1340, April 18th, 2544 [MILITARY CALENDAR/]Colonist Planet[OROVOR]
Arnolds was right. The checkpoint security is pathetic. There's a single watchtower with two guards who lazily come out to meet us. They are armed with weak pistols that look like they might malfunction if shot. I'm assuming those who piss off their CO get posted here.
We drive up in a cloud of dust and stop with squealing brakes. "Afternoon, men. What're you haulin'?" the checkpoint guard asks, using a heavy accent. "Armaments for the 14th and 15th brigades," Zeke says, throwing his voice to sound more like the driver he had killed. The guard that had stayed in the watchtower just waves us through and just like that, we had infiltrated the enemies base.
"How did you know that?" I ask Zeke curiously, looking at him. He holds up a piece of paper without taking his eyes off of the road. "Shipping manifest. These guys really are careless. I wouldn't be surprised if their base doesn't have a security system," he answers.
After a ten minute drive, the base is finally in sight. It looms up out of the desert sand like a strange mirage. The grounds are fairly busy, personnel running back and forth to their destinations. The base itself is one big gray block, sitting like a chunky turtle shell out of the sand.
We fall in line on the tarmac and follow the directional arrows to an empty loading dock. While there were other vehicles patrolling, none of them had shown interest in us.
Zeke shuts off the engine and I hop out after him. As I am closing my door, Zeke has begun closing the bay's door which seems impossibly heavy. It clangs shut with a metallic thud, sending a blast of dust inwards and stinging my eyes. I taste sand for a few moments before gathering spit and expelling it from my mouth.
Zeke makes sure we're secure before banging on the side of the truck. I watch the others as they unload from the back. Parkson looks relieved to be back on the ground, and the others just look alert.
"Arnold, Jacobs, you two stay here and keep our ride safe. Jessica, Parkson, Jackson, you're with me. If anybody sees us, shoot first and ask questions later. But try to keep it quiet. Use your silencers," Zeke says, tossing each of us silencer modifications for our magnums. "That goes for you two as well. Stay discreet and go for the knockout blow. The UNSC has their rep to keep, after all."
After we attach our silencers, we go in through the single door on the far side of the dark room. It opens silently, revealing a brightly lit corridor. It reeks of antiseptic, and the hum of a cleaning bot reaches my ears. But other than that, it's completely silent. "We'll take the vents if nessecary," Zeke whispers, keeping his gun at the ready. "Jessica, we'll need a map of this place. Find a terminal."
The first room we come across is a storage room, which makes sense seeing as how we're near the loading bays. The next few rooms are large storage areas as well. They are all filled with metal and wooden boxes.
But after a few minute's search, Jessica stops at a doorway and jerks her chin at Zeke who gestures for us to stay put. Parkson and I stay where we are and press ourselves against the wall, keeping our ears strained for any signs of detection.
Zeke and Jessica disappear inside for what seems like ages. But just as I am beginning to worry, the two reappear and Jessica holds up her tacpad, indicating she has the information. Zeke motions us forward and we're off again. But this time we move with purpose.
It seems like we're moving into the heart of the facility. The bright hallways never seem to end, the empty storage rooms seem to be all that this building is made up of. We think that until we finally reach the bunk rooms.
The sounds of a TV reaches us first, loud and blaring. It's startling after such a long silence. We round a corner and find one of the soldiers lounging against a wall, talking into a communicator. He seems bored and very much unaware of the four Spartans right behind him. I didn't even know that a sleeper hold could be so silent until Zeke took the soldier out and gently laid him down. He shut off the communicator and kept us moving. But now we had to move faster because sooner or later, someone would find the body and the alarm would be raised.
Even though most of the doors to the barrack rooms were open, none of the soldiers inside ever heard or saw us. I'm not sure they would have even reacted if they had. If I was just a little cockier, I would say there's no need for caution. But I don't dare underestimate our enemy.
Four soldiers come out of nowhere. One moment, the hallway in front of us is empty, the next there is a small group making their way down our hall. They don't notice us immediately, but when they do, they freeze. Time seems to stop as we stare at each other. They have young faces that look as if they should still be in school. They were still older than us, sure but still...
