Chapter CXXIX: No Rest for the Weary
October 3, 2544 (UNSC Calendar)/
Covenant Anti-Aircraft Gun 1, Catamaran Peninsula, Asilon, Omicron Ebur System
"When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail"- Abraham Maslow
The banging had finally stopped. It had been several hours of constant banging, sometimes loud sometimes not. Occasionally there would be an explosion and the whole bunker would shake, but nothing really serious; the covvies built to last. Angel was fast asleep and so was Pavel. Perhaps calling the state that they were in 'sleep' would be pushing it. A lot. They were unconscious and as hopped up on painkillers as we could get them without giving them a drug overdose. I know that Grass was supposed to know everything, but being aware of the exact quantity that each man could have in their system while taking into account height, weight, muscle mass, and fat percentage is really scary.
"It's stopped," Snark said after waiting just long enough for us to know that he was being a dick.
"It does feel a little bit quieter," I agreed, using a completely normal tone.
"Should we open up?" Grass asked.
Caboose stood up. "There aren't any cameras outside, we can't know for sure until we actually open the doors."
"Grass, is your Morse good?"
"Do you have to ask?" She smiled. "Did you know that there were originally several Morse alphabets? Allegedly that contributed to the sinking of the Titanic."
"The what?" Snark asked.
"Ocean liner," Bee replied. "Biggest at the time."
"How big was it?"
"Dunno, about four hundred meters or something?"
"Grass?" Snark asked the resident know-it-all.
"I honestly don't know, I'd have to watch the movie again."
"There's a movie about a ship sinking? You really have to run out of ideas for that…"
Grass giggled at me and shook her head. "No, actually, it's about a love story between a rich girl and a working-class man that try to live a forbidden love during the four day voyage from Liverpool to New York and-"
"And then the ship sinks," Snark finished with a satisfies smile.
"Well, yes, but that's not the point. It is a lovely story that-"
"So," I cut in. "They made a chick flick, based on a real life tragedy? Man, you need some serious balls for that. Weren't the survivors like all pissed?"
"It was made almost a hundred years after the event," Grass shrugged, obviously annoyed that we hadn't let her finish. "Back then people didn't live long."
"Oh, I'm sure that a couple of people could've made it eighty years," Bumblebee argued. "It's not like they were in the middle ages Grass."
"Yeah, but nobody lived past a hundred and fifty until two centuries after that."
"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked.
"Well, nothing, but-"
Caboose shushed us all and stood up. "They're banging on the door again."
"Right," I agreed. I pressed my ear as close to the door as I dared before I heard some clicking noises. "Hey!" I shouted, banging on the door thrice. There was a definite pause to the noise and three bangs were heard. "Grass, you're up. Ask them if they're human in Morse."
"Sure thing," she sighed and walked up to the door. I knew Morse, well, I was supposed to, but since I hadn't seen the need to use it ever since bootcamp I was very rusty on it. I bet that if there were Marines on the other side, or even regular soldiers, they would have one guy that knew how to speak it. Grass banged, leaving distinct pauses in between words, doing quick bangs for dots and long ones for dashes. After a couple of seconds of her transmitting the message she stopped and took a step back from the doors.
What we got for a reply was priceless. One slightly long bang followed by four quick ones. A pause. Two more bangs.
"Ok, open it up," I laughed. "Don't aim at out visitors."
"Opening the door," Bee announced.
"Don't shoot, don't shoot, don't shoot!" Grass yelled, sounding almost bored at doing so.
Ten Marines quickly entered the room, weapons scanning in every direction. Once they processed that we were Helljumpers they decided that if we were here then the room was probably clear and secure. The leader stepped forward. "Reaper Actual?"
"That would be me," I announced, walking up to him and offering my hand. "Thanks for getting us out, we didn't know how many aliens were left outside."
"About fifty," he replied. "Sorry it took so long, but we came up against a couple of armored units."
"You don't seem too worse for wear."
"We were lucky," the man sighed. "You're from the Inconvenience, right?" He went on after I nodded. "We heard that one of the companies from the ship got it bad, walked right into a large armored force with only two tanks for support."
"Are they fine?" Snark asked.
He shrugged. "Didn't really hear much, but they accomplished all of their objectives."
"That's Echo Company for you," Bee said approvingly. "Now, I am very sure that there's supposed to be a couple of surgeons among you…"
"Of course," the marine nodded. "We have a Pelican prepared to evacuate your two wounded squad mates."
"And us?" I asked tentatively, fearing the answer.
"Sorry Gunny, got yourselves in a classical 'no rest for the weary' kind of situation."
Grass groaned, Caboose dropped back to the floor, Snark punched the wall, Bee kicked at a brute's corpse. I didn't do anything, but the man in front of me took a step back and swallowed nervously. He was obviously a local, had never seen a Helljumper in his entire life. He didn't know if the stories were true or not, if we were all psychopaths only in it for the fun. I can tell you that we probably didn't give him a very good impression.
"It's orders, sir."
Sir. Ha, nice touch.
"Whatever you say," I told him. "Where's our transport?"
"There are four Hornets waiting out back?"
"Hornets!" Bee exclaimed, obviously pissed at our new method of transport. He was about to start ranting when I waved at him to calm down, nothing we could do about it.
"We're only going to need three," I told the marine. "Can we raid your armory?"
"You'd have to ask the Captain, but I see no problem with that."
"And your food supply too!" Grass yelled, a little bit too loudly.
"Uh…sure…"
We were led back through the trenches that hours ago we had sprinted through. They were filled with alien corpses, some of them had been killed by us, but most hadn't. The Marines milling about let us pass, sometimes staring when we went by. They had heard stories about us crazy Helljumpers and were as close to awestruck as they would get without seeing a Spartan. For some reason the stares made me slightly uncomfortable, as if I could never meet up to their expectations.
"Right this way," our escort told us, directing us towards the outer trench. There were very few Marine corpses scattered about. "Oh, I forgot, thanks for taking those Shades out, well, most of them anyways, it was a big help."
"No problem," Bee grunted. "Where's the Hornets?"
"Right there," he pointed.
