Uplift Reserve
New Mombasa, Kenya
Earth
" Let's go, let's go !", bellowed Lt. Gorman. " Mount up ! "
No sooner had he spoken the command, than the assembled Marines- all 12 of them- sprang into action. Already standing, they moved with obvious purpose and quickness toward the the line of parked M12's, with their BR55s and MA5s either slung off their backs, or gripped firmly in their gloved hands.
Watching them, Corporal Taylor " Dutch " Miles had to admit: he was impressed For one thing, with how the young officer actually seemed to have a decent level of command chops- Dutch had served under enough officers to be able to spot from pretty early on if they were putting on an act of competence, or if they were real about it.
From what he'd seen up till now from Lt. Gorman, the kid was no pretender. " Glass vase " officers were easy to spot, but this one didn't have those dreaded traits.
Seconds ago, he'd finished conducting a soundly put together field briefing, scratching his plans into the dusty and grainy topsoil with the tip of a combat knife, while the unit looked on. As plans that someone could come up with while a battle was still ongoing, it certainly wasn't the worst on record- mostly because, like all plans that have any realistic chance at success, it was a simple one.
" I'll be crystal damn clear on this; we can't afford to move slow. This entire grid is a hotbed of Covenant activity, including the exact coordinates of our RV point with the command element. They're waiting on us, and they're counting on us. So, we're going to follow the plan, and get ourselves there, come what may ! "
In short, Lt. Gorman would take all of the unit's remaining M12 Warthogs- all armed with M41 chainguns, gathered and hidden here in this tightly packed grove of trees- and use them to form a flying column. Just like MacArthur had done at Manila, they'd stay on the move as much as possible, rolling through the park at full speed while putting maximum firepower on every hostile that was either in their way, or close enough. Running them down and over was always an option, but they'd avoid ramming the Brutes as much as they could- the apes tended to get stuck in the grills, or worse, outright rock one of the M12's up on two wheels. Smashing down Grunts and Jackals was easy enough, but slamming into a couple-hundred-pound Brute was a major ( and slightly messy ) speed bump to handle, even for an M12.
" Zulu 1, 2, 3 and 4 ", he' designated the vehicles they'd be taking. " Column formation only when need be, otherwise we're going to be a line of damn ducks. Best way to avoid taking plasma hits is to stay on the move, and avoid staying tight-. "
" That means you, Mosse ! ", The Lt. jabbed a finger at as especially tall Leatherneck, standing roughly in the center of the formation. " Stay on the damn road this time, copy ?! "
" If I actually crash, boss, it'll be the Covies' fault. You can count on that ", the accused bad driver responded.
It sounded like a promise, not a boast. Then again, Dutch had heard stories, back on Reach, about a Spartan who was legendarily bad at behind the wheel. He wasn't fully ( or even mostly ) convinced there was any stock in them, though; after all, how could a Spartan be so bad at something so fundamental as driving ?
Anyway, however bad this guy was, if he was anywhere near what that one Spartan had been, he wouldn't even be here anyway.
" You'd damn well better. "
As plans went, the one they'd be following was decently straightforward. Plans, in general, tended to derail as soon as you encountered the enemy, but then again, not having them at all was even worse than that. As someone who's livelihood revolved around assembling plans ( which often had to be hastily modified once the aforementioned enemy opened up on them )
The unit had paid rapt attention, staring at the crudely drawn lines and shapes in the ground, and then back at the officer drawing them as he spelled out what they were going to do. Once or twice, someone called out a question, or some kind of clarification, but nobody outright expressed that they didn't have confidence in the plan...which either said they didn't have any objections, or none that were severe enough to be worth saying out loud.
Dutch didn't entirely believe that last one, though, mostly because of the other " thing " that held his respect here:
These Marines were holding together. They were still a unit, that was cetain.
Sure, they were mostly filthy and clearly had been through some heavy action recently; virtually every one of them was spattered and coated with dust and grime, from helmets to boots. Every other one, roughly, had that certain look on them that said they would've have minded taking a long nap on something soft and warm, and maybe something warm to eat. It was the kind of wanting a rest that came after slugging it out against heavy Brute presence for...well, Dutch estimated the last few hours, at most.
But, Dutch knew what demoralization was, and it wasn't here. He'd watched them fight, and they hadn't been sloppy. Exhausted and shattered Marines didn't perform that well; they tended to move lethargically and stiffly, like sleepwalkers...like he'd seen on Reach. Magma Company, on the other hand, still had their fighting spirit, and for that, Dutch was proud of them already.
As a duo of of them ran past him, the ODST immediately looked for, and then spotted, that one of them that was lugging a Jackhammer.
This had to be Corporal Jao, who'd blown up the Covenant with a rocket shot during the firefight back at the crest. She had been standing nearby to him during the briefing, but with everybody listening attentively to Lt. Gorman, there was no time for chatting.
Somewhere in her early 20's, she had a cute , rounded face, with a noticeable scar on the left side of her chin that was more decorative than marring, and had a plasma handgun clipped to her utility belt, along with several plasma grenades.
" Hey ! Jao ! ", he called out.
" Corporal Jao ! "
Stopping short, both leathernecks turned their heads .
Lifting a hand, Dutch beckoned the one with the rocket over. Realizing he wanted to speak with her, she gestured at her compatriot to keep going, before swerving around to head Dutch's way.
As soon as she'd arrived, the young AT operator was the first to speak up. " Need something, Trooper ?"
Still can't place her accent: Philippines ? Eh, maybe Vietnam...
" Actually, yeah- ".
The ODST extended his right hand, clenched tight in a fist. " Corporal Taylor Miles. That was damn good rocket placement back there. I wanted you to know that from me. "
" We're blessed to have you. "
Jao blinked with surprise, and stared at the outstretched glove for a second or so. Dutch wondered if, perhaps, he'd misread her.
Soon enough, though, he found that he was right, when the other corporal reached out with her own closed fingers, and firmly thumped knuckles with the Helljumper.
" Anytime. As long as I got ammo...I'll keep it going all day long. "
" I believe you would.", Dutch told her, going with the honest truth. " I'll find you some more rockets, ok ? "
Jao was quick to express reception of the idea, nodding briskly. " Better than ok- that'd be f***ing awesome. "
Behind his helmet's visor, Dutch's mouth tugged up at touch at the corner- and he knew why.
