2132, September 11th, 2547 [MILITARY CALENDAR]/Colonist planet[TUNGSTEN II], local water treatment plant
"Did they just unload the entire ship?" Arnold asks. "I wouldn't be surprised," Jessica says.
The entire hill beneath the water treatment plant is filled with Covenant soldiers. Hunters are at the front behind the Grunts and Elites are behind the Grunts with the Jackals taking up the rear. It's just a massive group, an entire shipload. It's obvious fighting our way out of this would be useless.
"Blue team, Zeta, we've got a problem," Paller calls over the radio. "We've noticed," Zeke says. "Not them, the civilians. They've come through an underground access hatch with guns. They say they're willing to fight to defend their homes. They won't leave back the way they came," the squad leader says. Before I can respond, Zeke speaks up. "How many are there?"
There's a pause in the chatter while Paller gets a headcount. "Fifty-seven. A few have even said they're ex-military," Paller responds. Zeke turns to us and I understand what he wants to do. "Civilians?" I ask hesitantly. "They want to fight for their planet. This is their chance," Zeke says. His tone is firm. And...he outranks me. I want so bad to stop him, to tell him that he's wrong and to make him stop. He will risk all of them to save just a handful of Spartans.
Kia suddenly points out over the field of Covenant soldiers waiting to kill us. "There's a ship back there," She says. I look where she's pointing and see a sleek dot in the distance. If I hadn't been looking for it, I wouldn't have seen it. "Jessy, what do you think it is?" Kia asks the other female Spartan. Jessica peers into the distance and produces binoculars. It takes a moment, but she finally identifies the ship. "Standard Cruiser class," she responds. Kia takes the binoculars and makes a confused noise. "Why is it so low in the atmosphere?" she mutters. The binoculars whir as she increases the zoom. "Ah...that's why."
She hands me the binoculars and waits. I find the ship again and tighten my grip on the edges as I spot the damage. "A glancing blow to their engines, see it?" Kia asks. "A MAC," I say incredulously. "Along the underside, more human weapons damage. That isn't plasma," Kia says. "Wait, the UNSC is here? What the hell are they doing this far out?" Arnold wonders.
We had been sent to this colony with a single Frigate and Paller's ODST team for our mission. We weren't expected to return for a month and it had only been a week. We hadn't sent out a distress beacon, and we didn't have an escort. We were just another UNSC ship going behind enemy lines to help a planet in need. If this Covenant ship was grounded, than the damage is new. Very new. When we had started our assault three hours ago, the ship was safely perched in orbit. But it had been forced down because it had been damaged. Maybe we would survive this after all. But that all depended on whether or not that ship in orbit was an insurrectionist.
Obviously, Zeke doesn't trust it because he waves it off. "We'll figure it out later. First, we need to get away from here," Zeke says and turns away to contact Paller again. "Paller, get the civilians up here. Station half on the roof and half inside near the entrance. We'll need as much firepower as possible to fight them off. Give the civilians their orders and meet us by the emergency exits over the ocean in fifteen."
Paller comes back with a tone that speaks of controlled anger. "With all due respect, sir, we are going to stay and fight with the civilians." He sounds disgusted with the idea of leaving them, and the word "sir" is said with disdain. "Understood. Good luck, Marine," Zeke says, ignoring his tone. He cuts the channel and begins to head for the ocean-side exit.
I can't stand it anymore. I speed up to him and catch his arm hard and turn him around. "We're just going to leave them?" I demand. "What happened to 'no marine left behind'?"
Zeke tenses up and I can picture his eyes steeling over as they always do in these kinds of situations. "This is a war, Jackson. The ODST's are helping the civilians and Paller has opted to be left behind. My final worry is my team and yours," he snaps and rips his arm free. Jacobs stops next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about it," is all he says before catching back up with his team.
I am genuinely worried that Zeke has been in this fight for too long. There's a point where you get burned out, where you stop caring. And that's the point where you quit the military before you make too stupid of a decision. And I'm afraid that Zeke has reached that point.
The ocean-side exit is more or less a sheer cliffside drop straight into the ocean below. A steep staircase that lacks railings winds down to a wide dock. A few boats are parked inside, only one being big enough to hold all of us.
