Seeing the Pelican swerve, Greg had decided to run up the stairs, both to avoid being crushed if it went down, and to make it easier for the bird to pick them up if it stayed the course. As it turned out, neither proved necessary, but them being up on the hill became advantageous since the Pelican went down right below them as they were now on top of the hill that it went down behind. The two ODSTs slid down the hill and landed on top of the downed aircraft.
"Stay here while I check the crew," said Jason, being the one with medical experience.
"Got it," affirmed Greg, aiming his MA37 at the top of the hill in case any covies came over it.
"Is everyone ok?" asked Jason.
"We're all good to go. Not sure about the pilot, though," came the reply.
Jason hopped down in front of the rear troop bay and went inside toward the cockpit to find the pilot unconscious. He ran a medi-scanner over him and found one of his knees bent out of place. The pilot had lost consciousness more likely out of shock than physical trauma, so there wasn't too much to worry about.
"Help me move him," said Jason to one of the other Marines.
Up on the top of the Pelican, Greg switched on his helmet's thermal image setting and watched for any movement, having had enough experience in the field to know that Covenant sent in their special ops when their infantry couldn't hold the line. Then he realized that if they had sent spec ops, the thermal imaging wouldn't do jack because by the time he saw them, they'd either be standing at the end of the hill, or on top of it, shooting at targets that had been backed into a corner. With this in mind, Greg informed his buddies that he was gonna go to the top of the hill and began climbing. He peered over the edge and detected nothing, so he crawled as fast as he could along the top of the big hill until he could see vague specters moving around the plaza building, confirming his spec op theory. He would have radioed for backup, but he didn't want them picking up his signal and listening in on his convo, so he ran back to the Pelican and yelled "We got spec ops! Get your asses up here now!"
Upon hearing that Spec Ops were inbound, five of the remaining Marines got out of the Pelican and climbed up the hill and ran over to where Greg was. Greg looked back at the Marines heading his way and his visor identified Sgt Nick Logan, a well built man of South American descent, as the highest ranking soldier in the group, the rest consisted of two corporals -an African named Martin Sherwood and a gray haired Caucasian named Joe Eastwood- both of whom were well built like Logan, a Latino private named Oscar Maximilian, and a Caucasian private first class named Jake Miller.
"We got Spec Ops spread out like sour cream on a bagel. I'll need you and your men to spread out across the hill while I keep them distracted," said Greg.
"How you gonna do that? I don't recall ODST armor being able to take plasma hits," replied Sgt Logan.
"Simple, I got this," said Greg, showing them the shield device on his arm, "I'll need Eastwood and Maximilian near the stairs in case the Covies get too close. Sherwood, Miller, and Logan, you guys spread out across the hill top. Sherwood and Miller will take out the Grunts while Logan aims for the Brutes."
Sherwood and Miller were armed with BR55HB Light Machine Guns with double drum magazines in the back while Logan had an SRS99C-S2 Sniper Rifle, allowing them to take out distant targets, while Eastwood and Maximilian had MA37 Assault Rifles, so they could take care of the closer targets. The Marines and ODST got down and crawled to where they'd been directed until they could barely make out shimmers in the air moving across the field.
"These monocle visors are crap. We still can't quite see them," whispered Miller, not 20 feet away from Greg.
"Hold on," said Greg, pinning all the Spec Ops with red outlines and transferring the data to the Marines' visors.
That was another thing that made ODSTs as valuable as SPARTANs, they could detect enemies that would be invisible to anyone else and point them out to the rest of the soldiers.
"I'm gonna get up and distract them while the Riflemen pick off the Spec Ops, one by one. Eastwood and Maximilian will take care of any that get too close," said Greg, activating his kinetic shield.
He then strafed left and right across the hilltop, firing his MA37 at the advancing Spec Ops as soon as they got within range while Logan, Sherwood, and Miller opened up on the now partially visible Covenant with their own rifles.
(...)
Forstair saw a human in black armor running around on the hill ahead of them, holding a shield and firing a rifle wildly. The next thing he knew, Kenny's head exploded.
"OH MY GOD, THEY KILLED KENNY!" screamed Giggin.
The black armored soldier continued running and firing, and the other Unggoy started falling like dominoes, Giggin with them. Their camouflage deactivated once their lifesigns flatlined.
"MORE HUMANS! THEY'RE IN THE BUSHES!" barked one of the Brutes, pointing at the top of the hill where muzzle flashes erupted.