He'd been right about her after all, then. Jao was definitely committed to using all the drive she had- and it seemed that was more than a few lingering drops. Her determination was real, and it was serving her well. Already, Dutch had a strong sense of confidence that she would've made a fine ODST herself.
Perhaps that would still be on the table...after all this was over. The ODST decided he keep her name in his mental files...just in case. Based of everything he'd seen up till now, she seemed Of course, if she did get RTU'd ( God forbid )..there were absolutely worse units to sent back to other than Magma Company.
Hm. Knew there was a reason I liked you.
" Good stuff. Allright, then- you heard the Lt- "
He gestured with his head at where the M12's were waiting. ".Move your ass. Get up on there. "
" Roger that. Catch you on the bounce, Trooper, yeah? "
" Lord keep you safe, Jarhead.
Clapping a hand on the ODST's shoulder pauldron, Jao turned away, and set off back for the 4x4s, with the long and bulky Jackhammer still looking a tad juxtaposed against her slender frame.
Dutch spared a second to watch her leave, and about as quick as he realized he couldn't afford to- he and his new ( temporary ) unit all had a mission to get to. The Covenant were still in town, after all.
Yeah...take care, Jao.
We all know where we need to be here, and that includes me.
On that front, Dutch turned left, and headed up through the grove.
Ahead and on his right, the Marines of Magma were scrambling aboard their vehicles, going 3 by 3 aboard the 4 M12s. Drivers were settling into their seats, switching on the engines and checking the controls, while the gunners hauled and climbed their way up onto the 4x4's rears to get ahold of the firing grips of the M41 rotary cannons. Last but not least, those riding shotgun filled out the complement, bracing themselves against the dashboard to aim their weapons out the righthand side.
Dutch wasn't a terrible driver, but he was ( not by his own admission ) a better shot. If given a choice, he'd have chosen to man one of the M41's, except-
-well, that was exactly it. He didn't much have one, because the Lt. had already given him his orders.
" Corporal Miles ! "
Speaking of which...
The officer in question was a step ahead of him- literally. Lt. Gorman already had a position in the convoy- right at the very front.
That he'd put himself there wasn't something he'd have done if he was a coward, or at least concerned at being perceived as one. On some level, Dutch knew he knew the risks of being at the head rather than the middle or the tail...except there was also the possibility that the enemy would expect the UNSC's command stricture to be in the middle ( because it was, technically, " safer " ), and so they would aim there first.
Faking out the ( potential, hopefully ) ambush, so to speak.
Dutch still wasn't fully at ease with that component of the plan, but he knew the alternative had plenty of risk. Besides, at least at the front, he could adjust their course, and the overall plan, quickly enough not to be too late.
Well, too often, Lieutenants are either seen as clueless screw-ups, or they actually are. But, I don't think this one is.
" Lieutenant . ", Dutch responded, as he reached the officer's M12.
" Right on time, Corporal. We've got an objective to secure, and you're going to get us there. Isn't that right ? "
Not just any objective though...damn it.
God...not another from them again.
Yes...Dutch had quite literally jumped from the frying pan, and into the bonfire, because as it turned out-
-ONI was pulling strings here as well. According to Gorman, they wanted a " Tier 1 Asset " ( whatever that was ) that was ( allegedly, as this was ONI ) deeper within the Reserve, and had ordered it to be secured at the earliest opportunity. What it was, they ( obviously ) hadn't bothered to let slip, but what they had revealed, was it was at the former LZ of the Covie carrier that had wrecked so much with that slipspace jump.
That was about the long and short of it: They wanted a full secure of that area- ASAP. Immediately, and at once.
Typical ONI, to a T: Everything done yesterday, and don't ask any questions- because that was surefire way to get yourself demoted, dishonorably discharged...or worse. That Lt. Gorman had only revealed as much as he had was all the proof anyone could need that was all he knew. Which, therefore, was all Dutch and the rest of the rank and file Marines knew.
It all boiled down to how they were risking it all for ONI...again. The spymasters. Spooks.
Dutch had to fight to keep that resentment from leaking out as he acknowledged what he was about to do for them to Gorman, but somehow , he managed. If he hadn't had so much experience in getting screwed over by them, and then coping with it afterwards, well...thankfully, he didn't have to worry about that.
" Yes, sir ! "
Pushing the black ( but well earned ) emotions toward Naval Intelligence into the back of his head, Dutch minutely shook his head, and made himself get back into the zone, grinding down that nagging distractions until they were dulled and trapped...at least for now.
God knew he wouldn't be changing his stance on ONI, but he had other priories to deal with.
He'd already noticed that, besides the Lt, the 3rd Marine on this M12 was none other than Private Kivec. The Canadian ( aside from his accent, Dutch had seen another giveway: a tattoo of a Maple Leap flag on his neck ) was serving as the Warthog's gunner, and was already perched on the control station for the mounted .50cal weapon, doing a final check on its action.
All by the numbers, kid.
Well, mostly. Don't forget; sometimes, you gotta improvise
Aside from Jao and Gorman, Kivec was the only other member of the unit Dutch had gotten a deeper read on. As rookies went, the Canadian was a good change of pace from the worst kind of nervous rookie...the kind who always quoted reg at every turn. Kivec was by no means a career vet- a private was still a private at the end of the day, as well as at the beginning- but he seemed to have the foundation of someone who could get himself there, someday.
It was always the earliest stages of someone's career, where things went wrong in the worst way- or very late. In that way, Dutch was on one end of it, and Kivec on the other. Dutch had been around the block a few times, and been around the galaxy on more combat deployments and Ops than he could count, on about as many worlds. Kivec, though, didn't looked like he'd ever left Earth. Heck, most of Magma didn't look like they had either, though it was impossible to be sure.
If that was true, then Dutch had already decided that he was going to get them through this, as best he could. Not just so they could get that experience, but because it was the least he could do.
I hope he gets that chance...I truly do.
God give me the strength to protect them, and for more than only that
Meanwhile, the ODST had been taking his own spot on the M12, swinging and lifting himself up the 36 inches from the ground to the running board, and into the driver's seat. Across from him, Lt. Gorman was already sitting down in the shotgun spot, as Dutch began to secure the driver's side crash harness.
