The Jackal yelped in surprise when Black's gloved hand leapt out of the doorway to wrap around its Carbine.
They were inside the apartment building, Black and his Rangers in the laundry while his new Covenant friend patrolled the ground floor's cross-shaped hallway.
What happened next was as natural to the Colonel as breathing; he moved his foe's weapon out of the way with one hand until it was pointed at the ceiling, and drew a thin, double edged knife, which he proceeded to plunge in his target's neck, following with a swift jerk that nearly tore the Covenant's head off.
Holding his victim up as it gurgled its last breath, Black made two sharp gestures with the hand that had been holding the rifle. The two squads spread out into the corridor, supressed handguns held at the ready. The roar of gunfire outside made stealth somewhat superfluous, but they kept a low profile as much as possible, so things didn't get any more exciting than they had to be.
"Better luck next time." Spoke Black to the Jackal as it went limp in his hands. He dropped it lightly and followed his men down the right corridor, Carbine held ready and Spartan in toe.
Two Rangers, on either side of the hallway, kept watch on both branches of the cross, while the rest walked up to the building's back door. Black and the Spartan crossed the dangerous area, then took up the positions, albeit on the upper part of the metaphorical cross, covering both men as they rejoined the rear guard.
Krauser's boys opened the way and the rest followed in silence. Krauser's Khans, as their uniform tags proudly proclaimed, were all former Rangers, but not necessarily of the 75th, a lot of them were actually Russian Rangers, search and rescue, before being sent to frontline combat where their experience at anything involving a rope and vanishing in a nuclear winter made them prime candidates for Special Forces. They had gladly integrated Hammer Company, however, relishing the prospect of having an army of badasses at their back, instead of all these cloak and daggers assignments they'd been given in the past.
The Khans kept a tight discipline and tighter focus as they fanned out in the ravaged streets. A sniper, set up half a klick down south, to their left, almost got lucky and managed to ruin a Rifleman's helmet cam, but never got a chance to adjust his aim, thanks to the glorious return of Demetro's antique rifle.
"Tango down." Whispered the man in Blackburn's helmet, the loud and gritty clack-schlick! Of a new round being chambered audible in the com link.
Delacroix's boys, coming from a much wider background and not close enough yet to have picked a name, stepped out of cover to fill in for the Khans, who proceeded to push forward once more.
They went North, on the right side of the apartment building, following the trail of destruction left by Cody's mechanized infantry.
Cody had opted not to bring any Scorpion tanks, as they would be easy targets in the crowded streets, not to mention at a disadvantage should some enemy mortar-tanks set up an indirect fire line. Instead, Fifth Platoon relied on an SP42 Cobra tank for heavy lifting and eight Warthogs of multiple variants for everything else.
At least three of these 'hogs now belched smoke in the middle of an intersection and, judging by the disco light show visible in between these columns of smoke, everyone else in Hammer 5 enjoyed their evening.
They reached the wrecked 'hogs and Black signaled for everyone to hold their position as he observed the scene, leaning on a wreck's bumper.
Cody's Cobra still gave as good as it got, its railguns methodically puncturing both the abandoned public library, to its left, and the apartment block on its right. The gunner could have blown both building to pieces with explosive shells, but that would have brought them down on top of their own troops, and they could not push forward, thanks to a man-deep trench dug directly into the street up ahead. The only way out would be toward the intersection, that same one Black's team now hid in.
Why hadn't Cody ordered his men back that way already? This puzzled Blackburn and both his Sergeants greatly. Were the Covenant forces laying fire from rooftops and windows somehow keeping them pinned, or had the regular Army Rangers of Fifth Platoon just panicked?
Looking around, Blackburn reminded himself he was as soft to Delacroix and Krauser as Cody's men were to him and decided not to be an idiot about it. "Thoughts? Let's hear some real clever stuff…"
One of the kids, about half the Colonel's age, lowered her rifle to face the officer, "The enemy's got lots of anti-personnel; MGs, small arms, so on. Not that much AT."
A good call, might even be relevant, though Blackburn failed to see how just yet.
Krauser took a peek and scowled, "Well fortified, I doubt we can storm those buildings, not from the ground anyhow…" A Pelican, or even a Hornet, would have gotten them a long way. Black reminded himself to get his hands on one and a good crew at the first opportunity.
"So we know what we're not going to do. Anything else?"
It was their large green companion who spoke next, "Your troops can't move until we take the pressure off them."
"I take it you have an idea?"
He nodded, "Yes sir. Your men all have gas masks?"
Blackburn stared blankly for almost ten seconds. Long enough for a warthog to be blown apart and Hammer 3-4 to call in an enemy mortar tank coming in from somewhere by the fountain, back near the extraction point.
What the fuck could that Spartan be thinking behind that golden visor? Black's eyes settled on the public pool's massive aeration systems, facing the street directly. He understood and shivered despite the searing heat.