"Jessica, Kia, get that boat working. Jacobs, Arnold, you keep watch," Zeke commands. "Same goes for you Parkson and 211," I tell my team. I don't like him ordering my teammates around like that, but he gets hard-headed under these kinds of time-sensitive situations. It's not hurting anything, so I just let it slide.
The waves crash noisily against the edges of the docks, creating an eery creaking noise from the metal struts holding everything together. Clouds had gathered in the sky, casting a gloomy look about the land. I look back up the cliff we had descended and hear the firefight beginning. Both human and Covenant gunfire rings through the sky and I just turn my head to try and ignore it.
Were I in command, I would have found a way to get everyone out. Zeke calls himself a leader, but doesn't a leader try to save everyone? I might understand it later after we're safe. But for now, I have my doubts.
My attention is turned to the water as the sudden roar of an engine comes to life. "All aboard," Kia calls from the boat's cockpit. All eight of us file aboard and Jessica works the controls to get it moving.
The boat itself is more or less a transport vehicle. It has the speed and stability of a barge, but the power and speed of a powerboat plus It has a strange and awkward design, no doubt a prototype of some sort.
"I've got an island about thirty klicks out. It's big, safe, and out of the way. We can gather our bearings and recouperate there," Kia says. She is sitting down in one of the on-deck seats. She looks a little unstable because this is one of her first times on the sea. 211 looks downright sick but Parkson looks like he's enjoying himself.
Parkson removes his battered helmet revealing dark red hair that has been greased with sweat and helmet flattened. He reaches a gloved hand over the edge of the boat and into the ocean's spray and holds it there for a few seconds before taking it back and smoothing it over his hair. I look over at 211 who has his hands on his knees and looks like he's about to vomit. "Hey, 211, might want to remove your helmet before you have another accident," I say with a grin. 211 growls but removes it and sets it on the ground between his feet. "I hate water," he groans. "Give me the cold, lifeless, vacuum of space over this crap any day."
The Island is fairly big with plenty of life covering it. We come up on a beach with pale sand and clear water. A nearby river calmly drains back into the ocean, drawing deep gouges into the ground. We grind to a stop on the beach without worrying about pushing it back out, seeing as how we are eight fully capable Spartans.
Fortunately for us, the boat has supplies loaded onto it and, as we pop open load after load, we find plenty of supplies to last us the night. We don't set up tents in fear of being ambushed but we do find supplies for a fire and some food that isn't Military sanctioned MRE's for once
Kia, Arnold, 211 and I set up a camp area near the river while Jacobs and Zeke fish out the fresh water to be purified.
Soon enough, we've built ourselves a fairly cozy area with plenty of room to move around. "...and the encampment is here. Take-off might be a little tricky, but with Arnold flying, we'll make it," I hear Jessica saying. She had told us that an encampment of unknown contacts arrived near our frigate which we landed in a rocky outcropping. It depended on whether or not they were friendly if we would have to fight our way out.
Everyone but Zeke and I have removed their helmets to let their heads dry out. 211's and Arnold's bare skulls, however, just needed a small wash to be clean instead of full-out care like the rest of us. We are all set out around the campsite, doing our own things. Kia and Parkson are cleaning out their weapons and assessing their armor. Arnold and Jacobs are chatting to each other by the firepit. I'm sitting at the very edge pulling guard duty by the treeline. Even though the island looks empty, it doesn't hurt to be on guard.
The sun is quickly falling and the smell of rain is strong in the air, easily overpowering the faint smell of the river and the sea. Every now and again, I can hear a thunderclap in the distance and a faint splinter of lightning crawls across the sky. But whatever is brewing won't be coming for us.
It's times like these that I dread, the calm before the next fight. You know there's going to be more ahead, but you can't do anything about it. I hate being alone in my head. I always go back to past battles and what I could have done instead and what could have gone wrong. There's always more what-ifs that I throw into it. What if the Jackals shot first? What if Paller and his ODST's hadn't been able to cover me? Shutting out those thoughts is hard when you're alone.
