Chapter Three – Between a Rock and...well...a bunch of other Rocks
Master Sergeant Hal Caldwell sat on the couch, looking at the floor plan of the building that they were in on the PDA the police officer, Tech Officer Yu, had provided. There were too many corridors and stairwells to lock down, and he had too few men to guard every approach. There were four Marines and six police officers that he had managed to group together when he had retreated into the Apartment block, and four civilians. In short, a lot of people were relying on him to pull them through this, and he wasn't sure he could. The city was swarming with remaining Covenant forces, and nobody knew whether more were on the way. He knew that there were Covenant troops in the area, had encountered a large number on the way in, and they could all hear the dropships overhead. There were dozens of them, crawling around outside, and it was only a matter of time before they found a way in, and slipped into the building. Covenant troops, a patrol, had already picked their way in somewhere. A brute and a trio of Grunts had come along the South wing, on the third floor, met by one of his Marines and two of the police officers, and mown down with relative ease. Now it seemed they were in again – everyone had heard the shooting behind their location. Caldwell sighed solemnly. Poor Tanner – he had been an eager kid, and he had the potential to become an excellent Marine. He was now, almost certainly dead.
He had been using an empty yet intact apartment as a CP and armoury, all the spare weapons, ammunition, and other necessary supplies heaped around the room. His own rifle, his MA5C, lay on the table. He removed his bulky olive drab combat helmet and placed it on the table, next to the PDA. He thumped a fist into the table. His dark skin and eyes were signs of his Afro-British heritage. His voice was unexpectedly soft as a result of his light scouse accent, as he spoke to the police officer who had entered, who until then thought he had gone unnoticed.
"What is it Officer Kagiso?" he asked the woman. She was of mixed race, her skin a light brown; he could only wonder how it felt to see her city in such a state as it was. Her face had a certain angular beauty, her hair drawn back into a tight dark bun. She had a lithe, strong physique. In her hands was an M90 shotgun, that looked far too big for her stature, but she wielded it with efficiency. She was fearless in a fight too – two of the Covie patrol that had infiltrated the building had been chalked up to her.
"Your soldier, Tanner," she began, her tone serious as always, "he is back. And he has brought a friend you might like to meet."
"Master Sergeant Caldwell?" Larue inquired crisply as the big, body-armoured figure emerged from the apartment at the broad corridor nexus the mixed unit of Marines and police occupied. He was around six-two, powerfully built, with dark skin. His head had been shaved smooth, and his eyes were alive with a determined intensity. His voice was surprisingly light as he spoke.
"That's right trooper." He cast his eyes over Larue, and took in the dark BDUs and body armour. "ODST? Where's your unit?" Larue was ready for the question.
"No idea sir, we got scattered when the Carrier jumped. I don't even know if they're alive. I was out in my HEV for a long time – I don't even know how long it is since I dropped."
The Master Sergeant appeared to consider this information for a moment, and then looked to Tanner, who stood at attention, like Larue. "Dismissed, Tanner; get back to your station." He jerked his head in the direction of the corridor to his left, stretching off into the darkness. At the end of the corridor, Larue could make out the form of another human, crouched behind a table used to barricade the route.
"Bad news, trooper. It's been five hours since the Carrier bugged out. You've been unconscious a long time; your unit could be anywhere in the city by now." Larue looked downhearted. "Don't worry though, if they've kept their heads down, they shouldn't have run into too many Covenant patrols. Also, there are small, mixed units like ours all over the city – they're bound to link up with them."
Larue felt a little better, and was about to speak, but Sergeant Caldwell wasn't done.
"What's your name trooper?" he barked. Larue straightened.
"Private First Class Maximilian Larue, Master Sergeant." He replied, barking it out in a similar fashion to the order.
"At ease, PFC Larue. I presume that we are now surrounded?" the Sergeant asked, prompting a nod from Larue. "Outnumbered?" Larue nodded again. Caldwell sighed.
"A predicament, wouldn't you say, PFC Larue?" he asked, a note of levity in his voice by now.
"I don't think there are enough Covenant in this city to put the UNSC Marine Corps in a predicament, Master Sergeant." Larue answered, meaning every word. Caldwell laughed.
"I like that answer, Larue. Now before you go find your unit, how about you help us show the Covenant that?"
A grim smile spread across Larue's face. "I would love to sir."
"Follow me, soldier."