Raas' Alammee was leaning over a holographic representation of the human world from inside the guts of his cruiser, lesser Shipmasters assembled in the command room to hear their Fleetmaster's battle plan.
"The vermin is crumbling in space," announced the Shangheili warrior to the six warlords, "within the end of the day, our forces will have routed them…" He waved towards the space display, which showed Covenant forces outnumbered two to one by human frigates and destroyers, "We will subsequently be free to finish their forces on the ground and secure the relic for the prophets."
Approving grunts filled the room. Another world, another relic, another victory, nothing to add. They reported the situation aboard their respective vessels, then relayed reports from Fieldmasters, who swore they would crush the last remaining human warrior within the week.
It was Vtas' Ratammee, an Osoona of the prophets, who pointed out the infeasibility of that deadline. "Honourable Fleetmaster," called the Elite from the shadows, "Such bravado from our ground forces worries me…" He stepped forward, into the light and close to the holographic controls, "If you would…"
Alammee stepped aside and let the Osoona shift the display to the largest human city, a rotting speck in an otherwise pure desert of golden sand.
Within the city itself, one could see two forces throwing themselves at each other; the Covenant's warriors and the human resistance. Not their actual soldiers, these had ran away earlier in the day. The only opposition Alammee and his men faced was civilians with guns, and a lot of them.
Ratammee pointed out another cluster, to the north.
Tanks, assault vehicles, fortified positions and infantry formations running around through Covenant forces like children frolicking about in a daisy field.
"These are insignificant. They will be dealt with in due time." Said the Fleetmaster, dismissingly.
Ratammee snapped his mandibles in an indifferent shrug, "They took the relic from us, carved a path through the thick of our forces and are now holding off our advance toward the human base."
"They will be dealt with in due time." Insisted the Fleetmaster, threat obvious in his words. The Osoona retained his glibness and punched a few more keys, the holographic display switching to the cellar they had appropriated. Soldiers left the cellar quite often instead of staying put to avoid fire. They ran through plasma fire to set up traps in the paths of incoming Covenant forces, or flush out enemy hard points whenever one was set up.
They must have stormed the same building five times in eight minutes, though that fact was not exactly obvious on the accelerated display. Finally, they reached the live feed, just in time to see a human, stripped down of all his gear except for his clothes, a handgun and a small canister, run out from cover straight for a Wraith mortar-tank.
The man fired his pistol twice at the Wraith's gunner just as the latter was about to shoot. This dropped the Sangheili's shields long enough for a sniper to burn out his brain. The human then threw the canister straight into the opened gunner hatch and sprinted back to cover as the Wraith shivered, shaken with internal explosions which burst its rear armour open like a flower.
"This amount of skills speaks for itself. These humans are not Marines, nor are they Demons."
The Fleetmaster seemed genuinely interested. Unlike his Shipmasters, he tried to know his enemy, find their weakness and exploit them. Marines, for instance, were not defenders; they were aggressors, in their minds, their gear and their function. If you took away their ships, however, they became little more than a scared and confused fighting force. This group had not followed the usual pattern.
Unusual, but not alarming.
"I do not see how their identity is relevant." Insisted the Fleetmaster, after a moment of reflection.
Vtas' bowed slightly, "Then I shall endeavour to explain this situation as clearly as is possible." He looked at the assembled Shipmasters, who looked back with disdain, "The soldiers we see here are not those we are accustomed to fight, to treat them as such would be a mistake…" He fiddled with the controls a bit and changed the display to show another, smaller city of the human world. "My information indicates a single Company, two hundred individuals, is left, but there were more when we arrived…"
On the display, a Scarab and thousands of Covenant ground troops scurried across the sands, chasing down and exterminating the human residents of this doomed city. They progressed unimpeded until about halfway into the city, where the Scarab met an abrupt end, shells fired from inside garages and parking lots ripping its joints apart in a single salvo.
Human forces emerged from every alley to engage the Covenant in lightning strikes that were over as fast as they began. Traps and ambushed decimated the mighty invasion force in a skirmish that lasted all of eight days. By the time all ten thousand Covenant troops triumphed from the two to three hundred human fighters, there were no civilians left in a city of a hundred-thousand habitants.
"They call themselves Rangers…" The Osoona looked at an inscription on his wrist display, "Only one company remains, under the command of a human Fieldmaster name Blackburn. He commands fewer troops than the Fieldmaster we have in the city, but if my estimations are accurate, Blackburn and his Rangers will have this city back in human hands by the end of the week."
Alammee rammed his fist on the holographic display, causing it to flicker and lose color for a moment, "This is an outrage! You dare question the word of our Fieldmaster?! You may have the Prophet's favour, but I will not tolerate such heresy on my bridge. Out!" And he waved two honour guards over, ordering them to remove the Osoona from the command center.
Vtas' snickered inwardly but kept a calm and collected face. Everything had gone according to plan.