" Hey...Corporal ! "
" This is your last chance to come clean about how good you are behind the wheel. And any other shit you think needs disclosing".
Dutch glanced right at the officer, who now had his BR55 un-slung and held at the ready in both hands, a thumb resting by the selector switch.
Something was..different about his tone now, as well as his expression Overall, he was still confident, decisive, and resolute , but there was something else. Dutch could've sworn the Lt. was tacitly looking to find out if the ODST had been lying through his teeth.
Ok...can't say I didn't expect this. Not thrilled about it, but here it is. Better now than when the plasma is in the air
Least he's not taking a jab at my combat skills. He already got a front row seat to watch those. Got to realize ODSTs don't come subpar.
" Give me 10 more minutes against them ", Dutch told him. " That'll tell you everything you need to know. "
Lt. Gorman looked at him another second. " 10 more, huh ? 10 more of how hard you were hitting them back at the ridge ? "
" Either that, or plenty more. And that's a promise. "
The ODST slipped some additional steel into his voice. As much as he respected the Lieutenant, there was no way he'd let him think that any Shock Trooper was anything less than 100 percent, and fully worth his salt. It was even more vital that every ODST keep that up, ever since the Spartan 2's had cropped up, upstaging everyone at every opportunity they got- or made.
We got a rep to uphold, no matter what it takes
The Lt. turned back to face ahead, raising his rifle to line it up out the side.
" Too late to find out any other way, Corporal ". He remarked. " But I've got enough to go on for the get go, anyway. We'll see if you live up to it..."
" Now, let's get rolling. "
" Wraiths ! "
Kivec's shout was fighting to be heard over the growling whine of the M12's engine, but Dutch still caught it.
" Copy that, Private ! ".
He jinked the wheel right, steering the 4x4 around the gentle curve of the downward slope they were careening down. A quick glance at the speedometer confirmed that...yes they were still going at around 60+ mph, give or take.
The terrain ahead was a sharp change from the heavily wooded and winding road they'd been following; it was wide open, similar to where Dutch had run across Magma Company, with rolling swells in the ground dotted with boulders, and covered in tall grass. A handful of tree clumps were scattered around-
-along with, yeah...several Wraiths.
The bulbous purple mortar tanks weren't engaging the M12's yet, even as they came shooting out onto the plain with rooster tails of dust spewing up high from behind their rear wheels. Mostly because they were busy spitting their white hot plasma salvos at something downrange, off to the right of Dutch's plane of view.
On the left...yes, there were the backup forces that always accompanied every Wraith unit. Several squads worth of Grunts and Jackals were scurrying ( well, in the Grunts' case, they were ) alongside the lumbering mortar tanks as they advanced, providing screening duty.
What the heck are they shooting at ? Covies don't bring out that kind of firepower- ?
" Corporal ! ", Gorman roared. " Swing...left ! Keep your speed up ! "
Multitasking was an old ODST core skill, and Dutch was engaging it in full now. One eye looked right, flicking to watch where the plasma was impacting to see if there was even a flash of return fire. The other watched the " road " ahead, which had been more of a rough path intended to be traversed more by the Reserve's animals than wheeled traffic.
" Got it, sir ! "
Way ahead of you, by a country mile. Dutch had already spotted what he'd been looking for- muzzle flashes from amid one of the boulder clusters. On top of that, in addition to the Grunts and Jackals closest to him, there was at least several more squads of them ambling along in flanking positions on the opposite side, with the Beak-noses doing their thing again of peppering the Wraith's targets with long range probing shots.
Gotta be more Jarheads there...
Keep your heads down !
" All units- maintain left ! Go, go, go ! ", Gorman directed the column. The Wraith-led formation, amazingly, hadn't spotted them yet.
They were still roughly a football field away from the flank of the action, but at these speeds, that was narrowing quickly. They'b be inside of rifle range inside of the next 30 seconds, but needless to say, the M41s could already reach out with their heavier .50 slugs.
Already, Dutch wished he was posted up in the shotgun seat with his Laser...but he was down to only 4 shots with it. He'd only dropped with the thing to begin with because he'd been expecting to zap some vital systems on the inside of that Covie carrier-violently applied sabotage. With that whole plan utterly shot to ribbons, though, he was still stuck with it, and as powerful as it was, the lack of any more than 5 shots was more than a slight problem...
That, and there was that pesky time delay between trigger pull and firing...engineers hadn't figured out a way around that... yet.
There wasn't any other option than being highly judicious with when and how you choose to use it, but the ODST knew he'd find some high priority targets that needed lazing. Sooner or later...
And Wraiths don't count ? Sure- but there's 3 of 'em...
Nonetheless, Dutch was the zone again, jinking left as they reached more level ground. His left glove was clamped like a hydraulic vise on the wheel, while his right worked the handbrake as he slewed the vehicle around, gravel and dirt crunching loudly under the wheels.
The ODST was bouncing like a popcorn kernel, only held down by his restraints. Still, he kept the M12 on course, and stayed left as his 4X4 continued rounding the Covenant's flank, getting closer to that sweet and vital 6:00.
Another few seconds...and they'd be perfectly set up to shoot them in the backside. For vehicles with the kind of extensive armor protection that Wraiths had, it'd always been pretty hilarious to Dutch how easy it was to slay a Wraith, just as long as you aimed for that one chink in their defenses. It was like a kick to the balls- a good hit to a weak spot that absolutely wrecked the whole thing.
" Light 'em up, Private ! ", commanded Gorman.
" All units-engage ! "
The gunner opened up right away, and a stream of white-orange tracers instantly reached out to paint the Covenant forces. It was joined milliseconds later by additional cones of fire from the other M12s, toppling Jackals and plucking Grunts like weeds.
Covie infantry died easily enough, and even the hovering mounds of armor that were Wraiths weren't immune to M41 fire... but-
In the rear...got to get on their 6...!
But, having already lost roughly a dozen to the concentrated barrages of machine gun fire, the Covenant now realized their flank was under threat. Two of the Wraiths began to pivot, spinning around on their repulsorlifts to bring their mortars to bear.
Damn it, if only Jao had more rockets...!
