Chapter LIX: Ambushed

March 3, 2542 (UNSC Calendar)/

Nueva Havana, Aztlan, Eta Cassopie System

It just takes a week and a half for a fanatical army to sweep through the land, burning everything on its path. The Army saw terrible defeats in just two weeks while the Marines did their best to win, but failed utterly as well. I saw grunts throw themselves with grenade belts covering their bodies and a shining orb on each hand, I saw elites sprint into a strong position with nothing but an energy sword and a half-empty plasma rifle, hunters would shrug off a rocket tearing out half their bodies for just long enough to kill another human. Even jackals fought more fiercely and with even less consideration for their lives than they usually did.

The sad thing is, it worked.

After a couple of days our morale was lower than it had ever been, soldiers were now starting to be very afraid of the enemy, more than they had been before. Perhaps it was the amount of fear that the Covenant had deserved from the beginning, but right now it felt terrible. Men and women had absolutely no hope to win in here, more than a couple soldiers put a gun against their temple or swallowed a bullet.

Later, someone realized that an army cannot win a war if they keep having losses of about half their forces in every attack. This time, it wasn't us who were loosing soldiers in the thousands for no acceptable purpose or valid reason. This time it was the covvies, who in their religious fervor and wrath at having their leaders killed, who were reducing their numbers more and more every day. When the latest intel reports came in a big burden was lifted from lots of backs, suddenly, people were able to believe that we might just win this battle. We were not outnumbered anymore, we still held on to major cities and spaceports, most of the civilian populace of Aztlan was alive and well, with most of them contributing to the war effort in one way or another. Things might be bleak, but not as much as they seemed to be just yesterday.

Then two words destroyed the hope of millions of men, women, and children. Two single words.

"Enemy reinforcements," I heard Lieutenant Wilkins utter. The normally stoic, calm, unexpressive and all that shit man, was looking grim, his face giving away his emotions. That was a bad sign, and it made me feel worried.

"How many," I finally asked.

"Thirty ships, little over half of them are destroyers and corvettes, but there's one assault carrier and thirteen cruisers," he said.

"Oh crap," Pavel cursed. He then followed that by a long stream of profanity that included some very weird comparisons and left me feeling quite nervous of sitting next to my friend.

"Indeed," Wilkins agreed, "but this still isn't over, we need to get as many people out of here as we can, and soon."
"How?" I asked, my tone sarcastic.

"Well Staff Sergeant, we shove them into ships and then those ships fly away from here," he said in an equally sarcastic tone. "But, since they can and probably will be shot down we need to establish a coordinated effort in which all UNSC Navy ships will cluster themselves above the main evacuation ports, after which we would simply try to blast through the Covenant ships that would most certainly would be out there waiting for us. A suicide run, if you will. Our escape plan from this planet was a retreat followed by a suicide run. Awesome.

"But," Wilkins started again, "this isn't over yet, so you two still have some work left to do." He threw a manila folder at me. "I'm too tired for this shit, give it a read and report to the designated landing pad."

Having said all he needed to say, Wilkins unceremoniously ordered us to leave his ONI command tent and collapsed on his chair. At least that's what I think happened, the man closed the doors on us as soon as we walked out, but it would've fit the mood perfectly, so that's what I like to imagine happened.

"…supply lines… sabotage food convoy… eliminate any plasma cells that might… blah, blah… blah, Hornet gunship support, additional artillery support is optional… two man mission, small map attached, ODSTs recommended, blabbity blah… elimination of guards not required but optimal, explosives provided, blah and more blah," Pavel read out loud.

"Huh, mission dossiers are getting a whole lot more informal nowadays, aren't they?" I remarked sarcastically.

"Yes, whoever wrote this will probably get axed," he replied without missing a beat.