"We can take it from here, Private," I said. "Thanks."
"No problem. Good luck."
I nodded and he took off.
"Aren't we going to raid their armory?" Snark asked. "My EMR is almost out of rounds."
"Nah, we're just going to let them worry about what we took."
"Devious."
"Thank you."
There were four Hornets landed in front of us, but even as we approached one of them took off and flew off towards the south. The other three stood there until the pilots noticed us.
"Em," I said.
"Frank!" she returned. "I'm glad you're fine."
I returned her hug with one hand, letting the other one hang to the side with my BR55 and my helmet. Despite the lack of light Emily was still wearing her trademark aviators. I looked at her pretty face and thought that I must really love Hanna if I left this for her.
She went on. "They didn't tell us who we were picking up."
"Why is it I never get hugs like that?" Snark complained.
"I can hug you," Bee offered.
"Really?" Snark asked, making fake puppy eyes. Before he could move Bumblebee seized him and squeezed him against his chest with as much strength as he could muster. "Can't. Breath."
"Put him down," Grass grunted.
"Bee, Grass," I pointed at them and then to one of the Hornets. "Caboose and Snark, that one." I turned to face Emily again, taking a step back from her. "How is it going?"
"We've been hit pretty hard, but progress is as expected, the covvies are sounding a full retreat, making a run for Catamaran City."
"A showdown for the ages," I muttered.
"And you," she patted my shoulder lightly, "will be spearheading it."
"That's my job," I sighed.
"Let's go, we were told to bring you up front as fast as possible."
I sat down on the so-called passenger seats and leaned back on it. One leg was left hanging to the side and the other I bent up so that it was still on top of the ship. I had seen wounded soldiers medivaced on Hornets, only as last resort of course, but they could fit well enough on the sides. It was terribly uncomfortable too, with my BR55 poking at my back and having to hold myself up with one hand. The other one was swinging below with my helmet on it.
"Geez Frank," Emily chuckled after looking over her shoulder from her cockpit. "You must be really tired."
"Or I'm just showing off for you."
"Ya know, as much as I appreciate the thought, we can't talk like that anymore."
"Sigh."
"Agreed, but it was fun while it lasted."
"Tell me about it…"
I was looking straight up, one of the wings of the Hornet blocked half the sky, but we were flying high above the mist so I could see the night sky of this planet. The sun had set, rise, and set again since we locked ourselves inside the enemy bunker. I hadn't slept more than five minutes in a row, and even then I had only let my guard down out of sheer exhaustion, I hadn't been willing to risk falling asleep when my best friend was defenseless. Sounds corny, I know, but it's the truth.
"You think she's all right?" she asked after a while.
"She's got to be."
"With your luck?" she huffed out a humorless laugh. "The whole company is probably missing a limb and Hanna is down there, tending after people with not a single scratch on her."
"My luck? What are you talking about?"
"Face it Frankie, when we all get the short end of the stick you're the one that gets out just fine."
"I've got scars to prove that you're dead wrong."
"Everybody else has bigger scars, Frank."
"I doubt it," I said grumpily, thinking about the huge mess of skin that crossed my back diagonally.
"I don't mean it literally." I could picture her rubbing her temples. "Look at it this way. You lost your first ship and your whole unit with it."
"UNSC Count Me In, lost with all hands but me."
"You had known most of the guys there for a couple of weeks tops, your squad for a year before that. Pavel lost his entire unit, he had been through training, combat, and more with them. He lost all his friends."
"So did I."
"This is going to sound bad, but you weren't as good friends with them as Pavel was with the DJP."
"You're wrong," I said simply, too tired to be angry.
"Maybe…" It wasn't over, she'd keep pushing her point. "Frank…you're always drawn to larger than life situations, or maybe they're drawn to you, I don't know. What I know is that you always come out on top, scars, scratches, and bruises be damned. You always find a way."
"I've been lucky."
"Most people aren't that lucky. Hell, I bet that none of your squad mates had done anything nearly as crazy as the shit you do." She paused and I noticed that we started going down. "What I'm trying to say is…that you bring out the best in people."
No compliment had ever sounded so hollow to me. "Yeah, and I can't bring out the best in myself."
Emily said nothing, she wouldn't lie to me but at the same time didn't want to say anything that I would take as an insult. She was no natural when it came to psychology, but she knew enough to stay quiet. She piloted her Hornet down to the ground and I was able to hear the sounds of a thousand men walking, talking, and doing stuff. Engines and metallic noises abounded as well. I pulled my hand up when the Hornet was almost on the ground and let my foot feel the ground when we landed.
"Goddamn," I said to myself as I stood up.
Emily jumped out of her craft and turned to face me with a worried look. She was probably thinking that she had said something to seriously offend me. She hadn't, everything she said was right, at least partially. I smiled, trying to reassure her. "You know Em, I'm glad that you can make me analyze my whole life meaning well."
Her whole body seemed to relax at that. "I'm glad we're still friends too."
I butted my forehead against her helmet and grabbed the back of her neck. "Promise me you'll be careful," I asked her.
"Frank…"
"Promise me," I repeated, asking a little louder.
"I promise."
"Good."
"You?"
I laughed weakly. "Really?"
She smiled at that and kissed me on the cheek. "Good luck then."
"Likewise."
We separated and I headed straight out of the landing pads. Pelicans were taking off full of wounded soldiers and empty ones returned. Sometimes one Pelican would arrive with a bunch of ammunition, but the percentage was minimal. That meant that things were going well and we didn't really require much ammo. Or that we were running out of it.
"Gunnery Sergeant Castillo?"
"That's me," I said, turning to face the man who had called my name.
"Name's Private Ramirez."
"Another one of those?" Bee asked.
"Yes Bee, another one," Snark confirmed. He used a tone much like one that a mom would use to dismiss an insistent child. It was very annoying.
"Sir?" Ramirez asked.
"Ignore them, where are we off to?"
"Colonel Pendleton wants to see you."
"Great," I grunted. "Well, off we go, lead us to him."
"Yessir."