Zeke breaks the silence by bringing up his pistol and falling to one knee. As soon as he drops, he fires off a single round. The choked sound of the silencer can barely be heard as the bullet finds its target in his victim's head. Zeke's aim is true and he had placed the bullet right between his eyes. Three more choked gunshots sound off and three other bodies hit the floor.
"So much for no killing," Jessica growls, grabbing the four guards' ID cards. "We need to hurry," Zeke says and practically begins running.
Much to our luck, we don't run into anyone else on our way to the interrogation rooms. The area is, however, heavily guarded. There are two heavy metal doors locked with an ID scanner, with five guards on the inside watching through the single glass window that sits in an indented hallway. Their attention isn't on us which gives us the element of surprise. "Breach and clear," Zeke tells us. "Jessica, scan the card and get the door open. Jackson, Parkson, as soon as you get a shot open fire. Go for the kill. We can't have noise."
It's a little regretful how this will turn out. Five human beings dead all because they were doing their jobs...but I can't think like that. If they had the chance, they would probably kill us, even if we were unarmed.
Jessica holds up one of the cards and the reader beeps and the lock clanks open. Time slows as Jessica kicks the door open and Parkson and I open fire.
It isn't noisy, it isn't messy. Neither of us miss a single shot, they all find their targets. The situation lasted only a few seconds, the time it took to pull the trigger five times. And just like that, the area was clear.
While Jessica and Zeke secured the room, my gaze was pulled to the large glass window in front of us. And sitting inside, under a large bright light, are my two teammates.
At that moment, oh god how I wanted to just start shooting and not stop. I wanted to get them out of there without bothering to stop at the door. I don't know if I can ever forget that moment, seeing the two of them laying helpless on the floor as two goons with shock batons had their way. It hurt me horribly to see them cowering behind their charred armor. The terror in their eyes...the shaking of their limbs...It sent me into a blind rage.
Fortunately, Parkson had seen it too and quickly got the door open before I broke my fists on the glass. I didn't even bother to hesitate before pistol whipping the guard that was on 211. He didn't even turn around before he fell. The satisfying crack as the gun broke his jaw almost made me smile. The second guard fell to the ground in horror and crawled into a corner, pleading for his life. I didn't spare him, either.
It was a rush...killing another human being. Killing an alien was different. They weren't the same species as you, they didn't even look the same. But killing a human? It's...different. Some might react with disgust, or even embarrassment. But me? No...it was fun. But then I remembered that my teammates were here.
Setting my gun down, I run to their sides. Kia is in a bad way and 211 is just blank. "I'm here. It's me, Jackson," I say, looking into their eyes. Something in 211 snaps back together and he gives the biggest grin. Despite the blood on his face and body, he wraps his arms around me and gives a hearty laugh. "You bastard! I thought you had left us for dead," he cries. "Hell no. You're getting out," I say. Kia just looks at me, suspicion and a strange look in her eye. She looks at the guards' bodies and back to me. Her mind is working, I can see it. And her expression turns from thankful to worried. But soon clears as Parkson helps her up.
"Clear?" I call to the other two. "Clear!" Jessica reports. "Good, you found them. Now lets get the hell out of here before our rescue is cut short," Zeke says and turns to leave. "Hold up, these two are hurt. We'll need to move slower if they're going to walk," Jessica says suddenly, looking the two over. "We'll be fine," 211 says stubbornly. But as soon as he takes a step, his leg buckles and he ends up on the floor. "Bullshit," I saw and pick him up and carry him between my arms. I nod to parkson who does the same with Kia. 211 looks embarrassed and won't look me in the eye. But Kia just looks amused, both at 211's reaction and the situation in general. "Alright. Lets get going," Zeke says and leads the way back out.
Nothing of interest happens on our way out. But once we get back to the loading bay? Now that's a whole 'nother situation.
Zeke gets the door and stops as soon as he gets onto the catwalk. Looking over 211's armor, my stomach drops. At least fifteen guns are trained on us, each in orderly formation. Jacobs and Arnold are pushed forwards, their hands behind their head. "I blame Jacobs!" Arnold says. "Me? Who's the one who didn't keep the door shut?" Jacobs says. "You're really going to blame me?! Might I remind you about Orton III?" Arnold yells. The two begin fighting in a sort of comical way. They begin butting chests since they can't use their arms. Two of the ones with guns break rank and try to pull them apart. And it just begins to dawn on me what they're doing...a distraction technique. These guys are the best kind of genius.