Sometimes I really think that Pavel spends his nights thinking about clever ways to beat me in verbal arguments. It is creepy. What is creepier is that I come up with several scenarios in case I get into an argument with Pavel, most of the time they work masterfully. I shook my head at the thought and headed towards the small armory that the Hell's Ambassadors had setup while we tried to make our organized retreat as hasty as possible without loosing cohesion. Yes, we were finally attached back to Echo Company after what seemed like an eternity. We got to meet old men we had fought alongside and scare the new replacements a little.

"Castillo! Stop right there!"
And then there was Krikor Darbinian.

"Lieutenant?" I asked politely while Pavel positioned himself behind my left shoulder with a murderous look in his eyes. Well, I didn't actually get to see his eyes, but that's what I told him he should do in case this ever happened. Darbinian looked uncertain for a moment. The pissy lieutenant that seemed to have something personal against me took a deep breath and I knew he was going to rant on for a long time about something I failed at. Technically, he couldn't really do that since I wasn't under his command and was part of an entirely different unit with no direct relation to his other than the fact that we were both stationed in the same ship.

"Just where do you think you're going?" he asked after giving me a lecture on something (I zoned out after he opened his mouth).

"To the armory," I replied. "Klaus and myself are going to stop the enemy supply line in sector…"
Pavel opened the folder and skimmed through it. "42," he said finally.

"Forty two," I agreed, enunciating both words carefully, trying to make as much of my disliking for the man as possible to seep into the words.

For once, I was sorry it worked, the lieutenant got a look of pure anger in his eyes and took the folder away from my friend Pavel. He opened it with a lot more violence that was needed and went through it in a few seconds before he glanced up at us. The red in his eyes had been replaced by a very, very wide smile. It actually made me a little scared.

"It says here that you are not set to leave until right before the sun sets," he stated. "So that means that you two can do something productive before you leave."
Oh shit.

"I believe there is a latrine that needs to be covered up in the north end of the camp," he said. "You two seem like healthy and fit men, you just volunteered for the job."
"Did we?" Pavel asked.

"I am not sure we did, in fact, I would say that we didn't Pavel," I replied with an innocent voice.

"Well, in that case I am ordering you to do so," Darbinian said.

Oh well, at least the "Oh shit" thought was accurate enough.

Pavel and I turned around and went to the designated latrine area. It actually looked worse than it smelled, but only by a little, and it looked really, really bad. I shrugged at my friend and grabbed a shovel, we both started shoveling dirt to cover the mess.

"The year was twenty five and forty two, the space between the stars was cruised by ships that could move faster than light," Pavel started. "There were machines intelligent enough that they could oversee a whole planet, organs could be cloned at a moment's notice, and a non-military gunshot wound to the head was only fatal in 76% of the cases thanks to modern medicine. Humanity was at its peak, but still, they had not managed to invent a portable sewer system, instead using the same technology that had been used since the first men could speak more than grunts and before that, latrines."
I actually stopped and leaned on my shovel to listen to my friend.

"A few years afterwards, the humans made contact with an alien alliance. The aliens saw that humans didn't have a reliable sewer system in several colonies and declared them dirty and smelly, and so it was that this war started."
Throughout the duration of his monologue he sounded like the narrating voice of a trailer for the newest blockbuster action flick from Bollywood It was actually quite creative and funny.

"You know what would've been cool?" I said. "If you'd done that in iambic pentameter."

He shrugged and shoveled a pile of dirt into a pile of shit. We were about halfway done and we still had a lot more shit to cover up before we were finally finished. Truly, it wasn't that tiring, in fact, in a way it was a way to distract ourselves from the mission to come.

"Oh," I said, "and by the way, our sewer system is actually pretty advanced, the problem here is that we have nowhere to dump it to since we ran out of pipes."
"Frankie, my boy," Pavel said while shoveling. "Next time I see a covvie taking aim at you I will let it fire, maybe it will kill you just like you killed my buzz."
I laughed out loud for a couple of moments before I heard an argument t my back. I turned around to see none other than Lieutenant Wilkins (first name: unknown) was strolling towards here while a very angry-looking Krikor Darbinian yelled angrily at his back. Wilkins did the best to ignore the marine lieutenant while he closed in on us.