"So, Sarge, you double timing? What was that all about?" Bee asked. The look in his eyes told me that he immediately regretted asking that question. He started raising his hands and mouthing something, but before he could get a word out I swiped his feet from under him and pushed him to the ground.
"Sorry," he groaned form the floor. "I was out of line."
"Get up," Snark told him.
"Why don't you help me out here?"
"Why don't you-" Snark was cut off when Bee swiped his feet from underneath him and slammed him to the ground.
"Listen!" I yelled, suddenly feeling angry. "Stop acting like pre-pubescent girls! What the fuck is wrong with you two? I grabbed each of them by the back of the neck and lifted them up. "You're Helljumpers. Act. Like. It!"
"Sorry Sarge," Snark said, looking at the ground.
"It won't happen again," Bee promised me, glancing away under my glare. I could see Grass giving them a 'what the hell' look out the corner of my eyes. Caboose just seemed to be busy examining his nails. How he could do that through ballistic gloves is beyond me.
"Sergeant…right this way."
"Let's go," I growled, still a little bit pissed off.
"I keep saying it," Schitzo sighed. "You need to relax."
"He handled it fine," Scarecrow countered. "We are in the military."
"We?" Schitzo asked. "You're dead."
I pressed my hand against my right eye, trying to get both of them to go away. I succeeded, but only after a Vulture roared overhead. I hadn't seen one of those in years. Only carriers carried them now. Asilon probably had one or two planetside, because no other human ships had arrived. The message was out, and they had received it, but they were some time off.
"The HQ is this way."
I sighed and took deep breaths on the way inside. I was going to meet up with a superior officer, Army or not I had to behave with politeness and professionalism. Although saving his daughter ought to get me some tolerance points.
"Castillo, come in," Pendleton said. He was now wearing only armored boots, camouflage pants, and a sleeveless Army shirt. He looked like he had aged five years.
"Colonel, good to see you again."
"Likewise," he let out before catching himself and straightening up. "Doesn't matter. Where's the rest of your team?"
"Hospital."
"Sorry to hear that."
"They'll be fine. Your concern is appreciated, sir."
"Not exactly concern," he said hesitantly. "We're sending you to the front, boost up morale and help with a particular section of the line."
"Morale?" Grass asked. "We're Helljumpers ,Colonel, not Spartans."
"Spartans…we could do with one of those right about now."
Bee and Snark scoffed behind me. Caboose just rolled his eyes at them.
"Where exactly are you sending us to?" I asked, getting the conversation back on track.
"Here," he said, lighting up the holotable on the room. "The Covenant had a complicated network of trenches. Half of it is now occupied by us, the other half is being fiercely defended by them. Things have settled into a stalemate of sorts, not our choice." The holotable displayed an aerial view of several trenches. They sort of looked like streets, straight lines connected with one another and a curved trench here or there. What called my attention though, was the large Scarab tank collapsed on the ground, well behind enemy-held ground.
"Well, at least it's one of the little ones," Grass muttered. The relief that her statement implied wasn't extended to her tone. "Just great."
"Little ones!" Pendleton exclaimed. "What are you-"
"There are other classes sir," I explained quickly. "A lot harder to take out."
"What?" Suddenly Pendleton looked at all of us with admiration as opposed to grudging acceptance. He seemed to have gained a significant degree of respect for us. "We lost over a dozen Armadillos and three tanks to it!"
"Two well-trained and experienced tankers can take it out," Snark said, keeping his tone respectful. I knew him and in turn knew that he was taunting the Colonel. "But there's nothing that can be done about it now."
"No," Pendleton grunted, eyeing Snark warily. "We understand that you should be able to shut it down?"
"We?"
"Myself and General Staunton."
"Well, anyone is capable, you just have to fire at the reactor in the rear. It's huge, you can't miss it."
"Very funny."
"I didn't intend the statement to be humorous, sir."
He sighed. "It doesn't matter. We can't send any more armored vehicles other than the ones that we already have with us and every bird we use is shot down by the Scarab. We need it down as fast as possible."
I sighed deeply, taking in as much air as possible before letting it out. "We'll do it."
"Good, because I'm ordering you to."
"We're going to need to resupply."
"Our armory is open to you."
"Thank you, sir."
"Oh, about that. The Inconvenience sent down a package for you. Something about a hammer?"
Snark smiled and stretched his arms in front of him, intertwining his fingers and cracking his knuckles. He rolled his head around and grinned at nobody in particular. "They do care about us."
Pendleton looked like he was going to ask, but shook his head and said nothing. "There are plenty of Mongooses-"
So that's how you say it.
"-available at the vehicle park. Feel free to take some."
"Of course, sir. Any additional intel that you can provide us with?"
"The on-site commander can brief you," he dismissed me. "Good luck. Dismissed."
We all saluted and my squad turned and left.
"Something I can help you with?" Pendleton asked, seeing that I was still standing at attention.
"I don't want to speak out of place, sir."
"Say what you have to say."
"Is Carrie fine?"
"My daughter," he said, emphasizing the word heavily, "is just fine."
"I'm glad, sir."
"But that's not all that you've got to say."
"No, sir."
"Well, don't waste my time."
I sighed and slid my left fit a few inches to the side, standing at ease, my helmet held behind my back by both of my hands. "Sir, when you sent us to that farmhouse, to save your daughter-"
"I sent you to bring back two-" he started yelling defensively.
"Sir," I interrupted. "It was a good decision, regardless of your daughter being there or not. Everything turned out fine and we made some huge gains. What I'm saying here, is that you can't let your love for her guide your actions. It worked great this one time, sir, but there's no way it will again. It's like you said to me: your men, your plan, your responsibility. I want to know if you understand that."
"Damn right I understand!" he spat. "Don't you think I considered every other available option? She's my daughter!"
"And I understand that, but there are hundreds of men under your command, all of them relying on your orders to survive to see another day. I know that I'm out of line here-"
"Way. Out of line."
"But you should send your daughter back to the rear, she's a corpsman, she can help out with the wounded and be out of trouble."
"I don't care what a jarhead like you has to say about my leadership skills," he yelled. "I don't care what you think about me. I don't care if you think I made that choice for wrong reasons. I don't care about anything else that you have to say. I don't care about you!" He paused for a breath. "Understood?"