One particularly loud bang took off the head of the Brute that ratted out the other humans' positions. They even had an anti-armor rifle! It was obvious the humans could see them, despite their cloaking. It seemed that everytime one of those humans with black armor showed up, ALL of the humans could see them. Perhaps the black humans controlled the others. Maybe that was why they alone turned the tide of most battles, from what he'd seen.
Another loud bang, and another Brute was knocked off his feet and fell to the ground, dead and decloaked.
Forstair aimed his Needler at the human and let loose a hail of explosive shards that sailed toward the target, but in the hail of flying lead raining down on the aliens, one bullet cut the veteran Unggoy's luck short. He felt like he'd been hit with a sledge hammer and was whirled around in a circle before falling on his side. After getting some air back into his winded lungs, he mustered the courage to look down at himself and saw where a Battle Rifle round had taken a chunk out of his side, narrowly avoiding going into him, but still taking a bit of him with it.
(...)
Greg saw the pink needle shards heading in his direction and raised his kinetic shield to block the ones that would have hit him, then plucked a frag from his belt and tossed it into the group of surviving Spec Ops.
A fiery explosion sent bodies, living and dead, flying in all directions.
Logan shot one Brute after another with his Sniper Rifle, firing anti-armor rounds in rapid succession, and reloading in the amount of time it took to blink. He was a machine gunner and a sniper all in one.
But despite the endless barrage of bullets, several Brutes made it to the stairs where Eastwood and Maximilian waited. Brutes were hard to take care of, but Eastwood came prepared with an M45 Pump action shotgun strapped over his back. He shouldered the bulky weapon, chambered a round, and waited for the Brutes to reach the top of the stairs.
"Let me handle this one," shouted the aging Marine to his latin counterpart.
Maximilian gave him the thumbs up and Joe didn't have to wait long for the large red outline of the hulking monster to appear right in front of him, but despite its active camouflage, Eastwood had the element of surprise since he was laying low in the bushes, which meant that the ape like alien didn't know he was there until a loud bang turned out his lights, permanently. The dead Brute's camo failed and he seemed to spawn out of thin air as he collapsed on top of one of his comrades and they both fell down the stairs, tripping a third Jiralhanae, and sending all three tumbling down the stairs a short way before the two living ones recovered, and by then, they were both pissed.
Eastwood and Maximilian took the opportunity to shoulder their MA37s and unload on the two remaining Brutes that were halfway down the stairs and kept firing until the Baby Kongs collapsed lifelessly on top of the first one and the two Marines' rifles clicked on empty. Just enough to finish the job.
(...)
The first thing Lt Nowak noticed upon regaining consciousness was a slight pain in his right knee.
"Agh! What's wrong with my leg?" he asked, looking up at one of his crew members and an ODST who was wearing a Marine helmet.
"We scanned your knee with the MRI glove. It was bent forward, so we had to snap it back into place. Be glad we did it while you were still unconscious, or you'd have been in a world of hurt," replied the Marine who'd stayed behind to help Jason. His name was Wayne and he was Caucasian like Miller and Eastwood, but he was also in his mid 20s, putting him in between the other two, age wise.
The gunshots outside suddenly died down and they wondered if the Covenant had taken the hill.
"All clear! How's Foster?" shouted Logan.
"I'm fine! What are you guys doing?" shouted back Foster, now that he was awake.
"The Covenant were cloaked, but we took em by surprise and wiped em out!" gloated Logan.
This surprised Foster and Wayne since a group of humans ambushing Covenant Spec Ops with bullet rifles and coming out on top was like a lit match drying up a puddle (or a lake, given the Covenant's firepower), but to Jason, it was old news. With the right kind of tactics and determination, Marines always emerged victorious.
(...)
Cheiftain Kahnmus was aghast at how quickly his Pack had been ripped to shreds by this tiny group of humans. Not 20 units into this and already half his Brutes and all his Unggoy were dead or wounded, thanks mostly to that human with an anti-armor rifle that ripped right through his own Brutes like toilet paper.