"Drop what you're doing, come with me," he said.

"You can't do that," Darbinian complained.

"I can, and I will," Wilkins replied. "Just watch me."

As soon as he said that both Pavel and I dropped our shovels and theatrically dusted ourselves after stretching. I walked past an angered Darbinian and gave him a small, polite nod. Pavel was less of a civilized human being and instead tipped his imaginary hat to the man and bowed in 17th century fashion. Ignore that, I don't know what fashion he bowed in, 17th century just sounds interesting and fitting, but I am probably very wrong about that.

Well, regardless.

We fell in step behind Wilkins and as soon as we were far enough away from the latrines he turned around and faces us with a look so angry that both of us, hardened Helljumpers, backed away a tiny step. He glared at us for a few instants before he opened his mouth.

"You are Helljumpers, not pre-teen girls. When an idiot makes fun of you, you kick his ass and warn him not to do it again, you don't do what he says and hand him your balls, you don't wait for an officer with a desk job to come save your asses," he said. "Next time I see that Darbinian is treating you as shit I will buy him a beer and will double whatever punishment he made."
Having said that he turned and left. And I did feel ashamed, when you put it like that you really get into perspective how bad we had been treated by some pretentious asshole that wanted to believe that he was better than humanity's best. It was made worse because we were better than him, in more ways than one. Wilkins managed to make me fill like a little boy being scolded in just a couple of sentences.

"Ouch," Pavel was the first to speak.

"To the armory to look at guns and speak in manly voices," I said.

"Agreed, we need some of our dignity back and quick."

That's what I loved about Pavel (in a totally non-homoerotic way), he had a capability to make fun of everyone and make them laugh at themselves as well. He also managed to make fun of himself in a way that made you sure that the man was joking whenever he made fun of you. That's what he wanted you to think, that man is perverse, he probably has some sort of plan to conquer the galaxy hidden under his head. I am afraid that I might become one of his tools for that.

"Frank?"

"Yes?"

"Were you just thinking about stupid implausible stuff that has no real way of happening in any place outside of your imagination?" he asked me.

"No…"

I had, you remember the Pavel taking over the world thing, don't you?

"Sure," he said, elongating the word as long as possible.

By that point we were already inside the armory, it was perhaps about the size of two scorpion tanks placed next to each other and about the same height. I only know this because there were actually three scorpions parked right outside the armory. You can fit a lot of weapons and ammo into a space of those dimensions, but very rarely is it enough to satisfy a company of trigger-happy marines. Hell, only having three tanks was deemed an insult by some of the NCOs, and Echo isn't even a tank unit. Sure, there's the trained marines that can drive and fire at the same time, but that doesn't mean that they are entitled to tanks.

Great, now I just said that we shouldn't be given tanks.

I grabbed a bunch of ammunition for my battle rifle and started filling up magazines with the stubby bullets. I looked at Pavel and saw him carefully folding ammunition belts into a large metallic box magazine. He looked like all of his concentration was required for the task, with his eyes showing determination and his face holding a scowl that looked like he was taking the worst dump in the history of men.

"Whoa, don't burst a coronary there," I said.

"This is a delicate task," he said after he looked at me briefly. "You wouldn't want my gun jamming when I'm providing exemplary covering fire so that you can pull off one of those crazy stunts of yours, eh?"
"Well, by all means, do try to be careful then," I said in an excessively polite tone. "Just don't try to think to much while you're doing that, might faint."
"You do know you're an ass?" he asked.

"Hey, that's how I deal with all the pain in my life," I shrugged of.

Pavel huffed with a small grin and proceeded to pack three more box magazines with ammunition while I only managed to go through two single BR55 mags. He was finished with his pistol's ammunition and already had a grenade belt slung over his shoulder by the time I started filling my pistol's magazines with ammunition. Pavel didn't even bother to wait for me and so he left me to bore myself while inserting bullets into metallic boxes one at a time.