I was this close to telling him that I hadn't been listening and asking him to repeat himself, but I swallowed my anger and stood straighter, making the difference in height between us all the more noticeable. "Oh, I understand perfectly Colonel." I turned around after giving him my best, brightest, sharpest, straightest salute. I held it there for five straight seconds, my eyes firmly planted on the wall. "Tell your daughter I asked after her." I turned around and walked out as calmly as possible. I'm pretty sure that it still looked like I had stormed out of the room, but, quoting the colonel himself: I didn't care what he thought.
"Sarge?" Grass asked.
"Let's get a move on, there's a bug we need to take out." Two bugs in particular. I put on my helmet and opened a comm with Eliza. "Liz, do you read me?"
"Always Francisco."
"Is this a secure line?"
There was a click. "It is now, what do you need?"
"I want you to send one Corpsman Carrie Pendleton back for rest, maybe assign her to one of the rear hospitals."
"As a favor?"
"As a favor."
"No questions asked?"
"No questions asked."
"Done."
"Great. I know this is asking a lot of you, but I need to know if you can reassign Colonel James Pendleton to a rear unit position. Somewhere where he can't command men in the front. If you throw in an investigation for nepotism it could be nice."
"You've got it out for this guy, don't you?"
"Yes, but this time I'm doing it to help his soldiers."
"Right."
I paused for a second. "You're not going to ask?"
"Frank," she laughed. "I'm one of the smartest beings in existence, I can connect the dots. Nepotism charges, two people with the same surname, and you want him sent back well behind the frontline? Please."
"One of the smartest? Not the smartest…"
"Those stupid next gen AIs have got me topped now." She sighed sadly. "Oh well, at least I've got two more years."
"You know Liz, I'm going to be sad when you die."
"That's probably the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me." The AI sounded genuinely moved.
"You know me-"
"Yeah, I do. You aim to please."
"Always," I smiled. All of a sudden I was in a better mood. "Oh, and Snark sends his thanks for the…hammer."
"I also aim to please," she laughed. "Good luck to you and your team. I'll dig into this Colonel and see if sending him back is the right option."
"Thanks, bye."
She cut me off and I shook my head smiling behind my black visor. I caught up to my team just before they entered the armory. I always felt like a little kid entering a toy store when I walked inside an armory. I was familiar and intimate with all these toys, I had used them way more than I should've and knew just how each one worked. Still, being surrounded by so many weapons, explosives, and gear always had me grinning like a fool.
"Heavy on the ammo boys!" I yelled. "Full flash and frag bandoliers! Snark, I don't want you taking long range weapons, grab a BR55."
"No long range weapons," Bee scoffed to himself. "You just asked him to take the prime long range weapon in the entire UNSC arsenal."
"You just don't know how to work it," Snark laughed, putting aside his banged-up EMR and grabbing a BR55. He slid the bolt back and did a couple of air guitar motions with it. Laughing at his own antics.
"Been a while since I last used a shotgun of my own," I said softly, tracing my fingers along the length of an M90 shotgun. I turned to look at Caboose, he had already replaced his empty bandoliers with full ones. He looked at me and smiled before tossing me a bandolier full of shells. "Just like riding a bike, he?"
"Or swimming," Grass suggested, dropping her silencer on the ground and packing her pouch with as many magazines as she could fit. "Hey, look at this."
I turned a corner and looked at what she was pointing. It was a mirror that had been pasted to the wall with duct tape and masking tape. Over it someone had written with markers. "The badassitude mirror," I read out loud. "We should have one of those."
"Word."
I looked at Grass weirdly and shook my head at her unusual vocabulary. Normally she was all proper and polite. Never mind using outdated slang that you only saw in Bee's movies. She seemed to realize what she had done and giggled a little bit to hide her embarrassment or try to make it seem like she had been joking. She immediately turned to slap grenades on her webbing.
I examined myself in the mirror. My armor was covered with dry mud up to the thighs and the rest of it already had paint chipped away. I already looked like I had been through more than the regular Helljumper, but I knew that there was no way in hell that that could happen in so little time. I shrugged at my own reflection and turned to fill my rucksack with ammunition for my battle rifle. The rounds were heavy, but the rucksack's weight was divided amongst me and my armor's integrated exoskeleton. It seemed like something I took for granted, being able to carry stuff and only suffer half the weight. Thank god for technology, right?
I also packed additional grenades and some explosive charges into my rucksack. With our resident pyromaniac out of commission for at least a couple of days I had to retake his place. It was funny, I was good with explosives, and I'm not just saying that. I was pretty good with them, being able to shape them on the spot and use them to create displays of fireworks and death. But Angel…man, he could work magic with explosives. Like actual magic.
"Flares?" Snark asked.
"Take a couple," I told him. "Oh, and colored smoke."
"I already have orange smoke," Grass said loudly from across the room.
"In that case Snark can take regular smoke."
"How many?"
"Two canisters ought to be enough."
"And there's my darling."
I finished strapping on yet another grenade onto myself and rushed towards Snark. There was a rather big metal suitcase just resting on a table. He clicked it open and made a squealing noise at the locks. Snark carefully lifted the lid to reveal the M102 SASR, our own little Sledgehammer. The magazine was already loaded with the 15.0x120mm rounds that it fired. Snark was almost crying with excitement. There were only two spare magazines filled with five rounds each. I picked up one of the mags and weighed it carefully in my hand.
"It feels awfully light for being made out of tungsten."
"Only the core is tungsten," Snark dismissed me quickly, undressing the weapon with his eyes.
"Did you know that the Onager fires rounds roughly the same size as these?" Grass said nonchalantly.
"Wait, what?"
"No, no," Snark said. "The Sledgehammer rounds are only 15.0mm when in their outer casing. They discard it when fired and only the tungsten bit flies out. It's significantly smaller than the full-sized bullet."
"That explains the lack of weight," I said, examining the magazine in my hand. "It's still pretty heavy."
"About that…" Snark started.
"No."
"No?"
"No, carry it yourself."
"Fine."