As the day drags on, the sun keeps dropping further and further into the horizon. The patter of rain begins falling and I look into the sky, watching it drop. It isn't very heavy so I can still easily hear over it. But all I listen to is the soft breeze in the large leaves of the tallest trees and the crackle of the fire.
By the end of my shift, all is quiet. All of the Spartans had gone to sleep. I had actually taken a few hours more than I was supposed to, but I wasn't tired and frankly, I was enjoying the peace and quiet for once. But when I finally decide I need to sleep, I get up and find Arnold who is splayed out in the sand and reach down and shove his shoulder. I quickly take a step back just as he wakes up and instinctively slashes at me with his knife. He blinks sleepily at me after realizing I'm not an enemy. "Your turn," I say and go to find myself somewhere to rest my head.
I decide to lay down near the river and remove my helmet. My chestplate makes it a little hard to lay down but I've slept in my armor enough times to get around the uncomfortable sensation. I end up on my back after a few unsuccessful attempts on my side. I stare up at the stars and find myself wondering about how many threats are out there, just waiting to overpower us. We as humans are far spread and fortified. But if there's something that just as powerful as the Forerunners, will we ever survive them if they suddenly appear? I know we would put up a fight. But how far would we get? I leave these thoughts behind as I drift into a deep sleep and begin dreaming of wonderful feelings. Things I might never have again.
I awake the next morning to something jabbing me hard in the shoulder. My heartbeat instantly jumps and adrenaline floods into my veins before I can stop it. I throw myself to my knees and grab the rod that had been attacking me. I rip it hard, seeing it as a weapon, but stop once I hear Arnold laughing. I growl and drop the harmless stick and lean back on my heels. "I hate you guys," I grunt. "We know," Arnold says, grinning broadly. "Wake up, buttercup. Daylight's wasting," Jacobs says, standing over me. I get to my feet and retrieve my helmet which had gotten covered in sand. "I've got sand in places sand shouldn't be," I mutter. "We all do," Jessica says.
It takes about fifteen minutes to pack up our camp and get the boat back into the water. 211, Arnold, and I push it while Jessica, Jacobs, Zeke, and Kia sit in the boat. Imagine the heaviest thing you've ever had the displeasure of pushing and maginify if by a hundred and add the loose footing of sand. That's what it was like.
The metal scrapes roughly against the ground and the water sloshes against the hull as we shoulder it back out to sea. Once it's far enough out, we rush to jump inside. The sides are very high and 211 ends up dangling off of the edge for a few minutes before I help him up. He yells at all of us for leaving him before sitting down and looking sick again.
It's pretty peaceful as we sail back for our ship. We had hatched a plan (a fairly crazy one) during the night that involves us taking down the Covenant ship.
It still has weapons and shields but no main engines. So it's stuck in the lower atmosphere and isn't strong enough to boost out of the planet's pull. We've decided that Zeta will go onto our ship and act as the distraction by harassing the Cruiser long enough for my team to quite literally drop onto the ship. It will take precise aiming, timing, and an insane amount of luck. Zeta will have to punch a hole in their shields just seconds before we hit it so we can actually get in instead of slamming into the ship like a bug hitting a windshield. We'll use our grav boots to hook onto the side and crawl down into an access hatch. Once inside, we'll need to find a way to take out the engines and crash the thing. But escaping the crash is something we have yet to come up with. Just another benefit of being behind enemy lines, I guess.
Things begin to kick up once we reach the rocky shores that will lead to our transport. The boat grinds roughly to a halt as the waterline abruptly cuts off and turns into stone. We each load out one by one and secure the area before moving on. "I've pin pointed the unknown encampment a mile from here. Doesn't look like they have found our ship, but we need to prepare for a fight. If they're friendly, we ignore them and go on our way. If they're not, we take them out," Jessica says. "We'll need some recon on them. I suggest Kia goes with Parkson to scope it out," I say, looking at the two. "I'm fine with that," Arnold says, looking at Jacobs. "You?"
Jacobs just shrugs. "Fine by me," he says. I look at Kia and Parkson and they nod. Kia grabs 211's DMR from his back and ignores his complaints as she hands him her BR. "I need the scope," Is all she says before climbing the hill to begin their recon.