Once I was finally done I stuffed all the magazines I could into my pants' pockets and juggled the rest all the way to my tent. Inside I threw them on the bed while I started putting on my armor. No undersuit this time, no risk of exposure to vacuum or (significant) radiation meant that I could do without the tight one-piece that stuck to the thighs and hurt my groin. Instead, a regular t-shirt and cargos would do.

When I finally was up and ready to kick some serious ass, I quickly cleaned my battle rifle and right after I was done I did the same for my pistol. The two guns looked as battered and old as they did when I put them back together, but they wouldn't jam for another mission, that is, unless a barrel of molasses was poured on both of them, and molasses are known to move very slowly.

Guns ready and clean, what am I missing?

I grabbed the largest of my knives from its usual place above my butt-pouch and produced a metallic block that was meant to sharpen knives. My knife's blade had been made as sharp as possible as it was for steel to become without braking. Still, time dulled it considerably, especially when half the time it was out of its sheath it happened to be trying to hack through armor and flesh.

I twirled the knife a couple of times in my hand. It was the standard issue combat knife to the UNSCMC. Army types got a smaller knife that also had a variety of other uses and a hollow hilt for keeping all kinds of useful stuff. Marines weren't meant to stay out on the field that long, at least according to military doctrine, so we got bigger and sharper knives. I twirled it around once more and started running the sharpener by the blade. I'd probably get it really sharpened on the ship. That is, provided we managed to survive escaping this hellhole.

When I finished sharpening my knife I started wondering where Pavel was, his armor wasn't in here, so that meant that he was already suited up. Lieutenant Delacroix was assigned to B Company, which was Army, which wasn't anywhere nearby so he couldn't really be getting some 'I hope you don't die' sex either. I finally gave it up after about ten seconds of looking for a reason why he could be outside the tent.

As soon as it was time to leave, I stood up, sheathed my knife with a movement that was almost as natural as walking, shouldered my rifle, and proceeded to leave the tent and head in the direction of our hornet gunship. The camp seemed almost deserted at this time of day, but I knew that there were at least a hundred marines sleeping with guns under their pillows and rifles under their beds. This place could go from a ghost town to serious shit storm for anyone that barged in without permission in a matter of seconds.

I reached the empty landing pads, which were really nothing more than relatively flat land next to our camp. Most of them were currently empty, with a single pelican on the ground right now, in addition to the larger transport craft there were a couple of hornets just resting their wings in there. One of the hornets had two human figures next to them. One was dark and tall while the other one was almost unnaturally small and I could just make out a green color to it Pavel and our pilot were already waiting on me.

"Right on time Helljumper," the young pilot said to me with a condescending smile on her pretty face. With that sentence and expression I knew all that I needed to know about her.

"Don't recall asking your opinion," I said gruffly. "Pavel, no shotgun?"
"Yes Frank, I hid it in my trousers," he said as the annoying pilot climbed into the cockpit.

"Wouldn't be surprised," I said. "You're a huge asshole."
He looked at me.

"Oh sorry," I said. "You have a huge asshole."
Pavel punched me in the jaw just hard enough for my head to turn slightly and hopped on the hornet while mumbling something about putting a bullet in my neck so that I would shut up already. Or something along those lines, as I said, he mumbled it. I smiled to myself and put on my helmet. Once that was done I jumped on the tray that would serve as my seat for a few hours.

A hornet ride is not really a pleasant experience. Many soldiers complain about one thing in particular, the fact that you were seating on a fucking tray that also doubled as a landing rail for example. I was left with my legs hanging out with nothing to hold on to except for a couple of handrails to hold on two. Those two handrails were rumored to have been added to the craft as an afterthought. Well, despite those shortcomings the AV-14 Attack VTOL "Hornet" was a wondrous craft, exceeding in most aspects against banshees except for speed. The twin gatling guns on its nose and the two guided missile systems were more than enough of a match for unguided plasma and weak armor.