Adrenaline was surging through Dutch'd blood, anticipating the first of the plasma rounds landing on his 20. But, right around then, the first of the Wraiths suddenly exploded- focused M41 fire punching through the rear cooling vent opening.
Right up your tailpipe !
" Got him ". Kivec had taken the tank down. " Got him ! ".
The Wraith's running lights winked out as it instantly lost power, and after a few seconds of skidding helplessly off to one side, it exploded like a giant frag grenade.
Things didn't get much better for the rest of the Covenant. It was only now that they realized they'd been flanked, and although they were already reacting quickly, Magma Company already had them bent over barrel. .50 cal rounds began tearing into the Jackals and Grunts, whacking the taller aliens, and plucking the latter off their stumpy feet like so many flowers.
More concentrated fire went into the exhaust port of the 2nd Wraith, but its driver wasn't as slow on the draw as the first, and the mortar tank soon adjusted its position, spinning around to put its angled frontal plates toward the attack. About as fast, the Brute working the vehicles' plasma machine gun turret opened up, stitching everything downrange with energy rounds.
Damn- this one's not as dumb as he looks ! If the Wraith driver could dance this well, then they only had a-
" The hatch, Private, the hatch ! ", the Lt. was urging.
" On it ! "
Tracers were still pelting the Covenant, as the rest of the M12s continued flowing around the edge of the aliens. The Grunts were doing what they did better than anyone- panicking and losing their cool, while the Jackals weren't much more than stand-up range targets, even with their carbines's drilling pellets pockmarking the side plating of any M12 they actually managed to hit.
" Gunner's dead ! He's dead-give me a second to finish it off ! ".
Kivec was doing good; he'd killed the Wraith's gunner, and his tracers began converging on the frontal hatch-
-and then the mortar tank spun to its right.
" Shit- Corporal ! I'm losing my LOS ! ", the M12's gunner warned.
" I know...keep shooting ! I'll get us on his 6 ! "
Easier said than done...just got to get it done.
Dutch torqued the wheel, steering them on another flanking course. Annoyingly, though, the Wraith refused to let them get away with that so easily, as it pivoted sharply, with repulsorlifts flaring, to keep its frontal plate pointed where it needed to be.
You need backup, buddy. However skilled at tactical tap-dancing the Wraith was, Dutch was watching its supporting lance getting decimated left and right. Sheets of gunfire from the rest of the M12's were slicing through the rest of the Covenant, and the Wraith didn't have long before it'd be completely on its own.
Besides, without a gunner, there wasn't much point to spinning because the hatch was still in the M41's crosshairs, and with all the sparks coming off it, there was no way it could last much longer.
Realizing things were about to go pear-shaped, the Wraith driver made the signature move of any Wraith driver anywhere-
" He's attempting to ram-! "
Crafty
Boooom !
A roiling detonation interrupted Gorman right then- the other M12's had polished off the Wraith, having slipped in on its 6:00, and given it the same affectionate treatment as they'd given the first. A dose of heavy MG fire to the rear always got results; namely, a ball of brilliant cyan blue-white fire ,blossoming up and out .
The Wraith's purple running lights dimmed, and its repulsors shut down, dropping the bulky wreckage onto the dirt.
Magnificent !
Watching Wraiths blow up could bright up any day, and recent blast did that again for Dutch. One corner of his mouth- the right, as usual- tugged up in a satisfied smirk.
" Hell yeah ! ", Kivec celebrated. " You see that ?! You see that ?! "
" I did, Private ", Gorman acknowledged, sounding rather pleased himself.
" Tango Uniform. ", he called out, on the unit's radio freq. " All hostile armor, eliminated ! "
" We got 'em everyone...we got 'em. "
True to Gorman's plan, " The Flying Pack " ( as Dutch had begun to think of calling the collection of M12s ), didn't stop. They didn't even slow down.
Instead, they throttled up, spending only as long in the area as it took to get fully reformed into a cohesive body again. Scattered helter-skelter across the ground, dead Jackals and Grunts were rolled over more than a few times under the thickened tires of the M12s, causing the 4X4s to bump and buck slightly as they ran them over.
Don't bother getting up. Dutch didn't outright aim for the bodies, but he hardly made an effort to avoid them.
After what you did at Tribute, this is the least you deserve. God will be merciful to you; more than I can say
Plasma handguns and Carbines littered the area, but there wasn't time to stop to loot them; they still had a lot more distance to cover, especially in a giant expanse like the Uplift Reserve. If Dutch remembered the holomap layout right, there was still more than 50 percent of the Reserve left to drive...considering the rough distance from where he'd crashed down on the waterfront to where he was right now.
And all of it had to be populated by Covenant. Barring some emptier patches, of course. There was plenty of space for them to occupy this section of the city, as given any ODST's usual track record, they'd end up where the xenos were densest.
Which was fine by Dutch. More than fine, actually.
" Honcho 1-1, this is Magma Actual, over! "
Lt. Gorman called out on comms to the UNSC forces at the Pack's destination- wherever that was, exactly. Dutch still didn't know.
" Come in, Honcho ! Over."
"...Reading you 5x5, Magma, over. "
Gorman jabbed a hand ahead, knifing it toward the M12's 11:00. Wordlessly, Dutch nodded, acknowledging the order and turning where he'd indicated.
" On your 12:00 ! ", he directed. " Take the tunnel, there. "
" Yes, sir ! "
Up in front, a long, steep sided ridge ran from west to east, stretching the entire length of the visible horizon. The raised ground was nearly vertical, and it was just about impossible to be sure how much of it had already been there, and how much of the soil had been heaped and piled up to form it- there was more than a slight amount of foliage and rocks all over it
But, either way, the ridge was definitely a ridge; a completely formed barrier that divided this section of the Reserve from the next. Another topographical feature that Dutch remembered from his map examination, though it hadn't shown the tunnels...so they must've been dug not that long ago.
How convenient.
You've got the map, boss.
" Say status, Actual. Over"
" Sir-we've secured transport, and we've cleared Grid 871 ! Continuing our push toward your 20, over ! "
" And...we've linked up with an ODST ! Corporal Taylor Miles, Heavy Weapons specialist. "
" ...Repeat your last, Lieutenant ! An ODST, over ?! "
" Roger that, sir ! He's currently my driver; I'm oscar mike to our LZ as we speak, sir ! Over."
