rounds soared at the Warthog and ricocheted off its armor, threatening to take out the eager gunner if one of the shots should so happen not to miss him. Ward honed in on the bastard carrying the Needler and was met with the sight of a purple armored Elite.
He thumbed the fire selector to fully automatic and expended the remainder of the magazine into the alien's chest. Its shield deflected the rounds and it laughed in defiance, moving forward some before diving into cover behind a large rock. Jon cursed under his breath as he ejected the spent mag and replaced it with a fresh one. "Lead to Team, take out that purple bastard with the Needler before he scores a hit on the 'Hog's gunner!"
As his squad gunned for the Elite, one of the Marines' called out a suicide Grunt headed straight for their position. Ward popped out from cover and gave the overeager little bastard two to the chest and one to the head. It fell to the ground anticlimactically and the plasma grenades it had been holding in its hands detonated, vaporizing the body from existence. However, a pair of Jackals armed with Carbines sprung from concealment and lined up clean shots on his chest.
The Staff Sergeant barely had time to duck as green streaks of caseless radioactive projectiles whizzed overhead and tore through a Marine in the midst of reloading. Furby said a bad word and peppered the Jackal's midsections with fire. The two aliens tumbled to the ground in bloody heaps—though Ward suspected they weren't down for the count just yet. So, to be sure, he yanked his last frag grenade from the bandolier and chucked it towards the position that the Jackals had occupied.
It landed somewhere near where the pair had fallen and detonated half a second later. One of the Jackal's cried out one last time in defiance before succumbing to the fiery hot embrace of the grenade.
"Staff Sergeant," PO3 Cooper shouted over the staccato of gunfire, "contacts are pinned down! Let's flank the bastards!"
"Aye, let's kill these gobshites 'n get a move on!" screamed MacDoyle.
Ward nodded and fired another burst towards the enemy before turning to Furby. "We're gonna flank left and try to get around them! I need suppressing fire on those tangos!"
"Got it," Furby said determinedly, then turned to face his men. "You heard 'im, Marines! SUPPRESSING FIRE!"
If it weren't for his audio dampeners, he would have probably gone deaf as ten Marines with various weapons systems and an M41 LAAG sent a hailstorm of withering fire in the direction of the enemy. The Covenant troops dispersed and found cover wherever they could; those unlucky enough not to reach it in time becoming bloody corpses. Ward ordered MacDoyle and Cooper to follow him and he darted from where he stood to a pile of sandbags directly to his left. Mac and Coop joined him shortly and he moved to the next position; behind a large rock roughly eight meters ahead of the sandbag position.
The trio of Helljumpers bounded from cover to cover until they had successfully bypassed the enemy and had ended up behind them. Ward peered over the edge of the rubble he was presently hiding behind and watched as a Major Domo ordered his remaining troops into a tight, circular formation. The aliens formed what could only be described as a turtle shell—Jackals using their shields to block enemy fire from the front and sides while the Grunts piled in the middle and the Elite brought up the rear.
They also lead from the back, Ward thought with a scoff. He looked to his friends and asked them using his hands if they had any grenades. Cooper shook his head in the negative. MacDoyle rifled through his pockets and retrieved two M9 HE-DP fragmentation grenades and a plasma grenade. The Staff Sergeant grinned and then pointed from the plasma grenade to the Elite and then the frag grenades to the formation. Mac, understanding what he was asking, gave him the OK sign and readied himself to toss the grenades.
Ward rested his weapon against the rubble for support and took aim on the Grunts at the heart of the Covenant formation. They were steadily advancing towards Furby's squad and he watched in horror as a projectile from a Covenant Carbine punched through Donaldson's neck and he tumbled off the back of the Warthog. Jonathan's finger caressed the trigger for a split-second before he applied pressure. The rifle bucked as it sent seven point six two millimeter rounds crashing into the Major Domo's back.
It growled in surprise and whipped around to face him. Just then Mac activated his plasma grenade and threw it with all his might. The grenade soared end-over-end in the air for a few seconds before landing right on the Elite's head. It roared in surprise, fear, and uncontrolled rage before being engulfed in a blue-white spectacle, the explosion engulfing a few of the Grunts in the formation as well. Mac tossed his remaining grenades and switched back to his rifle just as Ward's MA5B ran dry.
The Staff Sergeant reloaded with practiced ease and returned to putting down the Covenant that was now in a state of disarray. The Grunts, without the strict discipline of their Elite commander to keep them in line, ran in all directions in an attempt to escape their grim fates. Ward was more than happy to end their suffering with a mouthful of lead. He fired burst after burst after burst into the Covenant line until he could see no more contacts milling around.