We all waited while Snark slid his two extra magazines into his rucksack and shouldered it. He grabbed the Sledgehammer and tried carrying it in front of him, but it was too heavy to do it comfortable. Instead, he put it across his shoulders, resting his hands on top of it on either side. He nodded at me before putting down one arm, holding the weapon up with only one hand.
I bet that somebody could take a picture of us right now and we wouldn't be able to look tired.
"Finish up your bars," I ordered. "Still full on stims, I take it?"
"More than half," Grass replied. The rest of them just nodded.
"Good. Let's go."
I felt positively badass as I walked through the impromptu base. The base had been an enemy position just a few hours ago, but it had been overrun by the Army and a forward command post had been set up in what must've been record time. A couple of the soldiers working around paused to look at us, well, paused to look at Snark. Well, paused to look at the gun that Snark was carrying. An experimental prototype weapon wasn't something that you saw every day, especially one that was bigger than the SRS-99, which was already monstrous in size.
"Yay, Mongoose," Bee exclaimed without any feeling of excitement.
"Grass, you take Bee, Caboose, with me. Snark, secure that gun to your quad."
"I don't think he's old enough to drive," Bee said.
"In that case, I don't think Cam-Grass is allowed either."
"Touché," Bee conceded, backing away and hopping onto the passenger seat. He bounced up and down a couple of times, probably trying to get a feel for the motorbike's suspensions. He groaned in annoyance and jumped back down.
"You pack up on rockets?" I asked.
It was a stupid question. Bee had packs of rockets strapped to his chest, to his back, to his sides, and on top of that was carrying one spare pack in each hand. He lifted those and showed them to me before securing them to the Mongoose that he would be riding. His Spanker went over his back and he made sure that his M7 SMG was secured on the holster in the vehicle. I shoved my battle rifle into the holster next to the driver's seat and jumped behind the wheel. The Mongoose roared as it turned on, but it was not a roar that assured me.
"Snark?"
"All done."
"Here we go."
You might've noticed by this point that I have driven a Mongoose less than five times since I left bootcamp. Well, perhaps around twelve would be a more reliable figure, but it's still not a lot. There's a reason for that. The Warthog tends to skid sideways and not to be able to brake slowly. Hell, it can be flipped if you turn too sharply sometimes. The point is, the 'Hog isn't the most reliable vehicle out there, it has a high center of gravity and the big-ass turret on top doesn't help. For all its disadvantages the Warthog was a vehicle that you could trust in most situations and that would work in most situations. The Mongoose…well, the Mongoose was very much the Mongoose.
It handled worse than the 'Hog, had twice the speed and was less than a quarter of the size. No windshield, well, no significant one. The two occupants were completely exposed to enemy fire, but this was a quad-bike, so it was to be expected. The sad thing here is that you were in more danger just riding the thing than you were at being hit. True, it could climb over a vertical wall and do wheelies over huge tree trunks, but the all-terrain capacity that it had didn't make the ride any better. The only way I would feel safe riding one of these little monsters would be on a paved highway, doing less than thirty, with water to either side of me.
"Be gentle," Bee told Grass. She just laughed and shook her head. If there was anybody that would feel comfortable with a Mongoose it would be her.
I took off slowly, trying to get the feeling of the thing. The cratered terrain and muddy ground didn't help much, but at least we couldn't gain much speed. Sorry, I meant that we couldn't gain much speed as in we couldn't do the usual zero to sixty in less than three seconds. It was more like four and a half instead. The vehicle skidded and drifted before the wheels finally got some traction and we shot forward. I was jerked back from the sheer increase in speed. I could've been imagining it, but I think that Caboose cursed in Russian.
I did my best to slow down and avoid craters or obstacles, but eventually I just stopped caring and instead just increased my speed when going through them. You'd think that I would feel exhilarated at the action, jumping through trenches and doing an unhealthy amount of speed. But no, every single moment I was afraid for my life. The only reason I didn't brake more often is because half the time the two wheels on one side would leave the ground for no apparent reason. Once I even had to kick at the ground to straighten us up. That time I was sure that I heard Caboose swear in Russian.
"Isn't this fun?" Grass asked, obviously poking at the rest of us.
"I should totally do this more often," Bee said, managing a perfectly enthusiastic voice. "Like, totally." He just cried out to gods above and below when Grass drifted the bike sideways, not losing any speed as she did that. His Scottish accent became more pronounced, something that I hadn't believed possible, when he cursed at everything that you could think of.
"We're almost there," I said, interrupting his list of insults.
"Right…"
There were explosions and gunfire now, clearly audible over the roar of the three little bikes. When we spotted the first large trench we stopped. Well, Snark and I stopped. Grass only turned to the side and had her bike land inside the trench, startling the hell out of any soldiers inside. I could hear swearing coming from inside. I smiled at her trick but also advanced slowly. I looked behind my shoulder at Caboose and he nodded back to me. Once the front wheel had reached the edge of our trench I hit the accelerator and lifted the front as high as I could. We slammed down on the ground, next to a couple of very pissed soldiers. A moment later Snark did the same thing.
"Way to make an entrance," Bee said, pissed at the world now.
"You're the reinforcements we were promised then?"
"That's us," I confirmed.
A soldier approached me. "Captain Mick Jordan at your service."
"Gunny Castillo," I replied, shaking his hand after saluting. "Pendleton said you'd brief us?"
"Sure, we've got as many men here as they do," he started. "The problem is that both of us have fortified every point beyond any attempt at assault. Whole trenches are deserted because we, or they, have a machine gun covering them. The point is, without some support we can't go forward and neither can they."
I was already coming up with ideas.
"Our good Colonel who wanted to take out the Scarab, sent our entire armored support at it in a front charge. They never stood a chance. They did kill all of its legs, and do some damage. It can't fix itself now."
"One thing going for us," I nodded at him to go on.
"Pendleton is not a very liked man right now. He should've waited to commit the strongest of his units all at once. Strategic mess. What else? Oh, right, there is a section where the trenches are too short to be covered with machine guns, so we've got units planted on most corners. That's the gunfire that you're hearing right now. Most exchanges are fast and leave no casualties on either side. They're probing our defenses and we're doing the same to theirs." He laughed at an unheard joke. "Funny, that means we're on the same intellectual level that brutes are."