" Copy, Actual- "
"...What the-? ...Damn...! "
The ODST at the wheel kept his eyes forward, but it didn't take much to catch the brand of noisemaking from a volley of Covenant firearms erupting in the background.
The aliens had found the LZ...
" Hostiles !
Someone nearby on his end yelled out, accompanied seconds later by the unmistakable whining-crash of plasma weapons fire, slamming in over the airwaves as if it was right next door. An echoing, whooshing boom went off, blotting out all other sounds over the comms link for several seconds.
Wraith fire ! God, there's a Wraith there-!
Dutch kept driving, but he didn't have to wait long to find out if Honcho 1-1 had been atomized, or not. Seconds later, a shuddering volley of mixed gunfire erupted, as whoever was backing up the Wraith plowed forward to mop up.
That, and the mortar tank would be lobbing its own hammer blows in as well...
Things are getting real bad over there real quick...
" Honcho 1-1 ! ", yelled Gorman, bracing himself one handed as the M12 hit a shallow pothole, making it buck hard against its occupants. Needless to say, though, it wasn't even slowed.
" Honcho- "
A steady pattern of mixed energy weapons and UNSC-issued firearms signaled that an enemy attack was definitely underway, as the M12 finally reached the entrance to the tunnel, dipping down at roughly 30 degrees down to lead into a paved-floor passage.
" ..on a shingle ! Yeah...still reading you loud and clear, Magma Actual ! Over."
It was clearly designed for the use of the Reserve's Ranger utility vehicles, or the visitor's touring trucks, with high-strength overhead lights set into the ceiling, and access doors spaced evenly along both walls. There was enough space for dual way traffic, with at least 2 white-painted lanes going both ways, bordered by guardrailed sidewalks.
Dutch took it all in, speeding through the tunnel while keeping the accelerator pressed all the way down. There was an RV to keep, and the clock was ticking down every second that went by-
" But ,we've got a mechanized Covenant force hitting us head on now- and that spook officer is still hollering down my ear ! Where are you, Lieutenant ?! "
" We're- "
As Gorman was about to speak, the M12 bucked back, hitting an upward slope as it raced upwards and outwards, out of the tunnel. Dutch's visor automatically went into shielded mode, as the 4x4 headed up.
" We're entering the Zebra Habitat, sir ! Zebra Habitat ! All rollers still running green, over ! "
Got room to maneuver now !
"..Understood, Lt. ! "
Seconds later, they shot up back into the African sun-
-and a half second later, promptly ran into several Jackals. The Beak-Noses were ambling around in a lazily organized...mob, for lack of a better term, on the lefthand side of the tunnel opening. Their Carbines and Beam Rifles weren't shouldered, and some even had their backs turned.
" Birds ! 3:00 ! "
" I see 'em ! ", Kivec responded.
Of course, the right hand side was wide open and clear...but Jackals were Jackals. They weren't towering blocks of armor and muscle like Jiralhane...and Dutch was driving an M12 LRV at highway speeds.
The call was already made.
" Hold on, sir ! " Dutch torqued the wheel, aiming the 4X4 right for the Covenant, as Kivec opened up on them with the M41.
Impressively, Gorman kept right on updating his CO, even as the M12 bore down on the squawking, warbling aliens who attempted to dodge the ramming attack..and mostly didn't succeed, as 3 of them were smashed into the dirt, a 4th was sent hurtling, and a 5th was partially bisected by Kivec giving him a long burst of .50 cal attention.
As the 4X4 shuddered and rocked from the aliens bodies bouncing off it, the LT. multitasked. " We're about 5 minutes out, sir ! Can you maintain your position, over ?! ".
Leveling his BR55 as he talked, Gorman fired a few bursts. Weather he hit anything or not, Dutch wasn't sure- the M12 had already plowed right through the Jackal mob-
- and yep. The rest of the M12's they'd gathered up at the grove, were taking care of any stragglers. Glancing into the rearview mirror, Dutch watched as one of the other 4X4s performed a " bumper kiss " on a Jackal, causing the alien to just disappear under the chunky front grill. M41 chainguns spewed lead, and gunfire spat from the shotgun seats, working over the last few Beak-Noses that were still upright.
Beautiful. Dutch had to watch the road again, but it was still a pretty sight.
Give it to em, brothers and sisters.
" We'll be there, sir ! Count the minutes- Magma Actual, out ! "
Somehow, Dutch hadn't caught whatever Honcho had said, but the gist of it was enough: his position was under a blowtorch, so to speak, and Magma Company was the cavalry. As mission objectives went , it was blessedly simple.
" Corporal !" The. Lt reached over, hammering a fist off Dutch's right shoulder. " Corporal, there's a another ridge ahead ! Its got a switchbacking road- follow it when we get there ! Copy ?! "
" No problem, sir ! "
The ODST wove the vehicle around the trees of the grove they'd just shot into, leading the rest of the M12s ahead as they neared a sharp dip in the terrian that bent around toward the left.
They got clear of the trees...and right into a wide open area that was bookended on its leftmost side by the Indian Ocean, and on its right by, exactly as Gorman had said, another ridge.
But, this one was a tad more substantial. Reaching up to an impressive 100+plus ( quick ballpark estimate ) feet , the landmass looked like a set of teeth, with jagged rocky protrusions that stuck straight up along its sides and along the top. It ran straight ahead, curving off gradually toward the left, though most of that angle was blocked by a gigantic , roughly pyramidal rocky mound that nearly looked like it'd been built there.
Kinda out of place...
Whatever it was, the quasi-pyramid was choking off most of the way ahead- the only gap left was a narrow corridor between it, and the ocean. Like with the tunnel, there was at least enough room for two M12's to ride thorugh side by side.
Even so...
It was a killzone. A deadly funnel, and Dutch felt his spine chill at the sight of it. One well-placed plasma mortar landing right there-
Well, if we stopped there, it'd be a real deathtrap, he acknowledged, well aware that the established plan called for continuous movement. If the way those Jackals had been lounging around and basically sitting on their hands, the Covenant in this sector might've gotten lax in their alertness. They were already throwing a lot of heat at the LZ, and probably had sunk most of their strength into that major play...leaving scraps to cover the approaches.