And the area fell quiet. Or, relatively quiet considering the firefights happening all around. Ward, Mac, and Cooper rushed over to Furby's squad and the Staff Sergeant ordered Cooper to check on Donaldson. A moment later he was hauling the injured Devil Dog to the Warthog and propping him up against it. The gunner was somehow still alive.
Though, judging by his wounds, he wasn't going to last much longer. Ward joined Sergeant Furby as he marched over to the corpsman and knelt down beside him.
"How's my man doin', Doc?" he asked, trying to keep his voice sounding calm and level.
Cooper didn't even look at him as he spoke. "Not too good. He's banged up pretty bad."
Donaldson looked at the two of them before coughing up blood. He spit the metallic liquid out of his mouth onto the gravel beside of Cooper. "I can hear ya, y'know?"
Cooper sighed. "Just hold still, mate. I gotta clean the wound, plug it with Biofoam, and slap a pretty lil' band-aid on it for ya."
The young lance corporal complied, gritting his teeth as Cooper poured water on the wound with his canteen and began to scrub at it with a cotton swab. He then pulled out a tube of disinfectant ointment, squirting some of its contents onto his finger. The corpsman rubbed the ointment into the wound gently, making sure he covered every inch of the hole on either side completely. Before he continued, he glanced up at Donaldson.
"Now," the Petty Officer began, retrieving a pen from pocket. "Because the shot went clean through your throat and the Biofoam will effectively cut off your ability to breathe normally, I'm going to punch a hole in ya to breathe through with this little bugger. You'll suck air in through that hole so that ya don't asphyxiate and die on us."
Donaldson nodded, though his expression looked skeptical. Cooper sighed, but said nothing, and took the pen and aligned it at the base of his neck. Then he jabbed it through the skin cleaned up the little bit of blood that gushed out of it. After that, he pulled a canister of Biofoam off of his belt and placed the nozzle inside the hole. With a squeeze of the trigger the canister expelled the foam-like substance into the man's throat.
Donaldson instantly tensed up and clenched his fists, squinting his eyes in pain. A moment later Cooper finished filling up the wound with Biofoam and placed the canister back on his belt and covered up the holes with bandages as the substance began to harden. Then the corpsman stood up and nodded his head to Furby. "He should be fine for now. At some point he should have the bandages replaced as well as have the Biofoam taken out. Base medical can handle that, I'm sure."
The Sergeant nodded and then turned to Ward. "Your Doc knows his stuff."
"He's an ODST," Ward replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
An explosion resounded nearby and a burly Marine coming from the front of the base sprinted over to them. The Staff Sergeant's eyes widened as soon as the man was close enough for him to see his face. Thomas Stone's features hadn't changed one bit. He stood just less than six feet and had a salt-and-pepper high and tight haircut. His face was marred with scars and Ward noted a few fresh ones that hadn't been there before. He had dull steely blue eyes, thin lips, and bushy black eyebrows. Jonathan noticed the three chevrons and double rockers on his collar; he was a gunnery sergeant now.
"Well, now that you love birds are re-acquainted, mind gettin' yer asses in gear!" Gunnery Sergeant Stone barked in his thick southern drawl. "We got a shit ton of pissed off Covies knockin' at our front door! Follow me!"
"Aye, Gunny!" Ward and Furby exclaimed in unison.
Stone turned on his heel and started sprinting back towards the main gate of the base—Ward and Furby hot on his heels with their respective squads in tow. It took them several minutes of plowing through small bands of Covenant troops to reach the sandbag positions erected by the front gate. The gate had been breached, a massive hole having been punched through the half-inch thick metal that the Covenant was now pouring through. Furby spread his men out along the line and ordered them to open fire.
Ward spotted a sandbag barrier with a mounted M247 General Purpose Machine Gun, unmanned, and rushed over to it. He yanked the charging level back resulting in a metallic click as a round was loaded into the chamber and he thumbed the safety off. Corporal Thomas and Lance Corporal Wilson crouched down beside him as he opened fire.
The first round exploded out the barrel and crashed into a Jackal that was about to deploy its shield, its chest exploding open, and a thin scarlet mist coated the area as its body dropped. The machine gun shook violently in his grasp as it spat out 7.62x51mm Full Metal Jacket rounds that shredded anything in their path. A quartet of Elites attempted to flank a fire team of Marines off to the left of the main gate. Ward swiveled the turret in their direction and he let loose with a sustained burst from the weapon, the bullets screaming towards the alien's like a swarm of angry bees. The first Elite's shields were already weakened from the Marine's fire, and it collapsed with a few hits.