The others, the Sergeant explained, had been briefed on the contingency plan already. They were on this floor for a reason – the walkway that Larue had seen from outside. They would hold the Covenant off here, while Caldwell and two others, a grizzled Marine in his forties who was ranked as a Staff Sergeant, and so had become Caldwell's second, taking over at the corridor nexus. The two that would go with Caldwell were a younger Marine, LCpl Epsom, trained in demolitions, and a police officer, Officer Hicks. They would rig as many supporting walls on the floors below as they could with a serious amount of C12 explosive they had procured from the supply depot Caldwell's unit had originally been guarding. The job of the remaining troops, under Caldwell's second, the grizzled Staff Sergeant, whom Larue now found was named Thrax, would defend the tunnel nexus while they were doing this. There would be a direct personal radio link between the Marines at all times, and at the ready moment, Caldwell would call the retreat. He and two others would extract across the plaza below, while the bulk of the human squad would pull back through the door to the walkway, and cross it. The building would then be detonated by Sergeant Caldwell.
The building, it was hoped, would collapse, killing the undoubtedly numerous Covenant troops within, and perhaps some around it. At this point, of course, it was likely that the walkway, too, would collapse; so speed was of the essence, of course. The main unit and the smaller group of three would then link up, having carried with them all the remaining equipment that they possibly could. They would then find a new safe-haven, and Larue would then have assistance in tracking down his unit. It was a daring plan, and one that relied on a lot of luck, in that the nexus action would have to draw the attention of almost all the Covie troops in the area, in order that Caldwell's smaller team did not get slaughtered by weight of numbers; but it was really the only plan that had even a chance of success.
"Got it, Larue?" Caldwell asked, and Larue nodded solemnly. "Then take up your battle station – the bulk of the enemy troops, I believe, will come down the centre passage, the one that Pvt. Hope is currently at alone thanks to my stealing of Officer Hicks. Good luck, trooper. Take what you need, supplies-wise, and remember to grab your assigned kitbag on the way out."
Larue nodded, and hurried to the remaining supplies stacked in the room, the non-essentials. He replaced his used frag grenade, selected a couple of Covenant plasma grenades, and in addition he took up one bulbous, spiky Brute grenade. He re-stocked his ammunition, and ran past the row of kitbags out of the one-room apartment. The medical supplies, and some ammunition and weapons, had been loaded into strong, military-issue kitbags in order that each Marine would grab one on his way out of the building, so that not all the carefully hoarded supplies would be lost.
"Our own little slice of Thermopylae." Larue heard the Master Sergeant remark, mysteriously. It rung a bell somewhere deep in his mind, and he wondered where he had heard the word before.
The nexus had four passageways connecting to it, which had been held previously by twelve men, including Tanner and the Sergeant. With Larue's arrival it had been upped to thirteen, but with the departure of Caldwell, Hicks, and Epsom, that left only ten. Two men, the scarred, haggard Thrax decreed, the power in his voice tangible, would hold each approach, and two would remain back at the nexus, as ammo runners, and to reinforce hard-pressed men. The 'Centre Corridor', as Caldwell had called it, was at the south-west corner of the diamond-shaped nexus, and would be held by Larue and the Marine Pvt. Hope. At first, Larue had wondered why Thrax himself would not be helping hold the Centre Corridor if Caldwell expected the main thrust of the Covenant attack here.
Then he saw Hope. The man must have been broad as he was tall – built like a fridge, and hard as one. He looked like he could take a Hunter on with his fists alone.
The 'Left Corridor' was at the south-east corner, guarded by Tanner, and a female police officer named Kagiso. The 'Right Corridor' was the corridor he and Tanner had come along to get back to the nexus, and that was guarded by Officer Hammond, and Officer Dufrane. The 'Back Corridor' as it was named to sniggers from many of the troops, was guarded by Officer Lukas, and Officer Muno. The ammo runners were Tech Officer Yu, and Staff Sergeant Thrax, so he could get an objective view of how things were going. Caldwell, Hicks, and Epsom were ready to go, tooled up and loaded up with explosives. They began to sneak along the back-corridor, hoping their way to the stairs would be unblocked.
Thrax had asked Caldwell to be allowed to go in his place; he obviously knew what everyone was thinking – the demo-team was a suicide run; and Thrax obviously felt a great deal of loyalty towards the man. Caldwell had shrugged off his worries, shook his hand, and told him to keep the defence tight and together. Thrax nodded, and fell back to the nexus.
They had been gone some fifteen minutes, fifteen tense minutes, when Officer Muno, a short, pale, female officer from Mombasa SWAT, sounded the alarm.
"Contact!"