They'd torn through the Jackals pretty quick, and they didn't look like they'd had a comms gear-could they have raised the alarm already ?
Depends on what'd around that bend. That's the real question...
" All units- watch your 3:00 ! ", advised the Lt. " Watch your 3. "
That turned out to be a good order to give, because about another 12 seconds or so, as the lead M12 zipped around the corner, its wheels throwing clods of damp sand up and everywhere-
- bolts of plasma began to shower them.
" Taking fire, sir ! "
Dutch jinked left, going off pure muscle memory. " 3:00 high ! "
" Yeah...I can see them ! "
It'd be hard not to. Up on the right side , perched high on the ridge, was the source of the plasma:
Shade Turrets. Evidently, the Covenant hadn't dropped their guard all that much after all- they'd placed a battery of the automatic energy weapons systems along the top and flanks of the ridge, right at the crook of where it bent left, and began to sharply get lower and lower, with gentler and gentler slopes, until it eventually ran itself into the Earth right about where the Indian's waterline was.
Right where a switchbacking road clearly ended.
What excellent landscaping they've done ! Covies, I mean.
" Engage- enemy turrets, high right ! High right ! "
He didn't need to point that out to Kivec- the gunner was already on top of it, working the enemy over as Dutch kept them barreling toward where they needed to go, pulling the rest of Magma through the gap like a parade of dust-spewing rhinos.
Dutch thanked God there was no Wraith here- he'd have stopped the 4x4, and made sure, no matter what, that the others didn't follow him.
" Double time- go go go ! "
Not that they could sit still, with the Shades still strafing them from the upper right. As the white hot bolts sizzled and whined past, turning the sand to glass wherever they hit, the M12 with the ODST at the wheel made a beeline for the lowest end of the road.
A few bolts stitched the hood of his M12, boiling pits into its EB-green painted armor.
" Private- we're taking hits here ! Keep 'em off us ! "
" On it- On it ! "
The kid- no, he wasn't, he was a Jarhead-same as the rest of them-sounded more stressed than before, but not outright rattled. Things were racheting up, after all, and he was barely an E-1.
Got more growing left to do.
" Goin' up, gentlemen ! ". Dutch eased up on the pedal, throttling back as he wrenched the 4x4 into a righthand turn.
" Brace, brace ! "
Although there was a metal guardrail that ran along the road's edged, more than a few sections of it were either slagged like a wax candle, or missing entirely. Going through one of the gaps would leave any of the M12's completely capsized if they fell off high enough...
" Sir. We've got some dicey terrain here... ", warned the ODST.
" Roger that. "
Gorman promptly spread the word, and Dutch used the RV mirrors to confirm that everyone wasn't abandoning caution for the sake of speed, no matter how critical the latter was. Last thing they needed was for someone to go sailing off the rim of the sheer drop because the Covies had amped up the risk factor even more than how significant it was.
Good. Somehow , cohesion's sticking nicely.
And we got all our rollers. Even better.
Meanwhile, the barrage of plasma was still on them, but having reached the extent of the guns' horizontal angle, the Pack of M12's was mostly in the clear...mostly. Plasma was still peppering them, though as the lead M12 headed around the hairpin curve, giving its driver a better view of the rest of the units, Dutch was greeted by a flowing column of 4X4s, stampeding up in close pursuit.
Several of the Shades were on fire by now, riddled by the M41 fire. One of them was still going-
" Boom ! ", yelled Dutch's gunner.
Kivec delivered, finally blowing the last of the Shades to ribbons with a burst of rounds that chewed through its side, eviscerating the Grunt at the controls in a shower of sparks and purple blood.
" Suck it, Covie..! "
" Good shooting, Private ! ". Gorman loosed another few bursts, drilling what was left of the Shade for good measure.
" Yeah...stay sharp, though ! ". Dutch hammered down on the accelerator again, spurring the 4X4 back to full speed. " Could be more hostiles nearby...! "
Not in the immediate vicinity, though, at least. Now that the M12 had reached the top of the switchback road, the terrain had changed again
Yet another sheer sided cliff on the left hands side ( one they couldn't see from the beach ), with what was left of the guardrail protecting the righthand side of the road from the cliff's devastating drop. Right ahead of them, there was about half a football field-sized space of level ground, with a lonely looking equipment shed ( or what was probably some kind of shed ) off by the base of the cliff, which was about a hundred feet from where the road vanished into a slit canyon that snaked off leftwards.
Damn it- another checkpoint in about as many minutes...!
" Magma Actual, Magma Actual- come in ! "
Honcho 1-1 had came back...
" Respond, Magma Actual. "
" Actual here-copying loud and clear ! " There was a sharp clacking noise off to Dutch's right, as the Lt. slammed a fresh magazine home into his BR55 .
" Be advised: I've got reports just now that Covenant activity is spiking across this grid. They've making pushes on every outlying position, not just the LZ ! "
Well, that's just dandy, ain't it. Dutch bit his lower lip, guiding the M12 straight into the mouth of the slit canyon.
Heavy shadows fell all around them, as they accelerated into the gap. The walls on either side were high enough to block out most of the sun, though the clumps of shrubbery off on the road's shoulders were still easy to spot. It was the tightest fit Dutch had taken the 4X4 into up till now, without much room for another lane.
Getting funneled again-!
He checked via the RV mirrors that the rest of the M12s were following his lead, and found that they were, as Honcho's sitrep continued...without much of an improvement.
" Lieutenant- you anywhere near the Rhino enclosure ?! "
That seemed slightly random for about a second, but then Dutch connected the dots-
And so did Gorman. "...Roger that, sir ! We've entered the chokepoint canyon linking to i as we speak..."
Evidently, that was exactly what Honcho wanted to know. " Good- then listen up ! Soon as you enter it, Caldera Company is heavily engaged at the Visitor's Lodge ! They've hunkered down, and holding, but they need backup ! "
" They're reporting Wraiths and Choppers in play, plus a battery of Shades laying down suppressive fire. Eliminate as many of those tanks as you can, Lieutenant ! Do not stop driving, but don't stop shooting ! "
You read my mind- roughly.