"Not me," Snark said, a little bit too loudly.
"Do you have one of those remote drivers?" I asked Jordan. "RC drivers or something, don't know what they're called."
Jordan examined the three Mongooses (yes, I know the plural now!) and nodded to himself, understanding what I wanted. "Sorry, we don't have any, but stick it on forward and it could work."
"I guess it'll have to do, you have plastic explosives?"
"Fresh out, but we do have grenades a-"
"I have explosives," I interrupted. "Take me to one of the weaker enemy positions."
"Right this way." Jordan was practically beaming.
"Snark, Grass, bring your two bikes, put them in neutral, don't turn them on."
Bee looked me up and down. "Why Sarge, you've got the mind of a terrorist."
"You almost make it sound like a compliment," Caboose put in quickly.
There was a pause, everybody turned to face him. Bee nodded very slowly. "Yeah, almost."
Making our way through the trenches with quad-bikes was slow progress, at times we had to twist them sideways when the trenches became too narrow. Sometimes we had to lift them up over wounded soldiers. This place was a mess. Turning corners was a bitch, I felt like I was helping a friend move a couch out of his apartment on the fiftieth story without using the elevator. It was tiring too, even with Jordan and his men helping us whenever they could. Eventually we reached a machine gun nest. An M247 Gatling was firmly planted behind a bunch of sandbags.
"Here we are," Jordan said, heaving from the effort. "Well, just to the left of that corner we have a long trench, 'bout a hundred meters long, covered by a plasma turret, not sure what kind, but it's one of the small ones."
"Why aren't you covering there?" I asked.
"We tried, but we could get ambushed from both sides, and we don't have another turret to spare."
I shrugged, understanding. "Fine, help me put this thing over the sandbags." We all heaved with effort and the Mongoose finally crashed on the other side. I rolled my eyes when I saw that it had fallen on its side. I climbed over and pushed it upright with my legs, grunting from the effort. Say what you say about them, they're heavy enough. Once it was upright I realized that I needed it to be on its side. "Fuuuuck."
I turned it back on its side, ignoring the snickering from Snark and Grass and set myself to placing an explosive charge on the bottom of it. I made it so that it would detonate upwards, completely destroying the Mongoose and turning it into a gigantic fragmentation grenade.
"Now you can turn it upright," Grass suggested. "Just saying."
"Fuck you very much," I grunted as I placed it back on its four wheels. "There we go."
I was about to turn it on when a spike hit me in the hand. Well, more like glanced, cutting me on the outer side of my left hand, shallow cut, nothing serious. I hopped over the bike and dropped to the ground as more spikes flew overhead. This is what they had meant by getting ambushed from both sides. I turned on my belly and fired at the brute's feet from underneath the Mongoose. Enough rounds were a sure way to bring it down. It fell and I took half a second to get its head in my crosshairs, killing it with a single bullet to the eye.
"Asshole." I stood up and planted my battle rifle on the seat of the Mongoose. "Grass, you just volunteered to yank the spikes out." I didn't want it to get stuck on the side of the trench walls halfway through. "I'll cover you."
To her credit, she didn't complain, instead just jumped over and started pulling at the spikes. A couple of grunts appeared around of the corner. I shot both of them before they could get out a shot. I groaned, feeling a little bit guilty. I hopped back over the Mongoose and placed myself between Grass and the corner that covvies were piling out from.
"Don't say anything," I warned.
"You're a good man Sarge."
"I said anything."
"Sorry."
A jackal appeared, carrying its shield with it. It fired twice while I tried to get around its defenses. One shot went high, the other hit the Mongoose. I hit it in the arm and then in the chest and head. "Hurry it up," I ordered.
"This one won't come off," she replied.
"Cut it off then!"
Grass drew her machete and reared backwards, stretching her arm. She brought down the huge knife in an arc over her head and slammed it down on the spike, less than an inch from the Mongoose. The blade went about halfway through and no further. She yanked it out.
"Forget it," I said, firing full auto to force a brute to jump back behind cover. I jumped onto the bike and slammed my foot on the spike, breaking it off. I slung my rifle over my shoulder and yanked the shotgun from the holster on the bike. I cocked it and shot forward on the Mongoose. I fired at the brute as it turned the corner and then slammed into it, pinning it against the wall. A brute should've been able to toss me and the Mongoose aside like old rags under normal circumstances, but one arm was hanging limply to one side and it was startled from the hit. I cocked the weapon again and fired into its snout, making a bloody mess out of its head.
I didn't waste any time, turning the Mongoose to the right and aiming it at the other side. I turned it on and stuck the accelerator in place. A couple of tentative bursts flew overhead, but the grunt manning the turret wasn't sure if the brute was dead or not. It seemed that it didn't care very much either, because a second later full automatic plasma fire started raining on my position. I released the brake as I jumped back behind the corner and towards safety.
"Well…" I said to myself.
Captain Jordan was already next to me along with the rest of my squad and half a dozen soldiers. He pulled back the bolt of his MA37 and looked at me with a big smile on his face. "You take right, we take left?"
"As good a plan as any," I replied, smiling as well.
Three seconds later I heard the loud crash that the Mongoose made when hitting a straight wall. It told a lot of things about my experience with the small bike that I actually recognized the sound that it made. I grabbed the detonating stick that I had prepared for this and double tapped the red button on top after removing the safety cap.
The explosion that followed was accompanied by a couple of pieces of shrapnel whistling next to me and hitting the trench wall in front of me. I smiled at the success of my plan and ordered Bee and Caboose forward. The two of them placed their Mongooses side to side in the trench and lifted them on their rear wheels. A soldier hung a vest from the handlebars, patching up the hole. The vest would stop the initial blasts and destabilize any following ones.
"Hurry it along, will ya?" I urged them.