They disappear over the edge and are gone for a long time. We wait for them patiently and pass the time by checking our weapons and armor and going over the battle plan.
Zeke sets down a portable holographic projector and brings up the Covenant cruiser we'll be attacking. "I've found the ship's name in the UNSC's battle database. The Silent Praise was present in the battle of Sigma Octanus IV but escaped into slipspace before it was destroyed and suffered a few heavy hits, but was repaired. It showed up again during Thrug, and one more time in a random encounter since then by the UNSC Deadbeat, but it was a non-violent encounter. From the information that has been gathered on this vessel, it seems to be a pretty standard ship. Full crew compliment and weapons armaments. But what I found that is strange, the Silent Praise has had two Shipmasters in a few month's time. When contacted by the Hyroglyph on Thrug, there was a larger Elite wearing Maroon armor. And when it was found again by the Deadbeat, an Elite with white armor answered. So we can assume that it either has two Shipmasters in command, or one was dismissed soon after second contact. But we need to be on alert for both possibilities," Zeke says. As he explains the different encounters and the Shipmasters, flat images and short videos appear next to the ship itself, showing the encounters and what the shipmasters look like.
"Will you be going out to orbit after pulling down the shields?" 211 asks. "We'll do a fly-by to make sure you guys are still alive. But other than that, we'll be sitting up in orbit and waiting for the ship to go down," Zeke says, placing a hand on his hip. "Just remember to set down a beacon after you get your asses out," Arnold says. "You don't want to be stuck down there just because you forgot to call for help," Jacobs adds.
Another hour passes before Kia and Parkson report back from their recon, formally unable to communicate because of cautious radio silence. They come sliding down the hill and kick up dust and rocks. Kia throws back 211's DMR and retrieves her own weapon.
"Large encampment, it's going to be a pain in the ass to get passed," Kia says, looking at me. "Are they hostile or friendly?" I ask, crossing my arms. Upon watching my teammate, I realize her armor has new dirt scuffs that have been scrapped into her kneepads and chestplate. Her visor reflects back no emotion, but I've known her long enough to recognize the stance shift and the slight tightening of her fingers, signaling a change of emotion. "No, sir. They..." she stops and shakes her head upon remembering what she saw. "I think you had better watch."
She pulls the recording from her helmet and slides it into the holographic projector. It plays through until they leave our group and go up the hill.
They trek through the brush and dirt until they crest over the hill and the valley comes into view, littered with sharp rocky spires and patches of scraggly grass and bushes. It's always interesting to watch Kia set up for recon. It's swiftly proffesional and mezmirizing.
Kia lays on her chest and scopes through the DMR and the unknown campsite comes into view. It isn't very large but there are three Pelicans parked across from each other with transportation vehicles scattered around, forming a vague perimeter.
The ones inhabiting the camp are indeed human. But they aren't UNSC. Not by a long shot. Everything points to them being Insurrectionists.
Kia fast-forwards the recording until Parkson silently points out an incoming transportation vehicle incoming from the west. Kia enhances the zoom on the scope to maximize and tracks the warthog until it comes to a stop in the middle of the encampment. The cargo is unloaded and forced to their knees. My breath catches in my throat once I realize who the captured soldier is. His head is badly scrapped and dried blood is caked onto his head. He had lost his helmet and different parts of his armor are either lost or charred. But even though he had lost everything, Paller holds his head high and keeps his defiance up even in the face of death.
"This isn't good," Kia whispers over the recording. Parkson grunts in agreeance and she shifts slightly, watching the event below them. There are four other ODST's who are lined up next to each other in a row and forced to their knees. Their hands are tied behind their backs and they each voluntarily look the firing squad in the eye as weapons are trained on their heads. Kia winces as the insurrectionists pull the trigger and each body falls one by one. In the end, the brave ODST's had looked death in the face and their bravery never faltered. Their memories would be honored, but at a later date. For now, we have a problem to deal with.