Commendable course of action...not fully feasible, though
" Is your stock of AT ammo still depleted ? Over. "
They were tap city when it came to heavy ordinance; the heaviest they did have was the M41s. Corporal Jao still had her Jackhammer- with 1 rocket left in it. Dutch had his Laser...down to 4 shots, with the multi-second charging requirement on top.
Slaying those Wraiths they'd run into with their own entourages way back had been a cinch, sure, but they'd been basically bodyslammed without any warning. They'd been sloppy, careless. If the ones battering Caldera Company were on the back of a sustained attack-
Yeah- this isn't going to be an encore-
" ..Yes, sir, but we can resupply from Caldera ! "
" Roger that, Actual-haul ass over there. Lieutenant Rasan needs more shooters at her position, and she needs them yesterday. They'll be waiting on you. Update when you've arrived. Honcho 1-1, out."
The M12 swung around a bend, as the pack received its new orders. Dutch eased up on the pedal, skidding a bit, as he realized the sizzling hot tub they were about to land in- there were more Wraiths up ahead.
" Magma: All callsigns Magma, hear this: " Gorman addressed the Pack.
" We've got a diversion coming up; soon as we come out of this canyon, we'll be heavy contact with hostile armor ! Friendlies in the area have a stock of AT ammo we can use, so we'll be taking advantage "
" Corporal Jao ! RV with me at the Lodge- how copy, over ?!
" No problem, sir ! ", responded the Jackhammer woman. " That ODST we grabbed still going ok ?! "
" He's intact, don't you worry. Sending again, Corporal: RV with me at the Lodge. Magma Actual, out. "
Yeah...I did say I've load her up with all the rockets she could ask for...provided Caldera still has any
" Corporal Miles ! ". Gorman turned his attention to him now. " You get all that ?! "
" Every word, sir ! Going to reinforce Caldera Company, right ? "
" That's affirmative ! Step on it, Trooper. "
There was another injection of that icy adrenaline into the ODST's blood, and he could sense it mostly in his legs, and up his spine, as usual. Going up against Wraiths was one thing, but doing it without a pile of Jackhammer rockets at their disposal was...dicey, to say the least.
Well, they still had the mobility of the M12's, and the M41's could absolutely scrap a Wraith...as long as they hit them in the dual weak spots. Dutch wasn't about to do it again, though, if there was a chance they could do the opposite, and engage with the might of Jackahmmer rockets instead. That was the preferable option, by a wide margin.
As if preferable is that easy to get in life. It isn't
This was going to be a tricky one; the Pack's operational plan had been all about speed and staying flexible; rearming themselves while a Covie mechanized battalion was assault the ( improvised ) depot they were about to reach wasn't something Dutch would've planned to carry out. He could tell that his officers didn't either, but...plans had a way of getting shifted quicker than the government of San Marino.
We can pull it off, though. I trust these boys and girls- as much as I can anyway, given the time I've known 'em
God, I think so...
As he drove out through the mouth of the canyon, the Covenant were there to greet them.
Mortars ! Incoming, 3:00 high ! "
Dutch cranked his head around to where Kivec had alerted them...and sure enough, a blazing purple steak was arcing down from out of the sky, leaving a comet trail behind it.
The purple streak arcing down from the sky had already given itself away as long range Wraith fire, but Dutch wasn't going to call out Kivec for saying what he had. Wraith mortars were Wraith mortars, after all.
" Easy, Private; that one's going wide ", Gorman assured him.
Tracking the plasma round, Dutch realized the Lt. was right; the Wraith shot was a high one, set to land way off left of their current 20. Whoever'd lobbed that one had either garbage quality aim, or it was a ranging shot. Hard to be sure, though.
" Alright. Gun it, Corporal ! "
" Easily done, sir ."
At least they weren't boxed in, or getting pounced on right out of the gate. Laid out in front, the road was blocked on its left by a cliff who's guardrail hadn't been blown wide open. The road snaked off downwards toward the left, following a gentle bend, while the landscape out past it was...
...wide. This had to be the largest expanse of open ground Dutch had encountered in the Reserve, with a distant wall that must've been nearly a quarter mile away, if not more. The upper portion of the wall had the dull steel color of being made of duracrete, topped with a rim that bent inward. Just below it, was a " shelf " of land that wrapped around the perimeter of the entire visible horizon, carpeted with scrub and shortened trees.
Short waving grassland and assortment of boulder clusters made up the ground itself. The topography was familiar now, and it was all beginning to look really much the same, baking under the African sun with the clock ticking closer toward noon. There was barely a cloud to be seen overhead-
- just plenty of plasma bolts.
As the M12 hooked around the road's bend, the ODST noticed more mortar rounds making their appearance...right over a multistory stricture that was planted more or less in the center of the area. In the same style that was par for the course in any resort or engineering project built by someone with money, the building was gleamingly bright and shiny, consisting of blocky and rectangular lower levels, rounded and curved upper ones, and soaring archways that seemed to be...sunroofs, perhaps, all decked out in shades of blood red and bronzed gold.
Behold, the " Lodge "..
...I presume. Looks pretty glitzy.. Dutch chopped their speed, as the M12 rolled down the long sloping roadway extending all the way to where the lodge's front entrance was.
The officer next to him worked the comms system, and soon established a link with the commander of the local garrison. " Lietentant Rasan ! Caldera Actual, Caldera Actual, this is Magma Actual, do you copy ?! "
There was a brief burst of noisy crackling, followed by another that was a few seconds longer.
But, nobody actually replied. There was just garbled static on the M12's comms now...
Disconcerting...
" Lieutenant Rassan ! ". Gorman made another play at it, using a tone Dutch could easily call 'charged ' . " Are you receiving ?! Over. "
Again, though, there wasn't a response. Static, yes, but nothing else.
" Damn...getting nothing here ! "
" ...Think one of the mortars knocked out their comms ? ", Dutch ventured.
The Lt. didn't say anything for a second, but then agreed.
" .Better the comms themselves got slagged than..."
He didn't finish saying it, but he didn't need to. There was something else going on here...something he'd hidden from Honcho 1-1, and not just on that last call.
Dutch'd fighting mode mindset didn't let him get any further than that, so he stowed in in his back mental files. It was still important, in a way, but it'd have to wait. Besides, they were nearly there.