The GPMG's ammo tore through its armor like butter and the Elite collapsed, its guts sprawled out of its stomach. The remaining trio divided their attention between the Staff Sergeant and the Marines, laying down a heavy volume of fire that whooshed mere inches by his head. A moment later a bolt of plasma struck home—slamming right into his shoulder—and he gritted his teeth as it burned through his pauldron and seared his flesh. He swung the weapon towards the Elite who'd hit him and dropped it with what bullets remained in the box magazine.
"Out of ammo!"
Thomas ducked down and retrieved another belt from an ammo crate beside the weapon. Wilson, wielding an M7 SMG, increased his rate of fire towards the enemy as the Corporal reloaded the weapon. He gave Jonathan a thumbs up when he was finished and the Staff Sergeant pulled the charging handle again and resumed firing. More and more Covenant poured into the area, including Brutes that rushed past their allies and charged the Marines' positions. He heard surprised shouts from a pair of Marines as a Brute vaulted over the sandbag they'd used as cover.
It jammed its Spiker into the face of the closest Marine and fired. His body toppled over with a metal spike jutting out his forehead. The other Marine tried to tackle the alien only for it to whip around and slam its fist into his face, a sickening crack; he collapsed, never to rise up again. Ward was about to shift his aim towards the grey-furred ape-like creature when a trio of grenades landed at its feet and detonated, engulfing it in orange-yellow flames. Blood and Brute parts landed everywhere.
"Incoming!" Someone announced over the radio.
Ward's eyes darted to the sky only to be met with the sight of nearly a dozen blobs of plasma arcing towards him and the others. "Get out of here!" he shouted and started to make a run for it. A ear-splitting boom echoed behind him and he felt himself become airborne as a wave of intense heat washed over his back. A split-second later he hit the ground. Hard.
Every bone in his body ached as he pushed himself off the ground. The ground quaked beneath him as blood-curdling screams filled his ears. His eyes darted to the bottom left of his HUD and he was relieved to see his team's vitals were all in the green. He was pretty sure his was in the yellow and he'd probably need to see Cooper after the battle was over.
Suddenly, an object flew over his head in a blur of motion, speeding towards the mass of Covenant troops advancing on the human defenses. It collided with the ground and exploded, engulfing at least a dozen of the aliens in its embrace. Instinctively, he cast a glance towards the sky and spotted a flight of Hornets off in the distance headed towards them. Fast.
A moment later they opened up with GUA-23/A Heavy Autocannons and guided missiles. Covenant troops were slaughtered in droves; some blown in half by autocannon fire while others were caught by the steady stream of guided missiles. "Victor Two-Seven, prioritize targets! Take out those Goddamned Wraiths!" barked the familiar voice of Gunnery Sergeant Stone over the comms.
The Hornet's fire shifted to somewhere beyond the main gate and moments later several explosions resounded. The human lines erupted with cheers of "get some" and "light 'em up!" A minute later all fell eerily silent aside from the roar of the Hornet's engines. "All stations this net, this is Oden: Covenant forces in full retreat. Outstanding work!"
Ward exhaled a sigh of relief and suddenly he felt very tired. He realized that he hadn't had any sleep since the day before. Not that he wasn't used to staying up for long periods of time. He'd once had to stay awake for three days, only catching maybe fifteen minutes of sleep that entire time, while on a mission during his days as a regular Marine. But, when he could help it, he liked to catch as much sleep as he could.
The Staff Sergeant caught movement out of his peripheral and turned to see Gunnery Sergeant Stone approaching him. He stood a bit more erect before he stopped in front of him. "Good work out there, Staff Sarn't," the aging NCO congratulated. "Glad t' sees ya ain't lost yer touch."
Ward nodded with a grin. "Glad to see you haven't changed much with age, Gunny."
"Are ya callin' me old, son?" Stone inquired with a grin. "Don't make me beat ya t' death with my cane!"
"I wouldn't dream of it, Gunny."
Stone nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, round up yer band of psychotic hooligans 'n follow me. I'll reckon ya need a place t' crash 'n I happen t' know where that place is."
Ward smiled and ordered his men to rally up over the radio. When everyone arrived, he nodded to Stone, and the old man led them towards the base living quarters.
He planned to sleep like a baby when he got there.