They started running forward as fast as possible, doing their best to keep our two improvised shields upright. I could hear the spikes, needles, and plasma shots hitting the two undercarriages. The covvies were no doubt doing their best to stop us. The vest in the middle shook from all the impacts. A carbine round or two went through, but thankfully they didn't hit anybody. After we were right next to the corner I ordered a stop.
"Watch for grenades," I whispered before grabbing two of my frags and tossing them in either direction.
The detonations that followed were the cue for Bumblebee and Caboose to shove their bikes forward. They both did it in a way that made them fall sideways so that they would serve as cover. They lurched forward, firing to each side as they did. I joined Caboose, firing my shotgun at grunts and brutes alike. They were surprised and most of them were wounded, the big crater in the middle of this T intersection helped us out. Thanks and you're welcome to me for making it. As soon as the aliens directly next to us died we jumped over our cover, wasting no time.
"Take out as many turrets as you can!" Jordan told me. "We're hitting them from the side, should be easy!"
"You heard him!" I shouted, my voice directed at my team. "Caboose and I will take point, Grass and Bee second line and Snark at the back. You good with that huge piece of metal?"
"Yeah," he replied. "Just peachy."
We spotted the first turret twenty meters off. There was a grunt gunner and a pack of brutes guarding it, they weren't paying attention to us, which is probably the dumbest thing that they could've done since there had just been a huge explosion from our direction. We walked as close to them as we could before opening up with two M90s. The closest pair of brutes fell to the ground with their heads missing, the second pair followed a fraction of a second later. The last one, a red-clad major, I left to Caboose. He hit it in the chest once and then in the head when it fell. Bee nailed the grunt before it started screaming.
"Here," Bee said, "help me out." Caboose helped drag two of the brutes over one another to make an impromptu barricade. Meanwhile, I kicked the plasma turret from its base. It took two well-placed kicks, but when it fell I tossed it over to Grass, who placed it on top of one brute and started aiming.
Snark pulled out his BR55. It was squeaky clean but had an oversized oracle scope on top. Snark clicked on the dials and switched to thermal before aiming. The mist was thinner than it had been for the whole time we'd been on this damned peninsula, but it was still enough to hurt our eyes. Snark looked down the sights and then turned his head to Grass. "Several heat signatures, fire away."
Grass took the order in stride and clicked on the triggers, she struggled to keep the gun aiming straight and eventually succeeded in pinning it down under a brute's arm. She didn't need to aim, she just needed to put as many rounds down range as she could. She fired for two consecutive minutes before the plasma pistol all but exploded.
"Overheated," she said simply.
"Come on, let's get a move on!"
This time we turned into covvie territory the first chance we got. I was having more fun than I should've, the aliens were alert, but they were scared. They were mostly grunts too. I burned through them with my shotgun just like target practice. Brutes I handled with care. By care I mean three shells to the face before they could bring their guns up. We finally came across resistance when a group of brutes with brute shots fired at me when I tried to turn a corner. Bee yanked me backwards and Grass tossed a grenade over the corner. The explosion that came afterward was the sign for Caboose and Snark to fire their weapons down the trench.
"Clear!"
"Move it!" I ordered, jumping to my feet. "We have to gain more land before they realize just what the hell's going on."
A couple of jackals appeared down the end of this section of trench. Grass fired at their feet and Snark finished them off with headshots. He was heaving. "Sarge, this thing is heavy."
"Bee, your turn to carry it."
He grumbled something but took the weapon and shouldered it without further complaints. Snark proceeded to roll his shoulders and slap Bee on the back. "Thanks man. I owe you."
"Damn right."
We kept advancing, firing right and left, up and down, front and back, northeast and southwe-.
You get it.
"Stop." I said. "This is as far as we go."
"But Sarge," Snark complained. "We're just getting started.
"We can still go sideways I reminded him."
"Right," he smiled back.
Here we encountered mostly jackal sharpshooters. They had been placed all in one of the rear sections of the line, allowing their weapons to be used with the most efficiency. At this range they had no advantage over us. They also didn't know what was going on. They had probably just settled into routine and were taking it easy. We shot them out of their perches before most had time to react. The one jackal that fired at us missed wildly and met its end under Caboose's unrelenting shotgun fire. I got back up, helping Bee and Grass up as well.
"Castillo!"
"Captain Jordan?" I asked. "This is Castillo, come in."
"I'm ordering a general attack on this section of the line!" Gunfire was clearly audible in the background. It was funny, I could hear the gunfire over the radio and also by regular means. "We need that Scarab down, if it fires down on us we're as good as dead. Scratch that, we're dead."
"Grass, position on the Scarab!"
"Seventy four meters Sarge!"
"I got this," I assured Jordan. I turned towards my squad and depolarized my helmet, showing them my smile, a smile that I hoped looked dangerous. They depolarized their helmets in turn and took relaxed stances. In an active battlezone. I didn't know whether to be proud of them or pissed at them.
"Bee and Grass, you go in that direction as far as you can go. Bee, you're gonna give this fucker two HEAT presents, to the face would be good; get its attention." I turned to face Snark and Caboose. "You two stay here with me. As soon as the Scarab turns to face them you," I pointed at Snark, "fire at the head. Two shots ought to be enough to knock down the cannon. Use your other three to kill the tail."
"Done deal Sarge." Snark nodded and smiled once more before polarizing his helmet.
"At that point," I continued. "Caboose and I storm the thing, I want all of you three covering us. Once we arrive we can use the turrets to fire on the trenches below us, ok?"
"Yes Gunnery Sergeant."
"Cameras on, Reaper," I said smiling. "This one is going to be one for the books."
Bee and Grass took off, leaving Snark, Caboose, and I crouching behind cover. The shape of the Scarab was only barely visible through the thick mist. It had a looming ominousness to it. Looming ominousness, is that a thing? Probably not. We waited until Grass and Bee took positions. I heard a burst coming from their direction, but no plasma or needles. I sighed with relief and looked at Snark, he nodded back to me. Caboose did the same thing and checked his gun, aiming it at the wall. I was recording this. I could have it screened by ONI and then sell the copy to the recruiters. There was this 'underground' community that showed videos of kickass things that us soldiers, Marines, and swabbies did. It was what you would call guerilla recruiting. Sometimes it showed violent videos of humans dying, but it was always of humans dying bravely, holding the line, being heroes. It was one of the best recruiting tools out there.