Bearing down on the lodge, Dutch saw that it was bustling with activity. All around and on it, figures wearing UNSC-issued fatigues and armor ran and jogged either forward, toward where the mortar rounds were coming from, or circling the flanks, but headed the same way. The ones lower down were disappearing around the sides of some of the nearest boulder heaps, longarms up on their shoulders, while more were going up the short flights of stairs on the upper levels.
They weren't lying back and it taking it; these Jarheads were reacting to what was hitting them. Some had already spotted the Pack's approach, as a full squad of them that had been about to head back up the wide staircase that formed the center of the main entrance turned back around, jogging back to meet them.
Encouraging...
" Hey, Lt- ", added Kivec. " My canteen's nearly dry- I got to snag some of theirs. "
" What is this- a road trip ? You go stealing their water, I'm making you walk the rest of the way. "
Dutch couldn't help but snicker at the Lt.'s rebuke. It was a...very domestic thing to say. Like they weren't in the epicenter of a full-scale Covenant planetary invasion, riding a column of M12s into a battle that had Wraiths mixed up in it- one of which was capable of turning an M12 and everyone in it into nothing but a pile of slagged and melted scrap with one shot.
The field of battle...it could be very odd sometimes.
Seconds later, the M12 finally pulled up at the front of the lodge.
Dutch brought them to a halt, the beefy wheels crunching gravel under them. As the 4X4 lurched from moving to not, jerking everybody's harness enough to dig sharply into them, the ODST looked at the RV mirror-
" Corporal Miles ! "
A growling engine, fading quick, sounded on his left, and he looked up as another M12 rolled in.
It stopped, there was a thump of boots hitting the ground, and seconds later, a familiar rocket launcher operator came hurrying around the front of the 4x4.
" Dismount ! "
" All units- group by two, behind the Lodge. Keep engines running !"
As Gorman shouted the newest commands, the unit's AT woman ran up to the lead M12's driver's side. One hand held her M7, and the other had her Jackhammer's carrying sling clutched in an iron grip.
Dutch swung his legs out , and set his own boots down, taking a briefest second to enjoy stretching them.
" Hey, trooper- you doing ok ? "
The ODST unclasped his own M7, and checked its mag count. " Thankfully, yeah. You ?"
" 'Bout the same. L-T said to RV here; said there's a pile of rockets up for grabs ? "
Dutch would've called that one track mind under most circumstances; most of them. Then again, given their actual circumstances...yeah, it wasn't much to shake his head at.
How commendable.
" That's the plan. "
" Corporals ! Private Kivec ! "
The Lt. bellowing got their attention, and the two Corporals promptly turned his way.
Beckoning an arm, the officer called them over, as another duo of Leathernecks descended the stairs to join the ones already there.
Coming over as directed, the Corporals got there as the new arrivals did-one of who was female. Judging by the way the other Marine was lagging slightly, Dutch could already surmise that this was Lt. Rassan.
Slightly taller than average, one of her sleeves ha been half removed, revealing a well toned arm that was wrapped in gauze dressing. There was a hint of plasma scorching up along the upper side of her all the way to chin level, leading strength to Dutch's suspicion that a Wraith had blown her command post to dust, but not her with it.
It was either skill...or divine intervention. Not that Dutch could differentiate, and especially not already. Still...
Good officers. Worth pure gold and diamonds..
" Lt. Morsea Rassan. " Gorman made the introduction, tipping his head at her. " Lt, this Private Mo Kivec, and Corporals Taylor Miles, and Dara Jao. Corporal Jao's my unit AT operator, and she needs any spare Jackhammer rockets you have. "
An introduction, and an explanation, all rolled up. Dutch called that impressive.
The other Lt. must've agreed-presumably. Her expression didn't betray much of what she might be thinking, but there was light and strength in it anyway, as she nodded a greeting toward the two Corporals. " Glad you could join us. We have plenty of ordinance, but no mechanized arm of our own. You've changed that now. That's improved the odds. "
I don't doubt it; you do ? We got God watching our for us, and then there's me.
IStill... you're concerned. That's as crystal clear as the day itself.
" That's what we're talkin' about. Where's your cache- "
Baroooooomm !
A distant rumbling, booming...explosion ? Impact ? Something , that was either of those or both, sounded from some point out beyond the lodge.
It was powerful enough to shake the ground, with vibrations thrumming up trough Dutch's legs, and then threw him off balance. He was driven to nearly falling over, staggering off to one side with arms flailing out to regain some stability.
What in the name of- ?!
What- ?!
Someone swore off burst of expletives, but the ODST caught the shortest tail end of it, with the echoing racket not quite finished dissipating. The fight or flight response fluid was flooding Dutch's blood again, and it boomed in his ringing ears.
"...Status, everyone ! Status !", Lt. Rassan yelled.
Glancing around, Dutch found Jao was halfway back up, still with her M7 in hand. Kivec had his palm squeezed against his left ear, while Lt. Gorman had lost his canteen in the blast ( ? ) wave, and was just now grabbing it back off the deck...
What. Was. That ?!
"...Still online, ma'am. ", Dutch reported to her. The ODST knew that much, at least.
" What the ***** was that ?! What was that ?! ", exclaimed the recently floored Kivec.
He was saying what they were all thinking, that was for sure. Dutch knew it wasn't a plasma hit of any kind; didn't sound like one. Actually, it didn't even seem like any kind of blast, let alone one the signature way of their xeno attackers.
Whatever it'd been-
" Alright- focus. Gear check ! ". Gorman pointed at the lower ranking Leathernecks. " Let's go. "
" LT ! LT, we got a problem up here ! "
God, my eardrums hurt enough as it is...
Someone was calling out at them, from higher up the stairs.
What're you hollering about..?
Turning around toward where the shout had come from from, Dutch spotted a Marine standing there, rifle in one hand...and looking like he'd seen a mountain collapse.
" Lt-! ", he gasped. " My comms- they're offline, and, the- "
" Hudson ! " the bandaged Lieutenant used the name like a whip. " This had better be important- the ***ing Earth just cracked open out there ! "
" No, no it ain't the ground..! "
Shaking his head vigorously, Hicks then stabbed his hand back they way he'd come.
"- Its the orbital ! The orbital tether is coming down ! "