The recording ends and a grim silence falls over us for a long time. Finally, Parkson breaks the silence by clearing his throat and gesturing back towards the encampment. "Right...we need to find a way to take them down. Zeta, any ideas?" I ask, looking to Zeke and the rest of his team. Zeke seems to snap out of a daze and nods. "We'll go in with a stealth approach, use our reflective plates. Jacobs still has a few charges left over so we'll plant those on the pelicans and keep them grounded. Blue team, you can get our backs and keep us covered if something goes wrong. We'll rejoin you after planting the charges and help you take down the rest," he says. "Lets get moving then. Innies don't wait for anybody," Kia says.
I watch Zeta through my Rifle's scope as they slowly approach the encampment using a left flanking maneuver, keeping themselves downwind. We keep in contact with them during the duration of the approach which only lasts twelve minutes, and then its radio-silence from there on out.
One by one the Spartans shimmer out of existence and move into the camp. We switch our gazes to the insurrectionist soldiers and keep them in sight while waiting for the others to be done. It takes fifteen minutes, but Zeta quickly rejoins us on the hill. "I've always loved fireworks, how about you?" Arnold asks, holding a remote detonator. "Let the sparks fly," I say with a grin.
Each of the Pelicans goes up in a giant fireball that consumes everything in its path. Charred bodies are thrown clear and debris is scattered around the encampment. "Weapons free, take 'em down!" Zeke calls.
Gunfire rings from the hill side and finds their targets with deadly aim. Dust erupts in brief spouts from missed shots and Jessica's Sniper Rifle cracks in the sky as she carefully takes down her targets.
Nothing moves down below and we send scouts to make sure all is safe. After they send the all-clear signal, we leave the hillside and begin marching back to our ship.
It's a complete and total relief once we set our eyes on the magnificent beast sitting on the grey rocks, camoflauged against enemy sensors. It looks completely untouched and ready to fly. Once we get inside, the pre-flight checks are done, the engines warmed up, and everything is battened down.
The ship we landed is actually a space fairing ship, but we had to get it onto the surface because of possible threats by keeping it in orbit. Arnold has very few problems with getting it off of the ground and into the sky. Once we're air-borne, we have to sweep wide enough to come in a direct flight line with the Covenant ship.
We are instructed to go down into hangar two and wait to drop. It's intimidating standing next to an open hangar door with just the shield keeping you from falling to a certain death.
"This has to be the craziest thing we've done yet," 211 says, watching the land below sweep by. "Where's your spirit? This has got to be the funnest!" Kia says with a laugh. "Covenant ship in sight. ETA, two minutes," Arnold says from the COM channel.
We draw even closer to the hangar door, and that's when the shield drops. Due to the speed of the ship it creates a slipstream where there's a barrier between the wind and the ship, so we aren't pulled off of our feet and thrown outside. But it's plenty intimidating standing just inches from a several hundred foot fall to the hard ground below. "Countdown to insertion," Arnold says. I brace my knees and get ready to be the first one out. "Five, four, three, two...one."
Steeling my nerves, I launch myself out of the hangar bay and into the sky. There's a breif moment of vertigo before I am able to align myself. I drop through the slipstream and am slapped in the face by the wind once I begin gaining speed. I am a bullet flying through the sky, a rock falling from a cliff. The thrill of it is exciting and terrifying. But I am reminded of my mission once the sleek covenant ship comes into sight.
There's an absolutely ear shattering boom somewhere above me and a MAC round discharges from the UNSC ship and slams into the Covenant shields. The shields ripple but hold. And as we near the shield, a second boom reverberates through the sky and collides into the shield that is coming up at me at an alarming speed. The honey-combed forcefield ripples and finally shatters, withdrawing quickly as the shields break.
But it isn't long until I realize that something is wrong. My trajectory is off and I find myself drifting away from the top of the ship, where we planned to land. I desperately try to fix this mistake and brace myself for a hard landing.
It only takes a second to slam hard into the side of the ship after flaring myself out. The metal is as sleek as it looks, and my heart drops as I begin sliding off of the top. I scramble for a hold, desperate to save myelf. The ground looms below like the threatening maws of death. I fall further and further and my feet clear the edge and my body begins to follow. How the hell am I going to save myself this time?