Kahnmus knew that he had to flee or attack, but neither seemed to offer the results he was looking for. He was about ten feet behind the group that was cut down before his very eyes, so they hadn't detected him yet, but they almost certainly would if he charged them head on. Falling back and regrouping was tactically wise, but not if you were a Brute. In Jiralhanae culture, lesser promotions could be achieved through merit and achievements, like with any other species, but in order to become the top dog in Jiralhanae society, you'd have to be willing to fight to the death for it. A Brute is not awarded the rank of Cheiftain, he rips it from the previous Cheiftain's cold, dead fingers and fights tooth and nail to protect that title until a stronger Brute comes along and kills him for it. And while Kahnmus would have loved to rely on armored support, he should have made that decision before attacking. He'd thought it would be a quick and easy execution of the Pelican's crew, but they'd hit the ground running and did the impossible, and now it was too late to turn back, as doing so would be admitting he made a tactical mistake, and would be seen as weakness, even if he did come out on top in the end, and Kahnmus did not kill his own Cheiftain three cycles before, just so he could be proven a weakling by these snacks, so he jogged around the hill, careful to not make any sounds, until the downed Pelican was in sight. In the Troop Bay he could see another black armored soldier and a regular Marine both giving medical treatment to a third human who seemed to be regaining consciousness. This would be the perfect place to ambush the other humans; he could sneak up on the humans in the downed dropship, quietly kill them, then lure the rest of the humans to their deaths. It was too good to pass up, so he slowly began tip toeing toward the dropship.
(...)
Not ten feet away from where the ODSTs' warthog had been totalled, Cpl Nixon slowly regained consciousness similarly to Jason, minus the temporary memory problem. He awoke in a field of weeds where he'd landed when he fell out of the Pelican, and, upon standing up, discovered he was surrounded by dozens of Jackal and Grunt corpses, most likely from the Helljumpers' initial encounter with the aliens. He then noticed dead Grunts and Brutes at the base of the hill not too far off, all of them Spec Ops. That, and the dead silence that covered the field, contrasting the chaos that filled his ears the last time he was awake, indicated he'd been out for some time. He unstrapped his M392 Designated Marksman Rifle and checked it for any signs of damage and was surprised to find none. After all that rolling and tumbling, it was only through divine intervention that the weapon hadn't been bent or scratched.
He then looked up and noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from behind the hill, most likely where the Pelican had gone down, so he jogged down the field until the bird came into view, and he could see some surviving Marines and one of the ODSTs inside it, but then they became distorted by a slight shimmer. Nixon wasn't sure what was going on, so he shouldered his DMR and peered through the scope, and upon getting a closer look at the shimmer, he recognized the effects as that of a cloaking device.
Without thinking, he turned the safety off and squeezed the trigger.
(...)
Kahnmus rounded the hill the Pelican was nestled behind and saw his targets: one black armored human without his helmet, and two Marines, one of which was wounded and being attended to by the black soldier, so he took his time tip toeing toward the bird, not making a sound. A little further and he just might be able to take them out silently if he was quick. Then he could attack those meat bags on the hill from behind and make them pay for his humiliation. His plan for a stealthy approach came to an end, however, when the Cheiftain felt a lead fist hit him in the back while a crash like thunder pounded his ears.
Someone had seen him.
Kahnmus looked behind himself to see a single Marine holding a scoped rifle. Only one had seen him. He could still accomplish his assassination and then take care of that pest. He turned back to the Pelican and began charging as his armor took a beating from Nixon's DMR, which the Marine was firing as fast as he could.
(...)
The Marines in the Pelican heard gunshots and looked up to see a Brute Cheiftain materializing out of thin air as its cloaking failed from the 7.62 mm rounds pounding it from behind.
They all swore simultaneously.
Jason unstrapped his Carbine and leveled it at the Cheiftain and squeezed the trigger as rapidly as he could, sending a hail of miniature fuel rod rounds at the demonic looking alien less than 40 feet away, while Wayne got on the rear turret and squeezed down the trigger, letting loose a satisfying stream of high caliber hell, yet the Brute kept coming.
Foster reached under one of the troop bay seats and pulled out a green, rectangular rifle known as the W/AVM6G/GNR, aka the Spartan Laser, aimed it at the oncoming Jiralhanae and squeezed the trigger.
(…)
Kahnmus had been hit so many times, both in front and in back, that he had no idea how many rounds had bounced off his armor, and which ones made it through, but he was almost there. Just a little bit further and those weapons wouldn't do much to save their owners, and he'd be able to redeem his failure.
But then Kahnmus saw something that threatened his plan: a small red dot within the Pelican that was getting progressively brighter. He knew right away what it was and what it could do to him, so he threw down his Gravity Hammer (and caution to the wind) and charge for all he was worth, intending to tear apart the Marines with his claws.
(…)
"FIRE, DAMN YOU!" shouted Foster, still aiming the Laser at the Brute now 10 feet away and closing.
Then, just when the Cheiftain was ready to pounce, the weapon emitted a low humming noise and the Jiralhanae's upper mid section exploded from the heat of the beam.
Greg and the other Marines made it to the back end of the hill, just in time to see a gorey pulp with legs collapse right in front of the downed Pelican.
"I guess we missed one," called out Greg.
"Oh, ya think?" came a sarcastic reply from inside the Pelican.