"Catch!" Jessica says and tosses a grenade-like object towards the gunners. Being the cowardly selves they are, they immideatly break ranks. But the grenade was only a dud. Jacobs and Arnold are up and launch themselves in front of our escape vehicle as Zeke throws the real grenade, a powerful flashbang. We shield our eyes as the flashbang detonates. The startled yells and screams of the enemies are pleasing, but we have to react fast.
I practically throw 211 into the back of the truck and Parkson does the same with Kia. Zeke jumps into the drivers seat and curses as he almost catches a bullet. I get into the passenger's seat and slam the door. Zeke doesn't even wait to make sure everyone's in before slamming his foot down on the pedal and reversing hard out of the bay. Apparently someone hadn't gotten out of the way soon enough and there's a hard thump as a body is ran over, then a second as he goes under the front tires.
Zeke jerks the wheel and the truck wheels around, going up on two wheels for a moment before slamming back down. As soon as the wheels are down, he guns the engine and roars out of there.
At this point, the entire base is on alert. Even though most of the soldiers hadn't gotten outside yet, two were already out and closing the gate. It sat on wheels and was closing fast. But Zeke didn't care. He rammed right through it, making the entire truck bounce violently. I hold on tightly as the back tires clear the gate and we leave the tarmac onto the dirt road.
We don't slow down for a very long time, not until Zeke decides it's time for some off-roading. We fly over the sand and dead shrubs until I'm sure we've gone over five miles. The base is long out of our sights when Zeke finally stops. The dust we had kicked up catches up to us and I taste sand again.
The truck bounces as the Spartans in the back get out. We go to meet them and 211 is sitting on the edge, grinning like an idiot. "That. Was. Awesome!" he laughs. "Lets never do it again," Kia says, looking sick. The back of the truck is riddled with bullets and the tarp protecting the back is torn. "It was pretty close back there," Arnold says, holding up his gauntlet so we can see a bullet lodged in it. "You guys were awesome," I say, remembering their little distraction. "What? That? That was nothing! A little on-the-spot entertainment for our oh-so gracious hosts," Jacobs says sarcastically. "You should have seen them a few years ago. Those Elites were so confused!" Jessica laughs. "HUH? What are those demons doing? Fun? I have never heard of it!" Arnold says, hunching his back and legs and making his voice deeper to mimic an Elite. I have to admit, I laughed at it. And so did Parkson and 211. But Kia...Kia is unusually silent. She keeps staring at me and giving me a suspicious look. Zeke is the only other one who notices it and casts me a curious glance. I just shake my head and turn towards the horizon.
"If we want to be back before dusk, we need to get moving," I say. "I have the ship marked, so no trouble finding it," Jessica says. Jacobs goes back into the truck and retrieves the other weapons. He tosses each Spartan their weapon and nods to Parkson. "Blow it when we're a mile out," Jacobs says. "We're destroying the truck?" I ask curiously. Zeke nods as he returns from the front. "Might be tracked, can't take the chance. We'll have to hoof it the rest of the way," he says. "You'll come to find that, while on the field, you're going to be doing a lot of walking," Arnold says, throwing his weapon over his shoulder and following Jacobs out into the sand. "Get used to it, meat. Whining will get you nowhere," Jessica says with a teasing tone.
Our walk back to the ship isn't anything special. We walk, rest, walk some more, rest, etc. You would think at this point I would be used to the dry, boring, MRE's. But no. No I haven't. I still nearly vomit when I eat the "tomatoes".
Fortunately for us, the ship went untouched. No signs of tampering or intrusions. It starts up nicely and doesn't report any failures. So soon, we're flying out of the canyon and high into the quickly darkening sky.
"See you in the morning, I'm going sleep," Arnold says, setting his weapon down and flopping like a dead fish onto one of the bunks. He doesn't even bother to take off his armor or make his bed. Within a few minutes, he's out like a light. Jacobs takes off his SPI armor, which is worn and bullet marked, and sets it aside. He soon leaves for the cockpit, taking his turn flying. Arnold said that if they made it out alive, Jacobs was flying home. Being the good sport that he is, Jacobs kept to that promise.
The rest of us shuck our armor and fall more or less clothed into bed. A meal could wait. But for now, we're spending the first few hours of our flight back asleep.