Despite all its pros and advantages, right now I was wishing that at we'd gotten a falcon. Those things at least had something resembling a roof over your head. Oh, and floor under your feet. Granted, I could stand up on the hornet's skids, but then I'd be leaning backwards with my feet having nothing but a slightly slanted surface keeping me on board. Yes, a falcon seemed like a very nice choice right now. In fact, I am not entirely sure why the corps didn't have it as their standard gunship, they could mount a missile system on it easily enough.

"Two minutes out!" the pilot notified.

"Boy, these flyboys really do like yelling, don't they?" I asked Pavel.

"Yeah, don't know why?" he agreed.

"Hey, I am right here," she said, her voice quieter now, "and I'm a flygirl not a flyboy."
"I am shrugging right now," I told her. Sometimes words aren't enough so you've got to use body language to get your point across. My point in this situation was that I simply did not care. At least the girl was nice about it, she could've tilted the craft more than was recommended just to mess with me, at which point I would've forced the cockpit open and thrown her out of the hornet. Yeah, like that's even possible.

The land below us went from dense jungle to rocky terrain with no cover other than the aforementioned rocks and the occasional tree trunk.

"Ten seconds," she said. Note how I mentioned 'said' and not 'yelled'?

The hornet flew over a small cliff on the rocks on top of the small cliff there was a surprisingly well-paved road flanked by another cliff wall on the other side. We were dropped on the road and the hornet hovered on the air for a couple of seconds.

"Stay here!" I yelled through the noise of the turbines.

"Who's shouting now?" she yelled right back.

"I think I like this girl," I told Pavel.

"You would like a girl that could probably kick your ass."

I was about to make some comment about how Pavel's ass was spanked during sex but abstained myself from doing so at the cost of biting my tongue and huffing like an idiot while trying to hold back a fit of laughter. Then I remembered where we were and immediately calmed myself down. Once I was breathing regularly, which took about three seconds, I started moving again.

"Catch," I warned as I tossed Pavel an explosive charge.

"You know how nervous that makes me don't you?"

"How could I not?" I replied with an invisible smile.

Once he had a few charges on his hands he started planting them at regular ten-yard intervals in the small wedge that separated the two lanes of the road. He did this with all his five charges and I did the same with mine. Once we were finished there were still two charges left and we were left there wondering how to use them. I looked at the cliff face on my right and then at the drop on my left.

"Collapse the road?" I asked.

"No, could make this side of the cliff collapse as well and we'd go down with it," he said, pointing to a point that we had both assumed we were going to use.

"Then what?" I asked. "Planting them here would be a waste." I motioned at the road, already littered with powerful explosives.

"We could use them to create a rockslide up ahead and prevent them from escaping that way," he suggested.

"And behind them?" I asked.

"There is only so much a man can do," he said with a shrug.

I shrugged with him and motioned for our pilot to come pick us up. She did so and then led us to a point about a hundred yards ahead of the closest explosive. I told her to get close to the cliff and then planted the two remaining plastic explosive charges on the rocky wall. It wasn't going to bring down as much of it as I would've liked, but I didn't have a drill or enough time to do a full job.

Once I was done and the explosives were all snuggly and comfy against the jagged cliff wall our talkative pilot lead us back to the position she had originally dropped us in. She then went higher and dropped us off in the cliff above the road so that we had a very nice vantage point of the area all around us. From here, I could see the gas giant that Aztlan orbited, it was a dark red against the absolute black of night. The sky was filled with millions upon millions of starts. It truly was beautiful, not many planets have such amazing skies. All the more reason to regret the loss of yet another colony.

I set my sights on the far end of the road, waiting for the enemy convoy to show up. I knew that a micro satellite would be tracking it, and that our support hornet would be high in the sky looking for it, but I still wanted to be ready as soon as possible. So I aimed while Pavel tried a quick nap and I waited.

Hey guys, I feel like I need to explain the title of the chapter, "Ambushed". It refers to the fact that both Frank and Pavel were ambushed by Darbinian and forced to do latrine duty, not to the fact that they set up an ambush. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed.

-casquis