"We're up," Grass told me.
"Fire."
The two rockets left their tubes and there was an explosion half a second later. The enormous machine whirred to life and Grass and Bee ran for their lives. They ran through cleared and uncleared trenches before the Scarab could fire. The bright green beam that came after cut all communications for a second, filling our helmets with static. I banged Snark on the back of the head and he climbed up the trench. If somebody pieced this footage together we would get a kickass video out of it. I'm serious.
"Cover your ears ladies," he quipped before firing.
The sheer loudness of the noise was enough to startle everybody. The whole battlefield seemed to die for a second. Even after the high-velocity round collided with one of the Scarab's gun shields, everything remained quiet. Snark pulled back the bolt of his weapon, chambering another round. He aimed again and fired, clearing all the dust and fog from around him. The ground shook, the air seemed to part, and my very bones vibrated when the gun fired. The second impact was accompanied by a louder explosion.
"Turret's out," Snark said. "Aiming at the tail."
"We're up," I said, pointing at Caboose and getting up. I know I was being childish, but I was thinking about how this would look on camera. I was almost acting for the audience that wasn't there.
We jumped out of the trench just as Snark fired for the third time. The supersonic wake of the shot pushed me sideways. It was enough to force me to use one hand to prop myself up. That part of the action could be seen from Snark's helmet cam, Caboose and me falling sideways only to get back up. And get back up I did. My BR55 was already up and so was Caboose's MA5K. Snark fired again, this time only shaking us a little. The entire Scarab lit up from the explosion. I did my best to ignore it and jumped over a trench, looking down. Two surprised grunt looked up at me, too stunned to do anything. Caboose fired when he jumped, a little bit behind me. Those two moments we could put one right after the other, showing me jumping from Caboose's perspective and then him firing in the air. Man, I could've been a director no problem. Totally.
A third shot finally killed the rear turret for good. It hadn't been able to turn around in time and didn't let off a shot. Small explosions raked the side of it until it blew up in a green fireball. Caboose and I were already within twenty meters of the Scarab. I fired at a grunt trying to shoot us down with a turret, knocking it down to the floor. Its corpse slid down the tilted Scarab and fell to the mud below. The other covvies in the trenches were only beginning to react, firing on Snark but not on us. I finally reached the Scarab and climbed up. Two brutes emerged from the interior. Caboose peppered them both with automatic fire, sending them reeling backwards. I finished one off and Snark hit the other one from a hundred meters away with his BR55.
"Got your back," he assured us.
"I feel safer already," Caboose replied. He made it sound like an insult, but it was as good a compliment as you could get out of him.
Snark killed two jackals that had been aiming down at us from the top, their bodies fell to our right and into the mud below. I switched my rifle for my shotgun and turned the corner. There was a brute minor guarding the energy core. I hit it twice in the chest, it was enough to kill it, but I still finished it up with a headshot. When I turned the other corner I shot one grunt out of its turret. The grunt further out back was shot down by Caboose. He nodded at me and started climbing to the top level. I reached it just after him. A brute chieftain with a fuel rod was aiming at him. It couldn't fire, they were just too close.
"Snark…"
"I can hit it three times," he told me.
"Do it."
Three BR55 bursts to the helmet were enough to send the brute to the floor, not dead, but shaken up. I lunged forward, unseen, and kicked the fuel rod away from his reach and into Caboose's grip. The man picked it up even as I jumped out of the top level and down to the balcony-like bottom level. There was a bright green flash behind me and I heard that very familiar noise of bloody flesh hitting the floor. That moment would be seen from Caboose's camera. A brute chieftain being taken out in record time, with its own gun nonetheless. That was good stuff right there.
I wasted no time reaching for one of the turrets. Down below me were dozens and dozens of aliens that were only beginning to realize that their only good card was already gone. The brutes were the first to go, their power armor only holding for a few instants before melting into their skin and fur. The jackals were my second targets, hitting the ones without shields first. A couple fired back, but mostly they ran. The grunts were non-priority. I switched between brutes and jackals. If one of the little ones got caught in the crossfire…then good for me.
I fired the gun until it started smoking. At that point I reached for my rifle and started taking out the few brutes that I could still see. They tried shooting back, but I had high ground and cover as well as momentum. After only a few minutes there were no further targets. They were all either hiding or dead. Mostly they were dead.
You know, I never checked, but I think that in those four minutes I killed more aliens than I had killed in several of my campaigns put together. It was easily over three hundred kills. I felt a rush that was as good as sex. Not a psychopathic kind of rush, I could tell. It was a rush of self-satisfaction and excitement. If a gorgeous pair of naked twins appeared that instant then I would die the happiest man ever. After getting it on with both of them, of course.
I examined my handiwork with due care before climbing to the top level and examining the dead brute. There was a black scorch mark on the floor, the epicenter of the explosion. Two brute legs were sitting there, lying on their sides. Blood and flesh were everywhere, the place was painted with the chieftain. I kicked at a piece of arm and watched it slide down the front of the Scarab. Caboose watched it slide down and then climbed up to join me. He stood next to me and watched the trenches in front of us, with soldiers storming through enemy positions with little or no trouble.
"So," I asked him, "what do you think?"
Caboose depolarized his visor and put his gun to his shoulder, the shoulder opposite from me. He turned to face me and smiled, looking like he was trying not to. "One for the books."
Thanks to Sniper Fodder for proof-reading this chapter. That makes fifty chapters proof-read by him, that would be our golden anniversary or something, right?
Not much to say for this chapter, other than the chapter quote refers to the Sledgehammer and not the lack of instruments to work with, which is certainly ironic, since the Sledgehammer is definitely a very useful instrument. Other than that, I'm just glad that I brought back some of the larger-than-life kind of badassery that Reaper Squad is known for. They are awesome and they aren't afraid to remind you of that every once in a while.
Awesome chapter is awesome. I need some love for this one guys, I really do feel like I earned it. I'm proud of this chapter.
Stay strong.
casquis